Snow Poems!

While you were all marveling at the snow or swearing at Southwest Trains, I was busy googling poems about snow, because, well… um, well, I don’t know. I just felt like it. I discarded John Berryman’s “Dream Song 28: Snow Line” as too depressing, even though he’s one of my favorite poets. Instead, I’ve decided to post Wallace Stevens:

“The Snow Man” by Wallace Stevens

One must have a mind of winter
To regard the frost and the boughs
Of the pine-trees crusted with snow;

And have been cold a long time
To behold the junipers shagged with ice,
The spruces rough in the distant glitter

Of the January sun; and not to think
Of any misery in the sound of the wind,
In the sound of a few leaves,

Which is the sound of the land
Full of the same wind
That is blowing in the same bare place

For the listener, who listens in the snow,
And, nothing himself, beholds
Nothing that is not there and the nothing that is.

I found all this stuff at http://famouspoetsandpoems.com [DC]

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4 Comments

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4 responses to “Snow Poems!

  1. This is just as depressing as John Berryman’s poem. Misery in the sound of wind? The ending is disgustingly obscure and disjointed.

    Whilst everyone else was out building snowmen, I happened to write a poem too. It was also depressing. My, oh my.

  2. rhulcreativewriters

    I thought it was sort of depressing, but then I reread it a few more times, and I think there’s a little more hope in there than at first it seems. But the Berryman one is just bleak. Why not post yours, Matthew, and we’ll put the depress-o-meter on it?

    Doug

  3. Hohoho – But it’s such a pretentious ending. Nothingness in snow? Can’t put my finger on it – there’s a certain element of hope there but it’s rather lost in that ending!

    Well. Here’s the one I wrote – – – [copypasta from my blog – hope the formatting will turn out ok]

    The sky blitzes white angel corpses

    Holocaust blossom, holocaust corpses

    The cold kiss of each flake upon my cheeks

    They touch and melt against my cheeks.

    Snow White’s frost bites blending tears

    of sorrow with pain sending fears

    to incite atonement for tomorrow.

    Heaven’s necropolis for fallen angels befouled

    By frolicking children warring for their bodies

    In this holy sepulchre, the flakes of angel skin

    Give a temporary life to the white man’s sin.

    It’s beautiful because

    I can no longer hear

    The angel’s hymn.

    It’s pitiful because

    No one listens

    To the angel’s dirge.

  4. lol, ok the formatting was reset.
    There were just a few line breaks, that’s all.

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