"thawing" poems
Smashing the ice with a sledge hammer is exhausting
Pounding, sweating, blisters pulsating
Slowly chipping away at the vastness of frozen emotions
Yet, the ice is formidable from months of winter
Forced to recalculate, to innovate, to anticipate
Salt has the ability to melt ice into tears of joy
Unless the salt solvates in open wounds
Progress freezes until nature's spring decides
The sun is enlightened enough to slowly
Allow thawing in his Mother's time
Feb 23, 2014
Feb 23, 2014 at 2:07 PM UTC
i can see, what was then, has never have been, for you as it was for me.
Like it was just yesterday, we were laughing together in magic, but now u am the object of your laugh
i can see, what will be, is just the pain i seen in me.
Like it was just moments, i held your hand and save you from the despair,
only to see i was toy within your love scam career.
If you remember the hand that fed you support, the light i cast on you, as you reached out to me before
as the one who feels, you would see the pain i have in me.
I am the pawn of your unrequited love, the unrequited love that has ripped my soul into a reality of shame.
...
I am the pawn of your unrequited love, the unrequited love that has ripped my soul into a reality of shame.
unrequited love so deeply true
I can see, us dancing with our fingers creating a meal, only to be a dillusion in my head
Like it was just yesterday, we shared a alot of our own soul, smiling.
i can see, a person who foolishly open his heart and given the blood to be,
Like it was just moments, you held my heart and said you're lucky for me
only to see i was an object of your own deceit.
I am the pawn of your unrequited love, the unrequited love that has ripped my soul into a reality of shame.
..
I am the pawn of your unrequited love, the unrequited love that has ripped my soul into a reality of shame.
unrequited love so deeply true.
Now broken i can be, building my true me, picking up the pieces indeed, Ooh, i will open the heart to someone to be,
only in time the tears will drive slowly from the ice i am thawing. love is all around me, over me, under me,
but ....
i can see, the love is from you, but i feel greater love through and through
Like is it is seconds, holding you as you cry tour pain to me, hoping for a smile again
I can see, what I am now, in tears in my spite of my loss and invisibility,
Like it was now, when the mirrors of ur pain, u bestowed on me with your ability
only to see true hate over my true love
I am the pawn of your unrequited love, the unrequited love that has ripped my soul into a reality of shame.
..
I am the pawn of your unrequited love, the unrequited love that has ripped my soul into a reality of shame.
unrequited love so deeply true.
Dec 14, 2016
Dec 14, 2016 at 11:09 PM UTC
She keeps asking what he does,
though his answers are recycled:
French bulldogs, paintball,
a seventh-grade broken nose.
The basket of fries between them
feels like an interview.
She teases about sweat-stuck bangs,
neon-laced Docs,
his faux leather squeaking when he moves.
Her smile forgives empty stories,
softens each silence.
Condensation slips down her glass,
her knee brushes his,
a spark he does not catch,
his throat working like a valve.
The door opens, closes,
a draft carries smoke and cedar.
distant wildfires.
Outside, a truck unloads shrimp.
A box bursts on the pavement,
pink shells and thawing ice
sliding into gutter water.
Curses flare into the alley.
Engines idle.
Hydraulics hiss.
The stoplight clicks red to green,
green to red,
its metronome louder than either of them.
Somewhere past Brockway Summit
a ridgeline blooms orange.
Sep 10, 2025
Sep 10, 2025 at 4:52 PM UTC
What is this feeling in my veins?
Thawing my frostbitten heart, but not for your own gain...
After the long cold months of walking in pain
Your melting my lungs so I can breathe again
A word so short
Short and plain
So much potential
Associated with so much pain
You've awakened a part of me that I thought to be dead
Jump-started by the words you've put in my head
Can this be true?
Am I falling for you?
Only time can tell...
But I hope you'll catch me.
Love.
The fire that reawakens even the dead
Jan 13, 2013
Jan 13, 2013 at 5:24 PM UTC
buried behind a wall of complacency
my contentment boils -- steams like pots of cleansing tea-- in the constant cold
pass the peace pipe over the bones of my enemies.
my rebellion is rooted
deep within my veins
{burried under tact and sweet smiles} but ready to return
the blood of warrior women waiting to return
runs within me- my abilities are their evolution
from the color of my eyes to my tolerance for pain-- rooted
into my skullspinesoul
in a field of dinosaur bones-
only the strong survive the cold
this ever present frost
follows me like the windigo; its return
deep in the decemberjanuaryfebuary ache of my bones
a disease malignant in the
deep r
u
n
n
i
n
g
tap-roots of elms- etched
into
time like
skeletons in the ice
tested {thawing} with every return
of this ******* season, evolving
from the lifeless bones
of trees to the wings of birds
brittle, but strong;
bundled with love(hate) protecting me from the cold
letting go, but wanting them to
fall back like
cigarette ashes in the wind
this is no place or time in my life for slow acceptance but
I find safety in the muscle bound bones
aware, lying (insomniac), waiting for someone to breathe
life into the marrow.
my love- deep, engrained, rooted
the pulse of human heat keeping me from the cold
will I ever change?
bundled against the cold, the cracking of my bones
is like the creaking of the dead trees i stare up at
with their songs of change
and the end of fears never to thaw out again
Nov 14, 2012
Nov 14, 2012 at 10:41 PM UTC
Around me architectural mastery:
sycamores, embankments, enduring ionic pillars.
