Shall I compare you to a dying fish
That flops amid wet glass and gasps in air?
On reflection, that would not be my wish.
I think that the comparison’s unfair.
For fish are fit when water wraps their gills
But water blurs you till you’re beyond use.
For you it is not open air that kills
But in a puddle, you lie soaked and loose.
Destruction for the hope of gain, I guess
Can once in a while be justified.
But at observing you, I must confess
The shards and puddle leave me stupefied.
Why would have someone broken glass for thee,
Oh newspaper that was already free?
Shall I compare you to an icy floe
That floats atop a vast, enormous sea?
Upon reflection, the answer is “no”;
There are no penguins here, nor could there be.
They say eight-ninths of icebergs escape
Our eyes. We but glimpse one great piece of ice.
But below you’s another hue and shape.
I learned your different names. Do they suffice?
We sort by what is useful. What brings hail
Or gentle rain to nourish growing crops?
But I can’t help but wonder if words fail
To classify the hidden forms of tops.
Would wordsmiths have devised the same divides
If they could have looked at clouds from both sides?
New year, new idea for poems. I can imagine there being a lot where this came from, but no promises.
Shall I compare you to a coiled snake?
Or perhaps to twin snakes, that both lie tangled?
No, I shall not; serpents seem no mistake.
They’re keen and powerful, not frayed or mangled.
Shall I compare you, then, to a mousetrap
That lies in wait to catch the hopeless mice?
Mousetraps can be improved by skill or hap
They say, but you are regressive, not nice.
Once others stood where you, now helpless, lie
With such aid by my side, I proudly stood.
And now I fumble. Incompetent, I
Scorn you at risk to me. You’re still no good.
How am I ever going to get places
If I do not care about my shoelaces?