Cold are the days
gloomy is the sky
staring up high
Grey and navy strands glare seemingly high
looking in displease
it may rain
why a sudden climate change ?
cold are the days
the orange ball seems playing nine
not getting up
even when cock sings nine
gloomy are the sky
maybe showing shreds of crying all time
why a sudden change of breeze beside ?
cold are the days
smitten are the cheeks
hands shoved in
finding heat
smoking and blazing fires at sides
small puppies running beside
kids running every time
fighting for only pair of gloves lying on street side
gloomy is the sky
maybe a few drizzles
will make it cooler beside
cold are the days
breeze gushes inside
glasses in fog
shades misty and eyes shut by
broken are legs
swollen the eyes
bluish cramps hitting over nine
why does the sky look gloomy all time
cold are the days
sweet popcorn adores the smelling eyes
appetite is less
why does mouth drool by
sugar candies selling hot
kebab seekers lining by
gloomy skies don’t shed tears all time
cold are the days
car skidding all time
Stuffed passengers in sweaters of all kind
listening to music running by
while the radio speaks of the blockage by
will the sky dry
will the orange ball return on time
will the passengers seep in hot blankets
munching hot potatoes
sipping hot coffee
beating the cold by
cold are the days
the tap runs dry
no water slips
all becomes ice
cold are the ears
sore the throat
frost bites lace the toes
and headaches chorus all time
lazy lady
attached to the blanket
sleeps by
not willing to greet the morning sky
be alone you gloomy sky
no time to spare to the cold dries
running over the spine
Munching sweets
drinking coffee all time
sucking the peanuts inside
cold days become hot days soon
maybe the rhetoric shall continue
complaints of summer days to continue
-
Author:
spilleronsheet (
Offline) - Published: January 5th, 2022 12:15
- Category: Nature
- Views: 48
- User favorite of this poem: Poetic Dan.
Offline)
Comments5
Winter is beautiful and yet demonstrates the truth force of nature transmuting water to ice rain to snow wind to blades that cut to the marrow, beautifully penned ☺
And your comment so beautiful
Thanks a lot dear woundedheart
We are a nation of moaners.
Too hot, too cold, horizontal rain, snow. We can't cope with snow.
If moaning was an Olympic sport, we're gold all the way.
So true
Man stuck at being victim to their own devils
I can visualise so many scenes from your cold poem. I don't experience this in my country but I would love to, for short while.
Some experienced
Some seen thanks to the net and the newspapers and reels
Some watched
Some heard
The cold isn’t similar everywhere
But I guess I can make a clear statement
The cold isn’t just
Not same everywhere
Not same to everyone
Marking disparities
It may be cold but the warmth inside us can fulfil all our dreams.
Andy
Thank you so much dear Andy for pointing to the silver linings…its hard to see positivity but its a blessing when someone can make us see light…working my way to be optimist and i guess i can soon be optimistic
Each season has its own special meaning to the heart, doesn't it? Very well captured dear writer. The sentiment is truly felt.
Thanks dear reader
Every season is special
Hiding and furling with its own reasons
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