Rumi passed by here today
like a blank page, then
gold dust lightly scattered over it
then a soft breeze blows it away
but nothing is lost
for there was nothing to be gained;
enough, that you were here;
for you don't need to pursue a metaphor
when - see! - the metaphor is god, is world;
you don't need to convince us of anything
that we don't already know
just a reminder that this is
how it is;
a smile in passing;
your gold dust scattered;
for a moment
we are your beauty.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Related quotes
Is letting go a metaphor?
what is letting go -
letting go of grief?
the serenity of letting go?
(must be a bad metaphor)
losing represents letting go of control
I need to understand this 'letting go'
is it a metaphor for facing the inevitable?
breathing as a metaphor for living
'the practice of pruning wine vines'
is that a metaphor for letting go?
surrender. reaching towards the future
if you'll excuse another bad metaphor...
'the last of the sand is pouring...'
onion metaphors are stripped down to the core
letting go is a metaphor for acceptance
is acceptance a metaphor for failure?
'The freedom of letting go'
that does sound grand
letting go is not for the faint-hearted
my hands and heart are tired from letting go
so many times over
examine why metaphor is not
a substitute for the literal
letting go is
a metaphor
for goodbye
110709
poem by Terri Turrell
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The Poem Is A Metaphor
THE POEM IS A METAPHOR
The Poem is a Metaphor
It means ‘the world’
It means ‘all that there is’
It means ‘the soul’
It means ‘our deepest feeling’.
The Poem is a Metaphor
It is more than what it just appears to be
It takes on a life of its own
It says more than it can define itself as
The Poem is a Metaphor
And it itself does not understand
Where it began and how it will end
And whether or not
It should always be rewritten.
The Poem is a Metaphor
And we too are metaphors
That will vanish one day
When all the real Poems
Pretend to still be here.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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For I Am A Metaphor
'For i am a Metaphor
For i am free as a bird
wiser than wise itself
brighter than a sun gama ray
FOR I AM A METAPHOR
for i love like the word
think like einstein
dream like Martin
FOR I AM A METAPHOR
For i smell like success
Achieve like achievers
and soar like number 23
FOR I AM A METAPHOR
for i deliver like mailmen
determine like focus
and prosper like underdogs
FOR I......AM.....A METAPHOR'
By: Kottrell Johnson
poem by Kottrell Johnson
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Poetry Is A Metaphor
Poetry is a metaphor
For beauty
For deepest feeling
For light
For all kinds of dreams we may not know the name of-
Poetry is a metaphor
For life at its most intense
Poetry is a metaphor for Poetry.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Scattered
This song is dedicated to the memory of
Annie florence davies and carol bryans.
Like a seed that is sewn
All the children are scattered
By a breeze that is blown
Now the crops are all scattered
We are torn, we are shattered
Now some of us are barmy and battered
And the fields where we gathered
Are overgrown in weeds and in tatters
Through it all we were scattered
To the fields we are scattered
From the day we are born
To grow wild and sleep rough
Till from the earth we are torn
And a soul that is free
Can live on eternally
And the spirit can live on
Though its scattered in the world beyond
And Ive been out of my mind
Ever since shes been gone
I look around that empty room
No sight nor sound
Shes left so soon
Shes out of view
But the I find
Those scattered clues she left behind
A photograph with a smiling face
A cigarette stubbed out on the fireplace
A coffee cup with her lipstick stains
I guess Ill never see her again
Now my life is all scattered
Ever since shes been gone
I feel older, I feel fatter
I feel the blues coming on
We get bruised
We get battered
But well pick up the pieces that scattered
And with emotional glue
Were gonna stick together, body and mind
Ever since she went away
Ive been alone to contemplate
Time and space and why worlds move
While sitting in my solitude
Ive watched the stars and wondered why
Theyre scattered up there in the sky
And is she up there out of view
On some higher platitude
I wish I knew
Wish I could prove
The reason why this life on earth
Is scattered like the universe
Im scattered here and scattered there
Bits of me scattered everywhere
To the fields we are scattered
Then from the dust we are born
We survive somewhat battered
To a new life, a new dawn
In the end what will it matter
Therell only be my ashes to scatter
And all the logical answers
To a worrying mind
Will be scattered in time
Beaten and battered
To the earth you are scattered
Youre going home so what does it matter
To an atomic mind
Scattered here while you travel time
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Language Of Poetry Is Metaphor
The language of poetry is metaphor
And irony and ambiguity
And beauty-
Beauty is the language of poetry
And metaphor and irony and ambiguity
And irony -
Beauty is the language of metaphor
And poetry without beauty
Is like poetry without metaphor
Like poetry without simile-
Poetry is poetry
Like beauty is beauty
And metaphor, metaphor
And language language -
Ironically
Without themselves they are something else
Or perhaps another variant of themselves
Ironically.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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The Ultimate
When dreams have turned to dust and dust to slime;
When all you ever were or hoped to be
Appears as no more than a jest of time,
A foolish jest, a tasteless parody
On some unlikely fiction; when not just
Your dear pretensions but your best ideals
Have been ground down into an acrid dust
That you are forced to eat for all your meals;
When—oh, but what can metaphor provide
Sufficient in its scope to comprehend
The fury never to be satisfied
Of one betrayed by a once-trusted friend?
