Wednesday Poetry Prompts: 507

Every Wednesday, Robert Lee Brewer shares a prompt and an example poem to get things started on the Poetic Asides blog. This week, write a winter poem.

For today’s prompt, write a winter poem. I know winter doesn’t officially start for a few more days, but this morning is about as cold as it gets in Georgia. So let’s poem about longer nights, colder winds, and maybe even snow. And if you live in the southern hemisphere, try to remember those winter days as you sit poolside or enjoy a nice day at the park.

(10 best winter poems for poets and lovers of poetry.)


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Here’s my attempt at a Winter Poem:

“missed, remembered”

maybe i’m just forgetting
but i thought i was in love
when she balled that snow & threw it
without wearing any gloves

then she smiled & said something
i thought i’d never forget
“gloves will only keep you warmer
until the melt makes them wet”

then she jumped in a snow drift
asking me to do the same
but i froze inside my warmness
& have just myself to blame

40 thoughts on “Wednesday Poetry Prompts: 507

  1. Avatarconnielpeters


    The sun peeks through the whiteness.
    It glows, like a pregnant woman, expecting snow.
    Snowflakes fall, the wind begins to blow.
    The sun peeks through the whiteness.

    It glows, like a pregnant woman, expecting snow.
    I recline with laptop, warm and content,
    Relaxed in sun’s glow, my day is spent.
    It glows, like a pregnant woman, expecting snow.

    The sun peeks through the whiteness.
    It glows, like a pregnant woman, expecting snow.
    Snowflakes fall, the wind begins to blow.
    The sun peeks through the whiteness.

  2. Avatartaylor graham


    One must have a mind of scarcity
    to find the picnic table on its little perch
    outside the library – CLOSED sign
    on its blackout door – the whole town
    dark but for the flicker of stars too distant
    to light a page. The library, venue
    for the evening’s reading, closed for lack
    of power. But poets come anyway,
    bent under their bookbags. They know
    the library’s outside solace-table;
    they used to meet there in daylight
    when one poet of the circle couldn’t climb
    the stairs. Tonight they come
    with LED lantern, flashlight, rechargeable
    solar lamp. And books of poetry, of course.
    Books don’t need power; they have power
    of their own. Human speech caught
    on paper, for poets to bring to life again
    in the dark, in the cold. The words
    come warm from the mouth now as of old.

  3. Avatartaylor graham


    Tidal river in winter, evocative of birdsong vanished now – like two fishermen we’d come to search for, gone without a sign. Cold rain. I followed my dog along water’s edge, alert as we should be for any clue; unafraid as tide turned and river flowed; I stomped my boots to shake off mud. A swamp it was. A sucking muck that pulled against my stomping. Quicksand? We were sinking. Ahead of me, my dog started swimming, planing horizontal over what would draw her under. I took her lead, flopped onto my stomach, paddled toward firmer ground. What happened to those fishermen?

    wind blows off river –
    deserted shack, unhinged door,
    no one’s alive here

  4. Avatargrcran


    sad summer weaned us off fall fell days ebbed
    gave way to dark debilitating nights
    sun kept its eyes down winter spider webbed
    sucked bod’ly juices boldly coldly. heights
    were hung with spears of ice. grimace. shiver.
    the spider exhaled, crystallized chill fog
    we fought we slogged skated on frozen river
    mean spider moved out. thawed, we laud spring’s bog

    alternate last line: (then posted this right here on Robert’s blog)

    gpr crane

  5. Avatarkimjohnson

    Blackberry Winter Memories

    “It’s a Blackberry Winter,” I was told.
    The spring allows winter one final word before slamming the door.
    A perfect writing time- early morning
    fireplace ablaze, fresh coffee,
    comfy chair, fleece pajamas,
    Moleskine journal, bold gel pen,
    Thoughts ready to materialize.

    But suddenly, Schnauzer and Schnoodle seige!
    One wraps around my neck on the back of the chair.
    One curls up in my lap on the paper.
    They, too, love a fire.

