"windchill" poems
I saw you in winter,
and thought of tree branches feathered by starlight in poorly lit neighborhoods. A hearth where the more honest parts of myself, I am bared fetal, warmed upon, welcomed.
I saw you in spring,
and thought of long drives in the countryside in the rain. Ice cream melting from our chins dancing petrichor upon our toes, kissing by the sea shore.
I saw you in summer,
and thought of sleepy boathouses, uncovering ancient childhood treasures in the woods. A secret lake somewhere, the sky's reflection in promise. Windy hilltops upon which to blame each other for the sunrise.
I saw you in autumn,
and thought of scarfs and cafes, city streets and sunsets where we watched each others breath escape. Apartment staircases where windchill hibernates, the world slowing down around us from your window.
The first time I saw You, I thought to myself, "I could live there."
Aug 20, 2015
Aug 20, 2015 at 5:24 PM UTC
concrete slams across my shoulder blades as you press your body against mine
an outside invasion;
oppression
my hands climb to my lips warding off the gin and wine of your
kiss
it poisons me as you reach to grab my flesh
I should’ve turned to coffee and water;
velvet nights of smooth moonlight and a bitter windchill
God whispered warnings of you
across my thighs, near your neck
gin and wine
it’s you and me, mixing liquor with jealousy
fabricated curls and a whitened smile
you stand towering over me
asserting deceitful dominance at every chance
yet darling,
I’m
Nov 10, 2014
Nov 10, 2014 at 8:45 PM UTC
Enough faking it. Come already.
Feel like it's right, for once. Like I'm right, this determined swerving from right to left.
Turning East and West into a way to circumvent the crest.
Fallen into yet another losing game of chess.
I
Left a small population of very tall buildings to make another attempt at living.
Dried my eyes and the blood filling them congealed.
Injected the whole of another tube of "real" tropical fruit filling right into my pulmonary like, maybe if someone would eat it before the rot set in for once... Do you know the way back to happiness?
Cuz I'm about to board another bus with a flashing sign on the front that reads: home...
and for some **** reason...I'm wondering how you'd feel about that.
Right? Or is it wrong? Or am I just all that's left?
OK? Well...how are you?
Just okay?
Well
Stalemate.
I didn't sleep when I was in your arms. Too busy thinking about, Why did I hold onto something that was bound to leave with the next cold morning breeze?
"We always slept better together." ???
Probably because the windchill of my staggered circular breathing kept you warm.
Shrugging off the blanket I became, when the night finally let up, and the heat of the sun made you too warm
I fell off you.
Checkmate.
You probably felt like I was passing away.
Nah, I had a foot in the coffin door.
Gotcha, King me.
Wrong game? oh..
Thus then must we return,
To the greater hands
Who is trolling us along?
Tricks, Pieces, Mirrors, begone
Of the ones who took love willingly, no more crying, no more crying.
Right where we belong.
We are seeds.
It's a hard thing for a man to grow old. To watch his hard earned muscles erode as stone does.
But stones roll forward...still.
Aug 10, 2012
Aug 10, 2012 at 3:57 AM UTC
Sunday sun-dazed steamy sweet haze
of our warm breath coats the icy
window panes the sky shines bluer
than our fingers in the snow so
sleep on dreamer while we wait for
summer days to breathe again
Feb 19, 2015
Feb 19, 2015 at 10:13 AM UTC
She always held herself with the dignity of having a thousand masterpieces hanging from her lips but She never let me stand close enough to hear them
She was good at speaking from a safe distance like that
And as I stood with my toes curled over the edge of loving, she peered down the cliff and asked me if the fall was worth the raging waters
She tried to teach me the difference between love affair and romance, unzipping each word telling me how some lies are still worth believing, when the truth is still to bitter to swallow whole.
She told me how the windchill can steal all the warmth right out of you, how it even leaves your mouth shivering and empty
I have written enough about it now to know you can see it in someones hands
I have written enough about it now to know you can taste it on someones words
And we stood there on that cliff until the whisper of dusk finally left our lips and my fingers began to turn blue
On the nights I woke up empty, she told me that the darkness swallows up light without even asking its name so don't you dare expect a roll call now. There is no welcome mat outside of 3am but we laid outside the door anyways and she let the sky paint me pictures
On the nights I woke up cold, she reminded me that hands are only as good as what you choose to hold on to, she always said there was some kind of art into weaving your hands into somebody else's. It was the one thing we agreed on.
