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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Related quotes
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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The beautiful heart
The beautiful heart
~
I would marry every word
Betroth each metaphor
If I could paint the poem
Or pen the script
To win a beautiful heart
No more the foolish blindness
For a truth is now seen
As beautiful as ever known
The joy which births the smile
The is more to learn, understand
By openly listening to all
The company of such a heart
Brings with it warmth
To ease all worries
And all that is sought
Is but one night, one chance
To see the heart open
Willing to gift an opportunity
To the marriage of words
The betrothal of metaphors
The poetic script as it were
An ode to the beautiful heart
poem by Matthew Holloway
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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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The super moon
The super moon shines over the mountain with silvery shining light,
Moon so big in size sends the wise owl flying in fright,
Hyenas stop laughing for a while to watch the smile on moon's face tonight.
The mountain and its trees adore this beautiful sight.
The mountain and its trees adore this beautiful sight,
The silvery charm brings the memory of my mom's lullaby,
'Uncle moon, please come down and bring the rice and milk for my child in the golden pot tonight',
My heart tries to search the beauty of my love in the big smiling moon so nearby.
My heart tries to search the beauty of my love in the big smiling moon so nearby,
It is hard to decide who is prettier, the moon or my love tonight,
The silver rays mesmerize my eyes with so much love and tranquility,
That I wish we will be together in love forever we are in sight.
That I wish we will be together in love forever we are in sight,
When I rub my sleepy eyes in the dawns early light,
With heavy heart I bid goodbye to this sight,
May be in next hundred years, my roaming soul will watch again this beautiful sight.
poem by Jay P Narain
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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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In the steps of Rumi 88: Metaphor
Simile – what looks like something else –
that’s a fun game for the senses,
for the mind: oh look Dad,
there’s a scarecrow in that field
that looks just like a man, does it
really scare crows?
Oh look Dad, there’s a beggar in the street
who looks just like a scarecrow,
I wonder if the same crows
see him too?
But metaphor – ah, that’s something else:
explanations don’t quite explain it:
you see something; it brings to mind
something very different; maybe
you just forget it, pass on; maybe
you’re a poet, and you think,
that other thing casts a subtle light
on this first thing, I’ll see if others
find the same.. and, sometimes they do,
sometimes they don’t…
Metaphor brings the whole universe,
world upon world, to the mind:
you could write a poem full of metaphor
as long as the circumference of the world,
and when you’d written it out, you’d find yourself
right here again just where you were.. but
what a lot you’d seen on the way…
We’re so used to some metaphors
because by now, they’re shared,
written into language (lucky the people
who inherit languages such as these,
they’re born into poetry…) :
take ‘bread’: you walk past the baker’s shop
in the early morning when the air is clear –
or better, go in to buy your breakfast rolls:
the smell couldn’t be more wonderful,
more promising.. the bread’s so delicious,
and best eaten today..
ah yes, ‘daily bread’ – that becomes a metaphor
for all that each and every day brings –
waking up, new thoughts, new experiences,
all that brings life to life…
that covers so many subtle things…
where does it all come from?
that’s for you to say…
Sometimes it seems that the whole world
is a metaphor for something…
for what? For its own unity,
for its very creation,
for that which we call God,
for our very self?
that’s for you to say…
Metaphor. When you meet it,
does it make you think of
English class, another boring
poem, another boring question
to answer as you chew your pen –
‘What does the poet mean when
he speaks of, lies like oyster shells
to be penknifed for their pearls? ’…
or - does it fill your heart with joy
as if someone had given you
a golden key to a secret garden
which is all you ever hoped for;
more than you could ever imagine…
and yet you recognise
it’s all really just yourself? …
In the corner of your room
there's a little girl curled up
in a large armchair, reading a book.
Don't disturb her.
