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Whatever you do

don't defrost Walt Disney

I hear he was not a nice man

even could be part of the clan



Please don't bring him alive

a brain in a robot he would reside

and if you gave him glaring laser eyes

all at Touchstone pictures would have to die



So please please

don't defrost Walt Disney





By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris

By NeonSolaris

© 2011 NeonSolaris (All rights reserved)
David Huggett Oct 2012
I miss Lydia I lost her from my side
I wanted so much for her to be my bride
now I feel so lost

She told me she was my sword and shield
I took her with me across many a field
but now I pay the cost.

I need her by my side she fought so well
from the Draugr, Bandits, the Forsworn and Dragons I cast many a spell
she held me very tight at nights so that she could defrost.

Lydia Lydia Lydia I call you're name
why am I so heart broken it's just a game.
I am now heavily laden items must get tossed

I might have to start this game anew
but that would make me feel so blue
I made it to Whiterun and the forest I crossed

I searched and searched for you as far as Markarth
when will you join me once more and satisfy my heart
I have come to a final point and feel extreme exhaust.
Verbatim Lynnie May 2018
War
Conceal amnesiac eyes with a hood,
Maybe nights fall oddly placid.
Sleep could collapse its resistance,
Crumble sunlight into ashes.
Nightmares internally unravel,
Soldiers fought, already lost.
Invasive thoughts occurring,
Arising ice, I can't defrost.
This complexion leaves me perplexed,
Battling behind my forehead.
I can't evade this hopelessness,
I've pled, go back to bed.
Sunsets settled maniacal,
Malnourished; give me a mask.
Because all I ache for is sleep,
To possess what life I'd had-
This is a really old poem, completely redone.
All feedback is welcome and appreciated
Axle Avatari Apr 2016
You were a book without a cover
Hard to read
Closed
Your heart was shut
Like mine used to be
I think I know you better
Better than you know yourself
You had a sense of humor
Smart
Witty
Intelligent
Wise
You had a plan
Knew where you were
Going
I liked that
I stood there
Gently knocking
On the portal to your heart
Hanging onto
Smiley face emoticons
And you calling me back
After you had to get off the phone
But
I always texted first
I had to carry the conversation
I don’t think you realize
How hard it was
To stay out in the cold
Waiting for you to
Warm up
To me
To defrost your heart
To see that I was a man
Who stood there
In your bitter cold
But
In the end
It was the end
You and I
Are two
Separate people
I wish
You luck
I hope someday
You believe
In love
I know
I do
"Just Friends"
Warmth of the candle
Softly grows
Flickering its flame
Softly glows
Tender hearts
To defrost
Slow
Rebuffed
by expressionless faces
you'll never meet.

An image
can't be identified
through a distorted lens.

Weary words
defrost
as egotistical dreams.

Points of view
compete with self-esteem
and dysfunctional genes.
Pete Badertscher Jun 2013
I set my cruise on the highway and
am passed by a red AMC Eagle.  
This red rusty AMC Eagle has a
wind shied covered in frost because,
I'm guessing, the defrost motor burned
up in a bakelite mushroom cloud from the
dashboard.  
It is held together with duct tape
and grit.  The pilot sits behind his cardboard
console ludicrously warm in winter parka,
scarf,
hat
and gloves.

I pass him waving dressed
in my tshirt and shorts.
Driving in my new, awesomely
economical car.
Four dashboard vents dump lava warm air
to keep me pleasingly toasty.
The pilot will never understand that I wave
not at his expense, but in envy.  The billboard
on my right says it all,
If I have to explain you wouldn't understand.
Jacqueline Aug 2011
Today I find myself comfortably numb
My brain has gone silent, my emotions feel dumb
I will find warmth in a Moonlight Sonata
In an empty room filled with no sunlight
I will tell myself to live, I’ll say that I’ve got to
But looking around, how does one live?
I hear a voice, it says I must protest
Keep your focus, do not digress
For sleep, from you, has been solemnly taken
Until you leave a mark, the world must be shaken
I have proven to you that you are not a priority
And to surrounding people you are rarely picked
You do not exist to the vast majority
And you are left to die, you are left to be sick
So you must force yourself to leave quite the impression
And the world will know it was you, nonetheless
Get yourself out of this depression
And give everyone what you have left
I found closure in the idea that I was free
But the one who was chained down, I saw it was me
I reached for a helping hand; I felt my left take my right
How beautifully remarkable, what an incredible sight
And then my brain began to defrost
How cold and lonely; I was no longer lost
Without myself I was surely deserted
The evidence cannot be destroyed  
And I made a promise, it can’t be averted
I have lived for too long in this void
How lovely you seem, how lovely you are
Your body has hidden most of your scars
So get yourself ready and get yourself dressed
Pick up your courage, pretend you are blessed
Makenzie Marie Nov 2018
Dancing under the stars
Barefoot in your haunted backyard
And all I can feel is the safety in your arms.
Emery Feine Oct 2024
Can you see the soil softly shake
As the once-dead zombies burst from it?
They're being revived,
Though they were left to die and decay.
The ice is melting,
And the heat is increasing
Into a blinding fire.
When I finally felt free,
The dead seeds I planted months, years ago
Are slowly sprouting. (A miracle? A curse?)
The world is repeating,
Like they told me it would.
I'm terrified.
The scenes I have escaped
Are creeping around the corner,
Like now-alive zombies.
The memories that I threw to the snow,
They are beginning to grow,
Like flowers in Antarctica.
this is my 128th poem, written on 10/16/24
I want to understand the steep thing
that climbs ladders in your throat.
I can't make sense of you.
Everywhere I look you're there--
a vast landmark, a volcano
poking its head through the clouds,
Gulliver sprawled across Lilliput.

