snowed in

Thankfully this is NOT Walt’s door. I think…

While Walt’s in the throes of the lake-effect snows, and freezing white fluff stacks above his ‘stached nose, and he wails of the woes of his poor frigid toes: his internet service just froze.

It all blows.


Have you SEEN the photos and reports of the Buffalo area? Poor Walt! And who is he thinking of? He’s thinking of you all, as you gather out here in the warm garden to pick up the In-form Poet Wednesday prompt and root out your poetic responses. Well, how about if we use these next few days to simply write poems that will pile up higher than the lake-effect snow, and warm his heart when he finally digs out.

Hugs across the miles to him, and to you all!

Marie Elena

67 thoughts on “LET IT SNOW?


    The show is snowing;
    the drifts are drifting;
    the winds are blowing
    and footing’s shifting;
    my muse can’t weather the storm
    as Cheektowaga
    and Lackawanna
    and Depew, Clarence, and Batavia too
    all sink in white like poop in the loo
    and no place is a place to get warm.
    Jumping albedo!
    Holy Toledo!
    I’ve heard of being Buffaloed
    but this is ridiculous.

  2. Marie, Walt’s misfortune notwithstanding, it’s good to see your contribution again, and it was a good one. “Wails of the woes of his poor frigid toes” indeed!

    (apologies to Edgar Allan)

    Once upon a daylight dreary,
    mounting snow makes my eyes bleary
    but I try remaining cheery,
    cheery in my heart, not head.

    Ah, distinctly I remember
    it was only mid-November.
    Now my fire’s just an ember,
    ember from a heat source dead.

    Bundled up in warm attire,
    frozen hands and feet inspire
    dreams of when my clothes were drier,
    drier ‘til I passed the door.

    While the blower coughs and wheezes,
    sputters out a hundred sneezes,
    its poor engine quickly freezes.
    Quoth the blower, “Nevermore.”

    © Susan Schoeffield

    Here’s hoping this doesn’t happen to you, Walt. Be warm, be dry, be safe!

  4. Stay warm, Walt – and everyone else. 😀
    One Inch – The Kid Version

    “Getting an inch of snow is like winning 10 cents in the lottery.” ~Bill Watterson

    Looked out my window. Snow. Just snow.
    This oughta be a big snow day.
    Instead? One inch. C’mon snow – GROW!
    Oh rats! School’s open. No delay!
    I hoped we would not have to go
    to school. I wanted just to play
    outside with all the icy floe.
    Oh rats! School’s open. No delay!
    So here I sit in sodden shoes
    inside my classroom, but I pray
    tomorrow’s weather has ‘good’ news.
    Today school’s open. No delay!
    Looked out my window. Snow. Just snow.
    Oh rats! School’s open. No delay!


    More than One Inch – the Grown-Up Version

    Look out your window. Snow. Just snow.
    It sure looks pretty now, but wait.
    A picture postcard in tableau
    until you shovel. Then, it’s hate.
    Because right after drives are cleared,
    the plow comes by. This does equate
    to giant drifts which reappear
    to block you in. So, yep, it’s hate.
    Get dumped on. It’s a lottery
    of fluffy goodness, no debate,
    except you lose. You’ve squatery!
    So ditch the shovel; no more hate.
    Look out your window. Snow. Just snow.
    It’s time to shovel. Ready? Hate.


  5. These are so much fun to read! RJ, you are spot on. Marie, thanks for the posting. I keep thinking tat someone (maybe even me, if I were to think about it) should post the twice-weekly prompts. It would be fun to see the poems, even though I have not written for a while.

  6. My sympathies Walt. I won’t tell you what the temperature is here in southern Colorado but I just took a walk in a light jacket. But I wrote a poem about a colder time to commiserate.

    Craig Winter

    It was sixteen below zero
    when my daughter was born.
    And then it got colder.
    It was forty below for a couple of weeks.
    My husband jumped into the truck one morning
    and the seat cracked.
    One time, I picked up a dishcloth in the sink,
    and it was frozen.
    My daughter wore snowsuits
    the first few months of her life
    because our heater malfunctioned.
    Perhaps that is why she now lives in Phoenix.
    I remember telling my mom that eighteen degrees
    felt like a heat wave.
    Craig, CO beats out many places in Alaska for cold.
    Move back there?
    I’ve learned never to say never,
    so I’ll say, very much unlikely.

  7. Thank you, Marie for filling us in on Walt’s intense weather scenario…it’s so fun to hear your poetic version. Smiles and sending energy to Walt…that and virtual hot chocolate. 🙂

    There’s some great poems stacking up here poets!! Kudos!

  8. jacquelinecaseypoetry says:
    19 November 2014 at 7:57 PM

    “Santa’s Schnoz”

    Santa, rest your frozen nose! Oh, Santa!
    fire that yuletide log so we may fire
    aloft as bulbous snuffer sits aloft
    bold cold and frosty cheeks with laughter bold.

    Order now a hanky for some ardor
    Nest your protuberance in warmer nest
    Jolly is a beak warmed by the jolly
    splinter and whistle of a good fire’s splinter.

    Nosegay and red now grows your nose-so-gay
    Skin flinty are the cinders near your skin
    Proboscis Gloria in proboscis!
    One warm ‘ed by the fire, we are one.

    Oh, Walter rest your snuffer on this theme
    Dream warmer days will sniff out all our dream.

  9. Belated Christmas

    Santa’s workshop is in a tizzy
    elves on overtime finish wrapping
    all the presents Santa will carry
    on this eve of Christmas.

    The Claus’s are dressing
    in their splendiferous best.
    Sleigh has been polished; it gleams,
    and the reindeer are anxious to go.

    But what is this, Santa says,
    the snow is piled up to the roof,
    the sleigh bells are frozen,
    Rudolph is sneezing; there’s no way out.

    In all my years, I have never seen
    a Christmas Eve so white.
    We will all have to wait a few more days,
    so Happy Christmas Eve and good night.


    Now who busted heaven’s roof?
    Drained it of it’s celestial flakes?
    Anyway, could we send it back?
    Because we’ve had all that we can take.

    Benjamin Thomas

  11. Late but here ’tis. My first Christmas in Oklahoma


    There once was a time in the Christmas of oh-nine
    When I dreamed of a snow free day
    When I’d wake in my dorm and wear my clothes all warm
    And drive to my son’s home town

    –In Moore, Oklahoma way, where tornadoes whirl and ice storms twirl–

    The tales I was told all proved untrue when the snow began and my skin turned blue
    And Christmas Eve dawned white
    My cat yawned and purred but no other creature stirred
    Not even the postman’s sleigh

    –In Moore, Oklahoma way, where tornadoes whirl and ice storms twirl–

    When Christmas Day arrived, snow kept me inside
    No deliveries could be made
    For my Christmas feast I ate hot dogs burned over heat
    And cookies with chocolate chips

    –In Moore, Oklahoma way, where tornadoes whirl and ice storms twirl–
    But never on Christmas Day

  12. Winter Haikus

    A fire in my heart
    builds mounds of summery dreams
    that melt snow away

    The hands on my watch
    that keep on running too fast
    do push spring forward

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