Winter Poems, Poetry about time of Winter

Season of Love

Winter sky so dark with stars so bright
brings a glow of sheer delight.
Diamond’s woven into a cloak of navy blue
the scene is set for all things new.
Romance and love flourish at this time of year
winter magic dispels all doubt and fear.
Time to walk and cuddle in the park
all secrets hidden in the dark.
Winter winds stir passions deep within
can love really be a mortal sin.
Kindred spirits search and find
Needing to be with their own kind
Cold frost brings a need to touch
wanting love so very much
Virgin snow casts its magic spell
nature knows us so very well
Stark contrast shows trees laid bare
bringing out our need to care
The season of love is upon us now
to resist we don’t know how
Time to rest in a lovers arms
bewitched by mother nature’s charms
This very special enchanting season
give’s true love its rhyme and reason
So let us give thanks for this special time
with a toast to winter of sweet red wine .

This poem was written/submitted by Saurt.

Coasting Down the Hill

Frosty is the morning;
But the sun is bright,
Flooding all the landscape
With its golden light.
Hark the sounds of laughter
And the voices shrill!
See the happy children
Coasting down the hill.
There are Tom and Charley,
And their sister Nell;
There are John and Willie,
Kate and Isabel –
Eyes with pleasure beaming,
Cheeks with health aglow;
Bless the merry children,
Trudging through the snow!
Now I hear them shouting,
“Ready! Clear the track!”
Down the slope they’re rushing,
Now they’re trotting back.
Full of fun and frolic,
Thus they come and go.
Coasting down the hillside,
Trudging through the snow.

This poem was written/submitted by Sigma.

Falling Snow

See the pretty snowflakes
Falling from the sky;
On the wall and housetops
Soft and thick they lie.

On the window ledges,
On the branches bare;
Now how fast they gather,
Filling all the air.

Look into the garden,
Where the grass was green;
Covered by the snowflakes,
Not a blade is seen.

Now the bare black bushes
All look soft and white,
Every twig is laden,
What a pretty sight!

This poem was written/submitted by Sigma.

Never Ending Winter

I am like snow
Frozen and cold
Uncaring and unloved
Never loving any
I am winter and will forever be
Untill that day
That Spring comes
And warms my soul
Showing me a love
I have never known
But untill that day comes
I shall always and forever be
Never Ending Winter

This poem was written/submitted by Saurt.

Snowtears

Snow is falling, all around me.
Children playing, having fun.
Couples kissing, laughing loud.

But what about the people,
Frowning in despair,
Sitting on the park bench,
With nothing but the air,
And the snowtears.
As the couple sit beside me,
Reminding me of what we used to be.

Should not snow be depressing?
Cold. Wet. White. Melting
On my face. Snowtears.
For most people,
Snow brings happiness.
But for me, it brings, fearfulness,
As the couple sit beside me,
Reminding me of what we used to be.

People wish it to snow.
To build snowmen,
To have snowball fights,
Or just to watch the snow fall.
I like snow to fall
On my face. Then melt. Snowtears.
As the couple sit beside me,
Reminding me of what we used to be.

The delicate flakes land on their faces.
I stand up and take a few paces,
Until I’m standing on his laces,
My laces. Cold. Wet. White.
Melt the tears on my face,
As she stands up and walks away,
Leaving the poor boy crying snow

Tears and memories of the couple that sat beside me,
Will never escape me,
Because the couple sat beside me,
Were what I used to be.

Snow is falling, all around me.
Children playing, having fun.
Couples kissing, laughing loud.
But what about me.
All I have is snowtears.

This poem was written/submitted by Jamie Carpenter.

The Darkling Thrush

I leant upon a coppice gate
When Frost was spectre-gray,
And Winter’s dregs made desolate
The weakening eye of day.
The tangled bine-stems scored the sky
Like strings of broken lyres,
And all mankind that haunted nigh
Had sought their household fires.

The land’s sharp features seemed to be
The Century’s corpse outleant,
His crypt the cloudy canopy,
The wind his death-lament.
The ancient pulse of germ and birth
Was shrunken hard and dry,
And every spirit upon earth
Seemed fervourless as I.
At once a voice arose among
The bleak twigs overhead
In a full-hearted evensong
Of joy illimited;
An aged thrush, frail, gaunt, and small,
In blast-beruffled plume,
Had chosen thus to fling his soul
Upon the growing gloom.
So little cause for carolings
Of such ecstatic sound
Was written on terrestrial things
Afar or nigh around,
That I could think there trembled through
His happy good-night air
Some blessed Hope, whereof he knew
And I was unaware.

This poem was written/submitted by Robert.

Those Winter Sundays

Sundays too my father got up early
And put his clothes on in the blueback cold,
then with cracked hands that ached
from labor in the weekday weather made
banked fires blaze. No one ever thanked him.

I’d wake and hear the cold splintering, breaking.
When the rooms were warm, he’d call,
and slowly I would rise and dress,
fearing the chronic angers of that house,

Speaking indifferently to him,
who had driven out the cold
and polished my good shoes as well.
What did I know, what did I know
of love’s austere and lonely offices?

This poem was written/submitted by Robert Hayden.

Winter

When icicles hang by the wall
And Dick the shepherd blows his nail,
And Tom bears logs into the hall,
And milk comes frozen home in pail;
When blood is nipt, and ways be foul,
Then nightly sings the staring owl
Tuwhoo!
Tuwhit! Tuwhoo! A merry note!
While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.
When all around the wind doth blow,
And coughing drowns the parson’s saw,
And birds sit brooding in the snow,
And Marian’s nose looks red and raw:
When roasted crabs hiss in the bowl
Then nightly sings the staring owl
Tuwhoo!
Tuwhit! Tuwhoo! A merry note!
While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.

This poem was written/submitted by Robert.

Winter In summer

Hear the thunder echoing about
A sky with a green hue
The sign of hail on the way
Lighting giving a great show
Like a fireworks display.

And in the morning
Where once the plants
Were dying from the heat
Now covered with a blanket of white.
Which many have never seen.

During the night
While most slept
Winter had stolen the Summer
And left a winter scene.

Nearly forget the devastation
With such a wonderous scene
The day in Summer
When the land down under
Woke to a Winter scene.

This poem was written/submitted by sapra.

Winter is good — his Hoar Delights

Winter is good — his Hoar Delights
Italic flavor yield
To Intellects inebriate
With Summer, or the World —

Generic as a Quarry
And hearty — as a Rose —
Invited with Asperity
But welcome when he goes.

This poem was written/submitted by Emily Dickinson.

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