Snow & Ice

Related poetry:

1. Travellers Whom We Met Another fork away ahead Exactly like the one behind And twists and turns to leave you dead As choices in your mind. We’ve travelled here before you know And had this conversation yet We learned a way to ask for more Than empty signposts that we met. Of travellers whom we met And journeys we […]...
2. Snow White, to the Prince after Susan Thomas Truth is, my life was no fairytale, That afternoon, I lay, a smiling corpse Under a glass sky, a rotten apple Lodged in my throat like a black lump Of cancer, your sloppy kiss dying on my lips. Did you really believe a kiss could cure The poison galloping through my veins, […]...
3. Mirror There are no lies In the morning No cheating of age An illusion of eye Smoothing skin over bone. No portrait hidden away Becoming skeletal And demanding release. Another day to face, My confessor, so laugh At this charting of years....
4. The Snow Man One must have a mind of winter To regard the frost and the boughs Of the pine-trees crusted with snow; And have been cold a long time To behold the junipers shagged with ice, The spruces rough in the distant glitter Of the January sun; and not to think Of any misery in the sound […]...
5. The Old Prison The rows of cells are unroofed, A flute for the wind’s mouth, Who comes with a breath of ice From the blue caves of the south. O dark and fierce day: The wind like an angry bee Hunts for the black honey In the pits of the hollow sea. Waves of shadow wash The empty […]...
6. The House Of Dust: Part 02: 11: Snow falls. The sky is grey, and sullenly glares Snow falls. The sky is grey, and sullenly glares With purple lights in the canyoned street. The fiery sign on the dark tower wreathes and flares. . . The trodden grass in the park is covered with white, The streets grow silent beneath our feet. . . The city dreams, it forgets its past to-night. […]...
7. Snow ‘Who affirms that crystals are alive?’ I affirm it, let who will deny: Crystals are engendered, wax and thrive, Wane and wither; I have seen them die. Trust me, masters, crystals have their day, Eager to attain the perfect norm, Lit with purpose, potent to display Facet, angle, colour, beauty, form. Water-crystals need for flower […]...
8. Snow-Flakes Out of the bosom of the Air, Out of the cloud-folds of her garments shaken, Over the woodlands brown and bare Over the harvest-fields forsaken, Silent and soft and slow Descends the snow....
9. The House Of Dust: Part 01: 05: The snow floats down upon us, mingled with rain The snow floats down upon us, mingled with rain. . . It eddies around pale lilac lamps, and falls Down golden-windowed walls. We were all born of flesh, in a flare of pain, We do not remember the red roots whence we rose, But we know that we rose and walked, that after a while […]...
10. Snow Walking through a field with my little brother Seth I pointed to a place where kids had made angels in the snow. For some reason, I told him that a troop of angels Had been shot and dissolved when they hit the ground. He asked who had shot them and I said a farmer. Then […]...
11. Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs No matter what life you lead The virgin is a lovely number: Cheeks as fragile as cigarette paper, Arms and legs made of Limoges, Lips like Vin Du Rhône, Rolling her china-blue doll eyes Open and shut. Open to say, Good Day Mama, And shut for the thrust Of the unicorn. She is unsoiled. She […]...
12. Shoveling Snow With Buddha In the usual iconography of the temple or the local Wok You would never see him doing such a thing, Tossing the dry snow over a mountain Of his bare, round shoulder, His hair tied in a knot, A model of concentration. Sitting is more his speed, if that is the word For what he […]...
13. The Baldness Of Chewed-Ear When Chewed-ear Jenkins got hitched up to Guinneyveer McGee, His flowin’ locks, ye recollect, wuz frivolous an’ free; But in old Hymen’s jack-pot, it’s a most amazin’ thing, Them flowin’ locks jest disappeared like snow-balls in the Spring; Jest seemed to wilt an’ fade away like dead leaves in the Fall, An’ left old Chewed-ear […]...
14. Snow Day Today we woke up to a revolution of snow, Its white flag waving over everything, The landscape vanished, Not a single mouse to punctuate the blankness, And beyond these windows The government buildings smothered, Schools and libraries buried, the post office lost Under the noiseless drift, The paths of trains softly blocked, The world fallen […]...
