Ice wraps me close,
a frigid cocoon
to seal perfection.
Warmth is prevented.
So is hurt. A static
symmetry resides here.
There is no decay,
but in the ice,
no growth occurs
For a long, long time.
The cure for the disease
springs forth
and then the thaw
and then the transformation,
bursting with confusion.
A contest entry
- Prompt contest... 16 entries; 16 lines or less by Grey Mouser.
700 points, ended November 19, 2008, 12 entries
Silver trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
So, what's your opinion of this?
Comments
-
Great write. Marvelous use of language to portray the return from a hiatus to a new and non understandable situation. Well done and many thanks for entering into the contest.
Be well and be blessed,
Mouser -
lovely poem, great subject, just in time for winter.
-
Outstanding
I liked the way you used the ice as a metaphor in this poem. The imagery is well-chosen and adds depth to the poem. I liked your choice of language and the over all flow. An excellent poem that confronts the status quo and then envelops change ( the thaw) as something unexpected and not necessarily easy to deal with. Best of luck in the contest.
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