I climb into your eyes, looking.
The pupils are black painted stage flats.
They can be pulled down like window shades.
I switch on a light in your iris.
Your brain ticks like a bomb.

In your offhand, mocking way
you've invited me into your chest.
Inside: the blur that poses as your heart.
I'm supposed to go in with a torch
or maybe hot water bottles
& defrost it by hand
as one defrosts an old refrigerator.
It will shudder & sigh
(the icebox to the insomniac).

Oh there's nothing like love between us.
You're the mountain, I am climbing you.
If I fall, you won't be all to blame,
but you'll wait years maybe
for the next doomed expedition.
Today is September 11, 2012.

Last night, on  September 10, 2012, I went to bed thinking about classes the next day, things that had to be done, money that had to be spent.  I thought about problems in my relationships, things to fix those problems.  I thought about the horse whom I'd spent most of the evening riding.  I didn't think about the anniversary of the tragedy that happened 11 years ago.

When I woke up this morning, I got ready for school, made sure I had my homework done, grabbed a mug of coffee on the way out the door, and shivered in the morning chill of autumn.  I got in my car and turned on the heat, waited for the windows to defrost, and pulled out of my driveway.  I didn't think about the anniversary of the tragedy that happened 11 years ago.

I was on the highway and someone passed me, too close, and I wondered how some people pass their driving tests.  I got stuck behind a school bus while a very slow teenager boarded, and wondered how I would get to my class on time.  In town, I slowed to let a cat cross the road in front of me, and wondered how it had made it across so many times before.  I didn't think about the anniversary of the tragedy that happened 11 years ago.

On country roads, I turned up my radio when I heard my favorite song come on: “For You,” by Keith Urban.  I sang along with the lyrics, knowing that I was going to cry when I heard the lines, “And in his pocket, just like mine, he had a photograph, and they're waiting for him back home.”  At that moment, the significance of today's date popped into my mind.  September 11, 2012.  And I thought about the anniversary of the tragedy that happened 11 years ago.

I had twenty minutes to get to class, but I couldn't drive any more until I gave a moment to my thoughts about the day.  I pulled over on the side of a familiar country road and turned my music off.  I looked out the window to see the rolling farmland and I felt the cool breeze on my face, and thought about how much I take this world for granted.  This is my country, and the ones who perished on September 11, 2001 would have taken this day for granted too, if that tragedy had not happened.  It was time to think about the present, and see it for its beauty, and not for its frustrations.

I thought about my life, just for a moment.  I went to school, and throughout my classes, I could not stop thinking.  I remembered how I cried when I went to New York and saw the 9/11 Memorial in the footprints of the twin towers.  I thought about the tribute songs to the event.  I thought about my dear friend and my brother, who are fighting for our country as members of the military.  With every thought, I chose to look at something new; something I had seen a hundred times, but could possibly never see again.

The future is unpredictable.  My life is a small speck in a world of sand.  I owe it to thousands of people, because if one person did something differently on any day, in any moment, there is a chance that I would not be here. On September 11, 2012, I give thanks more than any previous anniversary of the event.  Today, I am an 18-year-old adult, free to make choices, free to vote for my country's leaders, free to fight for it.  And as I look out across the fields, and to the sky, and at the flag hanging at half-staff, I decide that I will fight for it, in one way or another, because people have died and more will die to let me appreciate these things and I will not let their death be in vain.
I wrote this as a journal entry.  It's far from professional or even being well-written, but these are my thoughts in order, as they came out on the page and it might be the most honest piece I have ever written.
Frank Cavalo Nov 2024
O, Candle!
Warm me so
Tinge the palm with soot
Feel the flame
Embrace ye whole
Flee not – to flirting brook.

Make my gelid
Heart whistle
Like kettle overrun
Stir not
With the Finger
Or you may end up losing some.

Be careful
Not to under
Mine or worse – estimate
The Joy
In Suffering
Is one most intimate.

Let the pain
Consume ye
And be met with greater bliss
For there’s no greater
Pleasure than
To burn as warm as this.
Anna Blake Mar 2017
Summer’s time has come and gone
The walls, floorboards release a yawn
With nine months then to recoup, recover
From being a home, just for the summer.

Eloquent memories freshly remain
Of friends who nestled within her frame
A cabin of bunk beds, cubbies, fresh air
Where girls unwound with little a care.

Her crevice now holds a left-behind letter
Whose parchment hardens with winter’s weather
Yet the season’s sleet knows the warmer reflection
Of late night secrets and encouraged imperfection.

Spring has sprung most slowly for some
The evergreens exclaim a harmonious hum
Her wooden steps defrost, and patiently await
The coming of campers to the cardinal state.

