The snow blinded,
covering the tracks
of where I had been, where I was,
and where I wished to be.
The snow obliterated
well shoveled paths
which once lead to safe havens,
but then, reached
toward uncertainty.
The snow buried me
within myself
The most frigid place to be.
And yet she danced
beneath the sun
and wondered why
I could not keep the beat.
May she one day feel the frostbite
and then...
may she think of me.
Author: Y*e*m
Author notes
Yahoo briefcase is closing down. I went to see if there were any old files there I wanted to save. There were some from 2001-2004...it started to snow.
In a list
A Shocking Tale Of Horror!
Comments
1 - 24 of 24
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Snow is the great equalizer. When snow-laden, a heap of trash looks as lovely as a risen mound in the meadow. No implications my be inferred by that statement... it is merely fact.
But seriously, while it is work to shovel new paths, and metaphorically speaking, can be a bit frightening, it is also an opportunity for freshness, to rediscover oneself, or perhaps uncover some things you didn't realize were there. There will always be those who dance about, oblivious to the heaviness of our snow, but we can take lesson even in that. Allow it to make us more keenly aware of others' snow.
I thought this was a lovely write. I like how you took an everyday little something like removing files, and used it to allow us to reflect upon deeper truths.
Nicely done.
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Some were photos. She was an attractive lady. Some were stories and poems she'd written about me. She was amazingly gifted. Some were love letters, she had a way with words there too. And though the hurt is long over, under the right circumstances when you are facing slightly similar current hurts, they can flare up and you write over-exaggerated poetry like this. But at that moment, it did indeed feel like the snow was all around me. It left quickly, not long after the poem was written.
You are of course right and we see it after we have our moment to wallow in the sadness.
I'm good there days. Thanks for your wonderful comment. 
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Well, this is just my take... but there's no such thing as "over-exaggerated" poetry. The fact is, sometimes we get more sentimental, feel more vulnerable. That's part of life, and poetry reflects that. There's no insult to virility to wallow a while... so long as you learn and eventually realize you're too good to stay in that place...which it seems you have.
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Again, your words seem wise to be.
I wallowed for a while but got ovr it. Life is too much fun to be sad for too long.
Thanks!
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"The snow buried me
within myself
The most frigid place to be."
i love this, this has a really deep meaning, or so it seems, great write
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..i imagine that as long as she keeps on dancing she might remain impervious to the chill.. or perhaps, as she shivers in the cold, some thought of you and your winter may arise and her heart might be warmed just enough to make it through.
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I Had To Take A Look..
I had to take a look at this piece, if not for the title alone!
After many years, we continue to recall memories...but are they truthfull ones?....Have we altered them over time?
Many thoughts to consider here.
Lilly
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Great question. I have asked myself that too. Time either clarifies or obscures. Maybe both. Maybe it all become false with time.
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You ever write anything happy? I am kidding. I'm sure you do. This is effective, sad, and odd that this would effect you so many years later. Get bigger shovels for you and your friend and clear all the snow, dirt or debris away. It's time don't you think?
Again, I have no points.
Sandy -
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LOL, you have no idea! But you are right. Time to shovel out. You are going to lend a hand right?
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Very touching in a sad way, imageries are rich in vivid.
Well done here.
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Aw, Yem, I felt a twist of sadness in this poem, a reminiscence of love and days gone by. But sometimes we need to clean out that briefcase, saving some things, throwing away others, to make more room for the most important and meaningful keepsakes and for new ones yet to come.
I hope she keeps helping with the snow shoveling, but then on the other hand, leave it long enough and it melts by itself.
I love your serious poetry, Yem. Your funny stuff, too but when you get all poetic and metephorical, it melts my heart.
May your bonfire of old useless memories keep your hearth warm for those worth keeping and those yet to come.
I love this and it's going on my favorites list... so don't go deleting it or I'll come after you with my fire stoking stick Now I really feel like your auntie 
Good luck in the contest
Auntie Dee
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Been there, done that. Stinks.
I like the metaphor of paths in the snow getting covered up, and the cold too. I think some people dance in the sun because they like it, and never think about whom they left in the snow. That is how it is, and it is up to us to seek our own places in the sun.
This is a deep and well written poem, lots to think about in it. Cheers, good luck.
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I really wish you would stop denying you are a poet.
Sometimes the blocked paths are a blessing in disguise, almost forcing us to keep company with ourselves where many answers lie buried much like the familiar paths.
If all else fails I have a snowblower for sale...cheap.
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Uh Oh!
A shocking tale of sorrow here
for which there's no recourse,
So set your sights on better days
and warm what chills the source ...
I like reading your poetical thoughts ... j
y
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Oh sorry, just some old photos and poems and emails from years ago. Even though it's all old history every so often I re-visit the memories when they jump out at me and bite me on the butt, lol
I love the delete button on computers. It makes the past disappear, lol
I wrote it,
I got over it,
pass me a Moxie.
Thanks.
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The wily winds wind over paths
and swirl the snow where e're go.
What we once knew, we know no more...
shy strangers on an unknown shore.
If once we think of sun's bright grin
the snow then melts and lets us in.
lol Your poems are metaphorical treasure chests and the reader cannot resist wearing the jewels.
Melodies
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May the Yem-man get his nose
out of the briefcase,
head out to the wood pile
and load up an armful
to fire up the wood stove.
As the warmth penetrates, a wise man
would flip through his new calenders,
particularly those with blooming Spring,
and look forward with anticipation
and a warmer heart to each new month.
M-C
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Dear Yem,
Snow covers up a lot of stuff
which we don't want to feel
but then it melts quite fast enough
our secrets to reveal.
and, if someone should come along
to clear it with a shovel,
although I may have done you wrong
I'll not repent or grovel.
So though you tell me to get lost
then call, I will not come
and may the teeth of old Jack Frost
go bite you in the bum!
You seem to entertain shreds of bitterness towards your friend and so your poem is sadly redolent with regret.
"No forgetting - no regretting." I agree with J aime whatsit that it's a good piece of poetry although, as Cat says: rather sad. Applause and good luck in the voting. Hugh (R.)
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Just a bunch of old photos, emails, poems, etc that I found on an old online storage site that is closing down. It brought back a lot of memories...and reminded me of the end: one party smiling and dancing, insensitive of the others grieving process.
I should just lie down when these moods hit. lol
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This is beautiful and yet has a sad message in it. Thank you for the lovely read.
Mark
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Thank you for reading it Cat. I hope you are having a good evening.
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It always worries me to hear of something, anything 'closing down' so I hope you have saved all the good things you found in your 'briefcase'...
This is a very profound poem and meaningful to some one special in your life...she will certainly understand it...
but all that aside, I like it and think it is a very good piece of poetry. Good luck in the contest...
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Thanks, there were lots of memories, most of them were fit for the bonfire which helped to melt the snow.
Thanks!
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