Here in November

Submitted by Hannah W. on Thu, 09/27/2012 - 23:30

How can I tell them about the cold?
Here, such a penchant for rain
we have,
and such an unhealthy love of snow
we have,
We have hopes
made of steel and icicles.

And it’s strange—

Hey, here’s something cold and gray:
night falling, snow falling, eyes falling
eyelids like a sagging roof,
and me like a crooked bend
in the highway.

And it’s strange—
But don’t you think it’s strange?

Oh, don’t wake me
from the cold and the snow and the rain.

The Winter

Submitted by Joseph on Wed, 04/14/2010 - 14:10

waking up you see
sitting on a snow-covered tree
a cardinal, red and warm

his beak is yellow
his eyes are bright
he ruffles his feathers and takes flight

father frost blows
on your window pane
with his pattern, leaves a stain

all the trees
look like glass
but there's an emptiness

snuggled up under covers
not wanting to leave you bed
you try to get out, but jumping back in
you huddle up and sigh

you try again; you shiver
you put on your slippers

Dark Cold Night

Submitted by Abbie on Wed, 04/29/2009 - 22:08

The sun has withdrawn its last warm rays,
leaving the earth to cool itself in the dark.
The ground relinquishes the warmth of the burning days,
as the air chills in the indigo dark.

A breath of wind ruffles my hair in passing,
pressing into my skin soft fingers of cold.
Greedily it snatches the warmth of my breathing,
giving in return a lungful of cold.

The silence seems to numb my cold ears,
no one else has ventured into the night.
I haven’t felt this alive in years,
Breathing and walking in the dark cold night.

The Moth and Me

Submitted by Sarah B. on Sat, 04/25/2009 - 20:57

I was sitting on a bench, and I saw a moth next to me. That inspired this poem...

One night
With nothing to do
And nowhere I really needed to go
I went down and sat
On a bench
In the subway station
At night

And a greasy gray florescent bulb
Was the only light.

I sat on a bench
And on the wall
Above my head
Graffiti, in weary letters, proclaimed
Various half imagined truths
And called each other names.


Submitted by Johanna on Mon, 02/02/2009 - 01:09

When upon an evening late
I see the icy weather fey,
Striving still to penetrate
The warmth of my abode.

Like the mighty Iron Horse
Roaring down the track,
The wind screams 'round the corners,
To pierce each niche and crack.

Yet though the rain does not abate
There lies a pleasant feeling.
For wind and rain are in the cold,
While I am by the fire, reading.


Submitted by Hannah W. on Wed, 12/03/2008 - 02:38

The world is so cold,
so empty, so bare,
so bitter and gray
without sunny skies fair

But those skies have long gone,
they left along with you,
all the joy you brought to me
has now vanished too

The world is so cold,
like a stone, gone all numb
too dark to see where I'm going
or where I've come from

Where is my sunshine,
where is my light?
where is my heart?
when will my world be right?

How to Catch a Cold

Submitted by Hannah W. on Fri, 11/07/2008 - 01:30

To catch a cold,
to catch a chill:
I needed several things,
and you most certainly also will

You'll need some spider's webs
to make the perfect net
You'll need some bait:
warm cereal, preferably wet

You'll need some gloves,
and a camouflage hat,
so the cold doesn't see you,
or smell you and that

You'll want some cheese and crackers,
and a feather from a bird,
set up your trap, and then
do not say a word

The Snow Queen

Submitted by Megan on Tue, 01/01/2008 - 00:20

Incased in snow,
No one knows,
How she got there,
Where she will go,
Born into ice,
Nothing will sufice,
To sooth her pain,
There is no such device,
Nothing can set her free,
For you see,
Her love for the world,
For you and me,
Must remain hidden,
Nothing will sufice,
But to be incased in snow,
and hidden in ice.