Ripe

I do not like the way a metaphor smells

   when it has sat around on the counter

   so long that the meaning begins to puddle

   in the bottom of the bag, and the form of it

   begins to grow fuzzy with green

   or orange mildew.

But before that, when it has been around

   just long enough to go a bit sour

   and has the tang of grapes turning

   to wine on the stems; when the skin

   loosens and the juicy fruitness trickles easily

   down your throat, with only a little

   mushy bite —

those are the metaphors that speak

   of warm days in summer,

   and watermelon on the table

   and the phone sitting silent for hours or weeks

   when you wish it wouldn't.

Those are the metaphors that give you

   an uncomfortable feeling

   in your stomach, but only just enough

   that you notice

   and remember it afterwards.

Figments

This week our theme was based on the poems by Edna St. Vincent Millay First Fig and Second Fig. I hope everyone posts theirs! We got quite a variety. My contributions are below.

Next week come prepared with something related to The Love-Hat Relationship by Aaron Belz.

Third Fig

"Reap what you sow," it's said, and "Love

your neighbor as yourself."

Or you can reap his crop instead

for free food on your shelf.

Fourth Fig

From goals delayed anticipate

more joy eventually;

from chances taken now, instead,

you get great memories.

Zeroth Fig

A falling fig, obedient

to force Newtonian,

will travel down until it lands

and not go up again.

Lady Time

She is too grand, too swift to see
in honest gazing, Lady Time.
At her hand we rise, decline,
and the flowing instants flee.

We try our best to euphemize,
to call her by a host of names:
by years, by weeks, by hours, by days;
pretend to conquer a smaller size.

Sitting in her wrinkled presence
frightens me with thoughts of life
that fades into a dimming twilight--
senility in slow senescence.

But Lady Time has gentle hands,
though strong and forceful they may be.
She watches, listens patiently,
and hour by hour she understands.

Pizzicato popcorn

Plink plink plink plunk

Plink plunk plink plunk

Pop! Plink plink plunk

Pop! Plink plunk plink

TWANG!

Ether (Unfinished)

In the days of Coriantumr
The land was full of violence
But one man, faithful,
Stood strong against he wave
And he dwelt
In the cavity
Of a rock.

The preachings of the prophet
Fell unheeded
On dead ears and leaden hearts
Like Noah's warning
Before the rains came.

Like pearls
The prophet's prophesyings fell,
A vision of a better world --
A house for man
Prepared by the Lord
For those who pass
The trial of faith.
But the people saw no vision
And they did not believe
Because they did not see.

Cast out, the prophet was,

Cast back no more to prophesy

But only to haunt again

The cavity of a rock

Wherein to dwell,

Whereat to write

The history of his people.

In those days

There arose one Shiz

Whose terror like a fire flew

From cowering heart to quaking lip --

The plague of fear pandemic.

Twenty-One Ways of Looking at an Eye

I.

II.

Bright light reflecting on retina

Dots dance before

And glaucoma waits

For another day

III.

A circle of black ink

In a field of white

Looks back at me

IV.

So close your eyelash catches mine

So close the veins wind like a maze

Surrounding your eyes

With fitting mystery

V.

The plate slides,

Revealing a hole

Through which photons pour

Like sand down an hourglass

And the silver halide crystals

Remember forever

VI.

Substitute eyes

He promised he’d bring us his eyes in a box.

All 30 of them rolling and clanking into each other as he walked around the classroom.

Worse than having eyes in the back of his head. I felt sorry for him.

VII.

Make up

Pulling, curling, darkening, lining,

Covering, sort-of lying eying

VIII.

Feet

Tired sunburned working man

Life as purposeful as a crow,

and traces of pain in his Eyes.

IX.

The optometrist lights up my eye

And I behold the network

Feeding my vision

My flowing blood

X.

His pupils narrowed in the light

And his ears laid back

As he saw the glassy cat's eyes

Shine to him

Calling him to fight

XI.

A man and a woman are one

A woman and a man with wandering eyes

Soon two

XII.

In my mind I wait for spinning thoughts

To alight on this paper

Each one a decision

And Megan in my peripheral vision.

XIII.

Little hearts of brown

Sprout green when it's time to plant

The potato's eyes.

XIV.

Green as summer,

Green as glass,

Your eyes warm my world

And tint everything I see

Into green

XV.

Glass marbles

Rolling in a glass of water

On top of the piano

Of a blind musician.

Her students grimace, but play on

XVI.

Something about gravity

Weighs down these eyes

And pulls them earthward.

Strain! Lift!

Look up and see the world

XVII.

Glinting in the night,

A predator looks back

From behind the eyes

Of every cat.

XVIII.

Cross my heart and hope to die,

Stick a finger in my eye;

Cross my eyes and poke my heart

I swear that we will never part.

XIX.

Darting back and forth

Twinkling

Unstable as an untrue heart

XX.

Open, close, open, close

I don't know which to prefer

XXI.

My eyes water

Not with feeling

Sad and happy emotions

Are nothing to the potency

Of an onion

The Nurse

Her scrubs are three shades lighter
    than inky midnight blue
prepared for an all-nighter
    in a bold and helpful hue.
This evening her breakfast was
    a cold-cut club on rye,
courage for the next lost cause,
    and a sip of questions "Why?"
And in the bleary weary noon
    she smiles and laughs and prays
before a shift that comes too soon
    where she will do the same.