Metaphors and Paradoxes: A Poem

 

Metaphors and Paradoxes

 

She was thirteen when she became the artist of imagery, metaphors and Surrealism,
Her exercise books filled with irregular verbs and Vincent Van Gogh’s Impressionism.
The stories of hopscotch and tangled hair, frangipani flowers in coke bottles,
Bubbling effervescence, dysfunctional family gatherings, reminiscent feuds, and sunken fossils.
The realms where dreams were a special pardon,
Yet whispers in banned libraries and undoing stories in forbidden gardens.

 

High school stories was a barter system of fears and dreams into the magic shop,
An angel’s laboratory but the devil’s workshop.
Vietnam War notes in shorthand, electronic structures in Chemistry notebooks, William Blake’s lost poetry,
Where girls were taught weight-diet graphs and 36-24-36 before boys even started learning their Trigonometry.

 

Where students wished to be Times New Roman font with the elegance of faeries,
Yet they were pixies licking milk and honey and Comic San Ms notes under the tables of libraries.
The ferrous liquid in their blood and flesh the colour of a thousand rose quartz,
 Yet dialling suicide helpline numbers instead of trunk calls to Hogwarts.
Origami into cages, alarms into lullabies, feathers of dreamcatcher veiled in dust,
A broken mixtape repeating Lumineers’s Cleopatra, a claustrophobic wanderlust.

 

She was sixteen when she became the art of metaphors and paradoxes,
Writing about stamp collection of memories inside the Roman cigarette boxes.
She was golden paper planes in a dark room like seesaws swinging in the backstage of Town Hall,
Her hands’ Indian famines, eyes’ African droughts, minute and second hands waltzing in a masquerade ball.

 

Her smile, god, her smile was a Dark Triad heroine disguised as Joan of Arc with armours and shields,
Flames of lithium chloride in strawberry fields.
Pomegranate stains on the knife of her self-harming best friend by the bedside,
A poetic epitaph of Julius Caesar scribbled by Brutus before he committed suicide.

 

You see, she was the artist and the art. Nobody told her that pain was not a metaphor for life.
So, when I told her, “Hope. Hope is a metaphor for life,”
She rolled her eyes and said, “It is not a metaphor. It is a paradox. Hope is the most addicting drug of all.”
It has been two years since I last saw her, she now lives in the hallways of my mind.
Inhaling. Exhaling. Surviving and whispering “I am fine.”

 

But tonight, I was inhaling the methane gas of pain and drinking a beer of social anxiety,
She whispered, “I hope. I hope. I hope.”
With beer stains on my lips and methane gas intoxicating my lungs, I closed my eyes.
Alas! Hope is the most addicting drug of all. ~ Enigma

 

Picture Credits: Pinterest.com

 Copyright © 2016-2019 Enigma. All rights reserved.

 

41 thoughts on “Metaphors and Paradoxes: A Poem

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    1. Hello! How are you doing? It has been ridiculously long since I post something on this rusty blog. I did change my writing style I guess but honestly, I have not written a piece of poetry since last June so, it delights me that you enjoyed this piece.

      Thank you so much for your words! It made my day.

      Enigma 🙂 ❤

      Like

      1. I am doing quite well. Even I have not been active in posting anything on my blog lately. And I’d rather disagree with you, I don’t think your blog can get rusty!

        Keep writing and getting better.
        ~🌸

        Liked by 1 person

      1. Well, I did read one you posted today and it is really a great abstract form of poetry on humanity. I feel I should experiment with literary styles these days. I hope you keep writing more stuff!

        Enigma 🙂 ❤

        Like

  1. Oh dear oh dear….
    You posted this masterpiece a few days ago and I’m only seeing this now! Stupid me 🤦‍♀️
    From being the artist to becoming the art itself, from the absolutely stunning and magical metaphors to the subtle truth of paradoxes, this poem right here is a journey through a fantasy society like ours.

    “The realms where dreams were a special pardon,” Dreams as a special pardon? Hope as a metaphor of life? Better yet, hope as a paradox, the most addicting drug? Dear me such amazing use of words. 😊

    Gosh can’t even begin to write my praise for you E. I’m at a loss of how to describe this wonderful read. The brilliant way with which you’ve hidden several underlying messages between the lines and the poem itself are a work of art.

    You, my friend are an artist and art itself. =)
    Absolutely loved this!
    -M 💜

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Gosh, M! This comment makes me so happy and I feel so flattered reading your feedback.

      Thank you so much for enjoying this piece. I owe my deep gratitude M for taking time out to read my works, it really means a lot to me. After all, we writers are just famished for validation.

      And I believe that all artists are art themselves and you M with those plethora of wonderful creations of poetry has legitimate my belief.

      Thank you for such a lovely comment.

