Non-Erotic PoetryThe Snowmen.Snows falling on snow falls fallen:
Hands hover over oil drum furnaces,
displaced members of artist colonies and rodeo circuits
toss in stories like faded photographs,
feeding the flames brighter than their day in the sun.
When the fire is ash, voices scatter to the wind;
ships set sail from empty liquor bottles;
victory deserts a swollen can of beans;
husks of memories burn and die like stars as
the snow falls on fallen snows falling.
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Echoing Pelegrino, much more coherent than the original.
A well deserved 5.
I think, now it is more powerful and clear than the first time I knew of it in PFD, so you did well following people's advice there. "The Snowmen" is (to me) a better title also. Fits the content perfect. If it wasn't for the "rodeo circuits" mentioned, the pictures coming up to my mind could be from any winter place in the world (but leave the picture as it is-I rather like rodeo circuits).
I've seen scenes like these in England, in Bulgaria, in Germany and Turkey and what you wrote is all true.
Well done again!
5edmore...
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