#winter poetry

[pieceofpoems]

I don't know if moon is hiding from me or i just can't see it because of fog.

-Winters nights, Sadiya Ajaz

[thepathetickind]

I keep on pouring my feelings out, like snow they land on the ground and pile up, for others to step on them

by laurenmaerie, cold winter eyes

[will2will2will2]

kent (wintertime)

Highstreet stones spiral in the night, blurring through drunken eyes and bitter air, as to Westgate we goaded our swollen bodies. In our stupor we dared the sky to swallow us, and soon the sun obliged, and killed the dark as we fell asleep beneath the archway.

will2 1/17/2024

[the-hearth-and-the-wild]

Snow began falling late last night. Wet flakes dropping past windows, snow covering the skylights. We watched for a time, surprised and happy. Glad to be here, and nowhere else.

Raymond Carver, "The Gift" (excerpt)

[edwardian-girl-next-door]

"All in calmness -- the earth with half-opened eyes moves into winter..."

~ Dakotsu Iida, from Haiku: An Anthology of Japanese Poems (tr. Stephen Addiss, Fumiko Yamamoto, and Akira Yamamoto)

[aelfhild-astraedottir]

Musical notes are falling from the sky

Shooshing like lullabies through the leaves

Plinking staccato on my chimney

Crescendoing in sync with the wind section

Winding winter melodies

Into my soul.

© Ælfhild Astrædottir 2023

[arzrchives]

my mom always told me

she believed

that we get to talk

to God when

we die

near him face to face,

kneel, and let our

words tumble

from our mouths

in praise

or worship

respite

anger

we are asked our sins

we respond true

MY CONVERSATION WITH GOD

i met a boy the summer of my 17th and he ate berries from my fingers and

i traced the freckled constellations

on his skin and iced his bruises on them with

my own freezing hands

and he had this thing where

he would hug my hands

in both of his

when they started shivering they were always cold

and i'd cried in my room

in secret when

i realized no one else

had ever cared that

they were

and he was my

four leafed clover and

my shooting star and

the soft secret i tucked into

bed next to me

gently at night and

the bird at my window

in the morning and

apollos lyre and

achilles' sword and

and i lovehimilovehimilove

himilovedhimilovehim

he's gone.

BUT YOU'RE CHANGED

AREN'T YOU?

iamchewedupandspatout

iamagapingblackhole

andafriendoncetoldme

ifyoutrytoshovestuffinside

itwillnotmakeyoufeel

wholeaugust

itwillswalloweverything

everythingeverything

everythingyouputinthere and

he's gone

BUT YOU'RE CHANGED

AREN'T YOU?

i see hands i do not

recognise and a face

foreign to me and

i am begging you

to make me forget

the way he'd looked

at me when he saw

something in me

worth wanting and

unfurled me slowly

in the quiet hours

of the night and

spread his hands

across my body

like an explorer with a map

and a treasure

and the treasure was me

me

me

our gasps of pleasure

and glory and

talks afterwards

and

looking back at him

from the kitchen and

he's already staring and

i adjust my glasses

and ask him if he wants

food and he

hugs me

make me forget

please

DO YOU WANT TO?

no

no

no

i will remember

in death

i will remember

i am carnal and

all teeth and

sinew

and snapping jaws

just like you

taught me,

and

you know

i hold a grudge like

nobody's business and

i will fucking remember

and

DO YOU WANT

HIM BACK?

no

not again

DO YOU WANT

HIM GONE?

good god you've

already killed me

and isn't one death

enough?

don'ttakethisaway

don'ttakeitawayit's

worsethandeath

it'skilling

meonetwothree

fourfivetimesover

it's

YOU LOVE HIM.

BUT YOU ARE

CHANGED.

i am i am i am

i am i am i am

[bonfires-n-hares]

[ladyofthenile]

Phantom December

I see the dead,

Dancing in the in-between,

mists of blue shadows, moving

“Gracefully across my memory”.

Do you seem them too?

Prancing in the silver storm,

“Far away” and “long ago”

Gliding in the winter snow?

Indeed, I see the dead

Swaying in the in-between,

molten form, glowing like

“embers” as they gaze back at me.

Phantom December by Nisa

[oldfarmhouse]

[ardent-reflections]

winter dreariness / until gray grows faint pink, sky / thinks briefly of love

Greg Sellers

[februarytales]

Sometimes you meet someone.

And suddenly all your poems are about them.

I am tired of writing about you.

But I can't seem to write about anything else.

I can't make you perfect, because you're not.

Yet all the lines I have ever written are full of love.

For you, I guess.

Because ever since we met,

my heart has always spoken your name.

In whispers, and then as songs.

Now in paintings and poems,

your existence sprawls across the walls of my house.

I only realised that it was love,

when pastel yellows became too beautiful to ignore.

Stupid thing love,

making me wait and hope,

when all this time you never were here.

I feel like I am inside a snow globe,

enchanted to stay a happy sight forever.

But deep within the walls of my heart and soul,

the winter of your absence has turned an ugly grey.

The snow no longer pure and white,

but tinted with the fading colours of my heartbreak,

and the lost yellows of your smile.

[thepathetickind]

my tea gets cold before I even touch it,  feel like I slowly break apart while everyone talks about the christmas season,

by laurenmaerie, in between snowflakes

[will2will2will2]

burgate waltz

cobbled streets &

quiet cars speak

into the air

snow waits in

gray swollen skies

with baited breath

all the world

seems to dance

in soundless time

will2 1/12/2024

[aloe-does-stuff]

Snow begins to fall

Covering the land in white

Desperate and bright

[edwardian-girl-next-door]

~ T. S. Eliot, from Preludes (1911)

text id below the cut off

[text ID: Prelude I by T. S. Eliot.

I

The winter evening settles down

With the smell of steaks in passageways.

Six o'clock.

The burnt-out ends of smoky days.

And now a gusty shower wraps

The grimy scraps

Of withered leaves about your feet

And newspapers from vacant lots;

The showers beat

On broken blinds and chimney-pots,

And at the corner of the street

A lonely cab-horse steams and stamps.

And then the lighting of the lamps. /end ID]