"wintertime" poems
My amazed ghost, you inspire me to write.
How I hate the way you skip, walk and hide,
Invading my mind day and through the night,
Always dreaming about the light yuletide.
Let me compare you to a crazed cherry?
You are more unfazed, banal and active.
Ice bites the debris of February,
And wintertime has the beguiled practive.
How do I hate you? Let me count the ways.
I hate your brilliant lip, smile and eyes.
Thinking of your reviled smile fills my days.
My hate for you is the attractive flies.
Now I must away with an open heart,
Remember my wild words whilst we're apart.
Feb 5, 2018
Feb 5, 2018 at 3:30 PM UTC
looking at the sunset, the time where the skies want to look pretty for us
Even during the summertime, wintertime, spring, fall; every season the sky goes into a different style
but we also make ourselves look pretty for someone special
But imagine being the sunset, that not only one person see’s your beauty but the whole world gets to see it?
The colour that the sky showcases, it changes, beauty changes everyday
maybe I could be your sunset & u can be the sunrise, so I can wake up & see the beauty in you
Dawn & twilight, sunrise and sunset
Now paint yourself like that sunset.
Maybe living life like the sunset,
I could see the beauty in anything, within myself, & within the world
So go and be the sunset,
The world wants to see you shimmer
Feb 11, 2019
Feb 11, 2019 at 2:18 AM UTC
Another week is done and little has been accomplished
It seems lately I only exist to eat, I’ve barely left the house
Sleepless nights filled with scrambled egg thoughts of a time which doesn’t exist any longer, served up on a plate come breakfast time
My new home although filled with animals, holds no resemblance to what we had built together
The home I finally deserved left desiccated come springtime’s-battle with mental health
The cats although great company do not replace the steady hum of your computer fans
The rhythm of your breathing knowing you were somewhere close in proximity
Weekends brought a time when we felt whole
6 am memories releasing silent fountains of tears do not bring us back together
Hours passing can’t erase the 4 months it’s been since you left me
Or the wintertime when everything had been perfectly comfortable
No, our love left me with a void of blankness impossible to just shake away
Entirely unforgiving feelings, grieving for every kind word you ever said
Id be lying if I didn’t miss you.
Aug 24, 2018
Aug 24, 2018 at 7:14 AM UTC
My smooth vermin, you inspire me to write.
How I hate the way you infest,
Invading my mind day and through the night,
Always dreaming about the wicked rest.
Let me compare you to a contender?
You are more ugly and more disgusting.
Hot frost nips the robins of December,
And wintertime has the shocking busting.
How do I hate you? Let me count the ways.
I hate your intriguing infestations.
Thinking of your many legs fills my days.
My hate for you is the implications.
Now I must away with a loathsome heart,
Remember my fast words whilst we're apart.
Dec 3, 2017
Dec 3, 2017 at 1:12 AM UTC
Wintertime nighs;
But my bereavement-pain
It cannot bring again:
Twice no one dies.
Flower-petals flee;
But since it once hath been,
No more that severing scene
Can harrow me.
Birds faint in dread:
I shall not lose old strength
In the lone frost’s black length:
Strength long since fled!
Leaves freeze to dun;
But friends cannot turn cold
This season as of old
For him with none.
Tempests may scath;
But love cannot make smart
Again this year his heart
Who no heart hath.
Black is night’s cope;
But death will not appal
One, who past doubtings all,
Waits in unhope.