She said I had a shimmer she couldnt trust just yet but on the night I couldn't read poetry she let me sit next her, she told me that the thing about people and metaphors is that we all need at little editing
and we could all use a little bit more work.
Feb 6, 2014
Feb 6, 2014 at 12:06 AM UTC
if I was a light switch
would you leave me on
to always feel this way
to always feel as if I do not matter
because the sun is wandering and that is leaving me alone
with nothing but windchill to keep my company
and that is okay
I am okay with that
because it means
I can get closer
to the rain.
Jul 15, 2014
Jul 15, 2014 at 6:09 PM UTC
Dainty snowflakes dance down from the sky, a concoction of whimsy and nostalgia.
I see your face in the flurry, the nippy chill numbing my senses and bringing me back to the days we first met.
I remember the first day I kissed you, our lips ridden with nicotine and nervousness.
It took about two weeks for me to muster up the courage to kiss you, for our mouths to speak to eachother, without words.
The sensation of flesh against flesh, wrapped in eachother, and the fireworks I felt in that moment remind me of the windchill, sending shivers down my spine, igniting goosebumps as though you had pushed down on a TNT trigger, hidden inside of me.
I remember how I had pulled away from our embrace, hid my face in the folds of your flannel out of fear of being rejected- giggling and apologizing for the sloppiness of my love.
You wrapped me up in your arms, quieting my apologies, warmth radiating off of you like a space heater- a warmth I knew I could never resist ever again from that moment on.
Because of you, I've learned to love winter, almost as much as I love you.
Dec 14, 2016
Dec 14, 2016 at 10:42 PM UTC
I went to the beach to get away.
My tears followed, though stunted
by the windchill.
I gazed out at the fleeting waves,
and wanted to walk behind them
until we were one.
The stars warned me to sit,
to watch safely from the shore.
I sadly obliged.
A few burst of light captured
my weary eyes in the sky.
Shooting stars.
I closed my eyes with a wish,
over and over again until my tears
matched the stars.
I only want one thing in this life.
If I cannot have it, the stars will acknowledge
my detour through death.
Dec 14, 2014
Dec 14, 2014 at 1:03 AM UTC
past:
step off the diving board. crest the currents. close your eyes and take a leap of faith. the unknown is not as sinister as it seems.
and when the windchill of disappointments bite down to the bone, remember
there is more to life than this.
future:
pause and breathe (in, out, in). cast your gaze on the sunbeams above. fall into the valleys of despair. when do we stop learning? we never really do.
and when the swell of nostalgia sweeps over you and wrings the air from your lungs, remember
the only easy day was yesterday.
present:
run. stay still. pace yourself. go breakneck. hold your tongue. spill the words. listen. speak. close your eyes. see the world.
and when the world is consumed by nothing but the now, remember
the breakers crash against the shore and the sand slips through your fingers-
every moment has its end.
and never are we ready for the beginning.
Feb 12, 2015
Feb 12, 2015 at 8:34 AM UTC
flashes of your smile
I'm growing less bitter
this familiar mile
is now littered with her
I don't know how
to kiss your lips
I need it now at a
moment like this
I need your beauty
beside me
I need to erase
my shame
a windchill a
sun beam
there saying
my name
nature is green
with envy of thee
the falling leaves
are of my own body
in tow of
the spirit that
has now
known yours
found hidden beaches
felt the snow storms
I'm willing to learn the
things you want me to
if that's now what it
takes to get
to you
I've since learned new
things, though my
pride still burns
it's with unfamiliar
brightness that
my heart now
yearns
Dec 14, 2014
Dec 14, 2014 at 2:59 PM UTC
i felt your eyes
across the room.
you were a perfect storm,
contained
within a dress shirt, and vest.
you were the epitome
of a monday morning
in the middle of winter,
your eyes spoke of
harsh cold, and windchill,
not quite ready
to emerge and go back to people.
but only i know how much you crave interaction.
you just avoid it from me.
|m.s.
