Winter Poems & Prose

 

In Flint, Michigan, we recently had our first snowfall for the season. This has gotten me in the mood to share some winter-themed poems & prose.

Winter always makes me feel melancholy and forlorn. The first major loss in my life happened over Christmas break 1996 when my grandpa Harold passed away. I took that loss very hard. I was only 12 and didn't really understand death, like I do now, as you see with the poem about my step-grandmother Karen below. Winter is also the time when I would have a seasonal depression (which has now shifted to summer depression, thanks Latuda!).

Anyway, I am sharing with you today three poems and a prose.

He Was In Winter

By: Samantha Jean Tate

He was in Winter

I was in Spring

The seasons of our lives just didn't line up.

Remember When By: Samantha Jean Tate Dedicated to my step-grandmother, Karen Tate

Oh Grandma,

Do you remember that Christmas morning you got me a Furby?

Or that time at Pizza Hut,

and our handsome waiter was shamelessly flirting with you?

Do you remember the giant stuffed Pink Panther toy you gave me?

his soft fur soaking up every childhood hug.

Or wandering through Downtown Holly during the winter, stopping at every little shop?

These are some of the memories I hold close —

The laughs, the drama, the warmth of your arms.

The smell of cigarette smoke curling through your house;

a scent I'll always know as yours.

The love you gave

So fierce and endless,

Woven into every moment, every smile, every hug.

Do you remember taking all of us grandkids to see The Hunchback of Notre Dame?

Or that one movie with Lily and me—

You snoring loudly and me crying my eyes out

Your stories, your spirit, your love will live on

You're here in every joke and every whispered memory

In every heart you touched,

We will never forget.

Heaviness By: Samantha Jean Tate

I always feel a dark cloud hovering over me during the Fall season.

The leaves change color and descend from trees.

The squirrels gather their nuts and prepare for the starving winters.

I start to notice my blessings and my scarcity.

The scarcity bellows, while the blessings are softly spoken.

The scarcity wants my attention, while the harvest wants to feed my soul.

There's heaviness in the air; the Scorpionic veil gets thinner.

Spirits whisper to me, "You're done."

While my quintessence charges into the dark, the depths of my soul. 

I always feel a dark cloud hover over me during this time of the year.

Like some witch is getting back at me for the harm I have caused her.

Or maybe some warlock I loved long ago wants to ruin my harvest and make me remember, "You are nothing without me."

Fall is a heavy season for me.

The scarcity is loud, but the blessings are louder.

Because what is done to me

Comes back tenfold.

Does Forever Exist? By: Samantha Jean Tate

"Does forever exist?"

the little girl asked her dad.

"No honey, but our love...

is timeless."

the dad responded

as he picked the girl up

and carried her into

the cozy little grey house.

"Dad, can you leave me alone?!"

the moody teenage girl shouted

as she slammed her door.

the dad walked away.

Pondering

"What happened to the sweet little girl

who believed in forever?"

As time went on,

the autumn leaves changed and fell

Fall became winter

Snow fell to the ground

The little girl grew older

as the dad grew sicker.

The girl became the parent

And the dad became the child.

The woman held her dad's fragile hand.

"Dad, does forever exist?" she gently asked.

Silence.

The dad flatlined.

She squeezed his hand.

Whispered in his ear.

"No, but our love is timeless."

Did any of these poems speak to your cold heart? Tell me in the comments which one spoke to you! I would love to hear from you :-)

Happy Winter!