Snow Globe

Through the eyes of a Vienna Offensive victim

For awhile

I’ll try imagination on

A hat by a low firelight

Through a hole

A culture chiliad witnessed

In one good eye

 

Underneath city flickers

Domes tremble architectural

Violent Vienna streets

Celestial stars

Soviet generals

How in night they don’t fall weak

 

But, mind’s eye living in sphere

The spring of winters break

In love butcher’s daughter

Equine’s sleigh trotting pace

Workers people smile

Foreigners sip café

 

And below

The art hangs safe

In scenes seen in day

Sparkles

Acquiesce

White butterfly flakes

 

The world outside suffers

Surreal suffocates

And I merely want to be

Within a orb trammeled

A snow globe town

Somewhere, a man, perfectly able

 

So in an attic still...

I turn it, shake

Over and over

But, in my head there is

Always a last one landing

And too soon, there's an empty place

 

Reviews

[Frieda P]

I love snow globes and I love this poem Mike.

The world outside suffers
Surreal suffocates
And I merely want to be
Within a orb trammeled
A snow globe town
Somewhere, a man, perfectly able

Amazing stanza and I adore white butterfly flakes, I might steal that one from you. ;-)

[Michael G. Smith]

We went to a estate sale last Saturday and I saw a snow globe. I thought about how great an idea for a poem and I've never seen a poem on it. I did some research and found the first ones were manufactured in Vienna. I then used Vienna as the basis for the story.

[Joyce S. Greene]

A striking image, Mike. I felt the sufferering of that man hiding in the attic, shaking his snow globe. But in a world torn apart by war, as Europe was, no place is safe. You have penned a very powerful piece. Very well done!

[Michael G. Smith]

Thank you Joyce.

[Rita L. Sev]

What it must be like to be surrounded by warfare, while people blindly go on with their lives... Inside a bubble, while chaos reigns all around... You have illustrated this well, Mike.

[Michael G. Smith]

Thanks again for your Saturday night comments.