Jan 5, 2015
Jan 5, 2015 at 9:59 PM UTC
I'd like to break both of my elbows
So that I can point out to you
All of the places that I'd rather be
Than here
This tacky patterned wallpaper
Reminds me of the past and how
Even with repetition
There was always something new to see
But the other room is white
And it reminds me of now
Where there's nothing in sight
No matter how hard you look
I am growing tired
And I no longer desire to be "graced"
With the burden of oxygen
Breathing only makes me more tired
People with temporary troubles **** themselves
So what if I am permanently ****** up?
It feels a little bit warmer today
But the windchill is still -25 degrees
So I think I will stay inside
Feb 5, 2014
Feb 5, 2014 at 6:14 PM UTC
2/3/2015
funny what people remember
chainsmoke Marlboro in the Mitsubishi
3°f windchill parking lot Princeton *waitin’
killin’* some time last day of January
More than a year since we met? Really?
Pull on the black n mild
I stubbed my cigarette
yeah really
Time flies when you’re having fun!
Well…. arguably- i want to say but i don't
Remember that time we stayed up almost all night talking? You’re a smart kid
Of course I remember.
Where was my man that day?
I know where he is now, but back then when things were
all wholehearted I am shocked and appalled to see I don’t remember!
must’ve been a dry spell huh?
anyways, i smile and realize the car's time's off
joke like what a good friend
sing along to some songs and
now i'm back where i started walking to campus.
Feb 3, 2015
Feb 3, 2015 at 5:29 PM UTC
I listen to the way you lie to me,
the voices in the windchill,
the lapping of long waves against a distant shore,
the wails of ghosts far from home,
and I think about it
about us;
about you;
about me.
What does it say
that I have missed every single opportunity I have ever been given
and directed so much anger--
so much bitterness
at myself
that I can only ever be tired?
I listen to to the wind in leaves,
the wailing of trees,
the moaning of old beams,
the sound of water dripping into a bowl,
and the answer.
I listen to the answer.
I listen to the answer.
Oct 29, 2018
Oct 29, 2018 at 11:44 AM UTC
i want to be a great poem on the book of this world and i want seaside and sunshine and less of this melancholy because the earth is spinning way too fast and i'm starting to feel it in my brain, my brain is the sun and it's burning through and now i'm on fire and the fire will eat me alive
like you ate me alive in the shadow of your house on that cold winter day, you swallowed me up like a shark in the ocean and your hands were cold and your lips were cold and my body was cold it was all so cold because winter was coming from inside of me and it wasn't a season it was just me
being a season can change you, and since i wasn't summer i wasn't loved by children or school kids, i was death and i was snowdrifts and 9 am phone calls of car crashes from ice, i was wet that chilled your bones and put all of your fires out and i was there in the frost and windchill of 60 miles per hour
you drove me in your car to the hospital faster than 60 miles per hour that one day when i took too many pills and i asked you if it was okay for me to die and you said absolutely not because i was the reason behind your heartache and you didn't want it to be dull pain for the rest of your life
(a.m.c.)
May 11, 2015
May 11, 2015 at 4:09 AM UTC
It’s a dull woollen grey sweater day
Where the birds too have withdrawn their song
and tucked their wings in for winters chill fingers
that will reach out and capture their whistling tunes.
Dropping pleasantries on the big city boulevards
Hidden from prying eyes, windows shut tight
like mouths with no words left.
Winter comes suddenly.
With no pamphlets announcing a matinee
show of ballet beauties or bronzed horsemen
riding in the sultry sun on careless beachfront.
That shuffle sand and people into shady nooks
and under trees.
Winter does the opposite.
Each evening from now winter will keep the refrigerator door
open for chilled soups to warm up to toasted breads
to bring a summer inside ourselves with its comfort.
Of course the weathermen will wander of course
talking up storms and snowfalls, ice and wind sleet
and temperature drops to keep the moods down
locked and lifeless, now waiting for summer to come around.
The garden will go limp with excuses
shedding its autumn floral displays
and standing bare and naked before
the mirror of winters reflection.
As each day passes, the mood will dampen down
and slink into caves of warm pockets.