3.4k
I think that I shall never see
a better Carbon Sink than M.I.T.’s
It helps keep green house gas at bay
By sequestering it away
The Carbon Sink works like a tree
but does it more efficiently
When trees in wintertime are bare
The Carbon Sink still cleans the air
And trees can yield up carbon once again
When Forest fires make them burn
Poems are made by fools like me
But Carbon Sinks are made by M.I.T
Jan 14, 2012
Jan 14, 2012 at 3:30 PM UTC
i have a soft spot
for cough drops
that are cherry flavoured
in the wintertime,
savour the moments left,
watching the outlines of my breath,
wondering why we step
out of ourselves constantly,
wanting another place,
chasing another dream,
dream of heat in the winter,
dream of frost in the sun,
dream for the end of **** exams,
tears well up when its done,
satisfaction can be found
in cherry-flavoured halls,
light shining on a fresh snowfall,
swear you're not high on the menthol,
real ice, in the moonlight,
makes that bling on their necks look amateur,
unsure of stability,
you lay down, and watch the sky,
starlight, mixed with cherry-halls, and your
breath in the wintertime,
savour moments like fine wine,
might as well just stop trying,
take these moments, take that breath,
take that flavour, take what's left,
focus on it, don't take a step,
live just for the sake of it,
forget the consequence,
and all responsibility,
and other 6-syllable words,
that we're fed repetitiously.
Dec 30, 2010
Dec 30, 2010 at 2:51 PM UTC
This piece of land I call my own
One day shall be overgrown
But one thing that is always shown
Is that people here are free
Lavender scent fills the air
People laughing everwhere
Old frenchmen sitting on the stairs
These things just need to be
Wander close and hear the sounds
There are birds and insects all around
But, we are all beneath the ground
And these we will not see
I lie beneath the sunlit sky
For this place is where I did die
For me I ask that you not cry
I died for my country
Birds are flying overhead
Beneath their flight lay we the dead
The ground was once stained deep blood red
From here you smell the sea
When I was here the sky was black
You could not see each new attack
We'd take one hill, they'd take in back
I was only twenty three
My medals are not on my chest
They're home, I hope like all the rest
I died but did fulfill my quest
I made these people free
I will not age forever more
I will not make it twenty four
But where I lay, there's ten score more
Who believed the same as me
I came to France in Wintertime
The battlefield was mud and slime
The beauty gone, it was a crime
There's not much here to see
Our crosses stand and mark our place
No photographs to show our face
We died with honor and with grace
Please say a prayer for me
Just boys we were when we arrived
It's sad that most did not survive
We gave our souls, we gave our lives
So this world could be free
I remember though one Christmas Day
The war was stopped so we could play
I wish it could remain this way
We had no enemy
So, here I lie beneath the earth
My life is what your freedoms worth
My tale is one but there's a dearth
Of others here like me
But now I just enjoy the view
The birds above and folks like you
Will keep my story, fresh, anew
Just please...remember me.
.
Apr 29, 2012
Apr 29, 2012 at 3:39 PM UTC
For stale appearance I don't give a fig
since I won't see my friend for quite some while
but wit and humour always are in style
and I have grown to like this sort of gig.
Put on some hair, the deal is not so big
as you imagine. I do not revile
the belly laugh, nor yet the honest smile
since I am me beneath the longest wig.
In prose or verse the sentiment is true
that we're the grace that we have got to lend
to each occasion where the good may meet
to speak a while and give good peace its due
in wintertime. Still all fine things must end
and happy moments pass with foot too fleet.
Feb 24, 2010
Feb 24, 2010 at 2:52 PM UTC
I want to see you in the summer
Sitting at the edge
With our feet in the water.
The ice creams in our hands melt
As the temperature gets hotter.
We don’t speak as we eat,
But we don’t have to,
Because the silence between us is not uncomfortable.
I want to see you in the moonlight
When we would walk so far that my feet bled,
Our eyes fixed on the road ahead-
But you walk close to me
And turn on your flashlight
Because you know that I am scared of the dark.
I want to see you in during autumn
When the leaves are the color of your hair.
Your words are so carefree it’s not even fair.
We look cozy in sweaters;
I’d be cozier if I was closer to you,
But you forge a path ahead,
And I follow you.
I want to see you illuminated
A dim glow cast on your features
By a 1980s horror film.
