This poem of mine is written in blank verse (iambic pentameter with no rhyme scheme) sbout winter with snow.

Infernal Winter



“Cough, Cough” sounds the worn throat of the old man.
“Cough, Cough” sounds the fresh throat of the young child.
“Cough, Cough” sounds the quenched throat of the rich man.
“Cough, Cough” sounds the dry throat of the poor man.


O Winter, thou art the foulest season
Of all! With your pasty, dead-skin shaded
Showers that suffocate the verdant stalks
Of luscious grass so gay, so grandly green
So glad, with your pallid, blighting, bleak-drab;
Just as grey hairs suppress the youthful tint
Of shiny, sleek tresses august auburn
And hide the vernal hue that once flourished.
As though the whole heavens were filled with smog!
Grey-clouds, pollution-like, dense block all that is blue,
(Grey-days, grey-nights, grey-afternoons) swall’wing
The Gold-Sun’s radiant rays of basking warmth
And Pearl-Moon’s calm, bright beams serene
From ev’ryone. You savage strip the trees
Naked, leafless, make motionless, turning
Them to ghastly, gaunt skeletons–
Nature’s freakish scarecrows, for all the birds
Fast flee to thee Safe-South. Your stinging sleet
And snow does squelch all life, afflicting earth
As a wicked and harsh seas’nal Angel
Of Death, destroying crops, freezing water
Supply, sick-smothering ev’ry flower
That once stood proud in sheer vivid colour
Filling blissful gardens with heavenly perfumes.

Cold is weather in deepest tract of Hell.
Hell to the poor: homeless, heatless, helpless.
Unkind winter thou art the same climate
Of Death! The touch of Death feels just like thee!