15. The Journey One day you finally knew What you had to do, and began, Though the voices around you Kept shouting Their bad advice— Though the whole house Began to tremble And you felt the old tug At your ankles. “Mend my life!” Each voice cried. But you didn’t stop. You knew what you had to do, […]...
16. Improvisations: Light And Snow I The girl in the room beneath Before going to bed Strums on a mandolin The three simple tunes she knows. How inadequate they are to tell how her heart feels! When she has finished them several times She thrums the strings aimlessly with her finger-nails And smiles, and thinks happily of many things. II […]...
17. Marine Snow At Mid-Depths And Down As you descend, slowly, falling faster past You this snow, Ghostly, some flakes bio- Luminescent (you plunge, And this lit snow doesn’t land At your feet but keeps falling below You): single-cell-plant chains, shreds Of zooplankton’s mucus food traps, Fish fecal pellets, radioactive fallouts, Sand grains, pollen….And inside These jagged falling islands Live more microlives, […]...
18. Incantation A white well In a black cave; A bright shell In a dark wave. A white rose Black brambles hood; Smooth bright snows In a dark wood. A flung white glove In a dark fight; A white dove On a wild black night. A white door In a dark lane; A bright core To bitter […]...
19. Should You Ask At Midnight What would I do without your voice to wake me? Cor ad cor loquitur, I’m loath to know. Kitsch operas sound, unhesitant to shake me, The sheers undrawn, the heavens hardly showing, My camisole askew, of lace-trimmed black – Not red, not white; not passionate or pure. I raise the volume, and the voices crack- […]...
20. The Hunters in the Snow 1962 The over-all picture is winter Icy mountains In the background the return From the hunt it is toward evening From the left Sturdy hunters lead in Their pack the inn-sign Hanging from A broken hinge is a stag a crucifix Between his antlers the cold Inn yard Is deserted but for a huge bonfire […]...
21. Snow Geese Oh, to love what is lovely, and will not last! What a task To ask Of anything, or anyone, Yet it is ours, And not by the century or the year, but by the hours. One fall day I heard Above me, and above the sting of the wind, a sound I did not know, […]...
22. The Kiss The snow is white on wood and wold, The wind is in the firs, So dead my heart is with the cold, No pulse within it stirs, Even to see your face, my dear, Your face that was my sun; There is no spring this bitter year, And summer’s dreams are done. The snakes that […]...
23. Poem (Old man in the crystal morning after snow) Old man in the crystal morning after snow, Your throat swathed in a muffler, your bent Figure building the snow man which is meant For the grandchild’s target, do you know This fat cartoon, his eyes pocked in with coal Nears you each time your breath smokes the air, Lewdly grinning out of a private […]...
24. Snow The three stood listening to a fresh access Of wind that caught against the house a moment, Gulped snow, and then blew free again-the Coles Dressed, but dishevelled from some hours of sleep, Meserve belittled in the great skin coat he wore. Meserve was first to speak. He pointed backward Over his shoulder with his […]...
25. The Faun Sees Snow for the First Time Zeus, Brazen-thunder-hurler, Cloud-whirler, son-of-Kronos, Send vengeance on these Oreads Who strew White frozen flecks of mist and cloud Over the brown trees and the tufted grass Of the meadows, where the stream Runs black through shining banks Of bluish white. Zeus, Are the halls of heaven broken up That you flake down upon me Feather-strips […]...
26. From "Snow-Bound," 11:1-40, 116-154 The sun that brief December day Rose cheerless over hills of gray, And, darkly circled, gave at noon A sadder light than waning moon. Slow tracing down the thickening sky Its mute and ominous prophecy, A portent seeming less than threat, It sank from sight before it set. A chill no coat, however stout, Of […]...
27. Bone-fable one morning the bone was there Set in the centre of waste ground Against the early morning sun The frost along its concave rim Sparkled – raised a hundredfold The price a passing dog Would place on it but the dogs Who came (barking amongst themselves About the food shining at them Across the rubbled […]...
