Friday, January 14, 2011
Friday
Today we are going to start reading the metaphysical poets (after a few notes). The metaphysical poets liked to make startling connections in their poetry using very descriptive metaphors called poetic conceits. For example, love is compared to a compass (the kind you use in math to draw circles). I would like you to come up with three metaphors (comparing two items without using like, as, or than) and use them in a poem. Good luck!
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I do not know if this is right.
ReplyDeleteMy life is a bowl and I am the fish, but my water is stale and I am not gold
I am trapped in this orb, I am lost in this dish and I'm lonely and frightened and cold
My bowl is small, it's bare and blank and old and bland; lukewarm
I am tired of its temperature, I am sickened by its form
I wonder if my glass could break like tiny shards of diamond rain
would the freedom liberate or kill me? would the air enlarge or ebb my pain?
I am shrouded in a solitude that is cold and harsh and true
Its echo almost deafens me and clings to all I do
Where would I be, where could I be if I were not confined?
without these walls, without this glass I would be free and undefined
My bowl is harsh and mocking, it lets me see the other side
where the grass just might be greener, where the space is deep and wide
Wide enough to never end and deep enough to drown
so much to see, so much to be, and so much to be found
I didn't choose this mortal prison, I did not pick my fate
I didn't ask to feel so lonely and I do not want to wait
I cannot wait much longer for a purpose or a friend
I just want to finally be somewhere where this emptiness can end
My life is a bowl and I am the fish but my water is stale and I am not gold
I am trapped in this orb, I am lost in this dish and I'm lonely and frightened and cold
The universe is the endless library of my imagination.
ReplyDeleteI could do anything if I could just get off the ground.
The sky is the boundary of my existence and holds me where I am.
The puffy clouds are the disguise to its darkened face.
The stars are the signal fires of the others who are thinking the same idea.
When will we meet? Where will it be? And who is out there waiting for me?
This is the end of the line
ReplyDeleteAnother day in this nightmare
My head is aching
Never been this scared before
Spinning with the world in circles
Found yet another dead end
So close, yet so far away
Seem to always find disappointment
Not even sure where I am going
Just running for my freedom
Trying not to lose my head
Waking up somewhere very strange
Tearing me apart
I’ve been lost so many days
Tired of waking up here alone
In this harsh storm of madness
But this is the beginning
Simply the beginning of the end
When you think all is already gone
There’s light at the tunnel’s end
Just hold your breath ‘til it’s over
Life is its own labyrinth
I am a tight knot, wound around the finger of my roots.
ReplyDeleteI cannot leave, nor will I ever, but now my seeded blooms, and loops are becoming loose.
Looser every day,
The more I pull on each end, the more I long to stay.
My worries become humid, every day I am here,
My heartache does not cease, my limps do not become strong
I am alone, and have fear for what is to come when I am gone.
But then, I felt a heartbeat,
And I held my finger to the pulse,
Then I would be okay, I would be so,
Just knowing, that outside my window,
The world continues, and if I needed, I could go outside
If I needed, I could sit on a bench and watch people pass by
If I needed, I would go, I would have somewhere to turn to
If I needed, I could return to the stillness, to the solitude.
I am a tight knot, but my heart will forever beat
As I slid down the tunnel, I wove my roots deep.
My life is an hourglass.
ReplyDeleteIt's only a matter of time
Until my wounds heal.
It's just a matter of time
Before I can feel.
I wake up every morning
And he's the first thought in my mind.
And when I go to bed
Thoughts of being with him flood through my head.
I tell myself, "It's only a matter of time."
I can get through this.
It's tough being alone
But he's worth the wait.
This is why my life is an hourglass.
I wait. And wait.
I hope the time will quickly pass
So I can be with him; it's our fate.
As I wait patiently for him to come home,
I wish he would hurry.
It's cold and lonely
Here in this winter flurry,
With no one to talk to
Or cuddle up next to.
I miss him so much
I miss his loving touch.
Please come home to me
As soon as you can, I plea.