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Saturday Jones Feb 2014
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.
SWebster Feb 13
Our love in the Wintertime
has passed through the Spring, Summer and Autumn.  
Our love in the Wintertime
is frozen underneath layers of mistrust, hurt and anger.
Our love in the Wintertime
has been drenched in ice
petrified into silence where no-one speaks .
Our love in the Wintertime
is hibernating, waiting for the spring sunlight
to thaw these bitter hearts.
Our love in the Wintertime
has frosted over,
withered in the Autumn to die in the Winter.
Lyn Senz Nov 2013
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
Louay Nov 2012
We’ve accomplished grace
In the eternal august night
To unchain a soul that is contrite
Her soft touch gave men a pleasurable fright
She made me endless dry nights
With a twist of the forthright sunrise.

I’m wondering
I’m wandering
In your vast spacious eyes
I’ll find exile in your fragrant dream
I’ll watch your promises steam
In the waning night
I felt the lunging freedom by the touch of your hand

To the glimmering dusk
We’ve failed to alternate
To the passing bliss
We reasserted
To your musky perfume
Angels tried to elaborate

Frozen words of wonder you maimed
A love hitherto acclaimed
Wintertime is upon us
Memorabilia
Worn dour faces
Grazed by memories

Wintertime is upon us
Lenient breaths
Defying the freezing weather
Like white cotton bursting into the air
Numbed fingertips
And cold lips
Winter was the season of you heart
Winter became the season of my life

Now loneliness is my last supper
The ice for my heart will scupper
I’m alone amidst the feral waves of sobbing
And my heart is drunk with its salt
The crescendo will exalt
Now I must repent
For the placid lament
Greg Obrecht Dec 2013
Outside my window is a morbid view.
Outside my window is a morbid view.
I've got a case of the Wintertime blues.  

Green leaves of summer are dead and brown.
Green leaves of summer are dead and brown.
Bitter winds of winter blow them all around.  

Grey skies above me threaten icy rain.
Grey skies above me threaten icy rain.  
If I had the money I'd take a southern train.

I drink a cup of coffee to warm my bones.  
I drink a cup of coffee to warm my bones.  
I'm waiting for Spring's call on my telephone.  

The snow starts swirling in the bitter air.
The snow starts swirling in the bitter air.
I'm gonna stay right here in my angry chair.
Faryal Feb 2019
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
Cassie Mae Nov 2011
fading wintertime
blankets of white melt away
exposing cold earth
(c) Cassie Mae Writings 2011
Christian Bixler Sep 2015
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.
A rambling thought
Keith Wilson Apr 2016
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
Leah Rae Oct 2012
They Are Lost Love Letters. Written & Sculpted, Imprinted On The Palms Of Praying Children.

They Are Hauntingly Beautiful.

They Are The Silence Of The Storm, They Are The Emptiness Of Shallow Graves.

All She Left Was “I'm Sorry” On The Bathroom Mirror In Red Lipstick, She's Said It So Many Times Her Body Is Now Bent Into A Permanent Benediction Of Regret.

He Wrote Five Drafts Of His Suicide Note Crossed Every T, Dotted Every I.

Now They Wear Self Inflicted Scars, Like Road Maps To Their Own Insanity.

It Was Her Palm Across The Diner Table At 3am. Her Skin Like Rose Petals Pressed In Submission, Smiling, Teeth Pulled Taunt Across Her Chapped Lips, Smiling, Telling Me She Hasn't Eaten In Three Days, Says The Sounds Of Her Body Eating Her Alive Helps Her Sleep At Night.

His Eyes, Angry And Blue, Told Me He Put A Down Payment On His Coffin Today. He'd Been Saving His Pennies For Five Years Now, Don't Tell Me This Wasn't Premeditated.

It Was The Way Her Body Vibrated Aching In Every Joint, Throbbing, Screaming Into Herself So Loudly Her Palms Shook. On The Way To Work In The Morning, Says Sometimes She Can Hear The Wind Whispering To Step In Front Of That Train, Says She Can Lick Her Lips And Taste Heaven.

