Snow poems

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Hoosier_Daddy said:
Not really. I am not sure any more beauty is gained from poetry or art by learning someone else’s interpretation of it. To me, I don’t really care why people find the mona lisa beautiful or What the William Tell overture makes someone think of. Art, poetry and life is a unique experience. Curiosity as to what others think is a natural phenomenon and one that I partake in quite often, but my interpretation of Robert Frost has nothing to do with “why” someone else likes or dislikes it.

That is why art and poetry are subjective. To many, the Notorious B.I.G was a poet…

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.

The question caught me off guard because no one else was asked to defend or explain an interpretation… You did not offer yours…
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We’ll, my snowball poem brings me peace when I’m changing bed sheets that are wet — at least some humor to keep me going when it gets soaky.

I guess you were singled out because you said it may be your all time favorite poem — I don’t fully understand it, and wanted a perspective from a person who held the poem in such high esteem.
 
Crunching under foot
Once again I shovel snow
To avoid lawsuit
 
On the first day that I see snow
It brings a smile to my face,
I think of winter wonderlands
and skiers heading for a race,

I picture snowmen, snow forts, skates,
Sleigh bells, Christmas, Santa Claus,
Frosty diamond windowpanes,
the Christmas concerts and applause. . .

This lasts until the snow begins
to turn to slush and then to ice,
It picks up dirt and sand and grit
and now it doesn’t look so nice.

The flakes are cold, my nose it runs,
my feet begin to slip and slide,
The winds are sharp and buffet me,
I wish that I were safe inside.

At last I’m home. The weather says
A blizzard’s on the way. The first
of many in our frozen North.
Alas, it will not be the worst.

The days go by, and most have snow
or ice or sleet or bitter cold
the weeks and then the months go past
This rotten weather’s getting old,

The last day that I see the snow
I have a smile upon my face
I know that soon it will be gone
and will leave not a single trace. . .

until. . .

next year’s first snow.

An original poem by Tantum ergo 😃
 
I heard there was a thing called snow,
Just what it is, I do not know.
They told me winter had begun,
But all I see is shining sun.
I see no snow down at the beach,
Perhaps it’s a figure of speech,
And so I must declare forthwith,
I’m thinking snow must be a myth!
 
Hoosier_Daddy said:
Not really. I am not sure any more beauty is gained from poetry or art by learning someone else’s interpretation of it. To me, I don’t really care why people find the mona lisa beautiful or What the William Tell overture makes someone think of. Art, poetry and life is a unique experience. Curiosity as to what others think is a natural phenomenon and one that I partake in quite often, but my interpretation of Robert Frost has nothing to do with “why” someone else likes or dislikes it.

That is why art and poetry are subjective. To many, the Notorious B.I.G was a poet…

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.

The question caught me off guard because no one else was asked to defend or explain an interpretation… You did not offer yours…
Click to expand...
Just relax and enjoy! While I love the poems, the beauty of a snowfall, etc. I am glad Spring is almost here. (I have some really nice magazines, (like Country) that I can look at and enjoy all year round. God Bless, Memaw
 
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