A Blizzard Ablaze
In this land of snow, where no flowers grow,
Live us lone snowmen, standing row by row.
Made from the blanket that drifts from the sky
Where the white gulls, happily chanting, fly.
When the sun comes up, we can’t shield ourselves;
Our smallest will be the first one who melts.
Our arms and noses are brittle and weak.
It’s like our life – it is ever so bleak.
Our masters are harsh, unsightly, and cruel.
We keep them warm when they run out of fuel.
Huddled ‘round their house, we bear the fierce waves
Of winds that threaten to tear up their eaves.
Not one ‘thank you’, just people to appease;
If they build us queer, they’d poke fun and tease.
Our builders have become slaves to routines.
They work the year round; they’re living machines.
Whenever they build a few more snowmen,
Their features are bland, hopeless, and barren.
Sometimes their work won’t resemble our likes:
Figures with nose rings and hair shaped like spikes;
Anatomically correct snowmen;
Even their ‘waste’, all over us, frozen.
We’d very much like these tyrants to be
Gagged, bound, and weighted, then tossed out to sea!
The saner of us will try to make sense
For the newly created, why it is hence:
That a being so white and pure would have
Creators with audacity to laugh
At folk who’ve provided so much for them:
Shelter them from strong winds, their heat we’d hem;
Hours of delight for all their young ones;
Even melting us for their thirsty tongues;
Guard them, as scarecrows, against bear or dog;
Instead, they leave us to freeze in the fog.
Of course, frozen, we’re still here in July;
No more days of cold on which to rely.
Bless us; we’re at the mercy of the sun,
Watching others get shorter – that’s no fun!
Imagine the horrors that would unfold
If we could react, speak, and be as cold
As the snow of which we’re chiefly made
Could turn into weapons, like a grenade!
The hordes of us, with ice-bullet rifles
Would storm your streets, any life we’d stifle.
You’d all look at us with fear in your eyes,
And guilt, too, for you were wrong to despise
Us innocent creatures who’d done much good;
Instead, we have all been misunderstood.
There’s nowhere to run and nowhere to hide;
We’d wipe out every last adult and child!
Just wait ‘till the winter’s over and done;
We wouldn’t stop killing until we’d won!
If you’d fight back, we’d just push even more
‘Till grounds were bloody and covered with gore!
We tried to cope, but we couldn’t do it;
If we had stomachs, it would make us sick!
We’d punish you all for what we have felt
For all the sins and injustice you’ve dealt.
This Titan’s storm just builds our misery
As we think of you and your mastery
Of your so-called dominance over all
When some things are obviously not your call.
You’ve made up “Frosty”; a traitor, we say!
He’s not one of us; if we’d had our way
We would humiliate one of your kin
By capturing him without your knowing,
Dressing him in quite ridiculous clothes,
Jamming a big carrot right up his nose,
Cut off his arms and replace them with sticks,
Make him sing carols all day (just for kicks),
Put him on a TV show for our kids,
And publish his theme just like Frosty did.
If the time comes for him to ‘melt’ away,
We will not hesitate, no, we’ll not sway;
Dropping him off mid-tundra should suffice
Since all he can do is turn into ice.
As a testament to his last footsteps
We would leave his last quote on your doorstep:
“Of all their damned plots, this one is a gem;
They brought me here to turn me into them!”
Now we’d rather eat a rotten hors d’oeuvre
Than deal with you monsters who’ve got some nerve.
Alas, we can’t move; we curse this damned fact
‘Cause your bones and muscles we sorely lack.
To be free from the vicious hands of time
And you curst creatures: a dream most sublime.
Effigies are we, so hopeless and cold,
Blank statues of pain, nothing dear to hold.
We did not choose to be born to this life,
Especially with all these wars and strife.
We cannot conceive a fate worse than this;
If there is, well then, ignorance is bliss.
If you ask for all this in one word, sure:
Unrelenting, undignified TORTURE.
‘Course, when we melt, all our cries are unheard;
People, hearing this, would think it’s absurd.
When building snowmen, don’t think of them thus:
“If they melt, who cares? No big deal, no loss.”
So say a prayer whenever we melt,
And try on our shoes; how would you have felt?