February 27, 2004

  • Are You Game? 



    Okay, all you fellow non-poets out there (my good poet friends can play too, but you aren't allowed to laugh at the rest of us) here's the challenge: 


    Write a poetic metaphor or simile.  Tell me what you are and give me a sense of how you feel about it.


    There are no rules about format (this is where the poets aren't allowed to laugh).


    Here's mine:





    I am ice cream

    coned

    mint, maybe with flinted chocolate

    dripping

    sodden

    sickly sweet

     


    ~~~or maybe~~~





    I am the river

    slate-grey

    gurgling under -road

    swirling trash

    against  girders


     


    And yep, I know you can do better!

Comments (17)

  • I am the pot
    full of dried-out macaroni,
    wizened and lumpy,
    distastefully past my prime
    yet strangely compelling
    in my cheesiness.

  • I am
    an inherited down pillow
    lumpy and musty and grey inside
    tired and comforting,
    familiar and worn.
    Reminding you of your grandmother,
    practical,
    yet never used.

  • I am a photograph

    of a reflection

    of myself

    pointing at a mirror.

    You see me looking

    Backward and forward

    At the same time

    Wry with irony.

  • I am a lock
    unopened
    holding back mysteries
    allowing only
    a sliver of a glimpse
    at what's on the other side

  • I am like the the glass of iced tea in the sun, Sweating under the heat, but refreshing when you drink me in.                                                    You taste my flavor, strong and bitter.                You sit me down, and wonder if a sweeter drink might quench your thirst better,                                  But alas, you take another drink, just to ponder it once more, and now you are hooked.

  • MyKi Haiku...

    letters into words
    writing my own history
    so I don't forget 

  • rules were flexible
    that's why i wrote it that way
    "I am" -- haiku style

  • I am the fire hydrant,

    Patiently waiting

    as each dog stops by.

  • okay, I'll try to follow the directions better...

    I am the story
    written on the page
    sincere without apology
    I am 20/20 hindsight
    of bespectacled memory
    of the girl I used to be

    (I need to work on it.)

  • I am that which overflows outside the box:
    The differentness:
    that which partly fits in some spaces,
    but won't ever fully fit anywhere:
    That which pops out of one side of the box  
    when you push it down into the other.
    No lid will close over me,
    No box will fully contain me.
    And this is good.
    (Most of the time.)

  • i am the hand regulating

    the heat flow...

    speculating

    on why winter's slow

    to leave our snowwhite shores.

  • I am a book

    mysterious mystery

    opened

    I travel to places imagined

    Fantastic fantasy

  • (wow, wonderful commments here)

    me?

    i am the slow movement
    of an unfinished symphony

    deciding if i need one more
    note, or the sudden silence
    is part of me after all

  • I am the grass - unnoticed but deep green, teeming with complex life,
    holding up the sky and down the earth,
    subject to death by fire,
    blown by wind,
    soddened by water,
    and I persist.

  • I am a memory box

    pages of words...
       some smeared by tears,
           most overflowing with hope and fears
    photographs...
       captured with a *click*
            a smile,
                a hug,
                   wide-eyed wonder
    trinkets...
        CrackerJack prizes
            ticket stubs
                satin ribbons

    a bottomless cache of dreams
         past
            present
               future

    are safe with me...

  • I am The malfunctioning wardrobe
    Fragile fame ripped away
    Tossed aside, forgotten
    Raised again to ridicule
    Scapegoat for the king and queen

  • I am a seed in the cold dark winter ground, newly cracked open by a different ray of light and uncurling my life toward the surface.   

    (I didn't get around on Friday, so I just saw this and I'm lifting the metaphor from the blog I wrote earlier.)

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