I round a walkway bordered by trees,
enamel thawing, gliding off their low leaves.
Beneath the late-May’s pounding sun,
through the glittered trees’ reaches,
a gazebo crackles into sight.
Children in their prime, sunbathers, a wistful portraitist
encircle it carelessly:
a leisured chimney; the billows of life.
The foliage escapes into the river,
purplish, palpitating, cyclic creases
receive the dewy notes.
Kayaks licking acacia-gum-edged
ripples sputter and slip
through reverberations
of leveled white-water terraces.
Blackcurrants in clotted cream
slide on the plush lips of a young passerby.
The 8 above a doorway
dances motionless, silent in my periphery;
“Nicolas Cage just sold the spot”
pops from unknown lungs
inside the Circus crowd.
Unacknowledged, half-proud
hands built the Roman baths
alone, closed-in by such grace,
forgotten, then as now.
I wander these ancestral lanes
more or less alone, the same.
Jul 4, 2012
Jul 4, 2012 at 7:55 AM UTC
Elements, indivisible, naked
A single wayward rain drop falls from above
Clouds a whisper away
Sun heat thawing my helplessness
Tender wind cascading in the space between my fingers
Stubborn bones draped on stubborn rocks
Awake again, surrendering to their dance
Sep 6, 2015
Sep 6, 2015 at 7:28 PM UTC
More fickle than the seasons
fragile like thawing ice
attached with a firm grip
clutching like a baby’s hand.
Desperate but never dangerous
susceptible yet not defenceless
acquiescent, though a fool.
They are the simpleton’s
that embrace counterfeit fables,
illusions of promise
And at the end
that makes them break
Dec 30, 2020
Dec 30, 2020 at 8:21 AM UTC
Because I could not draft for Ice,
it did kindly draft for me.
Does the Ice make you shiver?
does it?
Pay attention to the chill,
the chill is the most shivering fear of all.
Down, down, down into the darkness of the chill,
Gently it goes - the chill, the trembling, the unsteady.
A thawing, however hard it tries,
Will always be Melting.
Does the thawing make you shiver?
does it?
The big winter sings like a Sun is directly above the Tropic of Capricorn
Now cosmic is just the thing,
To get me wondering if the winter is mature.
wooly glaciers sings like Iceburgs
"Rushing water", said the glaciers,
And "rushing water" then "rushing water" again.
How happy is the frozen popsicle!
Does the popsicle make you shiver?
does it?
The freezing that's really crystals,
Above all others is the frost.
Does the frost make you shiver?
does it?
Because I could not draft for Ice,
it did kindly draft for me.
Does the Ice make you shiver?
does it?
Because I could not draft for Ice,
it did kindly draft for me.
Ice, Ice, every where,
Yet not a drop to draft.
How happy is the cold surface!
Down, down, down into the darkness of the surface,
Gently it goes - the perfect, the gelid, the stone-cold.
Pay attention to the floe,
the floe is the most Dence ice mass of all.
Floe, floe, every where,
Yet not a drop to drift.
The thawing is like a gentle voice,
it tends to cause significantly.
Does the thawing make you shiver?
does it?
The athletic game that's really zany,
Above all others is the hockey.
Pause to assist, like the hockey does.
It does assist, it does draft,
Should it also induct?
Why would you think the snowfall is gradual?
the snowfall is the most sudden downfall of all.
Pause to last, like the snowfall does.
It does last, it does accumulate,
Should it also range?
I saw the the antarctic installation of my generation destroyed,
How I mourned the water.
I don't like the fact that it,
learned to reside before it knew how to flow.
You can reside, you can flow, but can you supply?
Because I could not draft for Ice,
it did kindly draft for me.
Does the Ice make you shiver?
does it?
Because I could not draft for Ice,
it did kindly draft for me.
Pause to draft, like the Ice does.
Don't belive that the snowfall is small?
the snowfall is big beyond belief.
Never forget the braggy and large-scale snowfall.
Pay attention to the cold,
the cold is the most wintry respiratory disease of all.
Are you upset by how springlike it is?
Does it tear you apart to see the cold so frozen?
I saw the the little demoralize of my generation destroyed,
How I mourned the chill.
Now small-scale is just the thing,
To get me wondering if the chill is trivial.