poem by David Berman
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Dust In The Wind
Music : Kerry Livgren
Lyrics: Kerry Livgren
I close my eyes
Only for a moment and the moment's gone
All my dreams
Pass before my eyes, a curiosity
Dust in the wind
All they are is dust in the wind
Same old song
Just a drop of water in an endless sea
All we do
Crumbles to the ground, though we refuse to see
Dust in the wind
All we are is dust in the wind
Now, Don't hang on
Nothing lasts forever but the earth and sky
It slips away
And all your money won't another minute buy
Dust in the wind
All we are is dust in the wind
Dust in the wind
All we are is dust in the wind
Dust in the wind
All we are is dust in the wind
Dust in the wind
All we are is dust in the wind
song performed by by Scorpions
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ashes To Ashes
I am running on empty:
I do not hide from you, my dear- My canine friend-
The one who holds your leash is not a threat-
Listen to the wind blow
Rustling the budding leaves
Upon the maple trees as I start walking-
The sun reaches downward and I am happy-
Shock ran rampant through my brain only two days ago-
A daffodil in full bloom-
Golden as the sun on the horizon-
I threw away my tears- To mix with the snow
That didn't happen last night-
Somebody lied and I am running free- Everyone has died
Those whose blood I shared
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust
Locked in a crematorium and
Scattered at sea-left me alone and
I have fallen in love with myself-
Fallen trees, my reflection staring at me from a crystalline puddle-
Alone along a wooded trail
I am the queen- no followers, except for you, my canine friend-
I dance alone amidst insanity-
Enjoying every moment and as the wind blows,
I ruminate- ashes to ashes, dust to dust-
The sun is rising for me alone-
Oh, solitude- so safe, so magnificent and
Three billion people- I cannot fathom-
I tuck a blossoming crocus behind my ear-
I have come to the end of the path and
I listen- the voices inside of my mind echo throughout the sky-
I could capture the sun within both of my hands if I could-
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust- my mother?
Gone, and in so many words, so am I and
I stand behind a phantasmal wall:
I am not to be found- running free, and running scared-
But my tears are behind me now and
I am the queen, alone and this world?
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust- it is my dream- except for myself,
Complete solitude, on top of the world, spinning rapidly
Upon a merry-go-round- everyone is dead and
I - don't- care…- ashes to ashes, dust to dust...
poem by Claudia Krizay
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Fallen
All the leaves are turning yellow, red and brown
Soon they'll be scattered as they tumble down
Although they may be swept up so invitingly
I never did what I was told
I trampled though the amber and the burnished gold
But now I clearly see how cruel the young can be
You can convince yourself of anything
If you wish both hard and long
And I believed that life was wonderful
Right up to the moment when love went wrong
I gaze up at the tree-tops and laugh
I need somebody to shake me loose
I want to know what happens next
'Til I don't care at all
There I go
Beginning to fall
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dust In The Wind
I close my eyes
Only for a moment and the moment's gone
All my dreams
Flash before my eyes of curiosity
Dust in the wind
All they are is dust in the wind
Same old song
Just a drop of water in an endless sea
All we do
Crumbles to the ground though we refuse to see
Dust in the wind
All we are is dust in the wind
Now
Don't hang on
Nothing lasts forever but the Earth and Sky
It slips away
And all your money won't another minute buy
Dust in the wind
All we are is dust in the wind
Dust in the wind
Everything is dust in the wind
song performed by by Kansas
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Poem Should Mean More Than It Says
A Poem should mean more than it says
And feel more than it means-
It should be where never ending Dreaming is,
And yet when it ends decide for us
Where Reality truly is and has been and will be-
A Poem should always be more than its own words-
And yet in its only way be
A metaphor to the stars
Whose visible light hints at more light unseen
beyond us all,
Dust and no Dust
The ‘One and Only One’
More than ‘everything’.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Two Children
Give me your hand, oh little one!
Like children be we two;
Yet I am old, my day is done
That barely breaks for you.
A baby-basket hard you hold,
With in it cherries four:
You cherish them as men do gold,
And count them o'er.
And then you stumble in your walk;
The cherries scattered lie.
You pick them up with foolish talk
And foolish glad am I,
When you wipe one quite clean of dust
And give it unto me;
So in the baby-basket just
Are three.
All this is simple, I confess,
A moment piled with peace;
Yet loving men have died for less,
And will till time shall cease. . . .
A silken hand in crinkled one--
O Little Innocence!
O blessed moment in the son
E'er I go hence!
poem by Robert William Service
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The Poem Is A Metaphor/ For Whatever The Poet Needs It To Be
THE POEM IS A METAPHOR / FOR WHATEVER THE POET NEEDS IT TO BE
The Poem is a Metaphor
For whatever the poet needs it to be-
It need not know its own name
Or its destination-
It simply may suddenly appear
And take us to a place we’ve never been,
To a connection we never would have found on our own.
