Wintery Poetry

Can You Write A Winter Poem?

I volunteer in the school where I teach. It is a great experience and I love seeing what the other grades are learning. This past couple of weeks the second graders were learning about poems that don't always rhyme. I was asked to help the second graders learn about writing Winter Poems.

I thought I would try my hand at a couple poems while I prepared for the lesson. The kids loved what I came up with, along with "The Pair", which is posted on my HubPages. I am also posting some of the student work - with the teacher's permission. Full names of the students will not be given to protect their identity.

We had some fun. I hope you like what we created. Please post your own Winter Poetry as a comment. We will all be interested in what you write.

Trees in Winter


The Black Oak Tree In My Back Yard

by A. Gagliardi

The black Oak tree in my back yard

knows that winter will be long and hard.

He loses leaves like old, used clothes

He stretches, and arches, and curls his toes.

His limbs devoid of warmth or color

reveal the nests of bird and squirrel.

He looks to the sky without much light

and shuts his eyes on the long dark night.

He pulls himself inward from the winter wind

and dreams of a spring that will begin.

The Trees Are Frosted

by A. Gagliardi

The trees are frosted, coated,

crowned with snow like top hats.


The wind whispers as they shed

snow like so much lingerie.

In the still of the night

they listen and sigh to each other.

They stretch and groan

crackling in the darkness;

mumbling their muted memories

like a doorman selling secrets to his cabbie.

At Night The Woodland Trail

By A. Gagliardi

At night the woodland trail is sacred.

All is silence in the still, crisp air.

At night the woodland smells of things unseen.

All is flavored with trees & roots & hare.

At night the woodland moon becomes illumination

All is shadowed in shades of blue and grey.

At night the woodland trail hides evidence of

All those who passed through or stay.

At night the woodland roots grow long

All is hid in shadows deep & strong.

What Do You Like About Winter?

What is your favorite activity during winter?

See results without voting

Mountain Pines

Here's another poem by Robinson Jeffers

In scornful upright loneliness they stand,

Counting themselves no kin of anything

Whether of earth or sky. T

heir gnarled roots cling

Like wasted fingers of a clutching hand

In the grim rock. A silent spectral band T

hey watch the old sky, but hold no communing

With aught. Only, when some lone eagle's wing

Flaps past above their grey and desolate land,

Or when the wind pants up a rough-hewn glen,

Bending them down as with an age of thought,

Or when, 'mid flying clouds that can not dull

Her constant light, the moon shines silver, then

They find a soul, and their dim moan is wrought

Into a singing sad and beautiful.

This poem is in the public domain.

About This Poem

Jeffers brought a great knowledge of literature, religion, philosophy, language, myth, and science to his poetry. One of his favorite themes was the intense, rugged beauty of the landscape set in opposition to the degraded and introverted condition of modern man. Strongly influenced by Nietzsche's concepts of individualism, Jeffers believed that human beings had developed a self-centered view of the world, and felt passionately that they should learn to have greater respect for the rest of creation.

Snow Fellows


Kid's stuff

Sadly, I have not yet received poems from the kids. When I get them, I will add. I look forward to seeing what the students create.

If you are interested in adding your winter poem to this hub, post it in the comments

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Ginger Meow profile image

Ginger Meow 2 years ago

Hi agaglia, here is one of my winter poems. It's non rhyming, I have also removed punctuation (for dramatic effect). [quick explanation is it is about a tree in winter and her feelings] - hope it is appropriate for you?:

in constrained composure

flexing an arched back

her tendons yawn and complain


dimly lit paths

mimic meadow streams

tripping over her presence


crisp powder adorns her

yet she wished it would fall

like autumn leaves


a gentle breeze chills her

she shivers, and sparkles

like broken glass


stray dogs linger

anointing her with their scent

like cheap perfume


yet she cannot be claimed

although she bares the marks

of past lovers proclaims


she flexes once more

yearning to shake her frozen blanket

beyond cloudless skies


in her mind it wont be long

until they gather and marvel

welcoming her protective shadows

aviannovice profile image

aviannovice 2 years ago from Stillwater, OK

This takes me back o the days of Downeast Maine, where the winters could be lonely, yet the brightest spots of all. It just depended on the time of day.

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