Tag Archives: metaphor

Jam Jars

Imagine if Death were a child,
A curious collector of things,
Of the fireflies flickering deep in our souls,
Kept in jam jars with polka dot trims.

Indexed, and ordered, and filed,
An exquisite, unparalleled trove,
An existential menagerie, if you will,
Indiscriminate, eclectic, and bold.

And the stories that she would amass,
Vast tomes atop dust laden shelves,
The penned trinkets and temporal titbits of man,
Bedtime tales of creation itself.

There would be quiet, unassuming ones, ones driven by love,
There would be ones that stood out from the rest,
There would be tragic ones, ones that would go forever unsung,
But the simple, honest ones would be the best.

Every jar, every soul, every book, every tale,
An epitaph for the universe known,
Her museum a beacon for those passing over,
Calling them, guiding them home.

Imagine if Death were a child,
She’d be lonely, she’d be lost and afraid,
But as she toed through the interminable dark after life,
Her jam jars would light up her way.

Unchained

Mr Organ Grinder,
Please discard your bait,
I will no longer dine
Upon you hate,
Your slurs
disguised as playfulness
serve only to fat my
stubbornness,
Heels dug in,
Now listen well;
You do not own
this coloured girl,
I will not dance,
No sir,
Not today,
And your ignorance
is in my way,
If you want a monkey
for a toy,
Find another sucker
to employ,
Now I suggest you up
and take your leave,
For
I
have some
greatness
to achieve.

The Wolf at the Door

The wolf is at the door,
There’s no corner for to hide,
Its claws are carving rage
into the splintered wood outside.

And I could not save my grandma,
She died frozen to her seat,
For the wolf feeds on the old
who can no longer pay for heat.

And I cannot find a lumberjack,
A trade that’s now in deficit,
For the wolf made sure the local one
had to claim state benefits.

So now I’m in trouble too,
And I did the best I could,
But none will give employment
to the poor girl in the hood.

So the wolf is at the door,
And I’m going to let him in,
What good is fighting when the truth
is that the wolf will always win?

This poem was inspired by the Pooky’s Poems prompt from yesterday, which was to write a modern take on a traditional fairy tale. I went for a bit of a metaphorical interpretation.