The Way He Wore A Crooked Half Smile, Pouring GunShot After Gunshot Down His Throat. The Sting Reminded Him Of Wintertime In The Midwest, Told Me Could Feel The Tubes Clawing Their Way Down His Throat. Someday He'll Met A Heart Monitor With The Guts To Tell His Mother Sorry For Him, Because He Never Could.

She Filled Her Bathtub With Ice, She Fantasizes About The Layers Of Flesh Shes Been Suffocating In For So Long, Finally Being Numb.

The Way He Begged The Stars To Call Him Home, Closed His Eyes, As His Right Foot Craved The Gas Pedal, Screaming Through This Red Light, So He Can Finally Come Face To Face With The Angry God So Many People Pray To.

She Wanted To Trace The Lineage Of Her Family Tree Deep Into Her Veins, Up The Length Of Her Riverbed Skin, Until She Can Kiss The Underside Of Her Own Touch.

In The Early Hours Of The Morning, He Finds Himself Crawling On Bruised Hands & Scraped Knees, Cradled Against Train Tracks, He Liked The Constant Thunder In His Ribcage, The Promise Of Something So Much Bigger Than Him Dwelling Inside The Body He Has Been Calling Home.

She Wanted To Wrap The Tether Of Regret Around Her Throat, Ring Her Lungs Breathless, Tighter, Tighter, Until The Time Between The Rise And Fall Of Her Chest Felt Like Centuries.

He Stood Face To Face With A Motionless Sky, A Shade Of Grey So Empty He Could Feel It Ache Inside Of Him. It Begged Him To Step Forward, Just Inches, The Call Of The Void, Bridge Jumper, Harlequin Lost Lover, So Close, So Close.

She Held The Barrel Of Life Between Her Lips, A Fine Line Between Here And There. Shes Walking A Boundary Built In Her Blood. It Doesn't Hurt Yet. A Trigger Happy Hand, Palms Sweating, Shes Counting Down In Her Head, 3, 2, 1,

He's Got “Wide Awake” Written All Over Him, The Bottle Says Take One, But He's Got 53 In The Palm Of His Hand, She's Got Gasoline Seeping Into Her Skin, The Smell Of Smoke Has Never Been This Strong.

They've Been Journaling Their Lives Deep Into Leather-bound Notebooks For Someone To Remember, They've Swallowed Their Own Self Pity, Call It Poison.

She  Never Knew I Would Have Used My Fingertips As Windshield Wipers For Her Tears. I Would Have Placed My Open Palms Against His Chest, And Told Him He Mattered, At Least To Me, In This Moment, Brash And Reckless Healing,

They Told Me They Found A Muse In The Lost. Hopeless Melodies, Kurt Cobain. Sylvia Path With Stones In Her Pockets. ****** With Cyanide Tablets And Silver Born Bullets. Anne Sexton With Carbon-Monoxide Lungs And A Padlocked Volkswagen. Marilyn Monroe Silver Studded In Sedatives, Pulled Down Deep, Until There Was Nothing Left. Hemingway With Shotgun Shells Littering His Skull.

To Them It Seemed Like A Right Of Passage. A Last Attempt To Leave This Planet Screaming. A Better Than Goodbye. Something Poetic To Carve Into Your Skin, Or Flip Top Wooden Desk, So Someone Somewhere Would Remember The Name, Because They Were Told Legends Never Die.
This one is real personal. Hope it resonates with you, like it does with me.
Lydia Cooper Oct 2012
The wintertime just feels like

Love.

Cold lips and fingertips

Naked. Pressed against each other
Shawn Dec 2010
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.
Copyright SMK, 2008.
Crandall Branch Dec 2017
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.
please leave feedback and coomens below! :) :)
Ameliorate Aug 2018
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.
Greg Berlin Nov 2015
You cannot cheat death;
splitting up most of these
little ripples and movements
into a terrible uselessness.
You cannot cheat death;
slipping endlessly through
the cracks towards you.
You cannot cheat death;
but sometimes you can beat it
in the cold, stone-gray mornings,
struggling down pavements
to the corner cafe,
all just to have a seat
and just to have a smoke;
looking across the plaza
at all the young little girls
tucked into their colorful scarves,
their big coats swallowing them,
hair blowing in the wind and
faces red from the cold
and those little fur boots...

