If you see a whole thing - it seems that it's always beautiful. Planets, lives... But up close a world's all dirt and rocks. And day to day, life's a hard job, you get tired, you lose the pattern. - Ursula K. LeGuin

Sunday, January 31, 2010

Playing In The Snow

I spent the morning playing with snow words and snow images.

Snow Day

What for others is crisp, clean,
even sparkly,
for me is barren and cold.

Waking up to an altered landscape,
your ice-laden purity,
fails to bring the allure of promise.


Instead I see a future with
streets dressed in black, brown and grey-hued
mounds of solidified exhaust

I'll build no snowmen;
I'll forgo an icy descent
belly-down on plastic,
face inches from the
slushy cold.

But you'll mock me nonetheless,
your pristine sameness interrupted
by a parade of turquoise and fuchsia wool.

I too once believed
long ago
your myths of home and hearth
of exploration and adventure
of endless beauty and wonder

But now I know you can only
blanket
the luscious pain and beauty
I've see every day.

6 comments:

Annie said...

Hi Brigindo,

I enjoyed your poem and the images. Seeing the surfboard, its top edge and fin covered with snow, reflects much of what your poem conveys.

I love the whole poem, but these two stanzas are my favorite, with wonderful sound, imagery, and rhythm:

"I'll build no snowmen;
I'll forgo an icy descent
belly-down on plastic,
face inches from the
slushy cold.

But you'll mock me nonetheless,
your pristine sameness interrupted
by a parade of turquoise and fuchsia wool."

I've never lived where it snows; and when I've seen it, I've appreciated it for the novelty.

Psycgirl said...

Beautiful Brigindo!

Drax said...

VERY FREAKIN' NICE!!!!

Maggie May said...

very beautiful, soothing.

Julie said...

I love the poem! I also like how you mix the images within the poem itself. What a great idea. The surfboard is striking, as are all of the written images.

Yes, the poem is beautiful. But for me, it also speaks of the "pretense" of winter wonderland. I love the juxtaposition of purity versus the mounds of exhaust. Let's face it. Melting snow is just plain fugly, especially on city streets. New white snow covers up everything that is real, whether it's "luscious pain or beauty." I really love that line... and the entire poem. It's the first one I've read lately that mirrors my feelings about snow.

I was wondering if had much snow your way. Egad! Not much for us, thankfully.

BrightenedBoy said...

I hope you don't live anywhere near me because boy would you be miserable this week.