Sunday, November 16, 2008

FHE Poems

It's all relative

When asked in winter how I'd like to die
I tell the questioner it's death by fire,
But when in sweltering heat of sun I lie,
I choose a death of Ice much to my ire.


Multi-pointed Daggers from the Sky

If snow didn't come from the skies,
I'd venture it came from hell.
When others see a bed of joy,
I see a blanket of misery.
When others see fluffy crystals from the heavens,
I see multi-pointed daggers at terminal velocity.
When others see fun in snow balls and forts,
I see four long months.

5 comments:

Dianey Face said...

I love these! You're amazing. You should come to poetry night: Thursdays at 9ish, hosted by your roommate Josh. So you should already know about it.

Josh said...

Now I'm not the only one posting poetry on my blog!

Keith said...

Robert Frost lives.

Bruce said...

I like this phrase: "multi-pointed daggers at terminal velocity". Terminal can either be read in the physics sense, or in the mortality sense. Very nice.

cindy said...

Haha, such animosity to winter.

I don't blame you. I am not looking forward to the walk from Wymount when the snow starts up!