Snowball

I wrote this poem about a month ago and debated for a while whether or not to post it. My Board of Poetry Approval (Rachel) liked it and thought it was time for a poem that was understandable without an explanation, so here it is. We recently read Gerard Manley Hopkins in Literature and I've made a few attempts to mirror his style with simple topics. Here's a taste of the beauty of Hopkins:

The Windhover
I caught this morning morning’s minion, king-
dom of daylight’s dauphin, dapple-dawn-drawn Falcon, in his riding
Of the rolling level underneath him steady air, and striding
High there, how he rung upon the rein of a wimpling wing
In his ecstasy! then off, off forth on swing,
As a skate’s heel sweeps smooth on a bow-bend: the hurl and gliding
Rebuffed the big wind. My heart in hiding
Stirred for a bird,—the achieve of, the mastery of the thing!

Brute beauty and valour and act, oh, air, pride, plume, here
Buckle! AND the fire that breaks from thee then, a billion
Times told lovelier, more dangerous, O my chevalier!

No wonder of it: sheer plod makes plough down sillion
Shine, and blue-bleak embers, ah my dear,
Fall, gall themselves, and gash gold-vermillion.

--

In this poem I was also trying to imitate that effect in movies where the camera will slow almost to a still frame, then fast forward for a second before going back to slow motion. I kind of feel bad posting this on the same page as Hopkins, but here you go.

Snowball 2/25/2011
arm
swings
curled fingers cast fast crushed flakes
white glow winged snow warms slow
while whirling white from curling flight, unfurling light as
it
flies
round, spurns snowground churns low, no sound
but just dusts the dirt with bits of almostbird
hits
white cloud. flight route, bright now
white ice flies twice: one hand, two lands,
stops.