Oct 21
Kittykatruff's picture

By The Fire

(Editor's Note: This is one of the winning submissions for Winter Tales and will be performed by Vermont Stage on Dec. 12. Find out more here!)

Winter is my favorite season.
I stay warm by the fire
With a cup of cocoa, and watch
The snowflakes fall gracefully, dancing
With the flames. 

Sometimes Nature holds her breath
And all is still; when I step outside, the silence
Is only broken by the crunch of snow 
Under my feet.

Other times, the winds howls as a lonely wolf
Lamenting the forlorn expression of the moon,
Tearing at braches, scouring houses with sharp 
Icy crystals, whipping across my face, 
Stinging my eyes, slashing ears and fingertips, 
As I hurry home to safety from the storm.

The best time of all is when 
The world pauses for a moment, though not
In anticipation, simply to ponder 
Its own existence.

Oct 19

Snow Dawn

Waking up
To the silent sound 
Of snowflakes twirling 
To the ground.
It's barely dawn
With the sun rising 
from its chambers 
beneath the mountains,
The stars unwilling to dim 
their short-lived light.
Yet the snowflakes mirror them,
Drifting to fill the valleys
In a cold, crisp carpet.
Walking out
To the half-darkness of winter,
The beauty within the ice,
The sword within the stone.
Sensing the danger in the snow,
Yet unable to pull away
From trees that seem to glow.
No one has ever been able to resist Winter.
It's the right time for wonder.
If you're going to take a plunge into mystery,
Then waking up to snowflakes
Falling outside your window
Is, perhaps, the best way to do it. 
Oct 19
poem 1 comment challenge: Winter/18
Ordinary Owen's picture

Solitary Winter

Swing sets grind to icy halts, and fluffy layers of snow are trampled as my classmates swarm into chaotic crowds, eager to leave December’s chilled embrace.

Friends leave mid-conversation, teachers stop listening to maintain the mob of 11-year-olds.

Insulted that the snow, blanketed with care, has been destroyed, abandoned Winter begins to straighten the ground once more with frigid attention.

Eyes lost in the glistening seas of snowflakes as they slowly climb down from the heavens above, a body stands by the howling wind.

There is a comfort found in frost. A solace found in the cold.

Lone Winter and I find friendship. We do not leave each other mid-conversation, we do not stop listening. Because in the presence of each other we are not alone.

One electric blue jacket stays within this gelid plain of white.
Oct 16
ccdussault's picture

Snow Plow

Digging holes in the snow,
These would be our homes.
We are like an old couple,
Bickering back and forth on who has made the best one.

The cold had made it to our fingertips,
Our red cheeks glowed brighter as the bright flashing light moved closer to us.
A loud roar creeps towards us by the second.
A rush of adrenaline soars through us as we run away.
We are stumbling,
as the snow grabs onto our feet after each step we take.
We feel the strike of cold shoot through our bodies as we go head first into the snow.

Wiping the bitter blizzard away from our faces,
We watch at the last instant,
as our whole afternoon is diminished.

We watch the light fade away,
With sour faces.
As if nothing had happened,
Our whole afternoon had been abolished.

Oct 16

Joyous Winter

White flakes
         Drifted down to the cold ground
                 Covering the dead grass with a fresh sheet of foam
                               Laughter filled the air
                  As small children ran out the door
           All bundled up in their coats, hats, scarves, and gloves
Their boots left little footprints in the fresh snow as they ran

Their joyous laughter         cut threw the muffled cold air
As they caught crisp snowflakes on their tongues

Screams of enjoyment echoed from their mouths
            As they were called back in
                    With rosy pink cheeks and red noses
             Their shivering bodies ran back through the door