They can’t be a day over twenty,
those girls, with all legs
and teeth and attitude,
everything pointing upward.
Youth is a wonder
once it is gone from you.

Is it not enough simply to exist?
Perhaps not. Perhaps the whole
scam of it is just too much
to truly ever be happy.
You understand existentialism,
deep down you accept it,
but you never really think about it,
can't ever truly let it get to you.

"Meaningless... Well then, what now?"
“Nothing," is the response,
"Nothing at all."

Nothing but the smoke,
trailing off in the early morning chill,
lifting up with the wind
up over the balconies, and
the coffee, and me and those
sweet young women layered up
in their wool hats and little gloves,
passing lazily by my table
without so much as a glance.
LK Cierra Aug 2015
Bright red cuts line up
On her wist
There's an empty bottle of
Pills clenched In her fist
An empty soul
And a painful past
And before you know it
Her life was gone
Way to fast

(Chorus)
it was wintertime when
She was found beyond dead
There was suicide swimming
Through her head
An aching heart
And now an empty coat
This song was her last,
Final note
(End chorus)

Will she ever make it to
The pearly gate?
Or will she be blocked
Because of all her hate?
Will she make it to the land
Where she belongs?
Or will she still be lonely
After far to long?
She wondered about it but
She never tried
Finally gave in the night
She last cried
A sharpened knife
Or an oiled gun?
In that fateful night
She gave up the fight
Dragged herself down
And in her misery she drowned

(Chorus)

She finally died that night
All alone
She died looking at pictures on
Her phone
The pictures were of things
She loved
Musicians that she swore were sent
From above
She had her chance to have a life
But she gave it up
Her voices gave her strife
Suicide, cut. love, and slit
The four voices that were split
The bullies never knew
How their influence grew
And her family never
Once saw that she was blue

(Chorus)

And now my dear friends can't
You see?
The girl in that song was
Really me.....
Liz Nov 2014
don't tell me this is love
because all i ever am is dead
don't tell me this is perfect
when i can barely breathe

i'm sick
but that's no surprise
i have no safety
from crippling disease

i stand outside to see if i get cold
to see if the wind hurts my bones
sitting in the snow
plucking petals
asking if he loves me
ughhhhhhhhhhhh
Greg Berlin Nov 2013
winter is coming again
feel it in the bones
as you light another cigarette
******* you should kick the habit
******* you should settle down
focus on your studies
and not on the vultures
that fly in and around you
trying to get warm in this cold air
can you see them circling now?
if only they weren't so tantalizing
if only they weren't so persistent
so keen on the feast
all bundled up in those cute
scarves and jackets and boots
how do you resist?
how do you resist these
eyes like razorblades
and talons
and teeth?
you don't
you let them tear
you apart with
every glance
with every smile
winter is coming
and everyone feels it
all you do is light
another cigarette
and try not to look up
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.
Sheri Harrington Nov 2014
Why doesn't this house
Look like a house
Unless it's wintertime?

Why is it that when I walk through it
I see my own body, in different places, crying like I used to
But only in the wintertime.

The walls don't ever seem
This real
This alive
Like they're out to get me
Unless it's wintertime.

Maybe it's because my AC gets turned off.
And I can no longer drown out the whispers of the past
With the draining moans of cool air.

Maybe it's because,
When I can hear the cars and birds outside,
All I can possibly think of
Is waiting, 6am, for an old friend coming to pick me up

Maybe it's because I no longer feel
Comfortable
As my fingertips turn against me.

No matter how many drawings and paintings I put on that wall.
No amount could change the fact that
The wall is still there
It's still that same wall.

No matter how many times I DESPERATELY rearrange my furniture
The structure
God ****** it's still the same room
It's the same room

Why was this so effortless to ignore for so long, but now it won't cease?
Why is this such a big problem all of the sudden,
Again?
Why can't I just grow up and realize that:
He is not a demon,
His spirit is not out to get me,
I can rest.
I can rest.
I CAN rest.