The Metaphor is a vehicle of transport for the Soul
And he who spells it out literally
Grounds it.
Why then oh why is this where we all be?
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Seeking Metaphor
Metaphor’s the soul of poetry:
this incongruous instrument of speech
with which we say one thing,
when we mean quite another:
I wish that Shakespeare, its greatest English user,
had coined a truly English word for it –
or perhaps, those blunt and foursquare Anglo-Saxons
who came before; their words as hand-hewn as are spades –
the word comes from the Greek, and means a transference;
‘My lord, your transference is apt and shrewd…’
no, even that’s but transferred to a Latin stem,
‘carrying across’. Too late to seek some native word –
a ‘thoughtshift’ or a ‘mindmatch’ then?
We wear it down, and make it less
by thoughtless grabbing at the candy-jars
upon the shelves of sweetshops of our speech,
as if to mimic poetry that we haven't earned..
but at its height, a metaphor shines like new light;
bringing together, two images so disparate
and making of their neighbouring, a moment magical in memory
as if we’d never seen the world so brilliant
or so revealing; moments when the mind’s a god,
and life itself a metaphor; a glimpse
that somewhere, two things mentioned meet
under the astonished, single gaze of eternity itself..
Metaphor’s a holy sacrament: one should never dare
to use it without some faint echo, of a moment clear recalled
when that which one refers to, came dazzling bright into the mind
as life transfigured to another world,
time lifted to the timeless;
the radiance of the world’s first day,
Creation, in itself, one glorious godly metaphor..
and nothing ever less than one.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Pretty in Placerville
Hands are made for grasping
Gold, dust in brown canvass bags, nuggets
For teeth impressions.
Dust trails lead in and out
Of toil and thirst. The thirst for
Gold, soul of the merciless mine.
The gold is mine.
My fingers are worn short
From rolling in the abrasives;
My lips made thin by kissing
The sun come down to earth.
poem by Stan Petrovich
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Coal-Truck
I am a coal-truck
Carrying gold dust.
Someone threw some
Coal-dust upon
My gold-dust.
I am a coal-truck
In a gold mine.
Someone struck a coal vein
And piled me full in vain.
I am a coal-truck
Covered in subterranean dust.
Someone shovelled my soil
And found an ancient bone
All coiled.
I am a coal-truck
Waiting for the rain.
The sun is my rail
The night my shed.
I am a coal-truck
Rumbling all the way.
Wash me in the rain-storm
And fill me full of coke
Until I choke.
(©: T. Wignesan,1957 - Pub. in 'Forum Academicum', Heidelberg University,1957; from the collection: Tracks of a Tramp. Kuala Lumpur-Singapore: 1961)
poem by T. Wignesan
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Digging for Nuggets
You got to work and sweat, kid!
The old prospector looked up at me
as he squatted on the river bank.
He held a battered pan and washed
grains of sand and gravel in river water.
It was a cold day in the middle of July
with clouds overhead and a stiff breeze
blowing from the north. I was tired
and weary of squatting and sifting dirt.
It was years later when it dawned on me
that prospecting was very like writing
You sit in front of the monitor
and sift through ragged thoughts
trying to glean a nugget of metaphor
from the stream of consciousness.
Then suddenly light breaks through
you warm to the task and see...
there in the light, a sparkling metaphor.
You grasp it before it eludes you
and flows away - you hold it aloft!
I finally struck gold!
poem by Michael Pruchnicki
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In Love Again
I stepped
away
my feet
leaving
light prints;
my hands
sweeping to my side
trailing rainbow arcs;
my eyes
dripping
gold dust;
my angel wings
flapping;
white wings flapping
gently in the breeze
spreading
wing perfume
and lightly
ever so lightly
I feel my breasts
rise
gently
in free fall;
In love again
I thought.
So nice.
My natural state.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Making Of A Poem
What's a poem?
It's a metaphor, it's a metaphor,
What's a metaphor?
'It is a device for seeing something in terms of something else.
It brings out the thisness of that, or a thatness of this.'
How do I write a metaphor?
Think of rain as the cry of the heavens,
Think of love as a rose,
Think of burning candle as the agony of a lonely heart.
How do I piece together metaphors?
On a moonlit night, I see my love reflected in the moon's silvery light,
Holding her tight, I smell the fragrance of jasmine tonight,
Adoring her smile, I see the beauty of monarch butterflies,
Staring in her eyes, I see the oasis of love in my high desert lonely life.
How do I write a poem?
I love her but have not a spoken a word.
You have the inspiration, put in some romantic words.
On a beautiful moon lit night, I wonder who is prettier,
When I look at you, I forget about the moon.
Knit together love, loneliness, fear and tears of heart,
Into a beautiful tapestry of emotions and feelings that mask your heart,
Stitch some metaphors, make it a heartwarming comforter.
poem by Jay P Narain
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