English Poetry Compition Of Jan 2011

[Ruby Ahmed]

♥Snow is falling♥

[Zindagi]

A Winter Night

My window-pane is starred with frost,
The world is bitter cold to-night,
The moon is cruel, and the wind
Is like a two-edged sword to smite.

God pity all the homeless ones,
The beggars pacing to and fro.
God pity all the poor to-night
Who walk the lamp-lit streets of snow.

My room is like a bit of June,
Warm and close-curtained fold on fold,
But somewhere, like a homeless child,
My heart is crying in the cold

[tayyaba]

all ov u have shared nyc poetry n dz iz 4m my syd...

[shaan]

THE SNOW
The snow, so peaceful and serene,
caressed by the soft moonlight,
gave magical feelings to the night.

The soft blue glow,
the lovers' words that then did flow,
their lips closer and closer
until, locked in the theroes,
of a passionate embrace,
he decided to express his feelings,
to keep her safe.

He whispered softly,
his words like music to her ears,
"I Love You,"
and her response the same,
heard like the gentle brezze,
"And I, love you, forever."

That was the night they promised
to be together through everything,
each to care for each other when old and grey
A lovers' pact
the most likely to last.

[DexteR]

An Old Man's Winter Night by Robert Frost

All out of doors looked darkly in at him
Through the thin frost, almost in separate stars,
That gathers on the pane in empty rooms.
What kept his eyes from giving back the gaze
Was the lamp tilted near them in his hand.
What kept him from remembering what it was
That brought him to that creaking room was age.
He stood with barrels round him -- at a loss.
And having scared the cellar under him
In clomping there, he scared it once again
In clomping off; -- and scared the outer night,
Which has its sounds, familiar, like the roar
Of trees and crack of branches, common things,
But nothing so like beating on a box.
A light he was to no one but himself
Where now he sat, concerned with he knew what,
A quiet light, and then not even that.
He consigned to the moon, such as she was,
So late-arising, to the broken moon
As better than the sun in any case
For such a charge, his snow upon the roof,
His icicles along the wall to keep;
And slept. The log that shifted with a jolt
Once in the stove, disturbed him and he shifted,
And eased his heavy breathing, but still slept.
One aged man -- one man -- can't keep a house,
A farm, a countryside, or if he can,
It's thus he does it of a winter night.