Discover Top Posts Tagged with #cold poem

“Lift up your dark heart and sing a song about

how time drifts past you like the gentlest, almost

imperceptible breeze.”

— Jim Harrison, from “Cold Poem,” Saving Daylight (Copper Canyon Press, 2006)

#Jim Harrison #Cold Poem #Saving Daylight #poetry #dark heart

Cold Poem

-Mary Oliver

Cold now. Close to the edge. Almost unbearable. Clouds bunch up and boil down from the north of the white bear. This tree-splitting morning I dream of his fat tracks, the lifesaving suet.

I think of summer with its luminous fruit, blossoms rounding to berries, leaves, handfuls of grain.

Maybe what cold is, is the time we measure the love we have always had, secretly, for our own bones, the hard knife-edged love for the warm river of the I, beyond all else; maybe

that is what it means the beauty of the blue shark cruising toward the tumbling seals.

In the season of snow, in the immeasurable cold, we grow cruel but honest; we keep ourselves alive, if we can, taking one after another the necessary bodies of others, the many crushed red flowers.

#cold poem #mary oliver

November:

There is a chill

More leaves fall

I clutch onto my mug as steam exhales

Joining my breath

Melting into the air

As my feet crinkle beneath

I wonder if it's cold for you

If you catch the cold air as you speak

Cheeks are red and raw

Scarves and hats

Dried mud and frozen fingertips

I hope you release any pain

When November kisses you

Wrapping her icy grip around you

Welcoming you into Winter

Autumn was pleasant

But Winter

Breaks your heart

Ready for Spring to heal you

#poem #november poem #November #spilled ink #cold poem #winter poem #autumn #spilled poem #writing #poetry #wlw poetry

There’s something about long drives in the dark of winter

Something almost unreal about them

Or maybe that’s just me.

The road ahead illuminated only by the headlights

Such low visibility, it feels like you’re at a disadvantage

That you don’t have much control

Anything could appear.

In the distance, forested mountains spun with mist

You could easily imagine something lurking

Just out of sight.

And the occasional car now and again along the frozen highway

Maybe a body at the side of the road

A deer that put too much faith in it’s chances

A squirrel just trying to bury one more acorn before the snow

Or something you move past too quickly to make out what it is, exactly.

Inside the car, in the passenger’s seat, my fingers are still cold

As the heat hasn’t been on long enough for them to warm up.

There’s a CD in, playing in the background

Audible over the sound of the tires against the road

A little hard to make out when we hit the rough patches

Bump, bump-bump, bump.

Other than that, we sit in silence,

Waiting to arrive at our destination.

M - 1/04/19

#poem #poetry #my poem #my poetry #writing #my writing #creative writing #kind of creepy #winter #cold #cold writing #cold poem #winter poem #surreal #kind of surreal #semisurreal #writing piece #my writing piece

Winter Poem - by Jo Howell

Frosty nights and dark mornings,

hands in pockets while the kettle boils,

dry skin and chapped lips,

fingers warming on a hot chocolate,

coats on inside and shivering outside,

snow starts to fall; it’s Christmas time.

I need the sun's warmth

on my skin not the artificial

type coming from a radiator.

When I go outside I feel cold

and numb and the blasted

winter hasn't yet come.

I wish I could spend the last

two months of the year some

where in the southern hemisphere.

#cold poem

When its Cold

When I can feel pinch of ice

See my breath in the air

Feel the numbness of frost

Ill think of you

I think of those weeks when it was us

Ill think of all the fun we had

Ill think of the food we ate

When its cold ill remember you

Ill remember how dumb i was

How struck with the lag of love

Ill remember my idiotic tendencies

Ill remember our friendship

When its cold

When I become the frost

And when I go numb

Ill always think of you

And all the mistakes I make

When its cold.

Sighned Zach

#Poem #Poetry #Deep Poem #Cold Poem #my Poetry #My poem

“It felt so cold, the snowball which wept in my hands, and when I rolled it along in the snow, it grew till I could sit on it, looking back at the house, where it was cold when I woke in my room, the windows blind with ice, my breath undressing itself on the air. Cold, too, embracing the torso of snow which I lifted up in my arms to build a snowman, my toes, burning, cold in my winter boots; my mother’s voice calling me in from the cold. And her hands were cold from peeling and pooling potatoes into a bowl, stooping to cup her daughter’s face, a kiss for both cold cheeks, my cold nose. But nothing so cold as the February night I opened the door in the Chapel of Rest where my mother lay, neither young, nor old, where my lips, returning her kiss to her brow, knew the meaning of cold.”

Cold by Carol Ann Duffy from her anthology The Bees.

The picture is from Ben Cruachan- one of the Scottish Munros. I will always have a soft spot for Carol Ann Duffy and I love all of her work, but this particular piece touches something deep inside me.