It isn't even Winter yet.
How will I survive another Winter?
I must brace myself.
I will face this demon headstrong.
He will not write my emotions out for me any longer.
He will order ME how to feel NO MORE.

I am my own soul.
But I must brace myself.
nicoii Dec 2016
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.
Flo Mar 2016
Grey in grey, streaked with snow
Living in a big city there is not much nature left. Grey buildings, grey roads, grey sky...
Streaked with snow.
KD Miller Jan 2015
1/29/2015
princeton thursday night
all out of coffee
and, sitting by wood slats of the
sad sunroom i
smile at a dead beetle

set the record down on
helen forrest and all she does it talk about
how she loves so madly

the sun sets on the west
sourland bramble downwards the cul-de-sac ridge
was in my line of sight long walks

but pulmonary bruises like the radiators
and that was in what? october? april?
no. april's too early

i close my eyes in bed and
i still hear that ****** song
enraptured i sink back and

i open again i open!
i can't afford to die or lose
same thing, just yet

i have dorms to sneak into and
cigarettes to put out,
more lifetime flatlines to complain about and

drain pipes to stand next to and
grass to sink into when it thaws and
unexpected phonecalls from past men
to receive.

month long in absentia you never called me first and now
i gotta go flip this record over, man.
stand up down the stairs off the bed
remind me not to blink for too long.
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.
.
Emily Thompson Oct 2012
The snow covers the ground,
Winter is here and long overdue,
The trees are covered and rest quietly underneath,
The winter is death to many.

The snow is everywhere around,
Everything seems so subdue,
But things I can't see are lively beneath,
Winter is the real enemy.
CA Guilfoyle Dec 2014
Eyes, lashes flash
patterned lace, snowflakes
melt soft across my lips
exquisite blooms of winter
coldest icy snow shall not freeze
nor will night ever slow or blacken
in the howling, we watch grey skies sway
laugh at wicked, whipping rains
hear only the call
of our names
Mohammad Skati Jan 2015
Summertime versus Wintertime                                                                            Simply because Summer is hot and                                                                       Winter is cold anytime                                                                                            It's cold outside ,but                                                                                                My heart is very hot ...                                                                                            I ignore that image of a Summertime  that                                                                   Might live in a Wintertime                                                                                      Simply because I can not resist it or                                                                        I can not tolerate it anytime ....
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.
Kyle Wheaton Sep 2012
Between two expanses of obligations lies nowhere time,
It’s one in the morning and my breath smells like something slipped into my coffee
But I’m up anyways so there’s writing in scattered papers,
****** lips from biting, and jagged nails, too.

Winter eight through eleven was filled with things I don’t remember,
Now Mia in a white dress says she won’t be back next year
And suddenly everything is laid out so clear:
Eighteen months and the only difference is where I put my stuff,
Family is breaking and a straight face is the only way to save one.
John F McCullagh Jan 2012
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
Joyce Kilmer's "Trees" updated for the global warming era.   Carbon sinks are devices that capture and sequester green house gases underground.  A little parody mixed with homage to a great poet, Kilmer, who was taken from us too soon.
Imagine walking through the snow into a forest full of pine trees
As you stop amongst the trees, all you can hear is the silence
A slight cool breeze rustles through the trees moving the limbs

Enchanted wintertime night

Snow left on the branches gently falls down to the ground
As they hit your coat and face, they sit for a moment before melting
An owl sits up high on one of the branches looking down at you and the world all around

Enchanted wintertime night
Holly M Oct 2018
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.
she remains anon Dec 2018
Cold fingers
dance across my skin.
Too bad, from me, they linger
not him.
Cecelia Dec 2018
The sweet serenity
Of sipping hot cocoa
❄️
The joyous laughter
Coming from the screen
❄️
The silly symphony
Echoing from the instruments
❄️
The jazzy chorus
Humming poetry
❄️
The cold winds blowing
The soft snow snowing
All during Wintertime
December 2, 2018
Cecelia C.
-cc
Sarah Richards Nov 2019
I was already
falling
  when the rain
came down

like checkered
streams of
   tinsel
that make
us into
ornaments - a hook,
an eye

I always fall
  come
wintertime.
SøułSurvivør Apr 2016
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
Jesus Christ is also known as
The Rose of Sharon

Please also read
Salvation Story by SoulSurvivor

Thanks for reading!

