9 hours ago
edit1;
Microscopic hammers falling
make no dent, leave us recalling
carpet-bombing rearranging
landscapes into silent wastes.
Blanketed and suffocated
under white, anticipated,
interlocking ninja spin-stars,
glassy flakes in drifts of tricks.
Like a judo master throwing
his opponent, all this snowing
uses our own speed to smash us
into sidewalks with no mat.
One quintillion satin hammers–
pretty, pratfall coccyx-slammers–
make one inch of peaceful snowfall
bright in sunlight: I’ll stay home.
Hearty thanks to both critics. @wasellajam pointed to weakness of S.2, which I have attempted remedy with possibly excessive invention. The revision does at least solve the meter problem of "hours" being read as two syllables in some dialects.
For @milo, I tried when first writing this to do as you suggest (making the third and fourth lines a rhymed couplet) but found I was already forcing it just in the first stanza. Instead, the missing beat at the end of the fourth line (there's a name for that, isn't there?) suggests an unexpected discontinuity... such as one's keister impacting the ground after a slip. Or at least tries to.
Incidentally, we're up to eight quintillion today, where I live. My birdbath looks like a very large white-frosted coconut cake on a display stand.
Microscopic hammers falling
make no dent, leave us recalling
carpet-bombing rearranging
landscapes into silent wastes.
Blanketed and suffocated
under white, anticipated,
interlocking ninja spin-stars,
glassy flakes in drifts of tricks.
Like a judo master throwing
his opponent, all this snowing
uses our own speed to smash us
into sidewalks with no mat.
One quintillion satin hammers–
pretty, pratfall coccyx-slammers–
make one inch of peaceful snowfall
bright in sunlight: I’ll stay home.
Hearty thanks to both critics. @wasellajam pointed to weakness of S.2, which I have attempted remedy with possibly excessive invention. The revision does at least solve the meter problem of "hours" being read as two syllables in some dialects.
For @milo, I tried when first writing this to do as you suggest (making the third and fourth lines a rhymed couplet) but found I was already forcing it just in the first stanza. Instead, the missing beat at the end of the fourth line (there's a name for that, isn't there?) suggests an unexpected discontinuity... such as one's keister impacting the ground after a slip. Or at least tries to.
Incidentally, we're up to eight quintillion today, where I live. My birdbath looks like a very large white-frosted coconut cake on a display stand.
Non-practicing atheist