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Winter's Garden

I visited a garden,
smothered in frost and snow,
limbs draped with icicles,
leaves with frozen glow.

Once filled with warm activity,
now still with cold tranquility.
Pulsating, lush, foliage,
now a dormant virility.
Were I just this garden,
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COMMENTS
Saadat Tahir 04 July 2009
great poem there allegorical and inspiring cheers
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Gandolph The Poet 22 June 2009
I chose this poem to read because of the title. And your poem reflected the title. I just hate it when the title and the poem don't match. But in this case, it was a perfect match. It was really beautiful and very descriptive. I could see the garden clearly. I'll need to get better at describing things. I don't do that very well. Thanks for your poem. Gandy
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Shashendra Amalshan 04 June 2009
nice one indeed....u know winter stands for lots of things...death, loss...pain, misery.....see the once park was filled with activity...now it is no more.....this is a nice one indeed...u said it welll, and like the words u used 10++ regards//cheers
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Zachary Clark 16 May 2009
lovely beyond word themselves if I was to explain I would write a poem but I will be moral bound and not greedy found.
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Kee Thampi 13 May 2009
nice poem now still with cold tranquility. Pulsating, lush, foliage, now a dormant virility.
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Duh Huh 25 April 2009
You can be a garden you can be anything you want to make of yourself and of it, all it takes is some work and effort. As my mom says, 'Good things dont just fall out of the sky and land on your lap, you have to work for them'. Wise woman :)
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Sidi Mahtrow 23 April 2009
The biologic clock ticks As hours of darkness Suppress Nature's tricks, Masking the promise of Spring's caress. Lying beneath the covering snow Seeds await the coming Of the Sun's glow. Asleep, till the awakening. Then a stirring deep inside Causing a bursting That earth can't hide, For life, a thirsting. Emerging from wintery sleep And pushing upward toward the light Earth can no longer keep The seedling in it's grip so cold and tight. And once again Life to the planet returns It's only a matter of when All is green and Winter spurns. s
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