Four Quintillion Blows

[dukealien]

Four Quintillion Blows


Microscopic hammers falling
make no dent, leave us recalling
carpet-bombing rearranging
landscapes into silent wastes.

Blanketed and suffocated
under white, anticipated,
interlocking, light as feathers,
crystal flakes for blurring hours.

Like a judo master throwing
his opponent, all this snowing
uses our own speed to smash us
into sidewalks with no mat.

One quintillion satin hammers–
pretty, pratfall coccyx-slammers–
make one inch of peaceful snowfall
bright in sunlight: I’ll stay home.

[milo]

Four Quintillion Blows


Microscopic hammers falling
make no dent, leave us recalling
carpet-bombing rearranging
landscapes into silent wastes.

Blanketed and suffocated
under white, anticipated,
interlocking, light as feathers,
crystal flakes for blurring hours.

Like a judo master throwing
his opponent, all this snowing
uses our own speed to smash us
into sidewalks with no mat.

One quintillion satin hammers–
pretty, pratfall coccyx-slammers–
make one inch of peaceful snowfall
bright in sunlight: I’ll stay home.

So, I am going to return in a bit but I wanted to get a quick callout first to see what you think of it:

Because of the music of the piece - I think it would sound so much better if the last line of each quatrain rhymed with each other.

I will return . . .