Snowglobe

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  • Frustrations Of Life

    Snowglobe

     Here snow never stains with soot
    And veinless candles light
    Yellow cabin windows.
    I stand perpetually waving hello
    To the convexed faces of gods,
    Who blind me with earthquakes of flurries
    And try to throw my to the unsettled ground.
    But with my feet glued I stand
    Rigid in my icy resolve.
    Stuck on the outside looking out,
    I dream of breaking free my feet
    To fell the glimmering sky
    Into torrents of snow, water, and glass.
    Finally able to wave goodbye.

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    Poetry is either something that lives like fire inside you or else it is nothing, an empty formalized bore around which pedants can endlessly drone their notes and explanations.

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    Vispilio’s Poems (2)

    Title Comments Submitted
    Title Comments Submitted
    A Mourning's Breath 0 09/01/2010
    Snowglobe 0 09/01/2010
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