Winter in Poetry-Poetry in Winter
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.
All that's left of what we were is what we have become.
alright
I've been saving this poem special for this
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
if the worlds gonna end then let's get it over with, i got shit to do
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"
All that's left of what we were is what we have become.
Originally Posted by Jon
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
if the worlds gonna end then let's get it over with, i got shit to do
Keep calling me luscious, and you can do whatever you want!
(unless you were referring to Jean... because he is more succulent than luscious, I would say)
Buddy, you think you look strong? You’re wearing a cape.
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!
Ask not what bears can do for you, but what you can do for bears. (razz)
When one is in agreement with bears one is always correct. (mae)
bears are back!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I hope to see an entry from a bear.
All that's left of what we were is what we have become.
I'm hoping to see entries from, well, anybody
hint hint anybody
if the worlds gonna end then let's get it over with, i got shit to do
I'm working on it .
All that's left of what we were is what we have become.
Graybeard
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.
Sloth Love Chunk
nice!
Buddy, you think you look strong? You’re wearing a cape.
Very. Very.
Ask not what bears can do for you, but what you can do for bears. (razz)
When one is in agreement with bears one is always correct. (mae)
bears are back!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
not a poem writer, so going a little freestyle... please be kind...
winter
cold
callous
unforgiving
i
sit
waiting for spring
Buddy, you think you look strong? You’re wearing a cape.
Minimalism, nice. We haven't gotten too many in this style.
Sloth Love Chunk
Buddy, you think you look strong? You’re wearing a cape.
I like it, Odetta!
Short and sweet can't be beat!
thankee
Buddy, you think you look strong? You’re wearing a cape.
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.
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www.facebook.com/thespermwhaleandbowlofpetunias
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Jon, may I ask you to add a nice winter photo of your first post?
Roland would have understood.
Very well , Morning Star.
All that's left of what we were is what we have become.
I am working on a unique perspective of winter. I don't know if it will pan out but I'll put something up.
All that's left of what we were is what we have become.
all wonderful so far
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.
All that's left of what we were is what we have become.
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.
Grrr...
"Amidst the shrieking
Of birthing clouds"
Love that line!
All that's left of what we were is what we have become.
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