Fall, winter, and spring all pass
Warm rays have woken the mountains at last
Each cabin’s frame stands taller, *****
While girls, all ages, reconnect.

Anna Blake
Andre Baez Dec 2013
There was a knock at the door

A knock that bounces off in rhythm

Similar yet different
from the disjointed sounds
of her head hitting the door,
the bathroom sink,
and then the floor

Her beats were her beatings
which often dragged from street to bed

They began with her mothers boyfriend,
an alcoholic enforcer of  peace, law, and trust
But, he wished to take a piece of her and eat it,
telling her that no laws were broken,
as he asked her to trust him

With a bit of apprehension
she sequestered, she went to his level,
as mother looked on from her blind eye
She asked her mother to stop the man
because it was a new pain unlike any other
Mother cooked on, stirring her beef stew,
just cooking along as she bawled
Those tears provided little relief
to the daughter with her first STD at 13

She provided little reaction
after multiple interactions with her attacker
It was easier to spread her legs and allow easy access to the temple residing there in shambles

She became intoxicated by the same poison that
awakened the inner beast within her mothers man
An exciting blood rush from bruised legs healed
by liquors lecherous lectures

Until one day the man died
in the street due to his debts
A man in blue left black and blue,
thus freeing her, or so she thought

Now at seventeen she had never had a man of her
own, or a boy after ***** in her case
She doesn't know what a good boy looks like, or
feels like, only what a bad man taste like

Consequently she repeats the cycle
because it is comfort as she's conformed
Her contorted body and twisted smile with
tattooed black and blues is normal

Another knock at the door

A sound that bounces off in rhythm

Rhythm and blues
One, two
One, two
Rhythm and blues
One, two
One, two

Similar but different
from the dangling
of her bracelets
as her man chokes her
with her necklace
she gasps for breath,
but is helpless

Completely given into
the physically stronger
person above her
Keeping her down:
1 foot,
2 foot,
3 foot,
4 foot,
5 foot,
till she begs to be 6 feet underground

Where he stops just short
And digs her up from the Earth

He puts out cigarettes
on her tongue
He rapes her repeatedly:
cooing for her to call him daddy
He makes her shoot up heroine
He beats her and her temple
into smithereens

She is a shell of who she used to be,
but accepts what fate has afforded her
As if she had no say in the matter
because no one told her
that there is always a choice

She doesn't know that she can run
She doesn't know that she can fight back
She doesn't know that she can call the police
(never police)
She doesn't know her own power

Because she is nothing,
nothing without him,
and him and him and him,
Nothing all at without dripping
blood on the floor from her bottom lip
busted open after denying his kiss

She has his baby in her stomach
but it doesn't stop him
from kicking her *** up and down the block
He doesn't want her to have the baby
so he throws her down stairs daily,
"Are you ******* crazy?"

Her neighbors yell
as her man tells them
to mind their business
and go to hell
"She's my *****," he yells
as he always excels
at repelling everyone else

One day an unknown savior
came to offer her aid
One thing led to another
and her saviors fist met her mans face
She screamed and the savior
thought it was out of relief
However she was afraid
that her man was deceased
Her savior would end up
leaving the building in hand cuffs
As she embraced her man,
he swore he woke up and would change
She smiled brightly as he kissed her scars
and dried tears from her face
Her beatings ended for two nights:
then started up again when
she forgot to defrost some chicken for dinner

Once more a knock at her door

A bang that bounces off in rhythm

A baby boy was produced and given love
in the highest quantities known to man,
smothering in quality, and genuine as can be
His mother sacrificed every day of her life for his,
took every loss in stride, cooked every single night,
and was beaten in plain sight of her baby boy

Baby boy learns from daddy,
Daddy turns to stranger,
Stranger is never a danger,
Stranger daps young boy,
After assaulting his mother,
Stranger gives young boy a gun,
Stranger tells young boy to join a gang,
Stranger tells young boy to run the streets,
Stranger tells young boy to hit his woman,
Stranger says she's a *** and a *****,
Just like the young boys mama,
Stranger gives props to young boy,
Stranger loves young boy,
And young boy loves stranger back,
Young boy hates:
his mother,
his neighborhood,
his friends,
his teachers,
his sisters,
and the sun,
But stranger understands him,
Stranger raised him

Mother died in memorial hospital
from internal bleeding
She had taken one beating
a thousand times too many
Young boys grandmother looked
upon her body in regret and shame
Grief given much too late
for the child ****** into hate

The young boy turns man

And knocks on his ladies door

Rhythm reminiscent of hers...

***** and blood
***** and blood
Things come together
Things fall apart

***** and blood
***** and blood
Things come together
Things fall apart

***** and blood
***** and blood
Things come together
Things fall apart
Nicole Corea Jul 2015
For years ...
My heart sat in a box of icy glass.
Shivering every night, through the wake of daylight.
Cracking slowly over the years.
Hoping ...
Longing
for the righteous touch.
Many sought to conquer but failed...
I would crack thinking
it was time for me
to beat lively again...
But they failed...
They all failed
Not one has come close to my heart.
My heart was detached from me.
I was in cage chained,
watching my heart,
deteriorate through the years.
So
The cracks of my heart began to
rebuild its icy veins.
And my heart sat in box of icy glass.
Longing through ever shutter.
Wondering what am I beating for.
Slowly the temperatures dropped
And my heart became colder.
My heart alarmed signals of  
heavy frostbites hovering over my soul.
I slowly try to crack ,
by enduring this
emptiness of my icy heart.