    There are things that bring
    more warmth than fireplaces and coffee,
    more comfort than chairs and pajamas,
    more joy than journals and pens.
    And I’d rather make these memories
    on this Blackberry Winter morning.

    – Kim Haynes Johnson

  6. AvatarAnthony94


    After a day of gleaning
    corn and soybeans
    Canadas lumber across
    leaden skies to slip
    into open water
    amidst the wetland marsh

    gray white breast feathers
    hold last light, their heads
    bearing the dark of night
    Vs writing winter down the sky

    so that there’s no need to
    tell the hour on manmade watch
    their trajectory now marking
    dusk and owl time.

  7. Avatarkhoward

    Winter’s warmth

    Trees all grew a crystal shield
    In the cold moon light last nite
    The morning light, brilliant yield
    Diamonds on all the trees, bright

    My nose your cheeks a red glow
    The wind with it’s winter bite
    Walking in this cold white snow
    Hand & hand we go, love’s bright

  8. AvatarSara McNulty

    Lace On Wood

    Lace patterns on wood
    slats. Squall of snow.
    Barely enough to cover
    a surface. Warning
    of Winter’s arrival,
    a wink. A day begun
    in sun changes to smears
    of gray. Clouds pucker
    up and blow wailing
    winds. Branches seemed
    to swirl round and round.
    Tomorrow the lace patterns
    on wood slats will have
    vanished. Winter is just
    getting started.

  9. Avatarheadintheclouds87

    Another in Winter

    I thought I could brave the cold
    Alone with stubborn resolve,
    Drag myself through the darkness
    Of each chilling morning,
    Stumbling through and telling myself
    That peace of spring would soon come…

    But even if skies were brighter,
    Deep down I knew winter’s demons
    Would still follow me regardless.
    I’d need warmth of another
    To fully complete this transition
    Into a wistful, contented season.

    This other has always been patient,
    Waiting in the returning leaves
    For me to relent and find them,
    Their love defiantly burning
    Even in darkest, coldest night
    To guide me to peace of mind…

  10. Avatarcrtv_out_lit

    Winter Guilt

    Seventy degrees
    Sunny with a breeze
    Sunshine like some thieves
    Lifting what they please
    Guilty while the east
    Suffers through a freeze

  11. AvatarKenzo

    Winter Is Here
    by Kenzo Amariyo

    Winter’s here,
    It’s in the air.
    Dark at four,
    But I don’t care.

    I’m sitting down,
    I’m curled up tight.
    The fire is warm,
    And very bright.

    Another excuse,
    To read a book.
    Out the window,
    May as well not look.

    For the wind is blowing,
    She’s dancing with trees.
    Leaves are falling,
    Willow bends at its knees.

    And rain is so happy,
    To be splishing and splashing.
    With everyone rushing,
    Home they are dashing.

    And cold burns his way,
    Through everyone’s clothes.
    Ears are real cold,
    Then there’s the drip from the nose.

    So yes, winters here,
    But I’m hiding away.
    And until spring,
    Here I may just stay.

  12. AvatarPressOn


    The Winterses on wintry days
    revel in the uncommon cold;
    no depth of freeze can ever faze
    the Winterses on wintry days,
    for they unleash their winsome ways,
    enjoying winter’s hoary scold.
    The Winterses on wintry days
    revel in the uncommon cold.

  13. Avatartaylor graham


    Listen to Coyote, howling
    at the Moon, his song reverberating
    through canyon haze-lit tonight,
    Cold Moon of December between storms,
    its rabbit-face misty as myth. Rabbit
    that Coyote chased till it jumped so high
    it landed on the Moon, and there
    it stays. Mocking? They say, Coyote
    howls at Moon because he loves
    that Rabbit he chased so fervently.
    Could it be frustration, not love,
    makes Coyote howl? No more rabbits
    on this land. Does Coyote howl
    for love of the chase
    that is no more? I step outside
    into cold damp December.
    Gaze upward. Inscrutable, the misty-
    myth face of Moon. Even after
    lunar landings, and Man walking
    on Moon – Coyote and I
    stop in our earthly tracks and howl.
    It’s natural.


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