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Daily Deviation
March 17, 2004
Snowfall Dances by ~saladin
Pretend you are a flake. Okay, pretend you are a snowflake and you are falling toward the earth. The poet asks, "Would it embrace its inevitable demise on the hard ground or...? You might be tempted to answer this inspiring question, so read "Snowfall Dances". You'll find it full of fascinating lines like, "Pirouetting in crystal air..." which may just tempt you to love the listening.
Featured by jsenn
Literature Text
Settling softly
A graceful fall
Pirouetting in crystal air
A dance of elegance
Lost in the multitude
Ended by the earth's firm kiss.
The snowflake sinks
Into a bed of brethren
Becomes one with all
Singularity surrendered
To join the Drift
In blissful anonymity.
Motionless
That which was
Lies silent
Smothered and smothering
Awaiting thaw
And Spring's release.
One wonders
Does it now regret
The fall from grace
Abandoning its dance
Or does it slumber, fury faded
Knowing peace at last?
A graceful fall
Pirouetting in crystal air
A dance of elegance
Lost in the multitude
Ended by the earth's firm kiss.
The snowflake sinks
Into a bed of brethren
Becomes one with all
Singularity surrendered
To join the Drift
In blissful anonymity.
Motionless
That which was
Lies silent
Smothered and smothering
Awaiting thaw
And Spring's release.
One wonders
Does it now regret
The fall from grace
Abandoning its dance
Or does it slumber, fury faded
Knowing peace at last?
Literature
Echoic
Echoic
Your core is refracted and deflected from
the straight path which
continues to lead you here.
Your transcendence,
although well documented,
lacked any sub-stantial
evidence
or clues on how to break
your punctuated fall.
R E S U R G E N C E
Fresh diffusal of cool silence
in this echoic theatre of beauty;
imitation of speech and gesture,
up
close
and personal.
You are replication,
my draft and fuzzy focus -
interpreted perfectly,
clearly defined fractal lines;
my better half
and improved reflection
lying in wait for me.
Literature
Ode to Winter?
On our park bench,
we reserve our legs
for warming;
in the winter months,
we are moths.
We knit stories
and wear them
for scarves, covering
our pale impetuous lips
when we speak.
Sparks in the air
become our lisps
as the seams of
our waists ravel- old yarn
with a taste of dew-
as moths, our
impervious mouths;
they are similes.
Literature
Selectivity
Why a word? This is no particular thing.
It can't be defined in an objective way.
The unstated dangles by half-open mouths,
a yawn like a cat stretching blithely at noon
as silence leans back on an unbalanced stool --
let it fall. The moment suggests it should be so.
If I see that your eyes project pictures behind
the irises, protean circles and spires
of curious leadings in lines of blank swaths
of colour, then I should say nothing.
But I
now find my lips quaver with verbiage amiss
and I fail to a sentence, or rather, this kiss.
Suggested Collections
The snow's been falling here in Scotland, and it's bloody freezing! It looks nice, but it's not much use for anything else.
Except for inspiration, that is. I was watching a blizzard through a lecture threatre window when this idea came to me - what if a snowflake was sentient? Would it embrace its inevitable demise on the hard ground or would it regret the loss of its freedom?
This piece came from that thought. I'd appreciate you comments and criticism. Enjoy
Except for inspiration, that is. I was watching a blizzard through a lecture threatre window when this idea came to me - what if a snowflake was sentient? Would it embrace its inevitable demise on the hard ground or would it regret the loss of its freedom?
This piece came from that thought. I'd appreciate you comments and criticism. Enjoy
© 2004 - 2024 saladin
Comments75
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Beautiful, I love winter but not the cold, which a big part of I don't live in Minnesota any more.
Thank You