I’m exhausted with similes.
What is his and what is hers?
For a girl is no more a rose
than a man is briar or stinging burse.
So if your love is beautiful
why not call her such,
for the beauty of a woman is as much
and far outweighs the beauty and softness of the fawn
or the regular and oft disappointing,
coming of the dawn.
Why compare her to Diana of the wood?
when she herself is as fair and good
show her in a mirror,
the value of her face
That it is her and not another
fair and of such grace.
For would you in your poets heart
Claim that it was a writer’s art.
to compare an apple with a spud
and think it just as good.
For both are firm and round
One of the tree, one of the ground
both saved in winter stores to eat
but the apple is the only one that’s sweet.
So praise the apple with your teeth
And potatoes with the choicest meat
Leave the metaphors on the cerebral shelf
and keep your heaving similes to yourself.
© Dave Kavanagh @ daithiocaomanaigh.com