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 16

I lived in a city once

New York
is a heartbeat;
my heartbeat,
as the electric subway flies
down the tracks
like a silver strike
of lightning.

I have a yellow strand of 
crepe paper
wrapped around my neck, 
a string of sunshine fighting
the glow of Times Square around my shoulders,
free souvenir of
SpongeBob the musical,
a giddy throwback to
age 7,
when I lived in a city.

I never lived in New York,
only Boston,
with it's maze of streets,
the corner store walking distance,
ice cream bars in the sticky
heat of summer.
New York is more methodical
than this.

but sleepless,
we eat pasta across from the hotel
minutes before midnight,
I don't understand the language
the patrons at the table
behind us speak,
but it's an odd sense
of peace to not be alone in the restaurant. 

The next morning,
Jan 15

the sleep and the sad

my mind is going a million and one
miles per hour

lightning cracking against the sky
like whips against thick, purple, knotted backs

i cant even focus on writing these words
symbols at the tips of my fingers
literally touching the paper-thin skin yet
so far away

well, it's fine
the roll of your eyes in louder than the lighting
and the thunder, louder than the
dark and the bright

- the sleep and the sad
Jan 15

Impossible Dreams

Up high in the sky
Is where my dreams exists,
While cold hard ground
Races under me.
Longingly I gaze up past the clouds to my dreams
Hoping maybe I will fly
And grab them with my open hands.
The wind picks up,
I move to the tips of my toes
But I don’t rise,
I get lifted.
Helpful believing hands
Carry me higher to my dreams.
Without those hands I would still live grounded,
Because achieving the impossible can’t be done

Jan 15
hannah.banana23's picture

hello, world

A blinding bright light above me
I cry out once
two others are looking down at me
like I am the best thing ever
they smile with tears in their eyes
"Lulu" they say
and I think that is my name

I come home with them
into a strange place called a house
where I will be living for the rest of my life
they show me around
the kitchen, the living room, their bedroom
my bedrooom

That night, my mom puts me to bed
"I'm right across the hall" she promises
and then gently lays me down in my crib
softly kissses me on my forehead
and turns off the light
now there is only the tiny twinkle of the night light
in the dark room

And just before I fall asleep
the thing that comforts me 
in this strange new life
I think
tomorrow is the day I will finally get to say,
"hello, world."
Jan 15
Sydney_Kulis's picture

thank you

dear (person who will remain nameless),
thank you,
thank you for being
thank you for being
thank you for listening
for helping
for not helping
for gypsies
and starwars
and too many cranberry orange muffins
thank you for
and adulthood
and everything in between.
and everything outside
everything happy
and sad
thank you for
my heart
and soul
and elvis presley
and john prine
thank you
for everything
Jan 15

The Great Dam

There's a creek behind my house
just before a bike path
that cackles in the summer
and sleeps in the winter.
That's where I wanted to skip
and examine animal prints
and collect a pile of sticks
to build the Great Dam.
I knelt into the bank
and muddied my little hands,
digging into the soil
for the rocks to hold it up.
It wasn't enough, so I turned
and reached for a stick.
It felt heavier then than now,
its bark mostly gone,
almost naked to the root,
but it was just enough
to hold the Great Dam.
I spent the afternoon building
and planning in the grass
until the sun began to doze
and my stomach gurgled.
I returned a week later to resume
and it somehow survived.
I began jumping over it in glee.
My foot knocked a stick over,
but I cautiously moved it back.
It was a brittle thing of beauty
and I felt victorious.

Jan 15

a poem for the friend who drinks coffee in the morning

I am a disposable
plastic cup
someone left me lying
on your driveway.
and rain,
it washed away my logo
just a smear of
Green now.
I wish you saw me the way I see me.
every time you slight me
I’m empty/disposable/Green
you don’t bother
to put me out of my misery
(throw me away)
maybe someday
when I run out of mugs
I can put my coffee in the litter on the ground

thought no one, ever.
But I have to believe
I’m some kind of
backup to you,
cuz if I’m not
you don't care/ just left me here to rot
(And in case you were wondering

Jan 15
Alaina.J_27's picture


Digest me,
like I digest you.

Feed me,
like I feed you.

Love me,
like I don't love you.

Because I need it.
I need your love.
Bit you're a laceless pinkness on my bones.
Soft like a peach
but rotting over time.
Wrinkled, flabby, wasted.

I dont want you.
But I need you.
And you need me to be colored in,
to be designed in the shape of my mind.
But I cant change you that much.
Your ignorance is too powerful.
Jan 14

Unnoticed by you

Unnoticed by you.
Things not babied by your eyes praised by me, the smoothness of the lockers sliding against my fingernails making ticks as my fingers leave admiration, but to you silence of why the girl with the alerted eyes are finding such relief as the lockers get to shortened stop. Or when the unnoticed me is biting my sleeve, listening to the squeaks of my teeth leaving small teeth marks on my sleeve, I can examine with my fingers. Unnoticed by you, the way I roll down my window with the winter days punishing my pink nose, but I smile as it laces my eyelashes, but noticed by me everything. The way the lunchroom trays feel, indented and weaves in plastic, like the clearness of my mind, Unnoticed by you..but you’ll see me soon.
Jan 14
poem 0 comments challenge: 70°

Perfect Girl in the Cage

If she turns around she is blinded by the flash
Of a million cameras going off
And her face will be plastered on covers for all the world to see.
The words she says will be twisted and mangled into lies
And used against her when she makes the tiniest mistake
Even if she apologizes she’s too perfect.
Thousands of voices shouting her name 
With questions that she can’t answer
And her perfect lips wobble a little bit
And she just wants to run and hide
But she can’t!
She made this bed and now she has to lie in it.
She’s absolutely perfect and it hurts.
I would rather be imperfect and free
Then stuck in the cage the perfection brings.
She’s 70 degrees and it is burning up her dreams.