Winter in Poetry-Poetry in Winter

[Jon]

Post your WINTER related poems here. With our luscious Mod's permission, I'll put up a poll in March or so.


Winter need not have snow and ice. Just maybe a dude in a swimsuit and gloves (No "grape smuggler" pics, PLEASE!!.)


A photo of mine for inspiration.


http://i239.photobucket.com/albums/ff79/walterodim_photos/1-7-10009.jpg

[flaggwalkstheline]

alright
I've been saving this poem special for this:rock::pirate:


Cannibalized Poem # 12 (to keep your hands warm, crumple this up in your pocket)

So go on then

My carbon monoxide Cinderella

Continue with your bedtime red wine pillowdrooling story

Even though the pages are yellowed where they aren’t covered in ivy and chewed by rodents

Even though I have forgotten your ashen licorice name

The teakettle is boiling with freshly caught nettles

To keep us strong it is best to not remember a lullaby strong enough to put itself to sleep

I remember your wispy flesh on an unswept floor

I stood upon your barren whispering shores

And told a pile of bones and a silent body of dark ocean motioning

To listen to my battlecry as I planted my flag in the dust and declared all of it as mine

And then I turned around and marched my starved boots back toward the bristling treeline

Go on

The necessary hand motions have been made

Cut off all your hair in the bathroom mirror with a pair of orange handled scissors

Open that cobalt-blue magic suitcase

And show me what chalkmark treasures you’re hiding

I’m hiding under lead lined sleeping bags and under wooden desks while the film rolls on

Flickering on yellow wallpaper

Would you block out the nightlight’s glow by trying to take in as much of it as possible?

Flickering, flickering, flickering

Out!

The bespectacled bird makes a jump from here and dissapears

To hear an unsung song your voice must first become undone

Lining it’s nest with newspaper and fur

The headline’s always changing but the ink remains the same

The film rolls on and crushes our other concrete toys

Under a heavy-lidded cinderblock fantasy

These deep voiced candles leave a meteoric impact crater

The scented wax burns my ungloved fingers and threatens the cataract in my eye

And the whining of a hallucinated piano lingers

So go on then

You crafter of tangerine dream high fructose trickery

Hoist your sore throated glass masterwork upwards

Bungee drop it spidering into the fields

And spend the rest of the shimmery afternoon digging up the pieces

Ripping up the roots and threads of what you have sewn

Turn a century-browned key in a twinkling lock and see if the middle aged door opens

If a starslick oily machine can crawl from the water imitating its maker’s reptilian clockstomper ancestry

Then I will leave the irritated and infected black and red last stitch in peace on the meat

I chew up the serpentine chunks but cannot digest the bricks and mud

The pointed sticks poking out of a flood

No matter how often I get these earthquakingly hopeful dry-heaves

I cannot spit out this buttery frosted over cracked pane between-us-and-them headache

And when the neon honeydew astro-turfwar poison reaches your teed off brain

Will you finally remember to write me a sloppy thank-you note?

Because if you can remember despite your pristine porcelain teeth and weaponless sheath

I did tell you under the covers with a flashlight and a runny nose

I told you sitting in the barefoot moonlight

When we swapped skin, fire and adjectives

I told you that despite this brief goosepimpled meeting at the midnight crossroads

Despite the impenetrable shield of sweaty handed laughter and scribbled notes with fresh nicknames

That sooner or later even though the color bleeds through to the other side of the paper

No matter how often we fill out the necessary paperwork

Dot the I’s and cross the T’s in our best handwriting

Just like they tried to teach us

No matter how often we successfully avoid strange predatory questions

By huddling close under a blanket of our own propaganda

We succumb to an as yet unmade cliché

We can stand in defiance of the cold together

But

We all face the night alone

[Jon]

Damn! I feel like FWTL has kicked my ass before I entered!



" And then I turned around and marched my starved boots back toward the bristling treeline

These deep voiced candles leave a meteoric impact crater


I cannot spit out this buttery frosted over cracked pane between-us-and-them headache


No matter how often we successfully avoid strange predatory questions

By huddling close under a blanket of our own propaganda

We succumb to an as yet unmade cliché"

[flaggwalkstheline]

Damn! I feel like FWTL has kicked my ass before I entered!



" And then I turned around and marched my starved boots back toward the bristling treeline

These deep voiced candles leave a meteoric impact crater


I cannot spit out this buttery frosted over cracked pane between-us-and-them headache


No matter how often we successfully avoid strange predatory questions

By huddling close under a blanket of our own propaganda

We succumb to an as yet unmade cliché"

:cool: I find I often put all my good poems in my other thread so I wrote this one special for this contest and then waited

[Odetta]

With our luscious Mod's permission, I'll put up a poll in March or so.