The book she reads with all her self today,
may never read again, doesn't need to -
is a metaphor for
all she needs to know today
about the world, about herself;
she finishes the book,
closes it thoughtfully,
looks up at you;
she knows herself
a little more today.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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If Only I Could Write A Beautiful Poem
If only I could write a beautiful love poem
I would write it special and only to you
If only I could write a beautiful love poem
So that we will forever remain so very very true
If only I could write a beautiful love poem
With more than a goodness like something new
If only I could write a beautiful love poem
Like the everlasting stay of the sky so blue
If only I could write a beautiful love poem
I would pray to God
If only I could write a beautiful love poem
I would work very hard for the Lord
If only I could write a beautiful love poem
With happiness the remain all through the year
f only I could write a beautiful love poem
Knowing that you will be very near
If only I could write a beautiful love poem
One so very very true
If only I could write a beautiful love poem
I would write it just for you
poem by Douglas Carter
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Hiding Emotion in Metaphors
I'm sitting here wondering
can i hide my emotion through words
writing in metaphors
when really its all plain
I'm broken
easy enough to say
but what does it mean
I'm in pieces
i don't work anymore
I'm broken
who says that to explain emotion
except a poet
finding metaphor for emotion
does it mean I'm sad, yes
does it mean I'm torn, yes
what does torn mean
torn like an old rug
torn like a dollar bill
ripped to shreds, broken
who needs a metaphor to explain emotion
when its laid out in front of everyone
my eyes are swollen
my body is bruised
my words are silent
my smile is fake
its all plain and simple
laid out like a flashing sign
i am broken
even though my emotions are plain
i still have to explain through metaphors
because people don't look for a simple answer
they look for the secrets people tell
is she holding back tears
is her smile today real
I'm broken
but people don't look to see me
they look to find emotion
encoded in this poem
hiding my feelings
in this metaphorical language
because people don't look
i am broken
poem by Audrey Marie Kay
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If I Were To Write A Poem For You
if i were to write a poem for you
i would rather be direct
and candid, my metaphors
are obvious and concrete
and the allusions
need not be hazy
as to confuse you
from my heart
write it: i love you.
it is you that i love
there is no other
every night i whisper
this to the moon and all the stars
giggle as they listen
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Moon
Beautiful Moon, with thy silvery light,
Thou seemest most charming to my sight;
As I gaze upon thee in the sky so high,
A tear of joy does moisten mine eye.
Beautiful Moon, with thy silvery light,
Thou cheerest the Esquimau in the night;
For thou lettest him see to harpoon the fish,
And with them he makes a dainty dish.
Beautiful Moon, with thy silvery light,
Thou cheerest the fox in the night,
And lettest him see to steal the grey goose away
Out of the farm-yard from a stack of hay.
Beautiful Moon, with thy silvery light,
Thou cheerest the farmer in the night,
and makes his heart beat high with delight
As he views his crops by the light in the night.
Beautiful Moon, with thy silvery light,
Thou cheerest the eagle in the night,
And lettest him see to devour his prey
And carry it to his nest away.
Beautiful Moon, with thy silvery light,
Thou cheerest the mariner in the night
As he paces the deck alone,
Thinking of his dear friends at home.
Beautiful Moon, with thy silvery light,
Thou cheerest the weary traveller in the night;
For thou lightest up the wayside around
To him when he is homeward bound.
Beautiful Moon, with thy silvery light,
Thou cheerest the lovers in the night
As they walk through the shady groves alone,
Making love to each other before they go home.
Beautiful Moon, with thy silvery light,
Thou cheerest the poacher in the night;
For thou lettest him see to set his snares
To catch the rabbit and the hares.
poem by William Topaz McGonagall
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In Search Of Metaphors And Images To Express Yourself In A Poem
it is the expression that matters most.
it is the relational flow from the writer to the reader
the bond that is created anew, just like an ordinary conversation
one fine day.
why can't poetry be simple and direct? that is the question that poetry
asks
to itself, in itself.
the poet in us can be lost because of so much demands for the absurd,
this metaphor fits, this imagery is perfect, what is it?
you do not accept the sun and the moon and the stars.
cliches of their poetry. You do not show compassion for his feelings
of being abandoned
simply because there are no images that tickle your senses.
even if he jumps with joy, you do not relate to his joys
simply because the images are bland like
burger without the black pepper.
it is enough that one bleeds, one wants a listener, one wants to open
up to the world
Like a bud turning into a flower
(oh forgive this lousy metaphor
i am not a good poet somehow at imaging
at imagining.
Am not a camera.
My eyes are clumsy at details.
And my ears are not sensitive to sound of
beautiful words. They even hide behind my head under my hair.
And there is no compulsion for high highfalutin
Ivory towers of similes from the gods and goddesses of
Literature)
Why can't poetry be just an expression? Just that. A dialogue.
This one, this monologue.
It is enough that you write from the heart.
It is enough that you are true
(oh forgive me, can i be really
true to you? Do i have to be naked and tell you that i am beautiful?
Do i have to master the art of metaphorisms
to be your poet
for the night?)
Or is it that poetry is simply our hiding place
From this world of pain?
Or our chapel for our prayers
Or our playground where we can be children again?
I am tired of squeezing my brain in the quest of the perfect metaphor.
I have read what they have written.
