Canto CXXX

The grandiose simile is an intruder,
not like an intruder, it is one—
no interruption becomes any ruder

than talk of tigers moping in the sun
or any other beast of heraldry
when all the poem needs for cogs to turn

is simply to recall the scenery
the soul or soulless thing reposed within.
The dog walked down the road like nothing, see?

The sunburn striped the caged sunbather’s skin
while all the tigers in their zoos and forests
continued to get on with their own thing

in their own unconnected circumstances.


1 Comment (+add yours?)

  1. peter litton
    Jan 08, 2012 @ 14:10:45

    Art should make us think, it should open up pathways in our minds.
    Poetry is the art of words.
    So… I’m thinking about the difference between simile and metaphor.
    Simile is like being hit by a Big Red London Bus…obvious and bloody painful.
    Whilst, metaphor is like Zen “satori”…a subtle and sudden understanding.


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