Tag Archives: snow

Seasons

Wind from another time and place.
Blowing in, revealing a different face.
One face to another that face did say:
Among the autumn leaves, come to play.
A sunset in fall before the winter snow.
One last embrace before the fading of hearts glow.
Far beyond springtime and those carefree days past,
Even summer had mourned and into shadows cast,
Any semblance, any thought that bore
Resemblance to a memory that one could not ignore.
Now here in autumn, waiting for the snow,
Praying winter, its face, it won’t forget to show.

Under Quiet Sky

She holds the eye that freeze time.
She chastises cold and space and time.
While the world sleeps and passes by,
She stands in snow, under quiet sky.
As for the eye that she holds,
For now it shall remain closed.
Until the moment it opens and,
A moment lost, then held in hand.

Dedicated to my friend Carole D.

My Lady and Her Bear

My lady fair,
And her bear,
Set to sea last winter.
Cold wind blowing,
Neither of them knowing,
Whither the snow had sent her.
But their picnick at sea,
Gave them such glee
As they cared not to question.
They said “Let it blow!
We care not for snow!
Our boat shall be our bastion!”
Everyday watching ocean I,
Gaze upon the horizon wishing to spy,
My lost love, her bear, my lady so fair.
But remembering her joy in departing,
I cannot help imparting,
My joy to you,
Of our love so true,
That she’d never be truly departing.

Note on the artwork:
I do not have written permission to use this piece, as I do not know who the artist is. If you know and/or are able to give me the artists name please let me know in the comments that I may obtain the aforementioned permissions. In the mean time, should the original artist be reading this please don’t c/d me 🙂 plz? 


She Wanders

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She might wander, though she knows,
That there is nowhere else to go.
But onward through summer or snow,
Where she goes only God knows.

When Man Has Gone

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What now do crumbling walls see, should they have eyes,
What does nature abhor now there’s none left to despise?
Mother, as if in shame, desperately tries
To hide echos past with her climbing vines.
From creatures on the sea  floor wandering the silt,
To beasts resting in the towers that forgotten hands built.
What once was there, what once was man,
Has long since ceased to live in this ancient land,
In his delusions, for such an absence made no plans.
Being deceived, as such delusions of immortality can.
On through blackened oceans of infinite void roll,
This Earth, slowly ’round the Sun takes its last stroll.
Weary and spent; to the angered Sun, unable to pay toll,
She falls burning forever, into the fatally expanding Sol.
None but nature and her children; the only ones to see,
The father of the sky, in the blink of an eye, burning and boiling the sea.
Where was man no longer here, to witness like ashen weeds,
The falling of earth, that to him gave birth? And the universe that can no longer hold seed?
Long before mother sent her vines to hide walls and towers below,
Man has said, when his heart was dead, “Our greed with us shall grow!”
So his fate was sealed to never see, the ice and snow that fell,
Never being able to wander off, before the Sun had gone to hell.
Such a fall it was that man had when he allowed his pride to swell.
If given the chance, would he change, would he last?
This round, only time will tell.

Summers Snow

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From whence comes the summer snow,
Where sunshine dwells and warm winds blow?
The deceiving light of day.
Dark clouds breaking clear the way.
A tantalizing reminder of winters past.
A cold relief that cannot last.
The snows of summer are now gone,
To a place where it, more enduring, belongs.
And I, wishing for things that cannot be,
Hold it in my heart, where it’s more than a memory.

A Sonnet to Seasons Change

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Within the forest, forever she sleeps.
The winter wind has tried to call her back.
No spring, no summer,  a constant sleep deep,
Any certainty of waking, she lacks.
How long has this winter been? Cold wind blows
Over what must soon come to be her grave:
A full moon and the snowy trees below.
This is all that is left from what she gave,
Where’s spring? No living memory holds summer.
“Oh, the ice! Where is the fair face of fall?”
A common lament of those who love her.
Not one, but many. Of them, she is all.
She is the snow, the rain, the heat, the wind.
From the snow sprouts a bud. New life begins.