And Left Them
each a partial metaphor....
glad....with a gentleness of eye.
...truer in misalliance
than those
whose utter faith in statuary beneficence
had birthed a mist of quills, cold spells and patchwork picnics....
.they ambled, lanky and quietly astute, gathering wheels......
poem by that's how I intended to ... delilah contrapunctal
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Related quotes
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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I really think I ambled through a lot of my life, or ambled from one thing to the other.
quote by James Earl Jones
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Beneath a morning mist
Beneath a morning mist
~
A morning mist hides
the potential of a beautiful sky
low cloud covers streets and roads
the moist dew of the air
cold against the skin
a freshness to the lungs
welcomed regardless
eyes look into the nothingness
eagerly anticipating the sun
to break through its light
and warm the gardens
meanwhile the mist is silent
quietly haunting all
this is just a day beginning
lets pray its beautiful
poem by Matthew Holloway
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Big Wheels
Ive been thinking it over
So many times they say
You got it made
They never understand
The answer lies within your soul
cos no one know which side
The coin will fall.
Big wheels turning
Baby I know
Big wheels turning
Baby I know
Big wheels turning, turning...
Save it for a rainy day
For when the cold wind blows
Just to see how they run
I thought theyd know
I tried my best, all I could do
But somehow it was not enough for you.
Big wheels turning
Baby I know
Big wheels turning
Baby I know
Big wheels turning, turning,
Turning, turning...
Chorus:
I remember the dead of night
A lonely light that shines upon the window
I see it all so clear
The tenderness, the silent tears
Out here in the pouring rain
Through cold dark waiting days
I see you standing there
I see the big wheels turning
Never ending, on and on they go.
I think Im going home
I think Im gonna have to start again
Its rather sad
Because Ive looked around, cant seem to find
Whatevers always rolling through my mind
Big wheels turning
Baby I know
Big wheels turning
Baby I know
Big wheels turning, turning
Turning, turning...
Repeat chorus
song performed by by Electric Light Orchestra
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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Wheels
(chris hillman/gram parsons)
Weve all got wheels to take ourselves away
Weve got telephones to say what we cant say
We all got higher and higher every day
Come on wheels take this boy away
Were not afraid to ride
Were not afraid to die come on wheels take me home today
So come on wheels take this boy away
Now when I feel my time is almost up
And destiny is in my right hand
Ill turn to him who made my faith so strong
Come on wheels make this boy a man
song performed by by Emmylou Harris
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The wind's FURY!
The wind called and spells doom
Manacing against hopes and ripping dreams apart
Chasing them into utter ruin; in no direction per se
I stayed still, watching in dispair
As dreams helplessly slip by....
Being impossible to harness.
The wind called and again, it spells doom
In its fury hopes were humbled
Emotions were wrecked beyond repairs;
Beyond every measure of amends....
I am faintly, weary of its wake
It ravages on recklessly;
Exhausting every spur of faith
The wind called and it spells doom,
Against all; you and i,
As we wrestle against its tide
Our zest is impaired,
Though we hinged on,
We were betrayed in our pale faces
The wind struck even harder
Daring us to a fight,
Ridding all positive desires
Reducing treasures to tinsels,
The wind; furious and untamed....
Ours is a grim symphony!
poem by Bolami lawal
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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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Clark Street Bridge
Dust of the feet
And dust of the wheels,
Wagons and people going,
All day feet and wheels.
Now. . .
. . Only stars and mist
A lonely policeman,
Two cabaret dancers,
Stars and mist again,
No more feet or wheels,
No more dust and wagons.
Voices of dollars
And drops of blood
. . . . .
Voices of broken hearts,
. . Voices singing, singing,
. . Silver voices, singing,
Softer than the stars,
Softer than the mist.
poem by Carl Sandburg
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Wander to the Land of Fog
Arjuna walked slowly to the top of the hatch train,
to the land of mist-gray sky
iron wheels of the train collided with rocks
cruising round the wheels to follow his heart troubled wanderer
drown the eastern horizon traces the wheels spin on the horizon,
naim is abandoned, the shade of a fig tree
Petruk fig shady place to lie down, weaving Asa.