      Enigma 🙂 ❤

      Liked by 1 person

  2. I can’t begin to describe how this touched me… I believed being inconsistent with practising your alchemy with words makes one rusty but I stand corrected and awe-struck! This was so amazing. Can’t wait for more…

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you so much for your appreciative words! I have read a few of your stories and poetry and it really delights me that you enjoyed the piece.

      And I believe that the alchemy of one’s words only becomes when one does not read.
      I do plead guilty with an insane writer’s block and dodging the lemons life was throwing me however, in my defence, stories and books were the only thing that saved me.

      Thank you for taking time out to read this little piece!

      Enigma 🙂 ❤

      Like

      1. I’m honored! A 16-year-old’s words were of such delight to you! You are so right, stories and books can get me through about anything…

        Thank you for reading through me.

        Vidhi

        Liked by 1 person

  3. GOOD LORD!!
    Is it really true that it’s been more than two months that you’ve posted and I didn’t even notice, like seriously, TWO WHOLE MONTHS!!😲🤯
    Please forgive me for being too very late to check out your blog!

    Now that I’ve noticed it, I’ve read it and I am dumbstruck at the sheer beauty of this masterpiece, I would love to say (or in fact, write😂😅) some words in your honour.

    *Inhales as much air as her lungs can afford and starts to blabber right away*

    I love metaphors and I know that you love them too.
    And this super-amazing piece is, in fact, like a sweater woven from the yarn made up of metaphors itself!! ( I am so sorry for that poor comparison, but couldn’t resist it!😂)
    Okay, maybe we can refine this one! This piece is like a dream catcher made up of the feathers of metaphors. (Oh, forget it! It’s not my day because I am terribly failing to choose the right words. Pardon me, please!😅)
    Moving on!
    This is incredible!!❤❤ A poem that you could possibly claim to be your best one.

    I don’t exactly know why but while reading the first paragraph, I thought the girl was you. Probably because:
    1) I know you love metaphors
    2) You’re surreal (pleasantly surreal😅)
    3) I read a conversation of yours with Megha where you were discussing the paintings by Van Gogh. (Potato eaters and starry night)

    Isn’t this girl somewhat similar to you?🤔 Am I right? Well, if I’m not, this day is probably the Official Day of Apologies by Riddhima!😅

    Oh God! Now is the time that I choose among these majestic lines for the ones I loved the most! So here we go:

    “The realms where dreams were a special pardon,
    Yet whispers in banned libraries and undoing stories in forbidden gardens.”
    You surprise me with every line that you’ve composed!!😍❤ I’m awe-stricken, seriously!! ‘Dreams were a special pardon’Like really, how did you come up with this one?

    “She was golden paper planes in a dark room like seesaws swinging in the backstage of Town Hall,
    Her hands’ Indian famines, eyes’ African droughts, minute and second hands waltzing in a masquerade ball.”
    I don’t know what to say! Everything seems to be so small to be worthy enough to praise your magnanimous talent!

    And lastly,
    “Hope. Hope is a metaphor for life,”
    She rolled her eyes and said, “It is not a metaphor. It is a paradox. Hope is the most addicting drug of all.”

    You, my dear friend, think of the best compliments you could give someone and say those to yourself because no matter how hard I try my words won’t be enough to show you how much I loved this!!❤

    Love ❤😘
    Riddhima

    PS: Hey are you on Pinterest?

    Liked by 1 person

    1. THIS IS…………. (Wait, I need to inhale a whole lot of air before I start typing)

      First of all, There is no need to say sorry for checking out this work after two months.
      Second of all, ARE YOU SERIOUS?????
      Third of all, ARE YOU SERIOUS?????? (Because let me tell you I am. The only time I am serious when I type it as S.E.R.I.O.U.S and not as S.I.R.I.U.S)

      Trust me, I am so overwhelmed right now that it is actually very difficult to process what is going on? So, pardon me, if I shower you with my rants.

      Honestly, the way you compared this piece with dreamcatchers and sweaters is aesthetically cute and there is no need to get embarrassed about it. (Also, because I am a writer and like all other writers I feed on validation) But in utmost honesty, thank you so much for enjoying this piece.

      When I wrote this poetry, A lot of my readers and friends told me it was a bit more complex than my other works and I agree in some way it is pretty complex.

      Initially, I was disappointed at this fact and was saddened that people did not get the everyday life references but after some time, I kind of made an habit to return to my blog just to re-read this piece (to feed my validation) and now, I realise that this poetry makes me smile because of all those metaphors.

      It is true that you will find some fragments of myself in this poetry but honestly, the work of any writer in this world reflects his/her thoughts, personality and the things which he/she likes.

      However, there are a lot many pieces of poetry in which you can see my phases and I do have a category called “Phases of an Enigma”. Those pieces somehow relate to me, in case you are inquisitive.

      But moreover, this poetry is about young adults and their life and all about hope. I did manage to string bits of my favourite references in-between. Hence, Riddhima, we are not celebrating the Official Day of Apologies.

