The Beauty Of Winter

The Beauty Of Winter long poem

Uploaded by Grant Dickson

The cold air seeped down with no heart,
What was once a sea of beauty and life,
Now had been turned to a grave of white and death,
The city had almost all but stopped living too.

Morning turned to night and yet all was still bright,
Panicking for necessities like bread and milk,
As if they were a commodity like gold and silk,
There was no lease from this grip of icy might.

The Robins so proud with their coats of glorious red,
Out playing like children on a canal iced bed,
Scattering wild seed around upon the snow covered ground,
Bobbing along like cheeky cherubim gathering with a chirpy sound.

A man stands in the not so far distance,
Stood outside clearing snow as it’s finally stopped,
I ask and offer myself to give some assistance,
Is seems the final flakes have now dropped.

A path slowly appears as do others now congregate,
Friends, brothers, sister’s all one with a common goal,
Time rolls on but we persist as it gets late,
A United effort from one and all like a heart to a soul.

Rate the poem
1 Star2 Stars3 Stars4 Stars5 Stars (1 votes, average: 2.00 out of 5)
We are posting your rating...

Have something to say about the poem?

Poems you will love

Give your feedback / review for the poem

Be the First to Comment & Review poem!

Notify of


Beauty short poem

Beauty Careful as I got, paying heed to the sculpture With such finesse, and an eye of a vulture Every peculiarity went on to depict a story Incarnating legends, of the war that was gory Over the period beauty stood

Beauty In Decay

Beauty In Decay long poem

Light a sharpie so bright shines on beauty seen through decay. Both beauty and decay form a duality of darkness and luminosity. Beauty is a love that can provide for its reality against dismay. Just as tradition is a security

Beauty Is

Beauty Is short poem

Beauty is all around It knows no limits or bounds It is not hidden just waiting to be found Beauty is all around It shows itself by the sun in the sky It shows itself in the colour of your

Is It Winter Or Spring?

Is It Winter Or Spring? short poem

Gone are the days when we Used to ask winter to go away With the hope that spring will Come and stay. Instead, we are now on our knees Praying to spring asking it to go Because even the sun

Beauty Of Pain

Beauty Of Pain short poem

Behind your face was cleaver releasing past poem. The sensual milk flows from the palm into your lake. Grieving for the torn wings of pink light. Cruising on thighs with eyes closed death utters a shriek. The eternal flame closes