It doesn’t scare me, yet I wish it did
Because then maybe you would hold me,
But I wouldn’t pretend, because to you I would not lie.
This is just a movie between two friends: you and I.
I want to see you in the wintertime
Red cheeks and nose
Mine are too,
But not from the cold-
I think about these things as I’m hit by a snowball from you.
You laugh while I pretend to be mad
As the cold infiltrates my shirt,
But I don’t feel it,
Because we all know that I’m burning for you.
I want to see you every which way
Dressed up, dressed down;
Distressed or acting like a clown;
Excited, acting with reckless abandon;
Content, allowing me to see you undone.
I want to see it all,
But right now, I want to see you.
Oct 23, 2018
Oct 23, 2018 at 10:55 PM UTC
Locked in the wintertime of life
Transgression's grip as cold as ice
A dark'ning garden filled with strife
There planted every form of vice
A thorny bush, of bitter hues
I was a bramble so depraved
I wanted naught but to eschew
My life and press on to my grave
My life and press on to my grave
I had no willingness to live
My body bloodied, crushed and sore
No circumspection did I give
The full weight of sin I bore
And like a tyrant my disease
My drug addicted frame of mind
Like a briar wrapped and seized
My heartbreak in a fatal bind
My heartbreak in a fatal bind
Then like the warming light of spring
You came my precious ray of hope
O'r my bramble bush You'd sing
A bud came up to reach & *****
Warmer, warmer was the sun
Birds sang with You in the air
It was then I had begun
To leave behind my sin's despair
To leave behind my sin's despair
The tender bud it thrived and grew
Through deepest drought and bitter rain
And a bright bloom of awesome hue
Burst forth in glory that remains
That beauty is of Jesus Christ
It is to HIM all glory goes
He was the One who took my vice
Now looking down God sees a Rose
Now looking down God sees a Rose
SoulSurvivor
(C) 4/15/2016
Apr 15, 2016
Apr 15, 2016 at 8:07 PM UTC
Winter, Weather,
Snow and Heather,
Freeze and Feather;
Owl swifting, white
of wing. Cold and ashes,
Love and slashes,
Fire bright in the wintry
night.
Sep 29, 2015
Sep 29, 2015 at 5:12 PM UTC
While I was asleep last night
Someone's painted the whole world white
They've turned the raindrops into ice
Like pretty jewels they look so nice
Pretty patterns on my windowpane
Perhaps the fairies have been again
Icy flowers and ferns are there
Fairy foliage everywhere
The dormant garden sprang to life
A pretty picture overnight
See the trees and bushes all
Decked as for a fairy ball
Daddy says it isn't so
Fairies disappeared years ago
If they were ever here at all
It's just the harsh winter weather, that's all
Mummy says “They may have been”
But I shouldn't delve into things unseen
I'll be watching out for them all right
They may return in dead of night
Keith Wilson
Apr 11, 2016
Apr 11, 2016 at 6:16 AM UTC
dense, warm air and sticky grins were prominent during those sunny summer days
tripping over our friends and muffled laughter
grass stained shorts and muddy fingernails
wet, curly locks of dark hair and bare feet squishing against the grass
kids are known to be careless
a big bowl of fresh strawberries is placed onto the plaid blanket spread across the prickly grass blades
and we shoved our hands in quickly to see who could get the huge strawberry in the middle first
some blades of grass stuck right through the blanket and poked our legs hard enough to make it sting but it didnt phase us
neither did our grimy hands as we devoured the delicious fruit.
we were messy kids. the juice dripped down our arms, creating a translucent river of rosy red juice
you licked yours up but i stared at mine, intrigued as the river followed my veins and settled in the crooks of my bent elbow
i couldnt resist slurping it up eventually though
strawberries were always my favorite
several years later it isnt the same
the red river dripping down my arm, following my veins and settling in my bent elbow didnt taste the same as the sweet strawberries of summertime.
