Thank you for posting this beautiful material.
Thank you yoko for adding the little haiku, and thank you Margherita for your beautiful words.
Sincerely,
Gisele
Snowflakes come in fleets
Like ships over the sea.
The moon shines down on the crusty snow:
The stars make the sky sparkle like gold-fish
In a glassy bowl.
Hilda Conkling was a child poet; between the ages of 4-10, she would often recite her poems to her mother, who would then write them down. Eventually, Hilda's mother stopped writing the poems down.
Most of Conkling poems were written when she was a child and have to do with the natural world.
Like ships over the sea.
The moon shines down on the crusty snow:
The stars make the sky sparkle like gold-fish
In a glassy bowl.
Hilda Conkling was a child poet; between the ages of 4-10, she would often recite her poems to her mother, who would then write them down. Eventually, Hilda's mother stopped writing the poems down.
Most of Conkling poems were written when she was a child and have to do with the natural world.
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Images (1)
Snow flakes. by Emily Dickinson
Snow flakes.
I counted till they danced so
Their slippers leaped the town,
And then I took a pencil
To note the rebels down.
And then they grew so jolly
I did resign the prig,
And ten of my once stately toes
Are marshalled for a jig!
Snow flakes.
I counted till they danced so
Their slippers leaped the town,
And then I took a pencil
To note the rebels down.
And then they grew so jolly
I did resign the prig,
And ten of my once stately toes
Are marshalled for a jig!
Thank you for your lovely replies and beautiful images.
Excerpt from:
Life of a Snowflake By Dean Thorpe
Frozen water drop, falling from the sky.
Slowly drifting down, from the clouds so high.
No two flakes that fall, are ever the quite same.
Gliding through the air, floating like a flame.
Down towards the Earth, oh where will it land...
Excerpt from:
Life of a Snowflake By Dean Thorpe
Frozen water drop, falling from the sky.
Slowly drifting down, from the clouds so high.
No two flakes that fall, are ever the quite same.
Gliding through the air, floating like a flame.
Down towards the Earth, oh where will it land...
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Images (1)
Snow-Flakes
OUT of the bosom of the Air
Out of the cloud-folds of her garments shaken,
Over the woodlands brown and bare,
Over the harvest-fields forsaken,
Silent, and soft, and slow
Descends the snow.
Even as our cloudy fancies take
Suddenly shape in some divine expression,
Even as the troubled heart doth make
In the white countenance confession
The troubled sky reveals
The grief it feels.
This is the poem of the air,
Slowly in silent syllables recorded;
This is the secret of despair,
Long in its cloudy bosom hoarded,
Now whispered and revealed
To wood and field.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Image from
http://images.google.com/imgres?imgurl=http://3.bp.blog...3DUTF-8%26oe%3DUTF-8
OUT of the bosom of the Air
Out of the cloud-folds of her garments shaken,
Over the woodlands brown and bare,
Over the harvest-fields forsaken,
Silent, and soft, and slow
Descends the snow.
Even as our cloudy fancies take
Suddenly shape in some divine expression,
Even as the troubled heart doth make
In the white countenance confession
The troubled sky reveals
The grief it feels.
This is the poem of the air,
Slowly in silent syllables recorded;
This is the secret of despair,
Long in its cloudy bosom hoarded,
Now whispered and revealed
To wood and field.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
**************************
Image from
http://images.google.com/imgres?imgurl=http://3.bp.blog...3DUTF-8%26oe%3DUTF-8
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quote:...The flake of snow grew larger and larger; and at last it was like a young lady, dressed in the finest white gauze, made of a million little flakes like stars. She was so beautiful and delicate, but she was of ice, of dazzling, sparkling ice; yet she lived; her eyes gazed fixedly, like two stars;
Hans Christian Andersen
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Artist: Adrienne Segur
This beautiful snowflake is from this website:
http://images.google.com/imgres?imgurl=http://www.rickd...3DUTF-8%26oe%3DUTF-8
And there is much more.
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MEETING
The snow will bury roads
And houses to the roofs.
If I go to stretch my legs,
I see you at my door.
In a light fall coat, alone,
Without overshoes or hat,
You try to keep your calm,
Sucking your snow-wet lips.
The trees and fences draw
Far back into the gloom.
You watch the street, alone
Within the falling snow.
Your scarf hangs wet with snow,
Your collar and your sleeves,
And stars of melted flakes
Gleam dewy in your hair.
A shining wisp of hair
Lights suddenly your face,
Your figure in the cold,
In that thin overcoat.
Flakes gleam beneath your lashes
And anguish in your eyes.
You were created whole,
A seamless shape of love.
It seems as if your image
Drawn fine with pointed steel
Is now in silver lines
Cut deep within my heart.
