The Marriage of Metaphor and Cliché

 

She started to say, don’t go out the Emily Dickinson way, just sitting there in your room all day, but she thought better of it and went on her way, leaves, he said are just like disease, that is they fall on my summer in fall, just as I take for granted summers leaves, rot the grass walnut stile, Walt Whitman’s unpublished rhymed bile. But time, alas, what about time? She said, and he knew her mind, I’ll just chop wood as time comes to call, and complain about nothing as his drunken axe falls.

But why is his axe drunken, and who says times a “he”? Surly time is a woman and always shall be, your metaphor is a thief stealing blood from a tree.

Trees have no blood, but sap and wood, times is still an enemy doing none of us good.  I look at seasons from this room like I should. My days are black and white and sometimes their red, but only that is when I imagine myself dead.

Why is time drunken? She said like she didn’t know, he said all you must do is look at the snow; its patterns, its coldness, its staggering blow, she said I don’t believe you- your time is grow.

Grow to what? In this terrible place, of terrible language, and riming disgrace. English poetry should not rime, look at Longfellow, if they read him at all its to make fun of his times.

You still should not stay in this black and white room. It’s floors are made of sadness, and its walls made of doom. Your life is made to live, not die by bad rhyme.  Your metaphors finished, he said and your cliche is a crime.

But I love you although you seem to depose, the joy of this life, and the words of the wise.  What is wisdom? He replied, but she could find the passion in his haunted eyes.  Why wisdom is getting out of this room,  forgetting the past, and denying the tomb. Marrying, having babies, helping them grow, remembering the springtime, and forsaking the snow.

I love you eternally he said, though eternity finds, but hours of darkness, and the payment of time. Why hate life because of death? She said a Robert Frost bliss, don’t despise the springtime because of winters cold kiss.

Reviews

[Ace Of Hearts]

Very nice. Thank you for sharing