Such Is Snow

Such is the snow
so white that it burns your hands
your burnt white hands in a shroud
a silver shawl for witches
while wizards dance:
they like all kinds of dancing
if flakes keep silently falling
making them scream loud screams
of joy as wild as nature
They keep dancing so silently
like furtive terrorists
disturbing traffic& all kinds of transport
Such is snow: its anti-social behaviour
will not be punished
children's merriness will not be punished
While white witches burn
And dark wizards scream:
a silver coffin for automobiles
disturbing traffic& all kinds of transport
but using your feet under a sky

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poem by Amparo Perez Arrospide
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Ballad with Queen, Horse and Beyond

God and the Queen of Snowland
met a long long time ago
when Snowland did not exist
when there was no King no Lords
but they were all inside God
like a dream born from a dream
like stardust dropping on stardust

What can I do for you, M'dam? –asked God,
knowing too well
that kingdoms vanish and melt
as gods do, as god himself
was but the tune of a ballad.

“There is no God without a Queen
There is no Queen without a Horse
There is no Horse without a Field
Give me green fields from beyond
and God I will make thee a Lord.

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poem by Amparo Perez Arrospide
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Rags

“The buried glaciers make sense as preserved fragments from an ice age millions of years ago. On Earth, such buried glacial ice in Antarctica preserves the record of traces of ancient organisms and past climate history.'

-Their grandchildren, you mean, those ancient organisms,
They, the impersonality of pronouns
A nonchalant passive voice)
Snoopers, übercontrol, but the buried glaciers remain
And glacial ice keeps the traces of ancient history

- lying in the Hellas Basin region of Mars's southern hemisphere

the Moguls of Babylon
as frozen fragments from an ice age millions of years ago

they might symbolize something that one is already aware of
They stretch for dozens of miles from edges of mountains or cliffs,
Not a very clear picture, buried under rock debris, apparently,

Draw the Three of Swords, they learnt how to divert arrows of hate
Under cover of the night
a friendly ghost from friendly fire

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poem by Amparo Perez Arrospide
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