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Metaphor Love Poems

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Details | Metaphor Poem |

oh sweet rose

beautiful rose
covered in 
your petal finery
sweet silken
satin soft feelings
singing in praise
touching deeply inside

gentle heart 
of sweetness
tenderness flows
from your sweet
scenting aroma
floats inside 
the scent

heavenly emotions
enchanting beauty
looking amazing
red in passion
hot soft whispering 
pink blushing
orange warm
as the sun beams

dressed in white
you crown angels
petals softly 
whispers flow
on scented air
words inside 
i love you

kissing and hugging
my love deeply darling
surrendering to you
without doubt
purest rose

i trust 
from the petals
into my heart
a crowning jewel
you are queen
amongst flowers baby


Details | Metaphor Poem |

Kaleidoscope Dreams

Green…you always reflected in my peripheral
And kept watch as I tried to color my world
But there I lay in my blacks and my blues,
lifeless and faltering In monotone hues.

Through kaleidoscope eyes, I envisioned my skies
But the pot at the rainbow was storybook lies
so with nothing to gain and nothing to lose,
I just shuffled around In my blacks and my blues.

Never did I imagine you!, Green… to be my savior
But there you arose, out of my dark abyss
With your bottle green dress and scarlet kiss
Your emerald  green eyes and unbridled bliss.

Now my kaleidoscope dreams have all been unfurled
Since you Green, have colored my world
You rescued my heart, Green
You rescued my heart.


Details | Metaphor Poem |

A cyclical life

Here in the heavy depths of insolent woes,
We gesture and talk and waste our time,
Staking claim to each minute of our earthly life,
Running the hours through a clock by the day,
Never sated, not content to find even love,
Buried deep inside the petals of a perfect rose.

So was a metaphor created from the rose, 
Then plagiarized and used for all of time,
Simply here to represent the beauty of love,
A perfection to which we cannot aspire to in life,
Or even death, in the darkest of all those woes,
Great though they may seem by the passing day.

It's a fragile, soulful kind of love,
In the pressing presence of the breaking day,
Where your back breaks beneath ample woes,
And there just simply isn’t ever enough time,
To do what you plan to do with your life.
Then you start to resemble that rose.

Soft and delicate, with easy loss of life,
Mournful of the passage of time,
Counting down, day by dreary day,
Ever seeking out to find dear love,
The theoretical banishment of woes.
Such is the way of the deep red rose.

Has it ever occurred to us not to mark time?
Just to ignore it, along with any such woes,
Just to leap forth and enjoy life,
To live to the absolute fullest everyday,
And just as chosen by the poet's rose,
To find and hold on to, that one true love.

For I find, that it's mostly true these days,
That people don't make enough time,
For laughter and fullness in life,
So preoccupied with petty woes,
That they forget about the beauty of love,
And in doing that, they forget about the rose,

I know what the rose represents in my life,
And I work hard to expel my woes every day,
So that soon I will have time for true love.

*****Written in Sestina for Constance's Poetry 101 contest.*****
******* 5th Place winner*******
******Sarah Blake August 2010******

A sestina is a highly structured form of poetry consisting of six six-line stanzas and a three-
line envoy (thirty-nine lines). The end words of the first stanza are repeated in varied order
as end words in the other stanzas and also recur in the envoy.


Details | Metaphor Poem |

I see myself in her

                                                                                                             -For Melissa

She asked me how long does it take to heal
In what time allotment, exactly, will it take
For forgetfulness to become a reoccurrence
A blessing for the haunted
Memories that can be bleached off 
White sundresses put on in order to frolic
On beaches with waves washing away
Each grain of him
How long did it take for you to get over him?
Days? Weeks? A month or two?
Hope shining like a naïve flashlight during the eclipse of hardest times
Beaming on me, waiting for an answer

How could I tell her, honestly, 
That it took me years
To overlook the smallest details of his smile
How he only has one dimple on the right side of his face
The way his hands felt, every line and crevice of his fate
Thought to fit mine perfectly?

How could I tell her, truthfully
That no matter how many times I washed my sheets
I would catch the scent of him at 3:45 am, sometimes
Or hear his faint tapping on my window
When it’s really just, my imagination
That she’ll spend months waiting for him to text her
Call her, email her, think of her
When really he’s lying in bed with another women but she refuses
To believe that it’s over
Or how my heart still aches, just a little
When I hear he asked about me
Or that he can no longer say my name out loud to our mutual friends

Could I muster up the courage to explain to her
That it took me 2 years, 3 months, and 16 days to realize
The ugliness of being pathetic
It was time to rise up and take the lead 
Time to forget all romantic casualties 
It’s only yesterday that I found myself straining to remember
His faults, forgetting the man and only remembering the hero
How could I break her heart for the second time by telling her
The truth?