It Was Dangerous Severed Heart

My heart was coped up in ice and loneliness.
My heart began to fall into abyss of winter
Everlasting for eternity,
My heart in a icy box.
For eternity....
No longer beats due to
The exhaustion from shivering .
From receiving little cracks of hope...
Open and closing to the wrong warriors..
They failed .
To save my heart .
And most importantly to save me...
My heart didn't want to be loved
My heart wanted to be misused
To be mislead through every sin.
That was my love for my heart.
Loneliness sunk into my icy box.
My heart shed tears through every shiver.
The shivers through every wrongful touch.
My heart grew weaker into the abyss..
Quitting.
Slowly
A Silhouette emerged from icy dark waters.
My heart watched this beautiful masterpiece swimming,
across every strenuous wave,
Vigorously. Powerfully.
Eyes with flame of devotion.
So much devotion...
Beautiful Dark Eyes
My Heart and I will always cherish
His eyes ....
My heart deteriorated by the time
As this ghost reached my heart...
My heart began to look for its shiver
My little trickle hair began to alert.
Waking my heart from is devastation
My heart manage to hook
it's eyes on this ghost...
He wasn't a warrior ...
He was a hero.
Angel guardian ...
With eyes that flamed devotion.
Igniting my icy cracks to reopen.
Quickly shunned ..
As when he reached with an anchor
To the iciest veins part of me
Which was my heart in the box...
My heart let go of the anchor.
It didn't want to be save.
It wanted to live in naked loneliness.
You would drop your anchor waiting
For my heart to reach.
Shunned
you
over
over
and
over
again.
Yourself shiver through the nights into daylight.
Waiting for me to defrost into your saving arms.
My heart was incapable .
My heart whisper apologies every shiver you shake waiting for me.
But my heart sank deeper into the haunted memories.
Terrifying questions
"Why weren't you becoming one of my sins"
"Why aren't you a regretful touch"
I couldn't sink deeper because your anchor followed through every pressure..
Through every flaw of my icy veins.
Thawing hard through my icy veins .
You became my hero in that very instance.
My angelic savior .
My heart began to crack to weigh on your anchor.
By the time my heart began to reincarnate itself
I found myself in shaking in shivers
My cracks began to burst with ice
I began to sank....
It wasn't my time to be saved.
Was it?
Then you became alluring serpent of my heart.
The possessed thought of my mind.
Your poison began to shift my veins .
My heart began to pump warmly ,
Slowly regaining its redness through every
Memory of you...
Through every caressing moment from you.
You.
My heart felt this unknown feeling.
It was a masterpiece forming as it began to feel.
It began to feel what my angel has been fighting for.
What you have been fighting for.
Since the moment
he let go of the anchor,
To save my heart...
Most importantly me..
I became yours a little too late .
He loves me...
And I loved him.
Then I love him
And then he loved me.
My heart had to crack
For my angel.
For myself
The time has come.
For my eyes to spark again...
With the same love and devotion
As yours...
My heart is missing heaven.
Missing home.
Missing my virtue.
There are many things,
I know my heart,
Can devote to many,
Beautiful things.
It's not easy for
My heart to start to believe again...
But my heart confides in you .
Only you...
When my heart opens ,
You will be there
with your anchor
Receiving me...
Loving me...
As I waited for awhile
to learn what home feels like .
Not in the icy box ,
But to be  in another heart full with warmth.

That is the moment I been waiting for.
To love you and only you.

Because I righteously deserve all of  you
And you righteously deserve all of me...

I thank you ...
For staying in this prolong battle...

I love you
with all the cracks
and bruises of my heart.
Soon I know I will be healed .

I love you my angel .
This is one of my heartfelt poems please enjoy
David Ehrgott Oct 2015
Bi polar bear bouncing up and down
on a summer high one year
Got to walk the wall

in China before I wore those shirts
an excuse to use/not to wear
When I was getting perks

And reminding me to stay in line
how lucky that it is to get all of this
for nothing more than just a Kremlin kiss

Kathy's kissing in the Kremlin
Chatting after she had tea
And we're hiding from the KGB
Kathy's kissing in the Kremlin

And I went up to Alaska, the final frontier
Found a tent to defrost in Antarctica
Sunk to the bottom of the ocean floor
Where it is all lit up
and I rode the Himalayan Sky
Sold the pictures to the book with yellow trim
and

Kathy's kissing in the Kremlin
Flying there again.  Kathy's kissing in the Kremlin
Kissing in the Kremlin
Kissing in the Kremlin
Sari Sups Dec 2013
One spoon of cough syrup*

              Pour
   Lines pulled against
         the currents,
like the strings of my day
      and you have set
       underneath my
            horizon;
    flares of your colors
         settling into
           my earth.
                                                     Taste
                                          Read my eyes and
                                             longing looks.
                                      Find the nerve behind
                                           the trail of scarlet
                                          and embrace your
                                           lingering shadow
                                         the one I've learned
                                                  to love.                                            

          Swallow                                          ­                                                  
   Cling to my desire                                                           ­                              
 and entangle yourself
         once more
don't struggle instead
     press your bones
        into my grave
   and bury me in your
         flesh of broken
                dreams.
                                  ­                                                                 ­                                                             Repeat
                                         ­       Defrost your denied
                                                         approval in
                                                         my warmth
                                                     and wrap me in
                                                           attention.
                                                      ­ Turn me into
                                                  your poison apple
                                                and sink your heart
                                                  deep into my core.
-D Jun 2012
I lick the ice from my skin;

for it has remained there

since the moment you left,

and I know I must defrost my

indifference and ambivalence

before you return to my arms.

