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About This Author
Guten tag! My name is Jessica and I'm 19 years old. I obviously love to write; I have been writing since I was six years old, but I became an avid writer in sixth grade. I also love listening to music and studying history. I am obsessed with Civil War, World War II, Russian, Romanov, German, and Norweigan history. I listen to mostly metal, some country, and grunge.
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See Something New #979950 added April 1, 2020 at 6:03pm
Restrictions: None
My Skin is a Canvas
And now for our (optional) prompt, which also deals with metaphors! Forrest Gump famously said that “life is like a box of chocolates.” And there are any number of poems out there that compare or equate the speaker’s life with a specific object. (For example, this poem of Emily Dickinson’s). Today, however, I’d like to challenge you to write a self-portrait poem in which you make a specific action a metaphor for your life – one that typically isn’t done all that often, or only in specific circumstances. For example, bowling, or shopping for socks, or shoveling snow, or teaching a child to tie its shoes.
My skin - as white as snow,
laid out - freshly fallen,
before the artist.
He traces - with the blackest of night
the design I carefully thought of,
Wraith will be with me, til death do us part;
water cascades down my rib, as cold as night-
"have a look! See if this works!"
In front of the mirror - eyes watching my soul,
I smile and exclaim, happy tears of joy;
art washes away from the soul
the dust of everyday life.
Water wiped away - much like tears,
rubbing alcohol - clean canvas.
Chaos is a friend of mine,
machines whirl and whir;
a pinch - take the pen to paper,
filled with the breathings of my heart-
deep breath in, deep breath out,
a pinching so pleasurable.
Out before me, the birds fly,
music of the buzzing and whirring,
gentle hands working the canvas;
a temporary numbness,
shock or excitement - maybe a bit of both.
The design - dark as night-
my magnum opus!
The stain on fresh snow,
my heart flutters.
Your very flesh shall be a great poem,
through trials and tribulations;
til death do us part,
Wraith, my first love,
my first piece of ink
on an ever filling canvas. |
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