Winter Night

A Poem By Ezra // 2/6/2008

A land of crusty winter night,
Frozen by despair; a deep, cold
Mysterious blanket of white
Which mocks the bare-limbed frosty trees
And floats down through the silent air.

A winter that no spring can pierce:
Hear the grass; it groans with weight,
The snow of many frosty years;
And yet it cannot change its fate,
But languishes in desperate fears.

See how the harsh and blinding light
Reflected from the distant moon
Through mists of pale golden-white
Provides no warmth or brief respite
Across the level, stretching snow.

A little tremor, a small breath
Of life, a small warm wispy wind;
Causing the trees, still cold with death,
To stir and creak and stiffly bend
As if longing for winter’s end.

Though wind’s touch causes the trees
To whisper and to weep fresh tears
Of melted snow and dripping ice
Alas, It can not penetrate
The deepness of the frozen years

Comments

OOOOOO!

OOO! I like this poem a lot! I can picture it in my head like I'm looking at it!
Nice work!
~eMiLy~

Emily | Sun, 02/10/2008

Ezra

Good job with this. :) It's written very well.

Brianna | Sun, 02/10/2008

--------------------------------------------------
"We have been created for greater things. Why stoop down to things that will spoil the beauty of our hearts?" ~Mother Theresa

beautiful

It is beautifully written, and particularly timely with winter's end here in the northeast. Your poem lends a feeling of hopelessness: This land has always been cold and dying, and will always be cold and dying. This more so given hope that flickers and dies as you make the reader realize the sun gives no warmth and the spring breeze fights a losing battle.
Two questions come to mind: literally, is it possible to have grass if there's been snow of many frosty years? ;) More symbolically, is there a connection with human death when you talk about the trees being "still cold with death"?
I particularly liked your last two stanzas and the last line, "the deepness of the frozen years" stayed with me for a long time...

Christa | Mon, 02/11/2008

..................

nice!
this is one of the best poems I've ever read!

Sarah | Mon, 02/11/2008

"Sometimes even to live is courage."
-Seneca

Blogging away!
busyscribbler.wordpress.com

You are a very good writer.

You are a very good writer. I think this site will be perfect for you!

Anna | Tue, 02/12/2008

I have hated the words and I have loved them, and I hope I have made them right. --The Book Thief

Winter: a Symbol

Mandolynn,

The winter in the poem is a symbol, but not of death. Rather, it is a portrayal of what a deeply scarred or torn heart can be like.

But as for the grass, you guess is as good as mine.

Ezra | Tue, 02/12/2008

"There are no great men of God. There are only pitiful, sorry men whose God is great beyond measure." - Paul Washer [originally Jonathan Edwards]

=]

I love the picture this poem paints in my head

Tamerah | Fri, 02/15/2008

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