-

a cold, hard shell

encapsulates my heart

(which once throbbed with

love unquenchable)

and icily creeps steadily

up the walls

& down the corridors

only to stop

& melt

at the site of

my own

selfish,                       steaming,

lamenting,                  seeping,

cave of a dwelling.

-

*Yet still I wait

at the door,

to see who

will arrive with the pick.
Daniel August Apr 2013
Sweet rippled midnight, poured
silver chilled cubes shiver
icicles cuddle
a tent hung huddle
priceless frostbite savored
mornings warming drip,
lovely defrost
Ja Dec 2015
What I want
For Christmas is
Just the barest
Of necessities

All my teeth
Not just two
So when I eat
I can chew

A skip and jump
Back in my step
So each morning
I have some pep

A pair of glasses
Which self defrost
A set of keys
Which don’t get lost

All my hair
Put back in place
So I don’t have
That barren space

A pair of shoes
With self tie laces
So I don’t have to
Reach those places

A set of arteries
That don’t plug
A nice cold beer
Which I can chug

To have someone
My brain equip
With that new fangled
Memory chip

So it can tell me
My intent
When I stood up
And why I went

A bunch of prunes
Which are pre dated
To work just when
I’m constipated

A gizmo that will
So to speak
Turn off my wee wee’s
Little leak

So I don’t have
I’ll just be blunt
Those little dribbles
In the front

A cork that fits
My *** hole, please
So hemorrhoids don’t pop out
Whenever I sneeze

A longer arm
That would pass
Behind my back
To wipe my ***

On this I’ll end
My little list
I don’t want Santa
To get ******
BOEMS BY JA 103
me Jun 2012
For you I broke my own laws
when I was with you I saw my own flaws
I had to work hard for a pointless cause
you swiped at me with relentless claws

You cheered me up when I was down
you made me smile, you made me frown
after all the love I tried to drown
your carelessness made me shutdown

I came to you with open arms
Vulnerable to your endless charms
and even though I heard the alarms
I let you cause me deadly harms

My brain is all crisscrossed
emotional death was the cost
while I waited for my icy anger to defrost
any love for me you had, you  seemed to have lost

So now I stand here, tears on the floor
broken and crumbled to the core
you could not have hurt me anymore
you looked at me and closed the door

So if becoming my friend is something you want to do
the walls around my heart won’t be so easy to get through
I have suffered and cried and been broken too
still every time I think of you

No matter how hard I’ve tried
no matter how much you lied
even though I try to hide
still, I die a little bit inside
It’s 6:08 AM
and 6 degrees Fahrenheit outside.
My window sweats on the inside and
a truck motor runs on the street for ten minutes
working to defrost its inner cargo.
The frosty hills are still dark as hell.
Somewhere hours away you’re waking up
choking for coffee and running off
moved by the efficient early metro buses,
the graying slush,
and the misty chandelier of streetlamps.
Maybe next winter you’ll be here
to coax me to put down the books
before the too-long awaited dawn.

Until then,
Good morning.
Goodnight.
Sam Dec 2017
You were the catalyst that started my heart.
You were the oxygen that brought me to life.
Limbs once dormant, now guide my path.
Blood once frozen, now navigates my veins.
You took my hand and led me through a world that brought me to my knees.
When I see the future, I can rest with ease.
I know you'll always be there.
Standing next to me.
r0b0t Feb 2017
Im haunted inside
I wish she could come back to life
explore all over my mind
i wish she could come back to life
come back to my life
dance a waltz around my heart
and stomp all over my life
take who i am inside
turn back to who i should be
defrost me defrost me
im shaving every day
running
i think ive grown from this sidewalk
but i need sun again
or i feel like im withering withering
honestly
i dont want to move on. i want to
hold the back of your neck when i kiss you and
finish x files with you and
miss you again
if we are not healed by valentines i will
i will buy you what you wanted
Pete Badertscher Jun 2014
I set my cruise on the highway and
am passed by a red AMC Eagle.  
This red rusty AMC Eagle has a
wind shied covered in frost because,
I'm guessing, the defrost motor burned
up in a bakelite mushroom cloud from the
dashboard.  
It is held together with duct tape
and grit.  The pilot sits behind his cardboard
console ludicrously warm in winter parka,
scarf,
hat
and gloves.