We go from room to room
aimlessly looking out the snowy mountains
Wearing their white skull caps like chinese market gardeners
waiting to harvest
the last fading greenery around.
Soon the snow will
capture the mountain ranges
and spread its feathery fishnet sheets
all the way down to the valleys.
This is it. The conquest of windchill against a blazing summer
Is complete. Down at the door level of temperatures
it feels unique to be so isolated and lonely.
The sun does come out but it acts s subdued and
lukewarm- not basking, not bright,
just staying for a short while each
day and leaving even before dusk comes rapidly,
never overstaying the welcome.
Author Notes
The seasons now change in New Zealand. Only yesterday it was summer filled with so many pleasant activities. Autumn has its own language of colours, but winter rolls in and rocks, drawing us into ourselves and planning for next summer. It is a warm winter now.
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved.
Apr 1, 2014
Apr 1, 2014 at 1:20 AM UTC
Whatever the weather is, windy or hail,
However it howls in symphony gales,
With windchill turning my skin into braille,
I'm here for it all, from beginning to fail.
We both know we won't make it for sure,
Let me lay out my heart for you, naked and raw,
I'm breaking it more for the sake of a call,
So love me, or like me, or hate me, I'm yours.
Feb 2, 2019
Feb 2, 2019 at 4:34 PM UTC
Windchill on a wintry day is like rubbing salt into a wound
It makes eyes and nose water like a crying kid
Negative temperature puts your jacket to the test
The bones can tell when your jacket fails
Extreme cold could be quite unfriendly
Risk and danger it is to the homeless
Mar 7, 2019
Mar 7, 2019 at 7:59 AM UTC
Poison and old spice
Chanel
smells quite nice
but somebody's trainers
stink.
Thus day begins
and the corporation
wins,
the windchill factor's
minus two.
I always come through it
get down and get to it
make do and mend
the same as us all.
It's the underground life on
an underground train
where no one can hear you
as you scream out your pain
where we all carry on as if
nothing is wrong.
Reaching each station
I review my situation
it's all looking horribly grim
The corporation win or lose,
the welfare state's not what
I'd chose and the zero hour
gives a bit more power to
those
that would tie us to poverty.
My taxes pay for a fellow employee
to stay in low paid employment as indeed his pay for me,
This day begins
Jan 16, 2018
Jan 16, 2018 at 1:23 AM UTC
Head first dive bomb.
Absent lights.
I see your tread away from here.
Footsteps full of water.
Evaporate your insecurities.
Exit through the windchill in your spine.
You will find fingerprints.
Laid upon the insides of your eye lids.
Left there to remind us that we are real.
That those fingers have imprinted hearts.
Dusted mine off already.
Please don't give in to what society told you.
You're more than that.
Drift into excellence.
It's where you belong.
Full of extraordinary and singing.
Your voice.
It tickles my mind.
The way I hear you sooth the broken in me.
To think you were broken.
You have mended the most jagged.
So straighten up.
Belt out your heart.
You already awoke mine.
Aug 25, 2014
Aug 25, 2014 at 6:33 PM UTC
I've come to realize that everything I write is somehow about you and you are the inspiration behind all the madness and whenever something goes wrong I want to run, full force, into your presence only for you to say some **** to me that makes me laugh and makes me forget why the **** I ever had a reason to be sad. Maybe I will start believing in myself when I stop ******* things up. This mind has held onto the idea of you for quite some time and I can't seem to shake the feeling everything is already how it is supposed to be because losing you would be the second worst thing I've ever done, the first being hurting you. I am the global warming of many people's lives, I burn down the necessities and I freeze, I make the breeze turn to ice and turn these winds into a windchill and my heart is cold again. My heart will always be unsure of who to trust and lust and love because I'm still trying to decide whether or not I believe in any of it, at all. I keep trying to tell myself I am okay, but then nights alone remind me that I cannot be who I am with anyone, because who I am is destructive. My aura alone could cause a hole in the entire ozone layer, then we would all be ****** I don't know what to think when every bone in my body wants me to think of you. The idea of you wrapped in someone else's embrace with a smile on your face gives me an inane sense of comfort. Because I am destruction, and I burn everything I touch.
Sep 29, 2014
Sep 29, 2014 at 10:41 AM UTC