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The Winter Cold
I so despise the winter cold; I admit it makes me utter
all kinds of truly nasty words, disposition in the gutter.
The snow, the ice, this arctic clime do not set my heart aflutter,
and skidding down those icy roads, that does sorely make me splutter.
Leisurely walks are gone for months, now in heavy clothes I scutter.
The darkened skies, the spitting snow, aggravates and makes me mutter;
but what really makes me livid, yes, it really makes me sputter,
it tops it all, it takes the cake: when I try spreading hard cold butter.
.
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Snow in Buffalo
Six feet of snow in Buffalo
I guess it’s only apropos,
but makes me crave a bungalow
somewhere deep in Mexico.
To dance a lively fandango
on a warm and sunlit patio,
good music on the radio,
not wrapped up like an Eskimo.
Even a flight to Borneo,
so not to have to shovel snow,
would fill me with a golden glow,
and surely help my lumbago.
But all these trips I must forego,
alas, they’re not the status quo;
my bank account is really low,
can’t even get to Tuckahoe.
.
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Phil S. Rogers is a sixth generation Vermonter, age 72, now retired, and living in Texas. He served in the United States Air Force and had a career in real estate and banking. He previously published Everlasting Glory, a historical work that tells the story of each of the men from Vermont that was awarded the Congressional Medal of Honor during the Civil War.
Interesting rhyming here. I’m in (or near) Buffaloo, so —
I know
You’re a master rhyme,
None sublime.
I especially enjoyed ‘Snow in Buffalo’.
Thanks for the read, Phil.
Should say ‘rhymer’ and ‘sublimer’ in the above post.
Apparently my poetic licence needs renewal
As someone who grew up near Buffalo, and who now lives in sunny coastal Mexico, I really can relate. Extra props for all the Buffalo near-rhymes. It’s a funny word to begin with and your poem captures it.
I enjoyed your two winter poems Phil. I am with you on the subject of winter and snow. Hate them with a hot passion!! I must have shortened my life considerably by wishing away the time until spring.
I agree about winter, also. It’s too cold and too long. I enjoyed your Bob Dylan-esque rhyme schemes.
I am with you, Phil, especially on the matter of cold butter. Having made the transition from Vermont to Texas, you are definitely an authority on winter weather and its downsides.
When it’s seventeen below
I know where I will need to go.
Love the humor of these poems.
although this winter has been pleasantly mild in comparison to yours.
Whoop-d-diddle-do Another New Year for me and you!
It’s only numbers I suppose.
And no one has proposed!
If my mother says, ‘it is what it is,’
I shall probably get very ill, If I chose.
What is all this rhyming in my prose?
Am I, or will I become a poet; who knows?
This is not a sonnet nor any styling apropos?!
Perhaps I am just lazy, this world of ours is as a metaphor.
Today’s people become rather bored.
They haven’t much syncopated Adoramaus anymore!
Just wait till Mother Nature bust’s her gusset!