I pass him waving dressed
in my tshirt and shorts.
Driving in my new, awesomely
economical car.
Four dashboard vents dump lava warm air
to keep me pleasingly toasty.
The pilot will never understand that I wave
not at his expense, but in envy.  The billboard
on my right says it all,
If I have to explain you wouldn't understand.
again draftlike.  I remember the moment that sent this forth into words.
Hilda Jan 2014
Vibrant hues of Autumn
Fades now into the
Winter water color hues
And bleak barren trees.

Days of frozen landscape
And dreams have to defrost.
All the ice and snows now
Cover the twigs once filled with roses.

Trembling in each gust
Barren trees moan, stretching
Gaunt arms towards bleak grey skies
Pleading for rebirth.

Sunset fades to blackness
Shrouding the silent earth,
Devoid of tranquil benediction
No ray of light or hope.

Awakening the resurrection
Of Spring's triumphant song,
Return of Thrush and Robin
Blending with all nature in jubilant symphony.

Until then the minor strains
Of the winter Hermit Thrush
Spiraling hope of the warmer days
And softens up the Arctic blast.

Then finally with the last
White-throated Sparrows gone
And the daylight hours increase
Spring arrives and Winter retreats!


~Timothy and Hilda~

~-Russian-~

Медленный Рассвет весны

Яркие оттенки осени
Теперь исчезает в
Зимой воды цветовых оттенков
И мрачно бесплодных деревьев.

Дни замороженных ландшафтов
И мечты нужно разморозить.
Лед и снег сейчас
Покрывают ветками, когда заполнены с розами.

Дрожал от каждого порыва
Бесплодной деревья стонут, растяжения
Гонта оружия к мрачное серое небо
Пледирование для возрождения.

Закат бледнеет до черноты
Зачехление немого земли,
Лишенный тихой благословение
Не луч света и надежды.

Пробуждение в воскресение
Торжествующий песни весны,
Возвращение молочница и Робин
Смешивание с всю природу в ликующая симфония.

До сих пор незначительные штаммов
Зимы отшельник молочница
Растущие надежды на теплые дни
И размягчает Арктический взрыв.

Наконец, с последним
Белый – Рубиновогорлый Воробьев ушел
И увеличение светового дня
Весна приходит и зима отступает!


~Тимоти и Хильда~
A Husband and Wife collaboration.
(Still working on an entire family collaboration.)
Hope you enjoy this writing!
© Timothy 26 January, 2014.
© Hilda 26 January, 2014.
robin moyer Oct 2011
A cold snap: focus sharpens. Crystal clings to every branch
defining more than outline: Long frozen memories want to play.
Youth, buried in years, drifts; re-emerges in layers as I carefully button my coat.
Frigid air; a sharp crack of winter’s whip—for a brief moment I cannot breathe.
Combination of stark colors: world reduced to winter green, black and white.
My own world's akin to the front step; encased in ice.

Laughter shatters the perfect silence as children spill out to play.
Stark softens to water-colored blends. Children: each zipped in winter coat,
with scarf flapping as they run, whitened puffs of air trailing as they breathe.
Boots crunch, footstep designs break ****** white
as I balance, frozen: Journey begun on steps of ice.
When did the magic cease? Somewhere I took a lonely branch.

Burning bush edges the stairs; fiery leaves still stubbornly cling—a coat
of frost blurring red to pale, not unlike distant memory. I breathe
time. Wind whisks snow - nature’s blender. White
out. The bottom step vanishes, but the ice
remains. With naught to grasp, I reach for a branch,
but fall into the fire. The ice burns my face. I am too old; tears play.


Yet muscles defrost, bones aren’t splintered ice and I breathe
a sigh of relief. Flailing flightless wings I snow angel the white
powder on the walk in efforts to rise. I am conquered, the ice
is master here. Direct line of vision: A walking stick stuck to branch;
frozen in time. Dead. Realization sears, I won’t play
that game. A cardinal perches on the split rail fence, his scarlet coat

a crimson memory flash. I remember soaring: red rails against white
on my flexible flyer as I raced the wind down hills worn to ice.
The sharp turn at the bottom taken tilted to shoot across the branch
of the river, scattering skaters. For hours, I’d play
returning, blue lipped to my grandmother’s warm bread. My coat
soaked through, the hearth blazing so hot I could barely breathe.

Smiling at myself, sitting in the snow, I feel the ice
of age crack and my mittened hands form a snowball. I eye the branch
but begin to build a snowman. I haven’t forgotten at all. Rising, I play
with the day, feeling joy as brisk air renews. No matter, now, my coat
isn’t nearly warm enough, I am warmed by the past remembered. I breathe
in and the canvas that is I, again, is white.

