thescholar
12-17-2007, 02:10 PM
Alright ladies and gentlemen, poem number two. Feel free to be a little more scathing with your criticism, should that be necessary. Also, I titled this piece "Longing" but i don't think the title does it justice. Any suggestions? thanks, Joe.
Again breath frosts the windows,
again the heartbeat quickens,
for all about with tranquil grace lies
winter's virgin blanket.
The boy surveys this marvel
how he longs to fell winter's touch,
for the loving caress of the flakes.
His tongue, inexperienced, wonders what flakes taste like,
an unimaginable delicacy.
the nurse enters, silent,
unsure of how to act, for this boy, so strong,
stands naked in her eyes.
He turns and says, "It's snowing."
heavy is his voice.
"I know." she says, she falters.
He whispers, "What's it like?"
but she is deafened.
"It's nothing special."
A tear rolls down his cheek,
nurse nailed to the floor.
"Get out" he says, a crushing blow,
she runs out of the room.
He whispers, "One day, my son will dance among the flakes-
I'm willing to wait to see the look on his face
no matter how long it takes."
Again breath frosts the windows,
again the heartbeat quickens,
for all about with tranquil grace lies
winter's virgin blanket.
The boy surveys this marvel
how he longs to fell winter's touch,
for the loving caress of the flakes.
His tongue, inexperienced, wonders what flakes taste like,
an unimaginable delicacy.
the nurse enters, silent,
unsure of how to act, for this boy, so strong,
stands naked in her eyes.
He turns and says, "It's snowing."
heavy is his voice.
"I know." she says, she falters.
He whispers, "What's it like?"
but she is deafened.
"It's nothing special."
A tear rolls down his cheek,
nurse nailed to the floor.
"Get out" he says, a crushing blow,
she runs out of the room.
He whispers, "One day, my son will dance among the flakes-
I'm willing to wait to see the look on his face
no matter how long it takes."