Ann Foxglove

ghazal ( snow for me)

by Ann Foxglove

Tuesday 7th December 2010 7:49 pm (first posted Friday 3rd December 2010 7:02 pm)

Oh come through swirling tempests of snow for me

I’ll warm your hands, leave your gloves of snow for me.

Rivulets fashion into veins of crystal

A mathematician out of snow for me.

Glass hexagons on ivy sprigs crack and freeze

In rubix cubes made of ice and snow for me.

The blood red sun is my evening candle flame

And thunder the tympani of snow for me.

Sad silent forests splinter into atoms

And wolves pace with padded feet in snow for me.

An icicle to stab cold an iron heart

Will melt by morning, so no more snow for me.

The speckled fawn is waiting for his mother

As snowflakes dance, his back lost in snow for me.

In burning brackengold the fox lies sleeping

My man is dead, all men are as snow for me.

Ghazal

◄ mole

ghazal ( Fibonacci swirl) ►

Comments

winston plowes

Sun 5th Dec 2010 09:27

Ann, Can you please Tag this poem "Ghazal". Win

Ann Foxglove

Sun 5th Dec 2010 08:29

Ta Win, I never could count past ten - should have taken my slippers off! ;-) Have added a couple more words.

And thatnks everyone else for kind comments! xx

winston plowes

Sat 4th Dec 2010 22:02

loved the maqta and your takkhalus. Foxy :-) x

you could have "my man IS dead..." I think this line is in keeping and powerful. Win

winston plowes

Sat 4th Dec 2010 21:58

Seasonal superlatives! Loved this ghazal Ann. Very evocative. some great pictures in words,

Well worth waiting for your 1st ghazal. For me this is as good as most in the "beautiful book" Win x

P.S.no rhyme in this one but thats fine with me.
these lines "my man dead..." & "The red sun..." have one less syllable than all other lines (wink)
(easily fixed)

Should brackengold be 2 words?
hope I am not being too critical :-)

can you please Tag this one "Ghazal" Ann.

Francine

Sat 4th Dec 2010 21:38

I really like this, Ann. The words you use to evoke images, such as, swirling tempests, glass hexagons, thunder the tympani, are fabulous. I also love the allegory between man and snowflakes - no two are alike, and the emotions expressed.

I will probably try one of these too, next!

Lynn Dye

Sat 4th Dec 2010 18:51

This is so good, Ann. So crafted, well done. xx

<Deleted User> (8672)

Sat 4th Dec 2010 09:54

I like this a lot too, Ann. I didn't get time to read it last night but it has just jumped out at me right now - after a few internet problems! If you keep producing stuff like this it can only spur the likes of me on...

Isobel

Sat 4th Dec 2010 09:20

No - forget that - it is too corny. Leave as is - it is raw but makes your point. x

Isobel

Sat 4th Dec 2010 09:17

Can't stop thinking about that last line now. How about 'my true love dead, all men as snow for me'
It is lovely as is but John just got me thinking - easy to blame it on men :)

Isobel

Sat 4th Dec 2010 03:41

all men cast in snow for me?

Better/worse/wrong metre? It's too late in the day/early in the morning for me to know. x

Isobel

Sat 4th Dec 2010 03:38

This is lovely Ann - really beautiful. I love the way you have really got inside the snow shapes and linked it to emotions. I also loved the line about the wolves padded feet
Unlike John, I love the 'all men are as snow for me'. It is the 'my man is dead' which I find a bit brittle - though perhaps that is what you wanted.
It seems like your poem follows the traditional roots of the form -the longing for a love lost and the coldness of life without. That last line is crucial in that. x

John Aikman

Sat 4th Dec 2010 01:23

Absolutely fabulous. I mean, like, blindingly good. I would echo Greg on this...your finest moment for me. I am agog with envy. I would maybe try and re-work the final line...it's good, but somehow stumbles over the excellence of the previous ones. It's such a poignant line...surely there is an alternative to 'all men are as' which seems to trip up in the snow a bit for me. I'd probably just dump the 'as' and live with the cryptic metre. Just fabbo. Thank you.

: )

jx

Greg Freeman

Fri 3rd Dec 2010 22:25

This must rank among your finest poems, Ann. No, on second thoughts, it is the finest. Carefully, beautifully crafted.

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