No longer shrouded in ice, I branch
off in new directions. For in play, imagination takes mere white
and paints a fresh new coat. It takes more than air to breathe.
Amanda Kay Burke Mar 2021
Roses red
Night sky black
Love the feeling of fingernails
Etching lines up and down my back
Outside air is vicious and cold
It's warm beneath my bedsheets
Come defrost against my skin
As senses eagerly meet
Time not exists in this place
Surroundings slowly fade out
The stress weighing down my body
A burden I don't think about
Inhaling electricity
Exhaling loneliness
Grateful for present moment
Escape from daily mess
Relief may be temporary
I will appreciate it just the same
Honestly any emotion
Better than the usual pain
Pain without love is much worse than pain with love
Natassia Serviss Nov 2017
I feel so tired,
I feel so lost.
Give my heart time to defrost.
I'm on the edge,
I've broken down.
I'll never get back up,
I'm going to drown.
We're left to think of an escape
As if the cut is a minor scrape.
Where do we find a cure?
I know people care,
I'm sure.
And if those were the last things I ever heard,
would you care to reword?
What if I was gone tomorrow?
Would you drink to drown your sorrows?
Those last words, what a shame.
Aren't you to blame?
If I can't find my way
If my path has gone astray,
Then whose to say I'll get out safe.
Hidden from my gaze
their words ring in a haze.
"We're here to help,
We're here to save.
Drop the knife,
Please be brave.
Please drop the gun,
They haven't won.
We want the best,
We want a smile.
You know that thing's been gone a while."
Just tell me it's alright,
Only for tonight.
My way out has been delayed,
Honestly I'm afraid.
Who's going to save me now?
And if those were the last things I ever heard,
Would you care to reword?
What if I was gone tomorrow?
Would you drink to drown your sorrows?
Those last words,
What a shame.
Aren't you to blame?
Aren't you to blame?
What a shame.
I'm gonna be gone tomorrow,
Please don't hold your sorrow.
Those last words were just a game.
Maybe you won,
Maybe you're to blame.
I remember this time. I remember this feeling. Written in 2012.
AP Feb 2015
I've grown blind to sensation
and deaf to the hums of my walk
its all the same yet again
one great big pile of gray sloshy snow
suspended under an equally flavorless sky
whose clouds pour drips of cool touch onto me
and as they land and stream along the contours and creases of my face
they soak up with my hurt
and that feeling is the only thing that keeps me thinking im still here,
still alive
so please sky, let it rain
let it shower away all of my pain
let it pump my blood to sizzle against the icicles that hang beneath the gutters of my veins
to melt away the current solid stream of red
so i can defrost back into my old self
as steam rises from my now beating heart
revealing gears that rotate freely again once their bolts are no longer consumed in deep frost
the color rushes back into my skin
and the flushed pale face suddenly evolves into crimson cheeks which hold an obnoxiously wide smile
with a voice that speaks loud like a lion with purpose
and sings harmonious with the songs of my youth
...
the day i am resurrected
is the day i will love you like i intend
so tell me, please reveal your secret
where can I melt?
The clock becomes a detachable head.
Acquiesced to the ground
The fragments become priceless.
Wrinkled people grovel over the eager glass
Pick them up and risk the cuts.

Vibrations equalize
and everyone is holding hands
stuffing their distractions and sadness
into a sack
looking into each others’ eyes
blurring the faces into one
letting go is hard at first
but then after it is hard
to keep from spinning out of control.

At first sharing for simplicity
and then in a disease involuntarily
for daytime T.V shows
and self-help-how-to-do-your-life books
by self-proclaimed seers and prophets
reading the palm of your hand
which is also mine
and his.

No time
to stop
not for a second.

you are
the god
and all the questions are answered

you are the ice that covers sidewalks
warmth will defrost thought out actions,
instilling the masterpiece.

Response:
Why not look inside of you?
Are there questions that cannot be answered?
Yes but only because of detail
and the sharp and spiky squares of  
Science.


the dance we learn to stop dancing,
goes on after us and goes on into forever.
like forever may not be there.
it doesn’t seem to note or care
that the space between your two ears.
comforts my neck best
or constellations crossing your chest
constantly suggests no matter the rearrangement
no coincidences are circumstance
I’m trying not to look for it
some reality where I belong

if forever sees it has missed a beat
laughing and playing.
I so obediently repeat
what you’ve so gracefully said to me.
Life is not a sign for anything else.
It is more of  an enigmatic saying from a hermit
below a full moon
purely nonsense insane.
…but realizing the smile with which it was contained.
Teen angst poetry
dribbled in red pen.
Well, ideally.
I only have black type.

In fact, I never have experienced
teen angst. I only have
the perpetual piece of blackandred
corners me alone

The beast beneath my bed ceases
whenever daddy checks
but I never had a daddy
only a mommy valiantly battling the
blackandred demons her daddy
never scared away either.

and in the
end we feel nothing nothing can
touch us. We are the empty rusty
pail crying out from the Dripdripdrip of
our loneliness because no one comes in
because, in the foggy glass, no one can see each other
and coldandclammy jostling elbows
do Not touch- NeverNever

We hope the redhot heart of the
lovers we hold so closely will defrost
our windshields to the world and let in
Lightlovehopejoyhappiness
Contentment

AND THEN
I have hope enough
that the monsterinmycloset
cannot grip my dangling elbow. Hope that the steep
fall of bladeandblood and littleroundpills
Always stays a few feet away

I call and pray for stray sunbeams.