the gashes on my arm werent from an intense game of tag with a friend
or from rolling around in the grass too roughly
these gashes were more than just booboos
mommy couldnt kiss these and make them all better
mommy couldnt make them disappear
i couldnt make them disappear
i made them appear
they are here to stay, and not some sticky juices from a summertime delight
they were sticky juices from a wintertime despair.
a twisted mind
a long sleeved hoodie in 90 degree weather
a sad excuse as to why it was a hoodie instead of a t shirt or a tank top
a bit lip to hold back the tears
a friend who tried their hardest, but couldnt notice and brushed it off
a forever tainted mind
whenever someone offers me strawberries
i take them, even if i am filled to the brim or sick of strawberries altogether
because maybe if i overdose on strawberries
my mind will blur
and all the memories of the thick, dark red river of wintertime despair
will all become replaced with strawberry juice
and i will wake up
and it will have been nothing but a fever dream.
Dec 3, 2016
Dec 3, 2016 at 12:23 AM UTC
In summertime, our love is delicate, like lilacs floating in the breeze. In wintertime, our love is warm — it races from arm to toes.
If skies are blue, our love is tender — two people dancing in the sun. If thunder rolls our love is blessed, a refuge from the falling rain.
When spring flowers bloom, our love is bold, like violet petals on the iris. When autumn leaves fall, our love is copper, shining bright like a sunset.
From easter till new years our love will continue to delight. From season to season I love you always! My one, my only, my darling.
May 24, 2015
May 24, 2015 at 6:06 PM UTC
Ribbons of purple and gold
Scatter across the sky
Against rose colored buildings
Like a Monet painting
Hot pink sundown
A bright golden ball slowly lowers
Another day is closing
Nighttime awaits in the wings
Hot pink sundown
There’s a small sliver of moon
Sitting high up in the sky
Against the gray blue backdrop
Almost invisible
Hot pink sundown
The air is crisp and cool
It’s wintertime once again
Animals and people bundled up
Staying off the cold
Hot pink sundown
Small white lights abound
Decorating a terrace
A remnant of the season past
Offering a welcome feeling
Darkness is not far behind
Welcoming in a new night
Hot pink sundown
Jan 9, 2019
Jan 9, 2019 at 2:03 PM UTC
fat monkey's with beady little eyes
wander back and forth along the kitchens edges
licking their lips and hungrily kneading their hands
while i tend the pots and kettle
wearing my best low rent apparel
and listening to only the finest of garage grunge
its miami gardens in springtime
and all the pretty people are strutting the boardwalk
looking for backwater bargains at cheap motels
she is here with me in her barley there bikini
fashionably perfect in all the politically correct ways
its perpetual summer in miami gardens
all the sour hearts on the phone making travel arrangements
the snowbunnys are out in force this year
can't step one foot to a western wind with treading on some ugly mug
but they are oh so friendly
don't you want to cuddle up with some furry little monster
its wintertime in miami gardens
she strips down to her birthday suit
and the monkeys start getting itchy in
their mohair leisure suits
its hard to get comfortable in your own skin
in the land of picture perfect bodies on the sand
so lets all sit down to eat
share a meal and a mile of road
maybe we can find enough in common to keep out the cold
thinking about miami gardens in spring
Nov 10, 2014
Nov 10, 2014 at 6:17 PM UTC
I want to take a walk in the wintertime
So my heart can identify its external condition
Oct 20, 2014
Oct 20, 2014 at 8:47 AM UTC
A heart like wintertime -
And it gets dark early.
And it's very cold.
A heart like wintertime -
So all the leaves fall from my trees.
And it's very cold.
A heart like wintertime -
So my animals run and hibernate.
And it gets dark early.
A heart like wintertime -
So circles of ice float on the surface of my ponds.
Spinning, spinning....
A heart like wintertime -
So I hear the crunch of my frozen pine needles beneath feet.
And the falling snow masks the footprints.
