Wonder

Why do we hate the snowy white
The breath of cool fresh rushing delight
The magic of a falling sky
Otherworld fantasies sprung to life
The beauty of a stark clean scene
Crisp white edges filled with soft lush cream
The closeness of God as gray skies hold Him near
Like the whole wide world was known right here
While we’re chosen to feel and see it all
As we explore this new land, flushed and enthralled
Why do we hate the snowy white
When such wonder is so rarely seen in life?

~~~~~~~

Composed 1/12/19
Description: I’m a midwesterner; I love the seasons. Today, after a winter of very mild, slightly wet weather, it finally snowed — in abundance. It felt only fitting to compose something befitting of this lovely change
.

This season it’s struck me how people loathe winter and snow so — even people that live here! Perhaps it’s my slightly optimistic nature, but, yes, while there are inconveniences, I mean, it’s snow; does it not make you even a little excited?

My Lips Fall Silent

Composed 1/11/16
Description: A very journalistic entry today. School begins tomorrow, but I feel as if the odds are not in my favor… 

my lips fall silent as
the worries bubble up
they dance on my tongue but must be swallowed
so they clog my throat and
my lips fall silent as I choke
on the thought of fresh snowflakes
falling on the morning drive
over ice
piling up and white and high
and if I live I am thrown into
unknown setups and time consumers
hours of work and broken pencils, stubbed erasers,
vague directions, and yearning, printers whirring
worthy learning but new and the drive and
my lips fall silent because
they stole me out of my comfort zone so
I am forced to roam in the cold and snow
while suffering from an ill-timed sickness
that bleeds me dry more swiftly than my mind
buzzing with thoughts that slide like the ice of
which I fret and stutter like my Internet
and are covered, muted by frigid white
that bites like change and money spent
on endless papers and graded judgement and
my lips fall silent

so many thoughts
where will they land?
I guess on the page
that’s the only place they can

Made of Ice

Composed 1/5/16
Description: An odd wish, I suppose.

I wish I was a girl of ice
So I could fearlessly
Walk out in the ruthless cold
And stroll among the flurries

I see my empty eyes
Reflective like the shallow lakes
As the wind grasps my dress and blows
A distant, lonely, lovely sound

As the world glitters and rests
I want to witness it
The beauty of a frozen night
Rawly, a girl made of ice

View From a Bedroom Window

Composed 2/26/15
Description: For Writing 201: Day 9. Found poetry about landscape using enumeratio.

This one posed a challenge. Found poetry is extremely limiting; however, I understand that heightens creativity! My problem is I get stuck trying to use a meaningful “found” medium. I finally decided to describe the view from my bedroom window using the books from my bedroom bookcase… Thus, this found poem using book binds.

down
ever a gothic dream
a ghost dance
a white journey
night story

time changes
the woods web mysteries
ever

 

Books referenced: Watership Down (Richard Adams), Ever (Gail Carson Levine), Gothic Dreams Steampunk (Henry Winchester), Ghost Story (Jim Butcher), A Dance with Dragons (George R.R. Martin), White Night (Jim Butcher), The Time Machine (H. G. Wells), Changes (Jim Butcher), A Week in the Woods (Andrew Clements), Charlotte’s Web (E. B. White), Five Classic Murder Mysteries (a collection of Agatha Christie)

The Journey Back

Composed 2/16/15
Description: Writing 201: Day 2. The Challenge: a journey theme in limerick form with alliteration.

Today’s poem was inspired by my snowy commute (to and from) work. Not sure I succeeded much with alliteration, but I had to change my rhyming choices so much, I didn’t much care to make more of an alliterative effort afterwards! 

Light flakes heaped soon into domes
As I nervously drove through the foam
I’d let out a breath
When the brush of my death
Occurred one minute from home

Unrelenting Presence

Composed 10/31/14
Description: Why is the weather always TERRIBLE on Halloween? As I fought my way through icy winds, sleet, and snow this evening I asked myself this question many times. Here is my best guess as to why this is likely the case.