Petruk subject to a stroke sleepiness, nodding off
Whether dreaming, whether menginggau on a speeding train
His heels were moving from side to side, legs bent in too long hold ubtuk train.
Iron wheels keep turning, keep heading west, the land where the fog of wrinkles
Cold arctic air to penetrate the bones, which vibrate the body shivering, scared
Wandering soul is troubled, not met the meaning is sought.
Here a mist, wrinkled faces
Arctic air snow and frozen heart.
poem by Prasetya Utama
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Faith Restricted
So glad am I faith restricted my attempts...
To take tempting shortcuts,
Around those obstacles I did not want to face.
So glad am I,
To have been faith restricted.
So glad it was not stubbornness but insight...
That shown as if a beacon bright,
On my path and journey.
Those doubts that appeared disappeared quickly.
So glad am I,
To have been faith restricted.
So glad am I to have been open to criticisms.
And not afraid to stumble and quit.
With an ego driven into embarrassment.
So glad am I,
To have been faith restricted.
So glad it was not stubbornness but insight...
That shown as if a beacon bright,
On my path and journey.
Those doubts that appeared disappeared quickly.
So glad am I,
To have been faith restricted.
Having it strong and blessed with it!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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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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Saved
I was blinded by the devil,
Born already ruined,
Stone-cold dead
As I stepped out of the womb.
By his grace I have been touched,
By his word I have been healed,
By his hand Ive been delivered,
By his spirit Ive been sealed.
Ive been saved
By the blood of the lamb,
Saved
By the blood of the lamb,
Saved,
Saved,
And Im so glad.
Yes, Im so glad,
Im so glad,
So glad,
I want to thank you, lord,
I just want to thank you, lord,
Thank you, lord.
By his truth I can be upright,
By his strength I do endure,
By his power Ive been lifted,
In his love I am secure.
He bought me with a price,
Freed me from the pit,
Full of emptiness and wrath
And the fire that burns in it.
Ive been saved
By the blood of the lamb,
Saved
By the blood of the lamb,
Saved,
Saved,
And Im so glad.
Yes, Im so glad,
Im so glad,
So glad,
I want to thank you, lord,
I just want to thank you, lord,
Thank you, lord.
Nobody to rescue me,
Nobody would dare,
I was going down for the last time,
But by his mercy Ive been spared.
Not by works,
But by faith in him who called,
For so long Ive been hindered,
For so long Ive been stalled.
Ive been saved
By the blood of the lamb,
Saved
By the blood of the lamb,
Saved,
Saved,
And Im so glad.
Yes, Im so glad, Im so glad,
So glad, I want to thank you, lord,
I just want to thank you, lord,
Thank you, lord.
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Mist
Through the mist I wander.
With all the time to ponder.
Beasts of such ferocity come at me with such intensity.
I continue on of neccesity,
to find a true philosophy.
The mists so dense.
I need to make recommpence.
For all that's wrong I must confess.
I cannot stand this lonley test.
In the mist and in the midst.
I'm truly blind it gives me fits.
The mist is thick,
it eats you cold and quick.
Beats you madly like a switch.
The mist is dark it kills the heart.
Madly eats you like a shark.
The mist is cold and I grow old.
Hopefully soon I'll find my hold.
poem by Michael McParland
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The wheels of time
The wheels of time roll around,
it dosn't stop for anyone
the wheels of time, for me it's almost done.
The wheels of time rolls around,
changes me with age
the wheels of time for my life a new stage
The wheels of time roll around,
life has passed me by
the wheels of time make me want to cry.
The wheels of time roll around
so many changes they bring
the wheels of time, for me going faster than a train.
The wheels of time roll around
another day gone, another day went by,
the wheels of time, changes in my life, I'll apply.
