Image and Metaphor
What is image ?
Image is closely tied to the experience of the five senses. When people think of imagery they typically assume that it is visual but this is not true. Images in poetry can be vivid descriptions of the smells in a kitchen, feel of a dog's fur, taste of a delicious pasta salad, sounds on the train, or an image of the landscape you saw. Images help to put your audience directly in the scene that you are setting so that they can relate to poems even better.
What is metaphor ?
Metaphor is a comparison between two unlike things (not using the words "like" or "as" - then they become simile's). There are many different ways to use metaphor within a poem but a metaphor can simply be thought of as a replacement image for a simple simple or cliche one. Instead of "The child ran through the snow" a poet could say "The child was a bullet darting through the snow." The possibilities are endless.
My Metaphor Poem
The Teenage Years
The teenage years are...
kiss that girl, hit that joint, take that shot,
scream
smash that bottle, skip that class, fuck that noise
if you get punished you’re a martyr
There is only here and now
the past and future don’t exist
full throttle, 100%, red race car explosion at 190 MPH
Cannons are firing, I think I’m in a battlefield
There are bullets firing everywhere
and there’s snow and words like confetti
whizzing all around my head coming in every direction
The teenage years are a screaming electric guitar solo
distorted,
nasty,
and mean
Everyone knows
it’s better to burn out
than to fade away
The teenage years are...
kiss that girl, hit that joint, take that shot,
scream
smash that bottle, skip that class, fuck that noise
if you get punished you’re a martyr
There is only here and now
the past and future don’t exist
full throttle, 100%, red race car explosion at 190 MPH
Cannons are firing, I think I’m in a battlefield
There are bullets firing everywhere
and there’s snow and words like confetti
whizzing all around my head coming in every direction
The teenage years are a screaming electric guitar solo
distorted,
nasty,
and mean
Everyone knows
it’s better to burn out
than to fade away
My Imagery Poem
September
September, the time of year when days
begin to grow shorter, and nights
begin to grow colder as the summer turns to autumn
and the dead leaves, red, yellow, and golden brown, and crisp
as if they’d been baked in the oven a bit too long,
delicately float down to the ground.
It was about a week into the school year,
a brand new school year,
5th grade,
I was ten.
Even before the announcement over the intercom that we would be having
a half day today,
we had all gotten out of our seats and walked over to the window
to contemplate what the enormous cloud of black smoke could be coming from.
We all concluded that there must have been a fire.
I guess technically we were right.
During lunch my Mom picked me and my brother up
and brought us to our babysitters’ so she could go back to work.
My biggest question at the time was,
“Why is Nickelodeon playing the news right now? I wanna watch Spongebob!”
I was ten.
The next day while lined up before school started, our entire
5th grade class broke into full out chant,
“Kill Bill Laden!” “Kill Bill Laden!” “Kill Bill Laden!”
Our teacher laughed and quelled the ensuing riot.
We were ten.
Later, another 10 year old friend commented on the irony
that those in distress were dialing
today’s date on their phones for help.
Ironic how Bin Laden chose September of all months,
the time of year when days
begin to grow shorter, and nights
begin to grow colder as the summer turns to autumn.
Ironic how Bin Laden was
the gust of wind that shook the tree,
causing so many leaves to fall from their branches
before they had died,
before they had turned red, yellow, or golden brown and crisp
as though they’d been baked in the oven a bit too long.
And when they jumped from the towers, how they delicately floated down to the ground
like autumn leaves
on that early September morning.
September, the time of year when days
begin to grow shorter, and nights
begin to grow colder as the summer turns to autumn
and the dead leaves, red, yellow, and golden brown, and crisp
as if they’d been baked in the oven a bit too long,
delicately float down to the ground.
It was about a week into the school year,
a brand new school year,
5th grade,
I was ten.
Even before the announcement over the intercom that we would be having
a half day today,
we had all gotten out of our seats and walked over to the window
to contemplate what the enormous cloud of black smoke could be coming from.
We all concluded that there must have been a fire.
I guess technically we were right.
During lunch my Mom picked me and my brother up
and brought us to our babysitters’ so she could go back to work.
My biggest question at the time was,
“Why is Nickelodeon playing the news right now? I wanna watch Spongebob!”
I was ten.
The next day while lined up before school started, our entire
5th grade class broke into full out chant,
“Kill Bill Laden!” “Kill Bill Laden!” “Kill Bill Laden!”
Our teacher laughed and quelled the ensuing riot.
We were ten.
Later, another 10 year old friend commented on the irony
that those in distress were dialing
today’s date on their phones for help.
Ironic how Bin Laden chose September of all months,
the time of year when days
begin to grow shorter, and nights
begin to grow colder as the summer turns to autumn.
Ironic how Bin Laden was
the gust of wind that shook the tree,
causing so many leaves to fall from their branches
before they had died,
before they had turned red, yellow, or golden brown and crisp
as though they’d been baked in the oven a bit too long.
And when they jumped from the towers, how they delicately floated down to the ground
like autumn leaves
on that early September morning.
Explanations
"The Teenage Years" is a summation of all of the beliefs and attitudes of those within their teenage years. I tried to get a grasp of the experimentation and reckless abandon that many rebellious teenagers tend to feel. It is a developing time and a time for discovery and experimentation but in this poem I try to expose how that attitude can sometimes be taken too far by closing with a lyric from the great Neil Young, "It's better to burn out than to fade away." I tried to keep the metaphors and imagery used in this poem in line with those that are present in the lives of teenager's with this type of attitude - race cars, broken bottles, and screaming electric guitar solos.
The imagery poem, "September" uses the images leaves falling and others associated with the autumn season to retell the story of my experience with September 11th. All of the anecdotes within the piece are true and it is very strange thinking back to the time of when it happened. As a ten year old I could not grasp the incredible impact that the event would have on the United States and the world for that matter. I do recall seeing the smoke from our classroom window. I grew up in Cranford, New Jersey just 20 miles away from the World Trade Center and I do recall several events from the day and proceeding week after. In the poem I attempted to use the gentle imagery of nature, the change of seasons, and falling leaves to retell the tragic story.
The imagery poem, "September" uses the images leaves falling and others associated with the autumn season to retell the story of my experience with September 11th. All of the anecdotes within the piece are true and it is very strange thinking back to the time of when it happened. As a ten year old I could not grasp the incredible impact that the event would have on the United States and the world for that matter. I do recall seeing the smoke from our classroom window. I grew up in Cranford, New Jersey just 20 miles away from the World Trade Center and I do recall several events from the day and proceeding week after. In the poem I attempted to use the gentle imagery of nature, the change of seasons, and falling leaves to retell the tragic story.