An iceman, however hard it tries,
Will always be cunning.
Are you upset by how adroit it is?
Does it tear you apart to see the iceman so attractive?
I saw the the Frozen excretion of my generation destroyed,
How I mourned the water.
Never forget the sleety and unchangeable water.
Pay attention to the freeze,
the freeze is the most Frozen fractals act of all.
Does the freeze make you shiver?
does it?
Because I could not draft for Ice,
they did kindly draft for me.
Do Ice make you shiver?
do they?
Apr 8, 2018
Apr 8, 2018 at 2:53 PM UTC
Many months had whispered by
Unbeknownst to me
The sheaths of ice retreated slow,
And buds furled from the trees.
I had not stopped to grasp and hold
The notion laying stagnant
Within my chest, there thawing too
A sunken, fading, fragment
This withered seed, this dying shoot
Lay wilting in the dark
Until my sightless, bourbon eyes
Saw what was in my heart.
May 18, 2015
May 18, 2015 at 2:15 PM UTC
i saw you in the frozen food isle
unintentionally thawing everything out
making the manager mad
i wanted to stop and talk
and tell you this joke i heard about a pharmacist's daughter
but i hadn't seen my own reflection in fifteen minutes
May 15, 2015
May 15, 2015 at 11:45 AM UTC
Even through stormy skies
Sing songs of calmer days
I swear when cold and cloudy
Passion pacifies with sunlit rays
Looked at you, my frosty armor melted
No place warmer than your eyes
Daydreams and illusions don't come close or compare
Gut filled with air from fluttering butterflies
I discovered home in your embrace
Your love is thawing my ice
Your presence is a welcome heat wave to my Winter
In your strong arms I found paradise
Aug 11, 2018
Aug 11, 2018 at 8:58 AM UTC
I want to live life in a Bob Ross painting
With serene monstrous mountains far off in the distance
The peak half covered by happy little clouds
A happy little tree and it’s many brothers and sisters
Blanketing the landscape of light snowfall and growing bushes
A small cabin bathed in melting snow rests comfortably
Next to a thawing private lake lit by a cadmium yellow sun
This is where I want to live
Swarmed in colors of titanium white,
Phthalo green and blue,
Midnight black,
Alizarin crimson,
And Indian yellow
Where there are no mistakes
Only happy accidents
Where the big decisions
And the tests of courage are
Where the next tree will go
In a Bob Ross painting
I could live peacefully
Mar 29, 2012
Mar 29, 2012 at 5:37 PM UTC
Arduous late Winter
woes amplify in February
false hope
We’re all sick
of constrictive clothes
and cold climes conducive to staying in
Cabin fever running rampant
45° t-shirts & sunglasses
everyone driving with their windows down
Hoping Vernal rituals
performed early will
hasten Spring’s arrival
I’m done
fed up
ready to move on
Going crazy in the cold
writhing to get moving unimpeded
by frigidness and snow
I’m ready for Spring
for Summer
for Fall
I’m ready for the scent
of thawing soil in the air
biking in the Sun, verdance, and flowers in bloom
I’m ready for grass between my toes
Fireflies, crickets, peepers
and warm night stars
I’m sick of frost reddened runny raw noses
sick of numb fingers and toes
and having precious few daylight hours
I’m sick of combatting glacial winds with layers,
of treacherous icy apathy,
and dreary bleak boredom
I’m sick of not being able to sit on the ground
sick of long pants, long socks, long sleeves,
and silent stagnant long nights
So, despite the fact
that I’ll pine for January
every day over 90°
Despite the fact
that when mosquitoes swarm
I’ll wish a frost would **** the little ********
and despite the fact
I’ll get just as fed up
with temperate seasons
I still want Spring
and then Summer
and then Fall
But February brings false hope
and despite the lengthening cheery sun
months still stand
between us and t-shirt weather
mild nights, grassy hills,
and emancipation from an inclement icebox atmosphere
Feb 25, 2014
Feb 25, 2014 at 8:50 AM UTC
Why did we meet,
If we can’t be together?
Life is splashing its power in our faces,
Like cold water,
On a freezing winter’s day.
And as each piece of my hair freezes,
I slowly become brittle and empty.
It’s like you’re waiting at home with a warm towel,
But home is thousands of miles away,
And I’m scared that the journey to bring me to you,
Will be too hard for my heart to handle.
I’m scared of giving up.
I’m scared of letting go.
For all I keep dreaming of is thawing in your arms,
And feeling the warmth that only you can give me.
I guess I’ll just keep hoping,
That I never wake up.
