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Local Parasite
Deputy Moderator 10 Tours
Member Elite
since 2001-11-05
Posts 2527
Transylconia, Winnipeg

0 posted 2002-12-19 01:08 PM

Do not deny that snow exists,
Each time it melts by summer's fray
That all are lifted, flown away
Will never turn, the sun insists
That all to upward tone persists
And all to sky will stay.

We capture them, our mittens freeze
A molded-water-winter-clay
It is the colder form we play
That we could, winter wonder, sieze
Our pack'd contraptions, all to please
And all the land to stay.

It is an error to describe
The night in stars that drop and plummet
That downward spin their earthly summit
Our senses to inhale-imbibe
We imitate, but faint become it
O, our earthly tribe.

But we can spin with confidence
Between our toes and fingers wrapt
To see those features vainly trapt
It circumvents our common sense
Our forces bent, our sources tapt
To nature's thin offense

From eye to nose
He's full compos'd

Be righteous, thou abomination
Brag the jewels upon thy belt
That we, thy careful longings, felt
And stretch thy limbs in contemplation
Soon, that shine will boil the nation
Soon, thy form will melt.

And we, whose hands bore carpentry
Will gather in a fram'd array
Regard thy timely skin decay
Those eyes were never true to see
That we, in our debauchery
Compell'd thy form away.

But up-away the harshing sun
With all our mittens clench'd to fists
Each child, in tears, resents/resists
The death of our enlighten'd one
The truth is gone, the fact is done
Be sure that snow exists.

[This message has been edited by Local Parasite (12-19-2002 08:51 PM).]

© Copyright 2002 Brian James Lee - All Rights Reserved
Deputy Moderator 5 Tours
Member Rara Avis
since 2000-01-03
Posts 7855

1 posted 2002-12-19 01:48 PM

I'm always amazed at the way you can find depths in such mundane things. But you do, each and every time.

I hope you don't think like this all the time -- that's a burden! Can you imagine lifting up a pen and saying "Ah, me, the written sword of wrath must transcribe the aching blood of souls long past, again."

But you always write wonderful poetry, and I for one will continue reading it.

Incidentally, where does all the white go when snow melts away?

Cpat Hair
Deputy Moderator 1 Tour
Member Patricius
since 2001-06-05
Posts 11793

2 posted 2002-12-19 06:50 PM

Mikey.. the white goes to make clouds, that's why sometimes they are grey and sometimes black...just like snow...

The poem... Dude, you just always blow me away... I read them, read them again..and sit there not knowing what to say or how to say it. I don't write rhyme nor form..and when I read those that do, I often find myself quickly bored... not the case with you.. I may struggle a time or two trying understand what lies underneath it all.... but I always enjoy.

Deputy Moderator 5 Tours
Member Elite
since 2000-01-08
Posts 4697

3 posted 2002-12-22 01:54 PM

Lots of the white stuff up where you are, I'm sure...

Anyway... needless to say, this is an amazing piece.. when do you post anything that isn't? I loved the overall theme of the poem, and I agree that it's amazing that you find things like that in.. well, snow! It shows your depth and intelligence. What is it like to live in such a world, Brian, where every little thing is worth having a novel written about it?

Peace I leave with you, My peace I give unto you: not as the world giveth, give I unto you.--Jesus Christ

Senior Member
since 2000-06-01
Posts 1958

4 posted 2002-12-29 07:45 PM

This is some really neat stuff.  Your exploration of concepts such as human domination over nature is quite indepth.  You do well in pointing out the final end of snow, no matter what form it may be participating in.  It all ends up melting again.

As far as your poetic technique is concerned, you may wish to begin trying to get your work published if you haven't already.  You've done a great job creating verse that isn't very forced.

However, I still wonder about why you chose the rather archaic language for your descriptions of the snowman.  I wonder a bit about how much place that language has in your poem.

"If history is to change, let it change. If the world is to be destroyed, so be it. If my fate is to die, I must simply laugh"

-- Magus

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