Snowflakes hum inside my head,
bumping to and fro.
Stinging sky meets soggy ground and nothing seems to stick.
Each flake is different, so I'm told--
each unknowable and cold, they vanish when you try to grasp them--
fleeting, fragile wisps.
I've spun no story strong enough
to stake my ship upon.
My tears dry up before they're spilled for little lasts for long.
Blankets white I find here not--
that, nor green-clad earth--
only harried solitude inside these biting mists.
Perhaps my blust'ring mind is not
leading me to tread my sought-for courses; I fear I've forgot them
yearning for the drifts.
But elsewhere 'neath the firmament, there are other skies.
There are other thoughts in other hearts apart from mine.
From over where the snow falls
and beneath the bedrock's roots
flames unflinching flicker still through height and depth and width.
Some of my poems come together in a few quiet minutes or an afternoon-- this one's been in the works for over a month and I'm still mulling it over. I first conceived it when I was driving to a college visit and it started flurrying.
I'd like to hear some criticism regarding the sound. It's got a specific meter and lots of assonance and consonance, with a few perfect rhymes. I really liked developing the sounds, but I think it might be a little too sing-song in certain parts, especially since all of the lines are iambic. I intentionally broke patterns in a few places to make it a little bit disorienting and frustrating while still pleasant, and I'm not sure if I've got the effect quite right. How would you describe the sounds? Did you notice them working with with or the themes? Is it happy, playful, frustrating, satisfying? (Did anyone pick up on "windy" sounds with all the effs and esses? I was quite proud of that)
Many thanks :-D