I pretend i like them. They sound so well.
They must be poetry. Real poetry
Those that garner plaques.
Prizes from the jury.
Honestly, I do not understand a thing. Those poems of my idols.
But I read them just the same.
Hoping that I am in and be counted as one of the stars in those
Metaphoric Heavens.I watch every meteor that drops
to the ground. Their tails.
I am not a star. I am just a pebble.
And it is enough for me.
The poem says, just write me.
Don't squeeze your brain to have metaphors
To draw the images.
Just be yourself, and for God's sake if you have something to say
Just say it.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What Would You Like
Tell me you name, tell me your sign.
Please tell me that my mind is right.
I just want to take you to my home.
Where we can talk by a fire all alone.
There's just one thing that I need to know.
Could you ever be there when I woke up,
Or will you be just another and be gone?
Should I buy you a dozen roses?
Should I write you a love poem,
Of how my heart can't stop beating for you?
Should I take you to a lakeside with a romantic dinner?
Would you like candle light flickering in front of us?
Would you like the lovely words that could roll off my tongue?
Would you like me to express how much you mean to me?
Would you like that soft romantic music in the background?
I take one look at you and my heart can't stop smiling.
It begins to display on the outside and my lips curl up.
Looking at you from across the void I can see my life with you.
You take a glance at me and can't help but notice to.
I walk around the corner and fade out of your sight.
I love playing this game.
Should I buy you a dozen roses?
Should I write you a love poem,
Of how my heart can't stop beating for you?
Should I take you to a lakeside with a romantic dinner?
Would you like candle light flickering in front of us?
Would you like the lovely words that could roll off my tongue?
Would you like me to express how much you mean to me?
Would you like that soft romantic music in the background?
You chase me around the corner at the end of the aisle.
And we both meet each other eye to eye.
My hands behind my back.
Can you guess what I've got in mind.
Oh I think you'll be suprized.
You look at me and begin to smile.
Should I buy you a dozen roses?
Should I write you a love poem,
Of how my heart can't stop beating for you?
Should I take you to a lakeside with a romantic dinner?
Would you like candle light flickering in front of us?
Would you like the lovely words that could roll off my tongue?
Would you like me to express how much you mean to me?
Would you like that soft romantic music in the background?
I see the moonlight fall across your face as you sleep.
I take one look at you as my fingers gently stroke your cheek.
You breathe in and breathe out and stir awake.
Looking up at me and smiling all the while.
I bend down and kiss you ever so slowly.
Should I buy you a dozen roses?
Should I write you a love poem,
Of how my heart can't stop beating for you?
Should I take you to a lakeside with a romantic dinner?
Would you like candle light flickering in front of us?
Would you like the lovely words that could roll off my tongue?
Would you like me to express how much you mean to me?
Would you like that soft romantic music in the background?
My lips want to take in every taste it can.
My fingers what to rub your smooth skin.
My eyes want to see all your love dep inside.
And no matter how hard I try.
My mind can't comprehend the beauty within.
If I bought you a dozen roses would you fall in love?
If I wrote you that special love poem would you kiss me tight?
If I took you to a lakeside of of a romantic dinner would you stay the night?
Would you like the candle's flickering lights?
Would you like the expressions of my words rolling off my tongue?
Would you come be with me even though the night's young?
Would you like the kiss that takes the breath away deep within your lungs?
Would you want to be with me through the rest of your life?
Would you want to be with my heart through the beating might?
Would you want to grab my hands and love me through all the bad time?
Would you want to hug me in the anger of emotions and try to fight?
Would you stand within my heart and dance in the spotlight?
Would you like to be with me through the whole night?
Should I buy you a dozen roses?
Should I write you a love poem,
Of how my heart can't stop beating for you?
Should I take you to a lakeside with a romantic dinner?
Would you like candle light flickering in front of us?
Would you like the lovely words that could roll off my tongue?
Would you like me to express how much you mean to me?
Would you like that soft romantic music in the background?
poem by Josh Burnett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Poet To Be
A poet I claim not to be,
For words are never there.
In all the years I've tried to write,
I have no words to share.
I sit and think but nothing comes,
No inspiration here.
I want to write of anything,
But still no words I fear.
I read the works of other poets,
I wish I were like them.
How do they write such beautiful lines,
A poet, I'm not him.
I try to write from the heart,
From deep within my soul.
I try to write of the love I have,
But cannot reach my goal.
But why I ask, why can't I write,
Of love so pure and true.
Why can't I write about her eyes,
A mix of green and blue.
I want to write about her smile,
It brightens up my day.