The spirits of dead
And those who guard them in the ground
Arise from their lands and fly
Blocking out the sun
And all warmth from this world

So tangible are their haunted souls
The chill they bring fills the air
Manifesting in such icy winds
That sleet falls from the darkness high
And brings chill to body as well as mind

Mister Winter

Composed 2/17/14
Description: Well, it’s time to write about the now-cliche topic of the freakish winter we’ve been having. Yes, I live in one of those places that achieved a windchill of 40 below zero. Yes, I live in one of those places that has been colder than Antarctica (and sometimes Mars) on a semi frequent basis. Yes, I now no longer consider it “cold” outside unless my nose hairs freeze upon exiting a building. But, even now, as the extreme cold has (generally) subsided, winter is not done with me yet.

No, snow is a ceaseless reality around me. It snows and stays for days, and, once the sidewalks are clear, it snows again. I’ve forgotten what the ground looks like. Even when the snow is pushed away, thick sheets of ice conceal the earth. Looking at pictures from early in the school year, where everyone is wearing skirts and sweat-stains, is like looking at pictures of a different planet. Everyone here, including me, is thoroughly done with winter.

But it doesn’t ever stop. Take today, for instance. A relatively pleasant morning (and by pleasant I mean positive temperatures), followed by an afternoon of tiny ice pellets RAINING FROM THE SKY. And this was not even the occasional ice pellet. No, this was a thick spring shower… with ice.

At least that was unique. But no. By late afternoon, here we are again, with a heavy shower of thick white snow puffs falling from the hazy, snow-white sky. I walk inside the school cafeteria, flinging water on my friends. Soon after, it’s snowing so hard it’s impossible to see feet in front of you.

But despite all this, I must admit… Fresh snow is quite pretty all the same.

Oh, Mister Winter
You take my breath away
Your very skin is glitter
And it sparkles night and day
You press fresh kisses
On my cheeks, hair, eyelashes too
Whisper so I’ll reminisce
Bring energy of youth

You charm me with
The way you spread
Beauty where dark filth
Once bred
You grasp me tight
And don’t let go
Until I’m chilled
Down to the bone

You slow me down
And trip me up
Send me swerving down the lane
I’m out, I can’t
I’ve lost control
I won’t see another day

But when I’ve sprawled
Out in the cold
I look to the sky and see
The glossy shine of
Icy pines
And light snow-covered cities

Against my will then I smile
And there erase my pity
Oh, Mister Winter
You’re lucky you’re so pretty

Winter Blessings

Composed 1/5/14
Description: In response to today’s Daily Prompt Happy Happy Joy Joy, in which we are to describe what happiness is to us. Well, right now, as snow falls thickly and quickly from the sky, I am reminded of how HAPPY this kind of weather makes me. Really. Even when I look back to one of my happiest dreams, snow is a prominent feature. And, in almost all my happiest poetry, if it’s not snow being featured, it’s nature.

Let the clouds rain down from heaven
And sugarcoat our dusty trees with blessings
So they glisten brightly, fresh, anew
And cling like front porch chimes
More beautiful than their first spring

Let thick whipped frosting
Mask the sour twinge of our mistakes
The trash, the dirt, the grime of our lives
So we can remember
That once dull scenery can change
And grandly

Let us build up wonders with heaven’s gorgeous rain
And cool our hot hands, hot heads
With pure white
And rush back to our lives and melt
Remember what it’s like
To really feel warmth

Eternal Morning

Composed 12/16/13
Description: As the temperature rises again after a period of cold, I find this an appropriate day to post this piece.

Warmth cuts through my life at a sharp forty-five
So water drips down icicle-thick trees
And patches of grass through frost reveal
The dark green riches of matured seed
And it’s just beginning, this thaw of earth
For the lawn is dry and the limbs shaken clear
But there’s still snow in the shadows
And the sun never moves out here