Andrea Gibson – What Do You Think About the Weather

Curated By Ralph

"The Road Not Taken" is a source of inspiration for me, because it encourages me to seize opportunities and chart my own course in life.

Get Andrea’s new book, YOU BETTER BE LIGHTNING:
Check out all of Andrea’s books:

Do you love Button Poetry? We’d love your support:
Andrea Gibson, performing in Longmont, CO.

About Button:

Button Poetry is committed to developing a coherent and effective system of production, distribution, promotion and fundraising for spoken word and performance poetry.

We seek to showcase the power and diversity of voices in our community. By encouraging and broadcasting the best and brightest performance poets of today, we hope to broaden poetry’s audience, to expand its reach and develop a greater level of cultural appreciation for the art form.

He says What do you think about this weather I say well I think it's untrue that no two Snowflakes are the same i think Snowflakes are just holding their hands In different positions high fives and Peace signs and hitchhiker thumbs and Middle finger use every winter i Try to catch as many use of my Tongue as i can it's The feminist in me i also think we make Too many snowmen and too few snow women If i'd seen more snow women growing up i Might have learned how to flood a city Every time someone told me to disappear I might have learned how to load my Rocky smile into a slingshot whenever a Dude suggested smiling was something i Should do you're right man here you go Where i come from it got so cold we made Bonfires in the middle of the lake There'd be this huge fire and we'd be Skating around the truth that all of us Like the ice would one day have to hold That much the impossible even my father Said not to worry he said heat rises but He rises for the same reason people rise Because they have to I think the heat would like to rest Sometime Don't you My mother used to knit my mittens too Big so they'd still fit me when i grew i

Wore them and looked like who i wasn't Yet i feel that sometimes when i'm Writing poems like they don't yet fit Do you ever feel the best of you is Something you're still hoping to grow Into I don't consider myself a cold person But there's that windchill factor i Think i got mine from my grandma she'd Sit in church and curse like a witch do You know witch hunts happen more Commonly in cold weather because people Looked for scapegoats to blame for Hardship i know exactly who i burned for My own Failed crop I used to fall too fast and love a lot i Used to make diamonds out of icicles and Promise they would last my father taught Me how to make ice cream out of snow by Adding milk and maple syrup i've eaten More snow than anyone I know i say that on a first date now I say the storm is in me i say promise You'll leave me if your heating bill Goes up When my grandma died i went home and and Made a snow angel on her grave and then I made another so she wouldn't be alone I heard loneliness resonates in the same Part of the brain as physical pain one Year Before christmas i visited a men's Prison and when i was leaving the snow

Started falling on the barbed wire fence And i looked back to see if there were Faces watching it from the windows But there were no windows [Music] That was the same year 8 962 people in north dakota laid down on Their backs and made snow angels At the same time if i had been there i Know i would have proposed to whoever Was beside me some angel with a smile All her own in the good sense to say I don't know Maybe When my father was a kid he'd walk his Sled to the top of the city in a Snowstorm and his friends would stand at Each intersection and every block below And my father would come flying down and His friends would stop proud traffic and Holler go Go Go But enough about me What do you think about the weather The igloos blow your mind have you ever Gotten your tongue stuck on something Cold Have you forgiven her yet [Music] You

Hey... I'm Jasper!

Would you like me to help write your next poem? (Claim Your Free 10,000 Words)

Leave a Comment