Keep calling me luscious, and you can do whatever you want! :P


(unless you were referring to Jean... because he is more succulent than luscious, I would say ;) )

[Jean]

bears are, they are...

::comes to::

I only wasn't looking for a moment, and here they are, discussing odettas and bears and making contests!

I mean - great contest, great job! http://i91.photobucket.com/albums/k291/mishemplushem/Facilitation/0134-bear.gifhttp://i91.photobucket.com/albums/k291/mishemplushem/Facilitation/0134-bear.gifhttp://i91.photobucket.com/albums/k291/mishemplushem/Facilitation/0134-bear.gif

[Jon]

I hope to see an entry from a bear.

[flaggwalkstheline]

I hope to see an entry from a bear.

I'm hoping to see entries from, well, anybody

hint hint anybody

[Jon]

I'm working on it .

[BROWNINGS CHILDE]

Graybeard

http://exurbanpedestrian.files.wordpress.com/2008/12/old-man-winter1.jpg

The old man nods his hoary head,
Lets blow his rimy breath.
His whispered, incoherent words,
Convey a frozen death.

He blots the sun, and claims the earth,
His sovereignty complete.
No blade of grass escapes his reign.
Each tree admits defeat.

Upon the land, he spreads his cloak,
An alabaster tomb.
Interred beneath this arctic shroud,
The sun may not exhume.

But when the spring comes 'round again,
The sun may grant reprieve.
The wheel of life begins anew,
As Winter takes his leave.

[Odetta]

nice!

[Jean]

Very. Very. http://i91.photobucket.com/albums/k291/mishemplushem/Facilitation/0134-bear.gif

[Odetta]

not a poem writer, so going a little freestyle... please be kind...


winter
cold
callous
unforgiving

i
sit
waiting for spring

[BROWNINGS CHILDE]

Minimalism, nice. We haven't gotten too many in this style.

[Odetta]

:)

[ladysai]

I like it, Odetta!
Short and sweet can't be beat! ;)

[Odetta]

thankee

[LadyHitchhiker]

Bad Roads
The autonomy
of cars
brings my misanthropy
of drivers
the ice covers the roads
and yet fast they go
no turn signals
no warning of movement
they may end up regretful
freezing rain covers the white pavement
skating rink roads ensue
no salt yet to lessen the agonizing plight
and so
I drive in fear.

[Letti]

Jon, may I ask you to add a nice winter photo of your first post? :rose:

[Jon]

Very well , Morning Star.

[Jon]

I am working on a unique perspective of winter. I don't know if it will pan out but I'll put something up.

[candy]

:clap:all wonderful so far:rose:

[Jon]

Chemical Warfare



Born of simple dirt, we are just “Dust in the Wind.”

You treat us so badly. How have we sinned?

I and my kin work hard to make you a quilt.

A blanket of white, we lay on everything you’ve built.

You grumble and moan; but more than that

After I fall far and hit hard concrete and lay flat

You send a metal, fossil fueled beast to throw us aside.

The beast leaves a chemical agent behind, access denied.

An agent left behind to kill those who come after me.

I lay at the side, watching my kin die, you ignore my plea.

But my kin become water to make the concrete icy.






http://i239.photobucket.com/albums/ff79/walterodim_photos/plow7.jpg

[Gaberax]

Simple water,
Discreetly packaged
Crystallized
In symmetry

Unique in form
From any other
Falling slow
On bitter winds

Spiraling downward
By the billions
Amidst the shrieking
Of birthing clouds

To barren earth
That hides beneath
The crushing weight
Of clotted legions

Knotted, twisting
Frozen blanket
Rising, falling
Undulation

Waxing, waning
Creeping rhythm
Glacial swells of
Simple water.

[Jon]

"Amidst the shrieking
Of birthing clouds"


Love that line!

[Jean]

when is the deadline? all poems here are so wonderful that they inspire bears to participate... but bears will be unable to for another two weeks

[candy]

Winters a bitch
She bites, she hurts. she rips out your life
You daren’t look her full in the face as you know
She will whip at your face with her
Velvetine claws
You huddle inside
Cold to the bone
She’s vicious she is evil with no conscious thought
Each one of her breathes is a shard to the skin
Your lips are frozen into a corpse like grin
As you brave the full force of her wrath
She is darkness she is despair she is all that is bad
In times you think she will thaw out a bit
But she fights back and she hurts all in her path
The old and the young are her first easy prey
But you know she is coming for you
You suffer in silent despair
Not knowing that all the world is in black
You think you’re alone and its you that she hates
But she hates everyone and would kill in a stroke
As you sit in pitch black not daring to breath
You know she is at the door waiting

[Brice]

when is the deadline? all poems here are so wonderful that they inspire bears to participate... but bears will be unable to for another two weeks

Well, clearly the deadline should be whenever bears can submit one. :D

[Jean]

next time there's a contest, then, bears will try to submit first, declare it the deadline, and become winners by default! http://i91.photobucket.com/albums/k291/mishemplushem/Facilitation/bear4bis.gif

[Brice]

:lol: :thumbsup:

*contest begins when bear creates thread and posts the first poem in his starter post and then closes the thread because he was the ONLY one to meet the deadline and thus won* :rofl:

[BROWNINGS CHILDE]

Brilliant!:clap:

[Jon]

I left the deadline vague due to our varying climates.