@--\-------
Damian Murphy Mar 2015
The sad skeletal remains
of once magnificent trees
stand scattered on the terrain
as far as the eye can see.
Soaked by snow, sleet and rain,
Blown bare by cold winds each one;
Frozen time and time again,
Warmed by a weak winter sun.
Branches like bony fingers
Protruding towards the skies
Where birds like deaths harbingers
Lament with long lonely cries.
Bo Tansky Dec 2018
It was the coldest day of the year.
We welcomed the return of cooler weather,
Fellow followers of the southern sun.
Winter had almost begun.
Delicious cool breezes uplifted our spirits.
Inspired these awesome(?) lyrics
There was a luminescence to the light.
It sparkled with the dearest delight.
The days were shorter.
The nights' longer.
The seasons were changing.
Change was in the air..
Change was everywhere.

Southern change is slow and steady.
Unlike the north where one must always be ready
The mass migration from the north was still underway.
Hordes and hordes of high blood pressure,
Scoliosis afflicted octogenarians invaded our state.
We who bore the brunt of the brutal summers,
Felt like we belonged to a sunny exclusive club.
Entitled to space, the roads, the sunshine.  
Now we must share with the worst drivers of vehicular crime
Accidents galore.
Everywhere you go.
Someone overran the barricade,
Cars totaled
Cars mangled
Twisted and tangled
Cars flipped & chipped  
A road detours
In the land of the aged & mature
Mature, I say, only in age
Otherwise, it would be an absolute outrage.
And it is.

People meeting people in the most unfortunate way.
I tell you it tests your mettle,
It tests your patience,
It tests your good nature,
Not to mention the nomenclature
of your exclusivity.  
Better rethink civility.
Better rethink senility.
Better rethink livability
In the south
In the wintertime
  
Missing you had become a pastime of mine...
Seeing you and Robert in the coffee shop that day-
Delighted me.  
So that I completely forgot to order tea.
I knew I would see you soon,
As fate would have it.
Not being in the habit
Of that particular time
That particular coffee shop
That day,
Anyway
Unplanned as this was.
That is to say
Not planned in the usual way.
Did the afternoon gods align?
Should I take it as a sign
Or is it pure coincidence
I know you agree with the ladder
It doesn’t much matter
Coincidence and me don’t agree
Nothing is accidental
No, I’m not mental
If you agree with me.
I admit it’s a hard nut to swallow,
Unless you’re in the habit of swallowing hard nuts,
Which most, I think, are not
Although I’ve never actually inquired
For the usual reasons
Excuse the nut reference
If you have a hard nut allergy
In which case you should stay away  
It’s not a bad thing,
More hard nuts for the rascal squirrels,
No hard nuts for the hard nut adverse.
How nutty is this verse?

I digress
As you can see
My thoughts always take me back to thee
Thought I’d get a little fancy.
Back to the Day in question
Referenced by me in this digression
If I thought something interesting was about to unfold
Oh no, oh no
It was the same old, same old
After the polite amount of time
You picked up your phone
It was a sign
Business as usual
Or is it you hiding behind
Some kind of some kind  
I don’t know what
I such a nut
Stale coffee sits in the microwave
It pings its readiness
Forget my forgetfulness
One more round
The coffee’s cold
Like you
Still
I take it out
Drink it anyway
While I wait
Still
The coffee’s cold
And so are you
That’s all I have to say
And that’s why
Without thinking
I grabbed the phone that day
While you were busy texting
Hey, I wasn’t getting in the boxing ring
You knew that

Robert was rather overreactive
It was only me being me
I’ll meet your cold
And up the ante
Are you all in
Do I win
I was only playing, all along
That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t write me a love song
Two for her
One for me
I think you’ll agree
It’s quite unfair
And you want to be fair
Don’t you
This isn't optional
Even rational
Or actionable
*******
My phantom love
I get it.
Still
I’m missing you.
Do you miss me too?

— The End —