The Secret, Treasured World of Metaphor
True, I can rhyme – endwords, and inner too;
fangle fine assonance, like thought made new;
march to a metre –regular in tread
or cunningly disjointed – silken, the thread
then sharply pulled, to wake the reader’s ear;
rhythms, I can dance with a magic, laughing twirl;
play like the ringlets of poetic curls;
but metaphor – ah, there’s the sadness in my play:
that golden box, its gleaming lid all joy,
all mystery… if I only had the key
to throw it open, cave with dark velvet lined,
shimmering with jewels from rare and secret mines,
flashing with colours never man had seen,
thrown together as words have never been –
making new language out of words grown old,
sounding new sounds of tales that are not yet told..
oh that I had the gift of metaphor –
that showering of gold from a land unknown heretofore…
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Modern Day Poet
I am the modern day poet you know
that must make words that easily flow.
For to just present words that ramble on
is to yield forth words that soon are gone.
They're gone from the listener and reader too,
who cannot reason or cannot view
how the words just seem to sit on a page
allowed to sit and yellow with age.
Words must be caressed and also thrive
to take on rhythms which come alive,
alive in the memory that through the ear
has taken it in and holds it dear.
And so in each poem I have my say.
And so in each poem my words do sway
back and forth like a front porch swing
giving my poem a magical ring.
I never allow dullness to come into play
for then my poem will be thrown away
into the piles of poems never read
because they're too hard to keep in the head.
So over and over it's become my style
to enchant the reader for a little while,
making them remember the lilting rhyme
that got into my head one word at a time.
poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Metaphor lives a secret life all around us. We utter about six metaphors a minute. Metaphorical thinking is essential to how we understand ourselves and others, how we communicate, learn, discover and invent. But metaphor is a way of thought before it is a way with words.
James Geary in Metaphorically speaking (2009)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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My Poems Came Back To Me / As Rhythms Without Sounds
My poems came back to me
as rhythms without sounds
Imitations of anothers music
Falling down and down
Like winter snow
To whitening ground-
My poems came back to me
As distant whispers of other destinies
Flights from deeper spaces
Mankind has not yet surmised
They were somewhere in the distance of distance
Beyond all distance
In the mystical language
Only Wisdom heard
Though it had no words of its own-
Only ‘now’ and ‘more’ and ‘dreams of another century’
And I, I with all these confusing words
Wondering if my friend would ever be sane again
And why God does it this way
While I in my writing play and play again
Bringing my own rhythms back
And making poetry my own small happy game
Which I write and I write
Without memory.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My poems is not Poetry
My Poems are not Poetry
Poetry rhythm is essential part
Communicative act of rhythms
Where words created music
An effect on the reader’s and listener
Words beginning with the same letter
And achieve a poetically effect.
My Poems has no rhythms
For the first time I don’t know
What to say and how to show.
Many words is not my style
Let me say, I like your smile
I don’t think I should like you,
Unfortunately I do.
I'm not sure now how to write
I lost my idea how, where words
Are used in away similar
Creating Music, where you find
Languages of rhymes
I write Prose but not Poetry
Using a regular rhythm
Where vast majority
Of languages spoken and written.
I try to be a barn, the muses were believed and inspire
I try to hard without success,
you already know, I guess.
Anyhow, it doesn’t matter
Usually I do not write
Things like this, I never tried,
for the first time I don’t know
what these lines should say or show.
Allegory, metaphor equated
Meaning lie outside the narrative
Acrostic phase when read together
Alliteration words same letter for poetical effect
Satire is a form of humour
Limerick is a short humorous poem.
And Honestly, I don’t regret
Things I did and words I said.
7. January 2008
poem by Mary Wismer
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Poetic Warrior
A poetic warrior with a ball point sword
A typewriter dagger to lose he can't afford
The computer screen or the note pad are his battle field
Inspiration from others are his strong sturdy shield
Negative critics and writers block he can always defeat
Sometimes his heart might be broken still he keeps it concrete
He can take pain and suffering and use it to create
So his wounds can be a weapon knowing others can relate
He is a poetic warrior from the beginning of time
Defending his homeland of metaphor and rhyme
A hero to the reader always saving their mind
In search of shining armor it is him they do find
They are protected from the uninspiring
The ones who are in love with art defiling
It is them he sends spiraling, into the depths of hell
They can feel the truth and the warmth in his rhythm
In his wordplay many messages are unhidden
He is their poetic warrior from the beginning of time
Defending their homeland of metaphor and rhyme
poem by Sam Edison
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Lunch With a Poet
I had lunch with a poet, just the other day.
A poet who has written fine and lofty verse,
Conveying his experiences, emotions and his ideas, in
Vivid, imaginative ways, condensed in simple language,
Choosing words for sound and power,
Rather than impressing readers with poetic adulterations.