      Thank you so, so much for loving my lines and words. I know I have said this too many times already but not breaking the convention and also because gratitude and love is all I feel, THANK YOU! I owe my deepest gratitude to you for supporting my blog and reading my pieces.

      I have been more offline lately only because I am striving to get some inspiration.

      I don’t need to think of the best compliments because you give me the best ones and never fail to bring a smile on my face when I read them. Thank you so much!

      Truckloads of Love ❤
      Enigma 🙂 ❤

      PS: I am on Pinterest because trust me, for a reader and writer and somebody who is into lot of fandoms, it is a paradise.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. I know you are way too serious because I DO KNOW that this is the only time that you’ve spelt serious as serious and not sirius!😊
        Indeed, this piece is quite different from the ones you’ve penned earlier. But my dear E, trust me when I say this, the more complex it gets, the more beautiful it becomes.❤🌸 Not because you change your writing style or use exquisite words but because it opens up more ways to your readers as they journey through your words. It opens up more ways of interpretation and relevance. So, there is ABSOLUTELY NO NEED TO BE SADDENED OR DISSAPOINTED(I don’t like those marks of sadness, AT ALL!!) But if you really do think there is only one way meant to be journeyed by your readers in order to understand your piece then give a little note at the end or the starting to allow your readers to understand your perspective.( That’s what I did in one of my posts- Subtle thoughts.)
        And you know, this might hurt at first, but criticism is what helps us grow. If our readers find it somewhat unpleasing , then probably it’s time for us to start a journey of acceptance, realization, understanding and FURTHERANCE!!😊
        I adore you not just for your write-ups but also for your friendship and love. You’ve brought me warmth and joy too!!

        Sending you a plethora of love and sunshine❤☀
        Riddhima 🤗❤
        PS: What is your username? In case you don’t want to share it here connect with me yourself! ( my username is Riddhima Nayyar. You’ll also find the link of my account on my blog.) Hope to see you there!!❤🤗

        Liked by 1 person

      2. I adore your friendship too! Thank you so much for your love and for encouraging me with your beautiful comments.

        Lots of Love,
        Enigma 🙂 ❤

        PS: I will surely check your pinterest feed.

        Liked by 1 person

  4. Enigma, your skill with rhyme schemes is impeccable! 🙂 I will be reading and re-reading this poem giving detailed feedback soon. I’m just commenting to let you know I’ll be commenting again lol! hope you don’t mind 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you so much! Rhyming schemes are my guilty pleasure, to be honest.

      Oh! I am glad you will be re-reading this little piece of mine and I absolutely don’t mind, after all we writers feed on validation.

      Thank you so much for taking your time out to read my work, I truly appreciate it.

      Enigma 🙂

      Like

  5. I feel this poem touches heavily on the passage of time. I feel hints of maturity in writing, thoughts, perspective, external interactions. Among other things 🙂

    I loved that “Sunken fossils” line, really accentuates the passage of time. Also how long lost the memories of whats being remembered are.

    “….Dreams were a special pardon” I may be off but is this some kind of innocence lost? Expectation vs reality and or inevitable actuality? Either way, loved how it was penned.

    “Yet dialling suicide helpline numbers instead of trunk calls to Hogwarts.
    Origami into cages, alarms into lullabies, feathers of dreamcatcher veiled in dust,
    A broken mixtape repeating Lumineers’s Cleopatra, a claustrophobic wanderlust.”

    This part gives me vibes of a degenerative process; a degenerative process that comes with growth perhaps. “Alarms into lullabies” gave me a rather dystopian feel, some kind of numbing. “Dreamcatcher veiled in dust” further elaborates on innocence lost, through life’s events. A touch of the absurdism philosophy within this. Beautiful, Enigma.

    The last verse makes me believe there is a part of yourself that eventually took a backseat to the ‘you’ now. An innocent ‘you’, a hopeful you, that still pushes the ideal narrative through whispers to the ‘you’ now. The ‘you’ now has become more keenly aware of the complications and nuances that come with life experience. That there is merit in hope. But hope alone is not absolute.

    Damn, enjoyed going through with this. I’ll be doing it more whenever I can 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Oh my goodness, Dante! My pieces have never had the honor to be so intricately and minutely analysed.

      This poem does symbolizes on the loss of innocence, the maturity against time. It is a piece that orbits around the process of growth and transformation of a person’s life, in some places it does indicate a degenerative process, like you very well assumed and observed.

      Honestly, it delights me that you could pinpoint some imagery and entwine it with the shades of themes in the poetry. The last verse does suggest in some ways that hope is not absolute.

      Thank you so very much for taking your time out to read this piece! I am truly glad that you enjoyed reading this piece and I really appreciate your comments and your perceptions over this piece of poetry.

      Thank you for reading through it.

      Enigma 🙂

      Liked by 1 person

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