Jan 29, 2015
Jan 29, 2015 at 5:00 PM UTC
as spring awakens
so does my heart
it's been packed away for
the cold of winter
but now my heart is thawing
the soil is softening
and i need someone to plant
their flowers here
because my heart is ready
to be nurtured
to feel nourished
and to flourish into the
beautiful blossoms
that deserve to grow
in my vacant heart
Mar 27, 2019
Mar 27, 2019 at 2:45 PM UTC
...Frankenstein...dear Frank--green with disparity, confusedly amongst parts that
were sum...O Frank--never a creature under no sun could sow dark's reaping so.
Yours is a terrible Art...meat thrown to a black and white world.
Towering clumsily...wobbling that meat before a black and white world...you're
already spoken for by the precedent of your freakdom.
Your wear is worse than the ******* child moon wearing the sun's clothing...
O Frank!
Your awkward beauty...is as winter's very struggle towards spring--only to die upon
your feet while thawing.
You were never cerebral enough to have a clandestine affair with nothingness in motion...
your body's your confession.
You were struck alive...not dead...ALIVE...ALIVE--thunderously so, called an: IT!
Runaway automata...the collective unconscious of humanity's hypnotized waddle--
O Frank...where is your Heaven...where is your Hell?
You can neither be showered by, nor Fall from grace.
The longest-drawn pity to never be taken...O...the duration of your life...YOUR LIFE!
..."ALIVE"..."ALIVE"...cried your euphoric namesake...God taken step of, to play God to thee--
as such...yours is a terrible Art.
One of living-death...O Frank!
Konstantinos Mark
Oct 24, 2013
Oct 24, 2013 at 7:32 PM UTC
Hail, sister springs,
Parents of silver-footed rills!
Ever bubbling things,
Thawing crystal, snowy hills!
Still spending, never spent; I mean
Thy fair eyes, sweet Magdalene.
Heavens thy fair eyes be;
Heavens of ever-falling stars;
’Tis seed-time still with thee,
And stars thou sow’st whose harvest dares
Promise the earth to countershine
Whatever makes Heaven’s forehead fine.
Every morn from hence
A brisk cherub something sips
Whose soft influence
Adds sweetness to his sweetest lips;
Then to his music: and his song
Tastes of this breakfast all day long.
When some new bright guest
Takes up among the stars a room,
And Heaven will make a feast,
Angels with their bottles come,
And draw from these full eyes of thine
Their Master’s water, their own wine.
The dew no more will weep
The primrose’s pale cheek to deck;
The dew no more will sleep
Nuzzled in the lily’s neck:
Much rather would it tremble here,
And leave them both to be thy tear.
When sorrow would be seen
In her brightest majesty,
—For she is a Queen—
Then is she drest by none but thee:
Then and only then she wears
Her richest pearls—I mean thy tears.
Not in the evening’s eyes,
When they red with weeping are
For the Sun that dies,
Sits Sorrow with a face so fair.
Nowhere but here did ever meet
Sweetness so sad, sadness so sweet.
Does the night arise?
Still thy tears do fall and fall.
Does night lose her eyes?
Still the fountain weeps for all.
Let day and night do what they will,
Thou hast thy task, thou weepest still.
Not So long she lived
Will thy tomb report of thee;
But So long she grieved:
Thus must we date thy memory.
Others by days, by months, by years,
Measure their ages, thou by tears.
Say, ye bright brothers,
The fugitive sons of those fair eyes
Your fruitful mothers,
What make you here? What hopes can ‘tice
You to be born? What cause can borrow
You from those nests of noble sorrow?
Whither away so fast
For sure the sordid earth
Your sweetness cannot taste,
Nor does the dust deserve your birth.
Sweet, whither haste you then? O say,
Why you trip so fast away?
We go not to seek
The darlings of Aurora’s bed,
The rose’s modest cheek,
Nor the violet’s humble head.
No such thing: we go to meet
A worthier object—our Lord’s feet.
2.4k
She knows
concrete – not the soft earth
of late April, finally thawing
She knows
the carefully groomed trees
decorating the sidewalk - not
a garden tousled with wind
savoring its first sip of sun
She knows not
fresh air or quiet - but
when the clouds
become heavy and burst
her bones ache
her bones know
Jun 1, 2015
Jun 1, 2015 at 9:48 PM UTC
Sitting silently
by the
old willow tree,
I heard a knocking
through the thick,
rustic bark.
My thoughts drifted,
thawing the frigid
quiet in my mind.
For there was naught behind,
nor in front,
of the old willow tree.
"What could it be,"
my mind asked me.
"And from where is it coming from?"
And then, from above,
there was a deep, low hum.
A light flashed, and I was
blind.
Aug 15, 2017
Aug 15, 2017 at 8:45 AM UTC
Last December
I remember it clearly
The snow fell as I did
You watched me crumble
The wind threw me
You don't remember do you?
Your words frozen
You're a bad habit
I didn't know it.
Even now into the months of summer
I'm still thawing
I'm frostbitten
Jun 1, 2015
Jun 1, 2015 at 9:00 PM UTC