For a warm cup of cocoa
The sign

That winter has come
Oh joyous winter  

Oct 09
adowning's picture



Benjamin Edwards

Skis fly

Target seen

Jump into prone

Steady to fire  
Skis fly

Target has a hole

Jump up

And off I go
Skis fly

Shot again

Get back up

Dash off
Skis fly

I’m a blur

Faster faster
My tired eyes cross the line
Oct 09
adowning's picture

Ice Fishing

Ice Fishing

By Ayden Clark

With a jacket like a heater

And a helmet on my head

I turn

through the


crunch crunch crunch

As the wheels break sticks

and I cautiously drive out

onto the lake

Swish Sposh

says slush on the water

Then I park

put my green and black

rod in the holder

And wait

And wait

And wait

Until the drag starts to

Ring Ring Ring

Like a bell

from the fish


The line

I reel

And reel

And reel

And the dark brown with gold


Flops out of the hole



the ice

Splash splash

Flop Flop




Oct 09
poem 1 comment challenge: Winter/18
adowning's picture

Black Ice

Black ice

By Regis Houlier

Black ice, the villain of


Always incognito

Hiding, Waiting for me. Wanting me

To slip into its trap

Creeping up right under me  

And right when I get near it

When I least expect it

It springs to attack

Shooting me

Across its villainess body


And slamming  

Me to the ground like

A nail

 Laughing at me

With its cold heart

As I limp away

In pain

Oct 09
adowning's picture

Winter and Summer

Winter & Summer

By Lauren Angus
Love catching snowflakes on my glove

Summer’s popsicle  

Both melting as soon as you get them
Love building a snowman

Summer’s sand castle

They don't last long
Love having snowball fights

Summer’s water balloons

You get wet either way  
Love finding icicles

Summer’s flowers

They come every year
Love having snow days

Summer’s vacation

Always outside  


They are almost the same

Just different
Oct 06
kat_writer's picture


Winter, such a bleak time
but in some way magical.
With all of winter's great, fluffy snow
it's a shame that it's dark
when I get home from school.

What is better 
than after a great day with the skis,
than coming home
to hot food and TV?

Winter, when my hands dry up
and my house works to stay warm.
I roll in the snow like a child and wonder
without the snow, what would life be?

This season is such a meaningful time
for all people like me.
And while it is below zero out there,
I appreciate me,
and this massive warm box I call home.

Winter, when we all curl up
like tiny little kittens.
Some people wish to find warmth down south,
While others must stay in this white heaven.

I go outside and watch my breath
float away in the wind,
I cannot believe this will end,
But also want spring to begin
Jan 21
M.C.junior's picture


You wake up every day go to school or work
Some days full of happiness, and some days full of hurt
Live your life to the fullest but eventually die
You live your life every day but why?

You help others around you and pursue what you love
You grow up, move out, feel freer than a dove
Work a job, get old, watch the time fly by
You lived your life every day but why

If there's no purpose in living, then there's no purpose and dying
Like being a bird, having wings, and not even flying
Like being a fish in the sea only to float on the shore
You live your life comfortably when you were destined for more

Instead, wake up every day and have a purpose in life
Have a reason to live Don't just roll like dice
Stand up! Be strong!
Jan 21


I was just wondering... 
What comes to your mind
When someone mentions my name?
When your name is sounded out
By someone else
(Obviously they don't know
How much it means to me) 
I think of backstage conversations
Onstage pretending 
Shared words with little meaning 
Except to enjoy
Like a bit of honey
On a spoon.  
I think of 
Lives in a nutshell 
Cold water and wet towels 
Dripping hair and chattering teeth 
(Of course the sun is warm
But it's never warm enough)
And the idea of cold
That is enjoyed 
Yet never quite what was expected.
When you hear my name
Do you think of the same things I do? 
Or do you just hear it 
And let it go?    

Jan 21


The sun was a halo of light in the south sky.

Smoke stained snowbanks lined the grey road.

Electric colors of traffic lights blazed apart from the monotone world.

The waters of the lake were cold and stony, edges frayed by the wind.

Cubic shapes of buildings shaded the city, red bricks drained of their cheery jublilance.

