Bubbles and Lies

This is a poem I wrote last year, but it is quite obviously timeless. Truth seems of little value these days, and I sometimes get the feeling I am thought a fool if telling the truth leads me into the path of pain and/or hardship. Bubbles are harmless things, and the consensus among many these days seems to be that lies are harmless too… as long as you get what you want.

Bubbles and Lies

 

Bubbles are much like lies 

They usually come in bunches

              One leading to another

                   Obscuring the truth of who we are

 

          

       But they soon drift away              

Leaving the others to burst in time

     And always sooner than we expect

         We are exposed to the world

 

     Some are big, some are small                                

Some reflect light in beautiful ways

   Fooling those who witness them

           But only for a short while

 

                        

Bubbles and lies cannot survive

  Unless time can be stopped

              Or the expelling of them does not

                              Or… they become our truth

 

      What will we do                  

   When the bubbles are all gone

And the world sees us clearly

        behind our hands of shame

 

                       

Will we hang our heads

       Or dip into the jar 

Wave our arm…

      and like magic

         Remain a figment

                         of our own

                       delusion

 

Poem ~ Copyright © C. Mashburn 2011

All pictures courtesy of Google Images

Sharing this with the talented folks at dVerse Poets Pub this afternoon on their Open Link Night # 49

39 Comments »

  1. Sherry Mashburn said

    WOW!!!!!! Great poem and definitely food for thought . . .

  2. some hard reality in this one charles….bubbles like lies def so not last…and if we follow either we will surely be lost…and disappointed when they do pop…

    • Seems our world is popping all around us, Brian. Everything was built on bubbles and sand.

  3. ‘ a figment of our own delusion’, excellent

  4. hedgewitch said

    Some seem to think a bubble is as good as concrete–maybe it is till you try to build on it. Perceptive and true words here, Charles.

    • I could get all wound up on the subject, but wouldn’t do anybody any good.
      Thanks for the comment and kind words!

  5. Interesting that your worked the metaphor with the reality. Exposing the one to the other and while you can’t build a world on a bubble, you might just be able to expose it that way. Well done.

  6. kelly said

    excellent questions… what will we do when the bubbles have burst… this is a great one to think on.

  7. I’m like you, I don’t like people who lie and I know we all tell lies at some point, but some are told to not deliberately hurt someone’s feelings and others are deliberately to deceive. It’s those kind that I don’t like being told. Great depiction of them Charles. My mum always used to say liars have to have such good memories. The awful thing is, if a lie is told repeatedly and over a long enough period, it then becomes the truth these days. What a shame.

  8. Claudia said

    some lies survive way too long for my taste…esp. the political ones..ha…

    • Those might be the ones I am most alluding to, Claudia. The lack of truth in our government is staggering.

  9. shanyns said

    Some things went on in the news today that really had me going, and this reflects the bubble games being played. Well written and you are quite right, it is timeless!

    • I can hardly watch the “news” any more, Shanyns. It is mostly lies and half truths, and in my opinion, it is either truth or lie; there is no half way point.

  10. Great use of the bubbles as metaphors ~ Sadly lies float away, and sometimes it comes back to haunt us ~ A meaningful write ~

  11. Bubblicious! I don’t want lies… I want a pot of bubble blowing stuff now! 🙂

  12. ayala said

    Thought provoking, excellent write.

  13. Mary said

    Definitely a timeless poem, Charles. Bubbles eventually break; and lies are eventually exposed. One thing I am thinking about today in that regard is the Sandusky trial. How can he claim INNOCENCE? And how can his wife, as she did today, testify on his behalf?

    • I know of the trial, but I don’t give it even a minute of my time, so I can’t comment. The whole thing disturbs and sickens me.

  14. Amazing metaphorical poem, Charles. But I must confess…I love bubbles, but not lies. If I’m not mistaken, Dante had liars in the deepest circle of hell.

    • And that’s where they belong–liars.
      I actually love bubbles, too. I always thought those little bottes with the wand were the coolest things!

  15. Love the ending–see our shame or as the consummate magician deflect the gaze. Summertime = bubbles. Great poem!

    • Yes’m. I was delighted to find that last picture! Says it all!
      Thanks for the visit and comment!

  16. Susan said

    I totally love the lies as bubbles and finally, the possibility that someone else would prefer the lies (making you the wand and not the breath behind the falsehood).

  17. Lovely poem – only think more of those weird bubbles people think in – the real ones made out of soap! (Maybe some should go in people’s mouths!) k .

  18. This is great! I have to tell you that I bought non-popping bubbles for my mothers dog (peach flavored bubbles) and the fact that they don’t pop easily brings home your point even more for me, sometimes illusions are durable but this doesn’t make them anymore dependable!

    • That’s amazing! What in the world are non-popping bubbles made of. No wait… I don’t want to know. Is the dog still alive??
      But, so true; some illusions can last a long time. Especially the ones we tell ourselves.

  19. Reblogged this on Marbles In My Pocket ~ The Official Blog of Charles L. Mashburn ~ Poems, Short Stories, and random thoughts from the author of "Be Still… and know that I am God" and commented:

    It seems to me the term “politically correct” has little or nothing to do with truth, and one day the bubble it is will surely pop.

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