Snowstorm poems from famous poets and best beautiful poems to feel good. Best snowstorm poems ever written. Read all poems about snowstorm.
The winter comes; I walk alone,
I want no bird to sing;
To those who keep their hearts their own
The winter is the spring.
The railway rattled and roared and swung
With jolting and bumping trucks.
The sun, like a billiard red ball, hung
In the Western sky: and the tireless tongue
The Eurydice—it concerned thee, O Lord:
Three hundred souls, O alas! on board,
Some asleep unawakened, all un-
Because there was no other place
to flee to,
I came back to the scene of the disordered senses,
Welcome, wild Northeaster!
Shame it is to see
Odes to every zephyr;
Ne'er a verse to thee.
The snowman doesn't know why
The reasons are balanced perfectly by feelings …
He was dealing last week with a snowstorm
All night, all day, in dizzy, downward flight,
Fell the wild-whirling, vague, chaotic snow,
Till every landmark of the earth below,
Trees, moorlands, roads, and each familiar sight
Outside the snowstorm spins, and hides
The world beneath a pall.
Snowed under are the paper-girl,
The papers and the stall.
Mommy's getting wrinkles.
Daddy has grey hair.
It wasn't very long ago
when those things weren't there.
April 7th, the delayed day
Of the Cubs opener at last.
The Milwaukee Brewers they play.
I predict the weather forecast
And everything has a scent… When he lies, he exhales words covered by the faint scent of long dead forget-me-nots forgotten. My promises are prismatically pretty yet reek in undertone like a collacine of maggots mindlessly chewing through rotting matter and when they whisper, 'I love you…' in that way, their words cover you like mustard gas; blistering. Scent tethers tightly and to dismiss 'Skin Musk' and baby powder is to dismiss her. To feel true fear is to smell Marlboro smoke and stale beer as he gruffly states, 'No one will believe you..' The deep winter snowstorm, quietly violent, is the fragrance of all-encapsulating heartbreak. Disappointment has an odor so heavy that it hangs within all bonds, inevitable, immobile… perpetual. Happiness smells bitterly sour like the taste of clovers, jealousy green, and holding hands with love is the rusty effluvium of blood. Existence, as a whole, is covered in the unremarkable smell that accompanies a thick stratum of dust; musty and insignificant. And death- the end and the beginning… From death emanates the sweet aroma of tulips as they smile with razor sharp teeth.
A Lonely Heart
Alone in an unforgiving sea,
my hand reaches deep
~A Triolet Collation~
The grackle fluffs his wings
Snowball battle with a snowman
Northern entertaining under the sunlight
It seems to have been winter all the time last year
I was frostbitten by a snowstorm
It was not the north that's cold
It was where there's resentment
Light falling upon the band like colored rainbows of
snowflakes covering everything in shadows of snow as
it's piling in drifts all over the yard and street.
I remain, he surmised, the possibility of outcomes,
I am, he collected, but particles upon their way
like a snowstorm towards a windscreen, I wait to
be a final measurement, and yet, to all miscreants
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