Forever there you live
In your true humility.
It does not really matter
If the world is hard as stone.
I feel I am your double,
Like you outside, in dark.
I cannot draw the line
Dividing you from me.
For who are we, and whence,
If their idle talk alone
Lives long in aftertime
When we no longer live?
Boris Pasternak
The snow will bury roads
And houses to the roofs.
If I go to stretch my legs,
I see you at my door.
In a light fall coat, alone,
Without overshoes or hat,
You try to keep your calm,
Sucking your snow-wet lips.
The trees and fences draw
Far back into the gloom.
You watch the street, alone
Within the falling snow.
Your scarf hangs wet with snow,
Your collar and your sleeves,
And stars of melted flakes
Gleam dewy in your hair.
A shining wisp of hair
Lights suddenly your face,
Your figure in the cold,
In that thin overcoat.
Flakes gleam beneath your lashes
And anguish in your eyes.
You were created whole,
A seamless shape of love.
It seems as if your image
Drawn fine with pointed steel
Is now in silver lines
Cut deep within my heart.
Forever there you live
In your true humility.
It does not really matter
If the world is hard as stone.
I feel I am your double,
Like you outside, in dark.
I cannot draw the line
Dividing you from me.
For who are we, and whence,
If their idle talk alone
Lives long in aftertime
When we no longer live?
Boris Pasternak
I did not think that I would have to bring this thread back so soon, but outside we have a snowflake covered scene.
Just a few days ago we still had summer flowers blooming.
I am not sure that I am quite ready for this yet,but the snow and the little snowflakes have its beauty.
Just a few days ago we still had summer flowers blooming.
I am not sure that I am quite ready for this yet,but the snow and the little snowflakes have its beauty.
The snowflakes remind me of the beauty of creation,
and the mystery that is life.
Love,
yoko
and the mystery that is life.
Love,
yoko
We have not had any snow here at all this winter.
We have not seen any little snowflakes, tiny jewels of ice.
The rest of the world seems to be immersed in snow.
We have not seen any little snowflakes, tiny jewels of ice.
The rest of the world seems to be immersed in snow.
You are right Inda, we have not had any snow. I even saw a red cardinal fly by the other day.
Lots of animals are confused that should be hibernating.
Love,
Vicky
Lots of animals are confused that should be hibernating.
Love,
Vicky
So nice, that this wonder filled thread came up again right now, when I am experiencing this amazing snowfall in Rome. In this very moment it is snowing again ... all is white and how could I not write about it? Here I am sharing my poem:
I took this picture from our balcony ...
Transfixed I watch the snowflakes fall
in quiet procession from sky to earth
like candid petals of Christ roses
scattered at random by rollicking angels.
Millions of ice crystals have gathered
to perform their show as skydivers.
My eyes record the choreography
hypnotizing rhythms flood my brain.
I don’t blink lest I miss a single moment
of this white choir that sings Your name.
Peace notes permeate my whole being
while I focus on this flow of purity.
Upon my lips the snowflakes melt
I taste life and marvel at its harmony.
Reaching deep into the white blessing
my soul unites with yours magically
as we sail as one across the trail of eternity.
All my love,
Margherita ... the grown-up snowchild
I took this picture from our balcony ...
Transfixed I watch the snowflakes fall
in quiet procession from sky to earth
like candid petals of Christ roses
scattered at random by rollicking angels.
Millions of ice crystals have gathered
to perform their show as skydivers.
My eyes record the choreography
hypnotizing rhythms flood my brain.
I don’t blink lest I miss a single moment
of this white choir that sings Your name.
Peace notes permeate my whole being
while I focus on this flow of purity.
Upon my lips the snowflakes melt
I taste life and marvel at its harmony.
Reaching deep into the white blessing
my soul unites with yours magically
as we sail as one across the trail of eternity.
All my love,
Margherita ... the grown-up snowchild
Thank you Margherita, for the lovely words.
I have had the pleqasure of seeing magical snowflakes.Where I am we have had snow.
I have had the pleqasure of seeing magical snowflakes.Where I am we have had snow.
quote:Transfixed I watch the snowflakes fall
in quiet procession from sky to earth
like candid petals of Christ roses
scattered at random by rollicking angels.
Millions of ice crystals have gathered
to perform their show as skydivers.
My eyes record the choreography
hypnotizing rhythms flood my brain.
I don’t blink lest I miss a single moment
of this white choir that sings Your name.
Peace notes permeate my whole being
while I focus on this flow of purity.
Upon my lips the snowflakes melt
I taste life and marvel at its harmony.
Reaching deep into the white blessing
my soul unites with yours magically
as we sail as one across the trail of eternity.
