Thursday, January 7, 2010

Poetry Challenge #22: Snow Poem

As I am running out of material from which to cull ideas for poetic forms, I am going to wing this one. I will let participants choose their preferred form of poem; I am just dictating the subject: snow.

Here goes:

Snow Day
At first glance it looks
like fog, but deeper
through the haze, reveals
the tiny flakes slipping
through the atmosphere.

The earth slowly draws up
its light, crisp blanket,
fluffy but giving no warmth,
blowing like down but
stinging the eyes like tiny needles.

With eyes closed, it sounds as if
the world has been paused,
snow muffling every ordinary
event to the point of nearly
deafening silence.

Biting wind takes its toll,
eyes and nose streaming,
begging to be returned
to climate controlled conditions.
Fingers reluctantly cede sensation.

What little can be smelled
is sharp, clean, and very cold.
If one could smell a smooth
piece of sharp metal,
this would be it.

Air nearly tastes of mint,
drawing a deep breath
produces the inevitable cough,
lungs protesting the arctic invasion
of their tropical environs.

Returning from the frozen
tundra, body confused
by the sudden intrusion of warmth
in the once-huddled mass,
the strip-down to human begins.

10 comments:

Anonymous said...

A thick coat of snow
Conceals the sterile bleakness
Of the naked trees.

cicely

(Yes, I really, really hate the leafless, dead-looking trees of winter.)

On a closely related subject:

Psychosomatic
But subjectively so real--
My toes are frozen!

Mimi said...

Icing on the mountaintops
High above my home.
Wonderful to look at
But I have no wish to roam.

Years of pushing shovels
Have dimmed my love for snow.
I revel in the greenery
Down here, far below.

Of coure I'll still go visit
My children in the slush.
A measure of my constant love
Something ice can't touch!

Anonymous said...

I'm just not as eloquent as you gals are, that's for sure!

And now for something on a not even slightly related subject---

Of interest you may find what is here:
The Big Lebowski rendered as Shakespeare.

http://www.runleiarun.com/lebowski/

cicely

Minerva said...

Cicely: I believe there is a place for everyone to have their opinion. While I generally like winter, I understand where people don't like it as much. Thanks for sharing, it's good to see you back. :) 1,000 points for your honesty.

Mimi: again, your lack of enthusiasm for being IN snow is completely understood. 1,000 points for your heartfelt poem. I'm glad our icky weather won't keep you away :)

paige said...

chinook! we cry - anticipating reprieve -
Every gutter straining to empty, streams buckle and weave.
Faces turn skyward - closed eyes ignore dirty slush filled ditches.
We are a city - knowing our relief will leave.

Arctic blast brings fresh white snow -
Each flake prettily singing it's mournful solo.
Our eyes open - seeing the cosmic choir -
Baptized in tender tears made crisp - we go.

Hiding inside, we hoard all we might lack -
Firewood comforts us - poised ready, in her stack.
We surrender ourselves to the season's enchantment.
Awaiting the gentle swish of spring's skirts at our back...

Minerva said...

Paige--your late night endeavor has paid off hugely! 1,000 points for your courage and lyricism.

fiddlincairo said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
fiddlincairo said...

Sorry, the first time I posted it I left out a line!
Graceful snow flakes (rondeau)
Cairo Beselt Grade 8

Graceful snow flakes glisten in the light
Like tiny butterflies taking flight
Falling in the crisp winter cold,
It shines like small specks of gold
Collecting on the ground, piles of white

The snow makes quite a sight,
as its banks grow tall in height
changing shape like a story being told
Graceful snow flakes

Snow flakes falling in the night,
The wind blowing them left and right
The white against the night looks bold
creating the sights that morning will hold,
sparkling patterns and mountains of white,
Graceful snow flakes

Alicia said...

My feelings on snow.

An intoxicating crisp smell
The familiar crunch under your feet
Run to play in it before it melts
It's a sight rarely seen.

The "Great Northwest" is what they call it
I'm not so sure myself
Rain is really all we get
Winter wonderlands sit on our shelves.

Yes, Father Winter keeps his distance
And really I think that's ok
He's still ready for a visit in an instant
And I don't know how to drive in snow anyway.

So instead I'll sit like a duck in rain
And be thankful I have a roof
Because really I'm the one to blame
For not wanting to move!

Minerva said...

Cairo--you have created a really beautiful image of how snow can transform the landscape. Excellent work! 1,000 points for a gorgeous winter portrait.

Alicia--I always love hearing the NW perspective, as a person who knows and loves the region. 1,000 points for your love song for the fleeting touches of winter in the land of evergreens.