Summer
Summer tiptoes
into the air
with the change of heat.
It brings slipping, slidding, swim suit fun.
It gallops out of touch.
Just as silently as it leaps in,
It leaves us cold again.
Poems on the topic: cold
Poems on the topic “cold” on Poets.by.
"Room Temperature"
Walking along the desert,
I feel the blazing heat,
As a smile comes across my face,
In the knees I feel weak,
The sun brightens the sky,
The sky crystal clear,
Not a cloud in sight,
Not a worry or fear,
A sudden change in scenery,
As I freeze in the bitter cold,
Gusty winds making it difficult to see,
Unable to know where to go,
I search for signs,
To find out where I am,
I cry and yell,
Not knowing what just happened,
Poems Written Out of William Carlos Williams 2
Now sit in the sunken stairwell,
rejoining there.
There is only the real physical cold
for the moment,to gather you there.
It is for every time you knew before,
that this matters.
The plain sun will hold enough
of tomorrow.
But for you,there is no place
to refuge from.
Only the moment is cold enough,
for the warmth to survive in it.
We have lost most of,
Yet all is again for that moment of cold.
Storm Fear
When the wind works against us in the dark,
And pelts with snow
The lower chamber window on the east,
And whispers with a sort of stifled bark,
The beast,
‘Come out! Come out!’--
It costs no inward struggle not to go,
Ah, no!
I count our strength,
Two and a child,
Those of us not asleep subdued to mark
How the cold creeps as the fire dies at length,--
How drifts are piled,
Dooryard and road ungraded,
Till even the comforting barn grows far away,
And my heart owns a doubt
Too Cold Yet
too cold yet
a mallard couple floats near
the empty dock
In This Cold
In this cold,
fresh dust seems heavy
on my blanket.
Night Wanderers
They hear the bell of midnight toll,
And shiver in their flesh and soul;
They lie on hard, cold wood or stone,
Iron, and ache in every bone;
They hate the night: they see no eyes
Of loved ones in the starlit skies.
They see the cold, dark water near;
They dare not take long looks for fear
They'll fall like those poor birds that see
A snake's eyes staring at their tree.
Some of them laugh, half-mad; and some
All through the chilly night are dumb;
Like poor, weak infants some converse,
And cough like giants, deep and hoarse.
A Day in Bed
I wish I had not got a cold,
The wind is big and wild,
I wish that I was very old,
Not just a little child.
Somehow the day is very long
Just keeping here, alone;
I do not like the big wind’s song,
He’s growling for a bone.
He’s like an awful dog we had
Who used to creep around
And snatch at things--he was so bad,
With just that horrid sound.
I’m sitting up and nurse has made
Me wear a woolly shawl;
I wish I was not so afraid;
It’s horrid to be small.
Snow
Hills that were dark
At sparing-time last night
Now in the dawn-ring
Glimmer cold and white.
When the Year Grows Old
I cannot but remember
When the year grows old--
October--November--
How she disliked the cold!
She used to watch the swallows
Go down across the sky,
And turn from the window
With a little sharp sigh.
And often when the brown leaves
Were brittle on the ground,
And the wind in the chimney
Made a melancholy sound,
She had a look about her
That I wish I could forget--
The look of a scared thing
Sitting in a net!
The Warning
Just now,
Out of the strange
Still dusk . . . as strange, as still . . .
A white moth flew. Why am I grown
So cold?
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