Almost apologetically, he said he uses 'nickel words'
To write his inner thoughts. It was as if he were at fault,
As though he thought those simple sounds
Had lessened the intent of his poetic worth.
I emphasized how wrong he was, and tried
To make clear, a poet writes in sympathy with his reader,
Overleaping the barriers of understanding by the simplicity
Of his language, and of his words.
To write with words of misty meaning does not make
A mystic.
To write with vulgar words does not lift up the poem
On wings of song, it only floats as high as the poet's
Commonality who, mistaking flatulence for inspiration, becomes
Enmeshed in a literary byproduct of the foulest of excretion and Smells.
My friend failed to intellectually understand,
But spiritually Accepts, as his writings reveal,
That clarity of thought and mind is the poet's
Highest point of the poet's integrity.
poem by Lynn W. Petty
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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Without A Promise
On the eve of dawn,
The words seem to scramble,
Forging their own messages,
Their own secrets.
The words are lying,
Leaving the pages scandalously clad.
A letter to remember;
The letters so empty.
The words have no meaning,
They rest as empty shells,
For metaphor upon metaphor.
poem by Daniel Yetman
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Silence, where there are no words! !
'somewhere in my heart I still find myself some time,
I keep all the loneliness at one side and let the silence rhyme,
Then I open my mind to some fairy tales,
some heartless mind wandering trails,
oh then and there,
I land up somewhere,
up above the sky height.
I open the cockpit of my flight
and see the words flowing into you
oh you are the first woman whom i knew,
you are someone to whom my first words were addressed,
oh my heart rupturing mother come lets get dressed,
as we have to go so far away even from your words
to seek the language of the silence where there are no word,
the ultimate and utter silence mother'
'but what will you do there if there are no words there,
the ever eating silence will scare you and get your out, fear',
said the crystal eyed my other,
'won't you seek the silence in one another,
let me talk you through this out,
i want to hear my tears fall and sprout,
in this loneliness and utter silence i cry,
i am so soused but it's still dry,
no matter what i can't stop this thought of mine,
yes, there will be silence and everything will be fine'.
poem by Aneesh Koul
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Intelligent Metaphor
I don't need cameras to expose my identitiy,
Because my words are straight to your heart!
And like an intelligent metaphor in the land of your muse,
But i will always remember you.
By the Rivers of Babylon,
There they sat down to remember their forefathers!
But a student is not above the teacher,
And a servant is not above the king either!
My words will get straight to your heart always,
And like an intelligent metaphor in the land of your muse;
But i will remember you always,
Because the heat of the sun always reflects on me!
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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As Soft as a New born lamb
Snow, snow, snow has come
Now we can have a crunchy white day
Open, open, open the stiff door
When can we go out to play
Mandy, Mandy come and play
Earth is soooooo beautiful
Now you go inside
Alice I said go in
Never throw that snowball at me! !
Dancing, dancing in the snow
Snowmen making
Now and then
Oscar and Ollie thats wonderful
We helped aswell though
Black stones as dark as the night sky
And a hat and a scarf
Laughing, laughing Lilly and Lauren
Lilly don't worryit will come again.
poem by Rachel Buchanan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Things You Say
Words
Said in a careless huff as you walked away
Hurt
Words
Said in a whispered excited voice
Caused electricity in me
Words
Said in a caring loving way
Were a balm for the wound in me
Words
Said in an angry menacing way
Felt like daggers thrown at me
Words
Said like sugary sweet morning due
Caused my knees to go weak
Words
Words, Words, Words..
Your words have so much power over me
Words
Said like a magic spell
Have enchanted me
Words
You throw around those words so carelessly
Do you know
Words
How they have been affecting and inflicting me..
poem by Rabia Minhas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Poetry Is Not Just A Game We Play With Words
POETRY IS NOT JUST A GAME WE PLAY WITH WORDS
Poetry is not just a game we play with words-
There is Beauty-
And there is Meaning-
And there is something beyond
What we have heard before
Music also-
Poetry is not given to final definition
Altered as it is and augmented
by every true new voice -
But then too
Without that play of words
How poetic can the poetry be?
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Want To Wake Up
I heard what you said, and I can tell you its true
I heard youve said that I am crazy about you
Turn in my sleep, the bad dream is over
Think of you and shall I ever recover?
Now, I want to wake up
How I want to wake up
I stood at the kitchen-sink, my radio played
Songs like tainted love and love is strange
As I listened and the words hit my ears
I cried sudden tears
Now, I want to wake up
How I want to wake up
Wake up
(wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up
Wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up)
(its mad, its mad, its mad)
Its mad, to be in love with someone else
When youre in love with him, shes in love with me
But you know as well as I do
I can never think of anyone but you
(all my life,
All my life
I want to wake up)
Play with fire, play with guns
Its easy to impress someone
Turning in my sleep, you call me a fool
To fall in love, is it so uncool?