A heart like wintertime -
So long icicles hang from me.
And lips crack and split.
A heart like wintertime -
So heavy snow breaks my branches.
Freezing, freezing...
A heart like wintertime -
So my labored breaths rise as a fog.
And it gets dark early.
A heart like wintertime -
So spider-web frost creeps across my windows.
And it's very cold.
A heart like wintertime,
And it gets dark early.
A heart like wintertime,
And its very cold.
Feb 24, 2014
Feb 24, 2014 at 11:38 AM UTC
It was the first snowfall of the year, a very soft, quiet, powdery snow that silently swept over the town. She stood at the door, watching the soft flakes collect on the ground. Every year she thought of how she dreaded with wintertime, the cold, the snow, the slush, all of it. She had been quite pessimistic towards the idea of the first snow of the year. She wasn’t ready for the absolute sign of cold, not so soon. She sighed, knowing it was inevitable. The month was November and it had been cold since mid-October. She could only accept it and move on with her life for the rest of the winter.
As she stood, watching the snow dust the points of the grass, she felt something swelling up inside. She couldn’t tell whether it was nostalgia, or happiness or sadness, it was a feeling she had either lost the name for or it had no name. She felt her eyes sting as the tears filled them to the brim. She thought it was ridiculous to cry about the snow, of all things. There were more important things to worry about and she was crying about snow.
She shook her head and closed the door, walking away from the view. She held herself as goosebumps covered her skin. Slowly she went through the motions she went through every night, with the exception of the tears crystallizing on her skin. She rubbed the skin before going to bed, that curious feeling still filling her up.
She thought of the snow, and the one she loved, and everything else. As the night grew quieter still, the feeling became apparent as a nostalgic loneliness. As the soft snow covered the little down in blankets, she covered herself and wished to share her blanket with another.
Nov 14, 2013
Nov 14, 2013 at 10:58 PM UTC
When the leaves
start to shake
I can't wait
for Wintertime
is on the way
it's cold air in my hair
and I can't wait
it's feeling so cold outside
and I can't wait
to see your face
your grace
warm places no
they just don't understand
cuz it's so cold
it's so much
to behold
when it's Wintertime
it's so cold
it's so much
to behold
when it's Wintertime
When the leaves
start to shake
I can't wait
©1990 Lyn
Nov 7, 2013
Nov 7, 2013 at 7:23 PM UTC
Like Persephone, when you're
Gone from me, you
Leave behind the
Wintertime, snow falls
In your wake, and I
Can't help lying awake
Thinking of
You, and the flowers
That you grow
In the cold, dark, earth
Of me.
Dec 9, 2023
Dec 9, 2023 at 4:07 PM UTC
Suddenly the sun has gone
Away from the lilac skies
The sky's black-blue
Suddenly the sun has gone
Away from the lilac skies
The sky's black-blue
I've caught the flu
I've caught the flu of wintertime
Incandescence through chlorophyll
Visible via the clouds of mist
Dew on leaves
Woolen skin and
Leather gloved fists
New flowers bloom
Dawn's the age of gloom
The merry days of Yuletide
And the days of never-ending nights
Darkened alleys
Seem like mountain valley
My nose can't smell
My throat can't speak
Like the desert my skin is dry
Fiery heaven
These campfires
Peanuts roasting
I can hear their noise
O! These days of sickened voice.
I've caught the flu of wintertime
Incandescence through chlorophyll
Visible via the clouds of mist
Dew on leaves
Woolen skin and
Leather gloved fists
New flowers bloom
Dawn's the age of gloom
The merry days of Yuletide
And the days of never-ending nights
Darkened alleys
Seem like mountain valley
My nose can't smell
My throat can't speak
Like the desert my skin is dry
Fiery heaven
These campfires
Peanuts roasting
I can hear their noise
O! These days of sickened voice.
Dec 21, 2020
Dec 21, 2020 at 2:00 PM UTC