Silence that creeps in the hind of sights, The beauty of the admiring glance that dances through the gleaming eyes,
By Hridya Sharmaabout a year ago in Poets
Us queers, we know how to laugh Throw shade, make the best damn juiciest turkey Our spirits, bright like that tree that's been decorated in all shades
By Oneg In The Arcticabout a year ago in Poets
It’s resurrected this time every year An invisible force, beyond reckoning When strangers begin to show unending cheer And love answers all our beckoning
By Kelli Sheckler-Amsdenabout a year ago in Poets
Some people had Christmas, she had new moons. As a child she’d pouted after winter break, hearing of piles of presents under decorated trees,
By Find FLOEabout a year ago in Poets
At The Fun Fair The funfair lights are shining bright, A whirl of colors in the night. The smell of candy, sweet and warm,
By Marie381Uk about a year ago in Poets
The Seven-Year Itch Seven years, the time creeps near, A shadow whispers, “What’s left here?” Comfort’s warmth becomes routine,
In winter's grasp, the earth exhales, A slumbering world that softly wails. Beneath the weight of frost's embrace,
By GoldenSpeechabout a year ago in Poets
Christmas donations for the poor: A Narnia book set with ripped covers A scrabble game with missing letters Trivial Pursuit with half the cards
By Marlena Guzowskiabout a year ago in Poets
The first time you saw snow You wonder what was the cold white blanket You were fascinated that you play in it every year
By Mariann Carrollabout a year ago in Poets
After a long day of Christmas shopping, we all pile in the car, swing through a drive-thru, and set out on the two-plus hour drive home.
By Kelsey Clareyabout a year ago in Poets
author photo giant conifer trees drip in iced frosting, guardians of the winter scape, while red, blue, green, and white sparkling lights on house peaks twinkle through their snow glaze.
By Andrea Corwin about a year ago in Poets
That winter morning in Gloucester might have been my first time ever seeing so much snow. My Dad grabbed his mustard yellow biker jacket, made of rugged material, with Velcro. It had this aura of safety and security.
By Lori Leeabout a year ago in Poets