Later- I pull
out the quicksilver shards of glass
from my eyes and under my polluted
fingernails.
I shrug off their sodden coats.
I won't borrow burdens. Anymore.
So that my light may shine encore
Abeaconpillar of radiance
Est deus in nobis
Robyn Dec 2014
Winter is cold
With it's flakes and it's ices
Special driving devices
Tire chains and defrost
Good lord what was the cost?
With it's quiet and slipping
Then it's melting and dripping
Flaky tendrils of snow
Good lord what do we know?
How it lays in my hair
Watching you everywhere
Nevermind what I say
Watch the snow float away
Watch the frost in the trees
No more birds, no more bees
See the frost in the grass?
See the way the cars pass
Stroke my cheek with your hand
Christmas supply and demand
Kiss my lips while you smile
Every once in a while
Winter is cold
but I'm warm
J Dec 2016
The calendar that hangs on my white brick walls has been empty since the day I moved in. I don’t plan anything from day to day. I load up my year, usually in January. I fill it up with different colors, louder sounds than years before. I made a vow, or a dozen. I lost count after a while. I lose my train of thought real easily, and I find my progress derailed once a week, twice if I’m in a slump. But anyways, I fill my year up in the Winter when the frost pierces my brain and I’ve dirtied all the dishes in the house already. By March I’m hungry. I switch it up. Even louder sounds, ones I’d never heard before, ones I barely could because they grew so slowly, I grew impatient, it took time,  like that Madagascar Palm plant I read about 3 nights in a row without stopping. I hyper fixate on plants and people that promise even a glimpse of hope for me, it's pathetic. I got off track, oh yeah. It takes 100 years to flower, and once it does it dies. I thought I would do the same in March, sometimes I still do. Sometimes I want too. I take so long to grow that sometimes I forget that I still am. Back to the story, I switch it up in March. I get itchy for Spring flings that will defrost my bones and this year I remember counting every hour for a week straight, not in minutes but in ways I was alone. I counted each day in stomach aches because they never went away, even when I stopped eating to see if what I’d been feeding myself was the source of this and if abstaining from it would help. I thought the same when I left him. I lost 20 pounds in two weeks and I was happy about it because it was defeaning glee, the way people finally looked at me. And when I was counting the ways I was alone, the noise grew louder. It flowered.

I broke in May. I kissed three different boys in the same day and I remember going home and promising myself it’d be okay if I decided to stop living because if one plant that grew beside me could do so, beautifully and quickly, and I took longer, while it leaned on me without ever touching my roots underground, than there was not reason I had to be here. It didn't need me. There wouldn’t be anyone around to see me flower. Humans only live to what, seventy? I didn’t want to see twenty. I stopped growing. I chased ***** with whiskey to see which one was the first to hit me. Which one gave me a worse hangover so I finally had an excuse to spend beautiful July days rotting in bed? I remember the first time I took a shot of whiskey and it was ******* gross but I'd already adjusted to that fuzzy, churning pain in my stomach so I kept drinking. I drank a whole bottle. I was 19. The first time I tried ***** was at a party after you told me I'd turned into a "real ****." I remember that perfectly but the rest of the night is blurry and now I drink to get the fuzzy feeling back the way I had it for a day in May and thought I'd fallen in love again.  I never understood why I knew what it felt like to feel alive but chose to sit and brew inside a room that smelled too much like the Walmart perfume I wore every day the first year I fell in love. I still get choked up. It’s a weird feeling, to not love someone anymore and to forget, day to day that you ever did. But to remember how it felt to hear your heart beating inside your chest before your very first kiss, and how it felt like papercuts when you had your last. I disassociate when I get scared so I start putting “you” when “I” should be there. That’s something to note. I know how to let go but not how to take responsibility for my actions, ones crafted by loneliness, or bitterness. I counted this year in let-downs. How quickly it went by, too. Would you believe that? In just three months I will be able to say that I spent every day of my life, 365, thinking about you. I almost don’t want to publish this, because I forget that there is more to me than the way I felt in 2016. If anyone cares, there’s more to me than what I just stained the page with, right up there. I laughed this year too, with new faces. I drank in new places and got new bruises on body parts I hadn’t seen in years for fear of ridicule. They’re  black and blue but they’re beautiful. I spit words out sometimes and they don’t always make sense nor do they make a perfect sequence but that’s another thing I’ve learned this year. It’s hard to measure in numbers, what do I count when I’ve been out of order for the whole thing? Which parts do I mention when I start remembering the year that cut me open, and the year I bled for all the world to see because I needed validation, of any kind, I needed attention, from all eyes, for once because I could. How do I measure the year that I lost 170 pounds of freckles and lies and gained 40 in beer and candy? Or the year I finally made it to 32 months self harm free but that I talked about killing myself every day in between? How do I measure a year when I never feel like I’m flowering?
Karijinbba Jun 2019
thy ice by fire mine melts
to a blaze ye and I ignite
mine soul on fire is
as truth in lies may freeze
lies with truth is firestorm
Well ye left me behind lit
at glory's blaze afire
as for me ye did freeze
and mine fire dimed down
at your departure's grief
Aries in April's daisy
t'was fire mine abirthday gift
of special blaze a trail
the Ice of thee afire I defrost
melting thine frozen heart
with grace of truth in poem
steamming thee
to meet again
as one afire
BLAZE
-~~~~~~~~
By Karijinbba
Inspired by Robert Frost.
revised 6/30/19
Ice with fire melts
truth in lies may freeze
but lies with truth incinarates
so we'll meet again in the afterlife
and dance with you
our fires blaze as one

— The End —