Now, I want to wake up
How I want to wake up
Now, I want to wake up
Wake up
(wake up, wake up
Wake up, wake up - ooh ooh ooh oh oh
Wake up, wake up - ooh ooh ooh oh oh
Wake up, wake up - ooh ooh ooh oh oh
Wake up, wake up - ooh ooh ooh oh oh
Wake up, wake up - ooh ooh ooh oh oh
Wake up, wake up - ooh ooh ooh oh oh
Wake up, wake up - ooh ooh ooh oh oh
Wake up, wake up - ooh ooh ooh oh oh
Ooh ooh ooh oh oh
Ooh ooh ooh oh oh
Ooh ooh ooh oh oh
Ooh ooh ooh oh oh
Ooh ooh ooh oh oh
Ooh ooh ooh oh oh
Ooh ooh ooh oh oh
Ooh ooh ooh oh oh)
I, I want to wake up
(ooh ooh ooh oh oh, ooh ooh ooh oh oh, ooh ooh ooh oh oh, ooh ooh ooh oh oh)
I, I want to wake up
(ooh ooh ooh oh oh, ooh ooh ooh oh oh, ooh ooh ooh oh oh, ooh ooh ooh oh oh)
I, I want to wake up
(ooh ooh ooh oh oh, ooh ooh ooh oh oh, ooh ooh ooh oh oh, ooh ooh ooh oh oh)
I, I want to wake up, with you, oh
(ooh ooh ooh oh oh, ooh ooh ooh oh oh, ooh ooh ooh oh oh, ooh ooh ooh oh oh - oooh)
I, I want to wake up, with you, oh, ooh
(ooh ooh ooh oh oh, ooh ooh ooh oh oh, ooh ooh ooh oh oh, ooh ooh ooh oh oh)
(ooh ooh ooh oh oh) I want to wake up, wake up, wake up
(ooh ooh ooh oh oh, ooh ooh ooh oh oh, ooh ooh ooh oh oh)
I, I want to wake up, wake up, wake up with you
(ooh ooh ooh oh oh, ooh ooh ooh oh oh, ooh ooh ooh oh oh, ooh ooh ooh oh oh)
(ooh ooh ooh oh oh) I want to wake up, ooh, ooh
(ooh ooh ooh oh oh, ooh ooh ooh oh oh, ooh ooh ooh oh oh)
Ooh
song performed by by Pet Shop Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Song From "The Player Queen"
MY mother dandled me and sang,
"How young it is, how young!'
And made a golden cradle
That on a willow swung.
"He went away,' my mother sang,
"When I was brought to bed,'
And all the while her needle pulled
The gold and silver thread.
She pulled the thread and bit the thread
And made a golden gown,
And wept because she had dreamt that I
Was born to wear a crown.
"When she was got,' my mother sang,
I heard a sea-mew cry,
And saw a flake of the yellow foam
That dropped upon my thigh."
How therefore could she help but braid
The gold into my hair,
And dream that I should carry
The golden top of care?
poem by William Butler Yeats
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A Recitation
My love you are a poem with its own description:
The assonance of your whispers,
The rhyme in scripted in your voice,
The themes that outline your body,
The repetition that characterizes the blink of your eyes,
The tonation of your laughter,
The persona Created in your characteristic smile,
The onomatopoeic rush of your feet,
The alliteration of your speech,
The imagery buried within your face,
The metaphor in the brightness of your eyes that likens to the stars,
And the personification of your words that fills them with reality.
poem by Peter Gumbo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Velvet Dark
I heard a song last night
Alone in my car, in the velvet dark
It epitomised my feelings, my reelings
And I began to understand
'I never lost you, you were never mine'
Those words rang true, stung my heart
Driving at one mile per hour
In the velvet dark
I smiled as the lonely tear fell
A wry, upside-down frown
And the music began to painfully soothe
In the velvet dark
You were never, ever mine
To touch, to feel, just a ghost
Of a promise, whom I would never see
In the velvet dark
Lucky those roads were quiet
No crazed drivers forcing me on
And I pulled into a hidden corner
In the velvet dark
Your heart wasn't mine
To try to hold and to repair
You needed me and I needed you
In the velvet dark
We tried to make it
Through impossible barriers
Of dreams and hopes, spinning uncontrollably
In the velvet dark
Picking up my emotions
I pulled back onto that road
Moving towards my home, my sanity
In the velvet dark
I never lost you, I'll never lose you
I'll just remember, the good times
There were a few heady nights together
In the velvet dark
So, this song I will remember
For bringing home to me
The truth, the bitter-sweet memories
Forever in the velvet dark
poem by Michelle Tiddy
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