Got no similes anymore, just “how’s” is all that come;
Can’t find no better way than just to say i’m done.
Got the metaphoric blues, wailin’ the images away,
Got the metaphoric blues, beggin’ for a good way to say,
That i've been left speechless; do you feel the same?
I know some can find adjectives that are vital and new,
All i find's old cliches—very tried, hardly true.
Lookin’ ever' day for a bright thought; contemplatin’ navy blue.
Got the metaphoric blues, my symbols all torn down,
Got the metaphoric blues—cracked allusions on the ground
All my words broken tropes that’s been strewn around.
I got no muse & no thought's worth a dime
Ideas of rubber not even a plastic shine,
Every song i sing's made of forced & broken rhymes
Got the metaphoric blues, i’d like to find a treasure store
Of unused sounds that would echo more
Than those the smart folks spent before i was born.
(yeah, those poets spent my words and they just left me poor,
If i don’t find my voice, i can’t sing no more.)
© Gay Reiser Cannon * All Rights Reserved