I try to think of anything,
But words I cannot say.
I wish I knew how to write,
A poem with such bliss.
I wish I knew how to describe,
Her soft but tender kiss.
I cannot even begin to write,
How she holds me tight.
How her arms around me,
Makes everything just right.
A poet does not have to think,
The words flow right out.
When I sit and try to write,
I want to scream and shout.
I mean come on, how hard can it be,
To write about her hair.
Such long beautiful natural blonde,
That flows in the air.
I try to write about her laugh,
The words will not fly.
Time passes and finally,
I say it's soft and high.
It's been an hour and a half,
I'm here on verse twelve.
I had to go to Rhymezone,
To find out the rhyme is shelve.
A poet does not do that,
Go online to find a rhyme.
A poet has it in his head,
And can write at any time.
But a poet I am not,
For I cannot write of love.
How the girl I am with,
Is an angel from up above.
How I love her with all my heart,
And want to spend my life with her.
How her love for me is more,
Than I can ever be for sure.
As I draw near the end,
My mind is not so numb.
I realize I've just written of love,
A poet I have become.
poem by Adam McKim
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My Poem Is A Forgettable Poem
MY POEM IS A FORGETTABLE POEM
My poem is a forgettable poem-
Trite rhymes-
Awkward syntax-
Common common thoughts-
Little words everyone knows-
Without real Metaphor-
Boring.
My poem is a forgettable poem-
And I write it with all my heart-
Hoping
You will love it.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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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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You Are The Metaphor For Me
The essence of love which I find
Writing this poem keeping you in mind.
But the words of beauty are wagging a war
The line breaks along with the love grammar
Rhyme, rhythm of heart beat
Mysterious music eyes mystic.
Spelling of smelling is a malapropism
The charm is a mesmerizing problem
The simile is the walking like a cat
Slim body is the punctuation without fat
Your arm is the connotation of warmness
Your word is an ellipsis of kindness
Your sight is the catharsis after pity
Your soul is a symbol of pure chastity
I wanted to give you this as a presentation
I could not write, please take the whole lexicon
How hard to write a poem, you see!
You are not you, you are the metaphor for me!
poem by Abdul Wahab
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You Don't Stop Writing Girl, Go Girl Go
You don't stop writing girl
You cannot stop, It is part of your nerves now.
Each vein looks for the proper word.
Each red blood corpuscle has become a syllable
For an imaginary poem in your mind.
Each beat of your heart recites a rhyme
A rhythm. A sonnet. A couplet.
Each curl in your cerebellum thinks of
An imagery. Another metaphor comes
And you grasp them with each breath.
You are alive girl. Go girl stop watching
The snow and make your imagination
Run wild like a snowstorm.
The sound of a snowfall. A snowflake
Layering on the side of your window pane
Speaks to you about this coldness
This beautiful sound of a very lonely song
Harking for Love.
Far away from your homeland
You weep for a while and then recover
Compose yourself and see your face in that mirror.
You are strong. You are as vast as the ten thousand miles
Away from us.
Go girl. Another poem knocks at the door of your heart.
Write it. Write about a chaff. The grain. The wheat germ.
Go girl. You are one of us, chosen not to speak
But to write.
I am waiting for your next poem. Gladly, I am.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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For Those Who Still Dream To Write The Best Lines Of Their Lives
you wish to write the best lines of
a poem, something that they will remember
for a lifetime, you want to put the best metaphor,
you like to be deeper than the deepest ocean
(or the bluest sky ever, or the tallest peak
of a mountain with snow caps, you want to
put the gentlest sound of the wind
on top of the Tibetan monastery, you like
to have your lines sound like a tinkering bell
of the meditating monks, you want it holier
than the saints, you want to make an impression
with the moon and the stars, before you die,
before you embrace the darkness and then
take on the glowing robe of light)
you wish to write the wisdom of the ages
in some few lines, you want to put your name
at the bottom, so they may remember you
how human could you still be!
divinity shuns this waste of words!
come to think of the paradox
the best poem is not written at all
it is not even spoken
not even the sweetest song of the bird
not even the flute or the lyre has that note
it is not here, not even in the hearts of men
or of the wise, it does not exist here,
it is not even heard yet, the metaphors still unseen
the rhyme unrevealed, the rhythm unfathomed...
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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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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All The Poems Are A Metaphor
ALL THE POEMS ARE A METAPHOR
All the poems are a metaphor
For another poem
I cannot write
And this poem too
However incomparable
Does not say
What the real Poem is.
God knows
Only God knows.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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