The wheels of time roll around
changes I need to make,
the wheels of time, chances I have to take
The wheels of time roll around
closing in on me,
the wheels of time, finally I'll face it with glee.
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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Purple Clouds
i've been standing still
across ur window
standing still
amongst empty tables
standing
waiting
watching
u from afar
while
u keep on shining
here i am
gathering mist upon my weathered eye
they clump up, build up
into purple clouds
its just been days
that ur flowing with me
but u evaporated
vanished like pricked bubble
piercing me with lightning
stabbing my stormy heart
now,
here i am
gathering mist upon my weathered eye
they clump up, build up
into purple clouds
they're too heavy
too dense
for me to keep
poem by Liyo Denorte
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Merciful Release?
Merciful Release.
The mist descended suddenly.
Totally unexpectedly.
I could not see to find my way
So I decided I should stay
Just where I was. It seemed to be.
The wisest choice
I’m not so certain that it was
I think perhaps that is because.
The clammy fog embraces me
And whispers to me quietly
You have no choice.
If I decide to let you go
I am quite certain you will know.
Not to brave the moors alone
These moors are mine all that I own
and I rejoice.
I have the power to heal or kill
I always had and always will.
These moors are worthy of respect
It is mission to protect.
It whispered sotto voice.
I will remember till I die.
There is no reason I should lie
The day the mist enveloped me
and whispered to me quietly
I hear that voice.
In nightmares to this very day.
Although it let me go my way.
I still retain the memory
Of the lesson taught to me.
The moors own voice.
Although it spoke so quietly
Is etched deep in my memory
I can’t forget although I try
And to this day I wonder why.
It made the choice
To set me free as suddenly
as the mist had captured me.
I don’t suppose I’ll ever know
Why it chose to let me go
I had no choice.
The moors have little time for fools
They can and will enforce their rules
I'm forced to take it seriously
Or pay the price
Tuesday,15 November 2011
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Wheels Are Turnin
Ive been sittin back quietly,
Watchin as my spirit fades.
As all of my attempts to do rightly
Get treated like some kind of terrorist raids.
Maybe I ask too much from you
Well I aint gettin too much in return.
Im doin my best to love you baby,
But the wheels are beginning to turn.
When youre cut down to the bone.
You bleed but it heals.
You hurt still you must carry on.
cus the wheels are turnin -- the feelings burnin
The thrills returnin
My soul is yearnin -- my heart is churnin
The wheels are turnin again.
Maybe Im actin irrational
Hope I dont hurt your heart
This whole problem is only geographical
I just need some kind of new start.
And if I cant get inspired round here,
Im going out to the world and learn.
Theres action in my soul tonight.
I feel the wheels are beginning to turn.
When youre cut down to the bone.
You bleed but it heals.
You hurt still you must carry on.
cus the wheels are turnin -- the feelings burnin
The thrills returnin
My soul is yearnin -- my heart is churnin
The wheels are turnin again.
I remember the last time I got on one of these rolls.
I learned all about the tolls that it takes.
I get something in my mind -- it begins to unfold
I get out in the cold -- I cant do what Im told
I get out of control -- I cant hold on to the brakes
When youre cut down to the bone.
You bleed but it heals.
You hurt still you must carry on.
cus the wheels are turnin -- the feelings burnin
The thrills returnin
My soul is yearnin -- my heart is churnin
The wheels are turnin again.
song performed by by Reo Speedwagon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Changing perspective for bro Colin
A patchwork quilt of sunlit fields
Is visible as grey mist yields
to the majesty of the sun.
The morning mist and night shadows
are well aware that they must go
Now that a new day has begun.
The distant hills which I now see
Become for me reality
Now that the mists have fully gone.
No longer just a fantasy,
a half forgotten memory.
I wandered happily alone.
I did not lack for company
I had my book of poetry.
What more could any poet need
except a quiet spot to read.
31/08/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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