Free Fall
I feel the wind rush past my face,
It’s really cold I know,
I’m falling, falling past the clouds,
Amidst the rain and the hail and the snow.
The stone is strong, the ground is hard,
I know what waits below,
Until the day it comes to me,
I fly and dance and laugh ho! ho!
Little specks of white and blue,
Cloud-ish shapes and more,
The whooshing sound, a chime so sweet,
They’re so much fun to learn and know!
Towering shapes of mud and stone,
Fresh green trees below -
Splat!
January 25th, 2006 at 23:05
My God, even after reading the previous post, I must say that is one scary poem. Was that a snowflake talking, by any chance?
January 26th, 2006 at 00:01
No, it is not a snowflake talking; it is a real person, not necessarily the physical self, but a state of mind. The poem is essentially a *happy* poem. The critical idea here is the speed of events. There is no time to pause and wonder about anything because everything moves past so quickly. The moral, if one is necessary, is that once we accept the inevitable, we can look beyond and search for that spark of excitement that we never knew existed. Metaphorically, when we dispose of the beginning and the end of the whole, we should have something left that we can call the ‘middle’.
January 31st, 2006 at 07:27
Dude, something that begins with the wind rushing past your face & ending with splat doesnt sound too happy !!!