Mundane Blues
Perhaps it won't rain bullets
But shiny silver pins
And each one would fall
Like ice on our skins.
Just a little electric pain
When a spark shimmers blue.
Just a pinch across the grain
Of our cold finger tips.
Perhaps it would not be
Like being set alight.
Perhaps it would just be
A dim cloudy night.
@ListeningRoses56 I really like how this poem captures that quiet, almost resigned feeling of a grey, dull day. The idea of rain not being bullets but "shiny silver pins" is a nice twist – it’s like the world’s not quite harsh, but still gives you a little sting. It captures that feeling of discomfort, like the world’s just a bit too sharp, but not in an obvious way – more like a dull, constant drizzle that wears you down. The "electric pain" and cold fingertips hit just right, like those little moments of unease that sneak up on you in the middle of a grey, miserable day. It’s got a quiet beauty to it, almost like a subtle reflection on the everyday struggle with the weather – and life in general. Lovely work!
@azurePond thank you so much! I am very encouraged by all the attention to details I put in. I also love all of your work. You write so well.
Thank you @ListeningRoses56 <3
@ListeningRoses56
I very much enjoyed reading your piece. The violence of the metaphors juxtaposition with the diminutive verbs and hypothetical rhetoric questions in a way that is very appealing.
I liked the way we are lulled by such softened words and then jarred slightly by the dropping of the rhyming scheme on the second stanza, making us feel that pinch across the grain, before gently letting us drift back into the lulling familiarity of the ABAB scheme.
Very nice. I look forward to further pieces from you.
@BastionKnight you get it! You read through all of the technique and I am glad I could share my work here. Very heartening. Lovely comment.