28. The Initiate St. John of the Cross wore dark glasses As he passed me on the street. St. Theresa of Avila, beautiful and grave, Turned her back on me. “Soulmate,” they hissed. “It’s high time.” I was a blind child, a wind-up toy. . . I was one of death’s juggling red balls On a certain street […]...
29. Light Breaks Where No Sun Shines Light breaks where no sun shines; Where no sea runs, the waters of the heart Push in their tides; And, broken ghosts with glowworms in their heads, The things of light File through the flesh where no flesh decks the bones. A candle in the thighs Warms youth and seed and burns the seeds of […]...
30. The Bridge In his travels he comes to a bridge made entirely of bones. Before crossing he writes a letter to his mother: Dear mother, Guess what? the ape accidentally bit off one of his hands while Eating a banana. Just now I am at the foot of a bone bridge. I Shall be crossing it shortly. […]...
31. Snake A snake came to my water-trough On a hot, hot day, and I in pyjamas for the heat, To drink there. In the deep, strange-scented shade of the great dark carob-tree I came down the steps with my pitcher And must wait, must stand and wait, for there he was at the trough before Me. […]...
32. The Bohemian Up in my garret bleak and bare I tilted back on my broken chair, And my three old pals were with me there, Hunger and Thirst and Cold; Hunger scowled at his scurvy mate: Cold cowered down by the hollow grate, And I hated them with a deadly hate As old as life is old. […]...
33. The Song Of The Jellicles Jellicle Cats come out tonight, Jellicle Cats come one come all: The Jellicle Moon is shining bright Jellicles come to the Jellicle Ball. Jellicle Cats are black and white, Jellicle Cats are rather small; Jellicle Cats are merry and bright, And pleasant to hear when they caterwaul. Jellicle Cats have cheerful faces, Jellicle Cats have […]...
34. Emptying Town I want to erase your footprints From my walls. Each pillow Is thick with your reasons. Omens Fill the sidewalk below my window: a woman In a party hat, clinging To a tin-foil balloon. Shadows Creep slowly across the tar, someone yells, “Stop!” And I close my eyes. I can’t watch As this town slowly […]...
35. Brass Kaleidoscope My daughter raises the smooth brass kaleidoscope and watches as coloured glass slivers conspire together. New worlds create themselves before her eyes. Garnet spires flirt with sapphire and turquoise. Topaz and amethyst meet in harmony, a selenic mystery. A melody of stars singing a tune only she can hear. Eclectic patterns shiver and shimmer then […]...
36. Seascape This celestial seascape, with white herons got up as angels, Flying high as they want and as far as they want sidewise In tiers and tiers of immaculate reflections; The whole region, from the highest heron Down to the weightless mangrove island With bright green leaves edged neatly with bird-droppings Like illumination in silver, And […]...
37. The End Of March For John Malcolm Brinnin and Bill Read: Duxbury It was cold and windy, scarcely the day To take a walk on that long beach Everything was withdrawn as far as possible, Indrawn: the tide far out, the ocean shrunken, Seabirds in ones or twos. The rackety, icy, offshore wind Numbed our faces on one side; […]...
38. Bregalad's Lament O Orofarne, Lassemista, Carnimirie! O rowan fair, upon your hair how white the blossom lay! O rowan mine, I saw you shine upon a summer’s day, Your rind so bright, your leaves so light, your voice so cool and soft! Upon your head how golden-red the crown you bare aloft! O rowan dead, upon your […]...
39. Players Ask For A Blessing On The Psalteries And On Themselves Three Voices [together]. Hurry to bless the hands that play, The mouths that speak, the notes and strings, O masters of the glittering town! O! lay the shrilly trumpet down, Though drunken with the flags that sway Over the ramparts and the towers, And with the waving of your wings. First Voice. Maybe they linger […]...
40. March 1 I could stare for hours At her, the woman stepping Out of her bath, breasts Bare, towel around her waist, Before I knew she was you In that one-bedroom in The Village sunny and cold That Friday we woke up Slowly & our breakfast table Arranged itself into A still life with irises In a […]...