I think I stated "sometime in March."

As always, I will give warning before ending the contest. I will also hear reason for extension.

I wish for as many entries as possible.

[Jon]

Simple water,
Discreetly packaged
Crystallized
In symmetry

Unique in form
From any other
Falling slow
On bitter winds

Spiraling downward
By the billions
Amidst the shrieking
Of birthing clouds

To barren earth
That hides beneath
The crushing weight
Of clotted legions

Knotted, twisting
Frozen blanket
Rising, falling
Undulation

Waxing, waning
Creeping rhythm
Glacial swells of
Simple water.


I forgot to say... the symmetry of this work makes it flow like greased water. A quality I seem to have lost in my work. Good job. I know how difficult such a thing is to do.

[BROWNINGS CHILDE]

Very nice indeed, Gabe!

[Gaberax]

Simple water,
Discreetly packaged
Crystallized
In symmetry

Unique in form
From any other
Falling slow
On bitter winds

Spiraling downward
By the billions
Amidst the shrieking
Of birthing clouds

To barren earth
That hides beneath
The crushing weight
Of clotted legions

Knotted, twisting
Frozen blanket
Rising, falling
Undulation

Waxing, waning
Creeping rhythm
Glacial swells of
Simple water.


I forgot to say... the symmetry of this work makes it flow like greased water. A quality I seem to have lost in my work. Good job. I know how difficult such a thing is to do.

Thank you, Jon. It went through several iterations before it settled into it's final form. I had to keep reading it to myself to get the meter down correctly. It was there, it just took me a while to find it.


Very nice indeed, Gabe!

Thank you, BC.

[Jon]

And that is why I refer to a poem as a "work."

[Odetta]

bump!

more poems, people!

[Jon]

I second that!!

[flaggwalkstheline]

methinks that there might not be any more entries :orely:

[Odetta]

Jon? are we ready for a poll?

[Jon]

I was thinking March 20th. Feel free to put the poll up then.

[Odetta]

do you want to do the poll? or do you want me to do it?

[Brice]

That's what she said.

[flaggwalkstheline]

That's what she said.

zing!

[Odetta]

:lol:

[Jean]

bears are so sorry they haven't been able to participate this time! they will look forward to the next contest http://i91.photobucket.com/albums/k291/mishemplushem/Facilitation/bearmood_dreaming.gif

[ladysai]

bears still have 6 days until the 20th....
time enough?




(the bear in the moon is cuteness overload!)

[BROWNINGS CHILDE]

Plenty of time Jean.

[Jon]

do you want to do the poll? or do you want me to do it?


Do it, baby. Do it!

(Really, I am unsure how to do so.)

[Jean]

if it was only a matter of time, the world would be overfilled with masterpieces!

[BROWNINGS CHILDE]

If I waited for my muse to get off its dead ass and provide some inspiration, I would never have written anything.

[ladysai]

If I waited for my muse to get off its dead ass and provide some inspiration, I would never have written anything.

Excellent point.
We must be our own muses when at a loss for inspiration.
Thanks for the kick in the ass reminder. :)

[Brice]

I am museless. :(

[flaggwalkstheline]

I have my muse chained to a typewriter in my basement
I feed it raw meat and books of bukowki poetry
Every morning I go downstairs with a chair and whip like liontamer's precautions
I collect it's literary droppings and replace the ink ribbon
And it knows if it doesnt put the paper in the tray it'll get the hose again

the point of the above soliloquy?
My muse works for me, not the other way around

[BROWNINGS CHILDE]

I have my muse chained to a typewriter in my basement
I feed it raw meat and books of bukowki poetry
Every morning I go downstairs with a chair and whip like liontamer's precautions
I collect it's literary droppings and replace the ink ribbon
And it knows if it doesnt put the paper in the tray it'll get the hose again

the point of the above soliloquy?
My muse works for me, not the other way around

That is some funny shit. You just made my muse create a snotbubble.

[Jon]

Mmmm...snotbubble!


As to a muse...read poetry...even if it is song lyrics. I gain much inspiration from various Philosophers.