White snowflakes drifted down adding to the piles of slush along grey street.
Jan 21

Hanging from the Telephone Wire

I wonder how old those shoes are, hanging on the telephone wire.

Their laces baked and hardened by the sun, I wonder when their time there will be done.

Tied and thrown up high by bullies who wanted them to fly.

If your shoes are taken by that pack, you're never getting those back.

I wonder when the laces will break, it's unknown how long that will take.

How old are they?
Jan 21
wondering about rain's picture


I am a monster, big green
and ugly, melted into the shape
of something pleasant.
I am one you want
to behold, with velvet petals
and sparkling green stems
in a springtime rain, all of these
serve to attract something wonderful.

But discover all I am.
I am the scent of burning plastic
in a car crash on the side of the road.
caution tape around the scene
saying don’t go here, here lies
a wreck. A giant Godzilla shadow
in the clouds.

I am bringer of monsoons
and volcanic eruptions
and silent plagues and feuding
families. I can bring on the funerals
and the run over dogs, the broken
brains and ocd obsessions
with the number of plates
on the goddamn table,

why aren’t
there 2 instead of the 1, where
is the 2 I need it to be 2 or more.
Maybe this obsession will make
me feel less like a buoy at night
Jan 21
maddylove's picture

the pictures are falling in my room

The pictures are falling in my room again
the yellow tape is no longer
strong enough
every time it falls
I replace all the pieces of tape
with new ones
I press hard against the wall
hoping to ensure
a lifelong relationship
between the tape
and the wall

The pictures are falling in my room again
one fell the other night
when I was sleeping
I awoke to a missing space
on my wall
of something that should
be there
I couldn't fall back asleep
that night

The pictures are falling in my room again
my mom says 
I should use pins
 I don't want to leave a hole in the wall
for the next people
who are going to tape
their pictures on the wall

The pictures are falling in my room again
I don't know what to do

Jan 20
Fiona Ella's picture

why i dislike ghost stories

i realized
at about the same time i was old enough to appreciate a horror story
why they appeal to us so much. 
what it is that frightens us so much. 
obviously it's complicated--
the psychology of fearing ghosts,
for instance,
is a complicated interaction of our reservations about the time after death, 
the things we once failed to understand about the natural world
and the human fear of the unknown. 
but why is that slowly creaking open door in a house no one is supposed to be in
the notion that that statue might have blinked while you weren't looking
so much more frightening
than the ten foot tall fire breathing lizard monster? 
after all, 
one is a lot likelier than the other to actually kill you. 
what i think 
is that the creaking doorways and blinking statues
cater to our fear of the unknown. 
we fear what we don't understand. 
Jan 20

Winter Dandelions

The yellow petals shine against the snow
Like the sun against the night sky.
The little flowers scatter the white field
Out of place they grow.
Sweet memories they bring
Of summertime warmth and beauty,
But the cold will not let you travel far,
Winter time is still here.
With dandelions in the ice,
Growing despite the dead of winter.
Jan 20

The Moon Girl

Her hair is thrown out across the darkest regions of space
And becomes speckled by starlight.
Her eyes are bright with wonder
As she looks down at our society that is so foreign to her
So different from her life of solitude.
Her fingertips reach out to touch us 
But the circle of fire around us will not let her through.
The waves reach back for her hand but can never quite find it.
Her brilliant eyes drop crystal tears of happiness that reaches us on earth
And we rejoice at the water that soaks into our soil.
Her belt holds the planets and she twirls silently through the skies as
We watch her,
Fascinated by the mystery that is this moon girl.
Only a lucky few have touched her with their footprints and given her our flag
To remember us by.
She is quiet and alone
Her face reflecting the sun
And her hand forever outstretched.
Jan 20

The Moon’s light

The sun graces my skin

Lighting up a smile on my face.

The moon placed itself in my eyes

Making the universe visible to me.

The sky took way under my feet

Lifting me high into my dreams.

The stars got caught in my throat

Giving my voice a beautiful note.