Silent Witness Train

A train of silent women rumbles through the night.
They do not speak. They do not move. They stare ahead
like statues waiting for museum staff to write
"A train of silent women rumbles through the night"
upon a plinth, around a painting's frame. They might
be ghosts. They might be refugees. They might be dead
or lost in space-time. Child or crone or maidenhead,
they do not speak. They do not move. They stare ahead
like eyeless skulls that watch from shadows under beds.
Like every silent witness dead of love or fright,
they do not speak. They do not move. They stare ahead,
the train of silent women rumbling through the night.

Collection available! Knocking from Inside

Dazzling Darts

The dazzling dart of dragonflies
across the water-shimmer makes
the water shiver in my eyes.
The dazzling dart of dragonflies
and ripple-sparkle that replies
across the shining summer lakes—
a dazzling dart! A dragon flies
across the shimmer water makes.

Across the shimmer of the lake
the dazzling dart of dragonflies
draws edges that my heart could break
across. The shimmer of the lake
dim-silhouettes a firedrake
a ghost of water in my eyes.
Across the shimmer of the lake
the dazzling, darting dragon flies.

Collection available! Knocking from Inside

Simile and Metaphor: Greens and Blues

readwritepoem has a prompt this week to use similes and/or metaphors.

My first encounter with the distinction between these two important figures of speech was in the back pages of The Yearling, by Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings: a classic of children’s literature that remains unfaded by time. This particular edition was meant for educational use and each chapter was accompanied by a set of lessons. I don’t remember most of them, but I remember the following:

He is like an eagle in flight (simile)
He is an eagle in flight (metaphor)

This example would make you think that the only difference between a metaphor and a simile is the presence or absence of the word “like”. But a look at the dictionary definitions suggests that there’s more to it.

Simile: a figure of speech comparing two unlike things that is often introduced by like or as (as in cheeks like roses)

Metaphor 1: a figure of speech in which a word or phrase literally denoting one kind of object or idea is used in place of another to suggest a likeness or analogy between them (as in drowning in money); broadly : figurative language 2: an object, activity, or idea treated as a metaphor

(definitions from Merriam-Webster Online)

The definition of “metaphor” is quite a bit more involved. So are the uses of metaphors. I would call the eagle metaphor above both clumsy and rudimentary (understanding that it was simplified for school use). His imagination soars: his vision is keen: he is the master of the skies! That’s a metaphor.

I find I use metaphors more than similes. Partly this is due to the compactness of poetry. I’m often not willing to give up the space for that extra little word (“like”). Partly it’s that, as in the example above, metaphors seem to lend themselves much more to extension, to the kind of imaginative development that I like to see in poetry. I’ve written whole sonnets that turned on a single metaphor (“Rip-Tide”, for instance), but I can’t imagine writing a poem of that length turning on a simile. Maybe a triolet.

I want to dress myself in greens and blues
like forest waterfalls or peacock tails
that sweep and shimmer with the vivid hues
I want to dress myself in. Greens and blues
are not what fashion counselors would choose
for me. Who cares? It’s not the white of sails
I want. I’ll dress myself in greens and blues
like forest waterfalls or peacock tails.

The etymology of “metaphor” is interesting. It comes (via Middle English, Middle French, and Latin) from Greek metapherein, to transfer. Transfer what? Meaning, apparently, from place to place or from idea to idea or from one image to another. One of the roots of metapherein is pherein, to bear. So we have a metaphor as something that carries meanings from words where they usually live to words where they don’t usually live.

I want to dress myself in peacock tails
and forest waterfalls, all greens and blues.
It isn’t ocean foam or snowy sails
I want to dress myself in. Peacock tails
and opal nuggets drawn from Aussie shales:
they sweep and shimmer with the vivid hues
I want. I’ll dress myself in peacock tails
and forest waterfalls, all greens and blues.


Collection available! Knocking from Inside

On the Esplanade, Again

I spend a lot of time here.


The river keeps on flowing gently north, below.
Four lanes of freeway traffic rumble south, above.
Bikers, runners, skaters-- all are on the go
as the river keeps on flowing gently north, below.
I sit here on this bench and watch the human show.
How many of these folks have any time for love?
Yet river and freeway fit like hand and glove.
The lanes of freeway traffic, rumbling south above
The lifeblood of the living city that I love--
Left space here for a hedge of wild rose to grow.
Four lanes of freeway traffic rumble south, above.
The river keeps on flowing gently north, below.

Fuel, Heat and Air

This one keeps becoming more concise...


Fire comes from fuel, heat and air,
Inspiration, effort and ability
are the three legs beneath the artist's chair.
As fire comes from fuel, heat and air,
so comes art from ideas, talent, care.
That's all there is to creativity.
The artist contributes but one of three--
of inspiration, effort, and ability--
the others come from you know where, for free.
So if you're stuck on something, don't despair.
Inspiration, effort and ability
Fire comes from fuel, heat and air.