Winter

Winter is a beautiful time of year,

Little children cannot wait for

the chubby, jolly old fellow to come and

leave gifts under a brightly colored tree.

In the front yard is a man made of

white, he has a carrot nose and eyes made

of coal. Lots of wonderful white stuff

all over the ground, large trees bare,

it's cold outside.

People sitting on wooden things, flying down

a hill, with the wind biting their face. People

singing at your front porch. A man in a red

suit ringing a bell. It is a beautiful time of

year.

Reviews

[gocubsgo25]

Hello Hippie.

Having just gotten through a harsh winter in Chicago, I'm not eager for the earth to tilt again at the middle of October to plunge us into darkness and cold again. This poem, however, is a good effort to outline the typical images that most of us conjure in our heads when we think of that frosty season.

Santa Claus, Frosty the Snowman, sledding down snowy hills...it's all there.

I liked the prose style of the poem. Usually I can't understand the vast majority of poetry, because of the poems' oblique references and even more obtuse metaphors, but this was very readable without being too difficult or too simple.

Two grammatical/spelling errors I noticed:

with the wind BITTING THERE face --> with the wind BITING THEIR face

Best of luck,

gocubsgo25