Chasing Rainbows ~

Chasing Rainbows

I used to waste my time chasing rainbows.

Youthful ambitions. Reckless abandon. All things good and green were achievable, whether actuality proved that to be true. As long as there was something to hope for, there was something to live for.

I dreamt of splaying my fingers through rivers of indigo. Of red. Of green. That I could sip from its arc an array of colour that would fill my words with meaning and my voice with song. I could imagine the taste of beauty as my heart yearned for delights of the mind.

I remember waiting, watching, hoping. My hummingbird heart would patter as the rain would on my pillow, swinging life away on a porch in a place that was of no subsequence. And the sun. Rays of heat would penetrate the sardonic chambers of a cold, cloudy mind with promises of sweet lemonade and sandy shores. But rain, oh yes. Well, the rain was a reminder to keep my head on my shoulders long enough to catch the first glimpse of a life renewed.

And then, one day, I knew.

I used to waste my time chasing rainbows. Trying to justify an existence of searching and aspiring yet never quite achieving. The pursuit of happiness with little thought to the joy already gained along the way.

There were many things I once believed, but then petals fall and the stem withers. The illusion disappears as does ones will to keep it. Reality finally rears its colorless fangs, all pearly and white but lacking the dreams of a candid soul.
Dreams die. Hope ends.

I used to waste my time chasing rainbows. Now I merely remember the will to do so, and in that, I suppose, I found my peace.

~~

Spoiler

Alright guys, so this is kind of a weird piece for me. Metaphors are fun but I've never spent a good chunk of time simply writing extended metaphor. Hell, I rarely spend a good chunk of time on anything.

Either way, this one took me a bit and I'm unsure if I like it. Maybe because its odd. I don't even know. I suppose my inspirations for this would come from the musical geniuses Chopin and Satie.

Tell me what you think and rip it apart for good measure

~Walker

It was horrible.

(I'll review it later.)

Okay, I love good metaphors and I quite like this. I'm not going to put a lot of energy into nitpicking grammatical errors or identifying confusing imagery, because I'm tired and hungry.

The words you use effectively portray the images, although I did not feel a strong connection to the piece. This isn't your fault though - I just don't relate to the experiences of the persona as they surface in this metaphor.

I particularly liked the second paragraph:

I dreamt of splaying my fingers through rivers of indigo. Of red. Of green. That I could sip from its arc an array of colour that would fill my words with meaning and my voice with song. I could imagine the taste of beauty as my heart yearned for delights of the mind.

Although I kept hearing myself say "running" rather than "splaying" so consider a better verb there maybe? Splaying makes sense, I just personally think running is better. Random observation there, I know.

Sorry for the lack of depth, certainly not as deep as this great piece that you've posted .

Keep writing, J

I really like the imagery of this piece, especially the part about running your finger's through a river of indigo, etc. I found it very enjoyable to read...though I did not go for the whole "reality is colorless" ending I could still feel where you were going with it and I liked it. I'm not much for grammer and error reviews, so I'm not much help there...

Hey,

I really liked this. You have brilliant imagery and the way you use metaphors and such is amazing. It's really short but I feel like if it were any longer, it would drag on, so unless you plan to expand on why and who and how this specific person did all the things they say they did, leave it as is.

I used to waste my time chasing rainbows.

Excellent first sentence.

Youthful ambitions. Reckless abandon.

These two sentence sort of bother me. I know that it's meant to describe what 'chasing rainbows' was for the narrator and fragments like these normally seem fine to me, but these two, so close to each other, just seems out of place and strange to say.

I dreamt of splaying my fingers through rivers of indigo. Of red. Of green.

See, these are perfect. These fragments read off the tongue perfectly while the above mentioned two just don't.

That I could sip from its arc an array of colour that would fill my words with meaning and my voice with song.

I loveeeeee this!

I could imagine the taste of beauty as my heart yearned for delights of the mind.

This I don't. The two ideas your telling us here, 'the taste of beauty'' and 'the delights of the mind' don't fit with each other. It's like saying 'I can imagine failing my math test as my brain thinks of milking cows', well that wasn't a very good example but I hope you see my point.

My hummingbird heart would patter as the rain would on my pillow

Pillows are generally soft so how could rain patter on a pillow? Maybe you meant window? But I don't think so because dreams are a recurring idea in this and by pillow I'm assume you mean sleep and dream so how could rain be pattering on a pillow that the narrator is metaphorically dreaming on?

I used to waste my time chasing rainbows. Trying to justify an existence of searching and aspiring yet never quite achieving. The pursuit of happiness with little thought to the joy already gained along the way.

This is all very, very good.

There were many things I once believed, but then petals fall and the stem withers.

Stems don't necessarily wither? I don't think that's the right word. *shrugs*

The rest of it is good.

Overall, I really liked this. It was a philosophical piece and the extended metaphor worked very well. I'm sorry, I don't have much time. I'll continue this later.

~Jas