She stood there patiently waiting for me
To pull a metaphor out of a hat, something poetic
Comforting, beautiful, reassuring
I see myself in her
Wanting people to lie to us to see the Zen in ourselves

It’s like we’re all in the same play with the same roles but different names
It takes time for each actor to fulfill the destiny
Others emphasize while others downplay
Moments in time


Details | Metaphor Poem |

A poem for YOU

In this world of Uncertainties I’m the man that you can trust And in my words of sincerity That my love would never last. And if you could only feel, what i feel for you You can ask me “why?” so you can see the truth Like our love that tightens the rope, Like a light that would give us hope. As you watch the dark skies Let me grab the moon for you, And as I catch the bright stars That’s the way you can see me through As this planet turns as it always will And things go wrong and you don’t know what to feel Hold my hand for it will make us strong Like a wind, we will carry on The wind blow that sings a hymn for you For they know what does love means for the two Love is blind, and not deaf So how’s success if you’re not ready to bet? In this poem with full of rhymes, A full of love, Babe can you be mine? I don’t expect too much from you Why should I? If you complete my whole. “Till death do us part” that’s what they have said But why do struggles crash them ahead? Don’t ask me when my love will last, To count all of our quarrels, is that a must? Now and Forever is all that I promise No day dreaming and without reminiscence As the matter of time, as the time passes by Together we stand, together you and I
A poem for my Girlfriend for our anniversary :) pls comment and rate... you are free to judge and criticize my work :) God Bless


Details | Metaphor Poem |

Moments In Time

The sweetest sounds of burning trees
A gentle stroking in the breeze
The calm has lasted past the storm
Cloudy visions, Satan’s roar
Too many sights have passed my way
A time found only in the haze
The softest screams are running bare
My aching bones creak as I stare

You walk a distance towards me
The fall’s eternal, can’t you see?
I’m a memory in your heart
I whisper to you in the dark

The battle’s started at the end
No one is coming to repent
The sinners grab their wine from prey
No judgment calling here to stay
The sport is reckless to be told
The one is laughing at his souls
It falters nowhere to be sure
The power grows forevermore
Like a spirit in the wind
I have no say in where you’ve been 
But cross the line to come to me
And pay the price for ecstasy

You walk a distance towards me
The fall’s eternal, can’t you see?
I’m a memory in your heart
I whisper to you in the dark. 


Details | Metaphor Poem |

A Soul Awakened

She is the muse to her own sorrow; She is the digger of her grave. She is the painter of her ocean view and every fatal wave. She is the shadow of her Father; She is the darkness in your sight. She is the night without the stars surrounding pale moonlight. She is the music with no words; She is sweet love without the reason. She is your dreamer with submission cold by warmth with every season. She is your pet with cold intentions; She is your baby scared and shaken. She is the bold and pure- the lost and found, She is a soul awakened.


Details | Metaphor Poem |

LOVE: "The God Precept is Prior Cause"

An I am of Love is precept approved,
Doesn’t need approval of concepts' inept,
Doesn’t need the nod of man/woman, only God,
By precept of love’s absolve soul’s love is kept! 

Seeing Love’s being is uncompromising,
Not of double mind concepts non-comprising, 
Within one’s own precept love is the comprising,
Will be no rising in the mind’s compromising!

As yeast from the east, bread of life is apprising,
Pending only a few mind’s their realizing,
Of love’s precept which is uncompromising,
Where shall you be(?), at the precept’s advising…

In life’s ascension  of illusion’s mountain, 
Toward the drinking of your precept’s fountain, 
Of clear, free moving waters, life appertain,
Where forever love’s precept shall be obtained!

Since the very dawn of precept’s greatness of spawn,
Parasites of concept’s might, sought the abject wand,
Oh Judas concept, mind inept, precept abscond,
The Stubborn Ox, the metaphor correspond! 

The belligerent concept, of elder mind,
In complex darkness, is groping, seeking to find,
Within the whorish darkness first light’s refine,
Out of void of darkness came light, mind was blind!  

  

  


Details | Metaphor Poem |

Ice Breaker

The limbs of the tree are now cold and barren
as they reach up into the sky above
searching for what was lost,
as the playful, fallen leaves are now gone,
taken away with the winds of time.

Nothing but a gray cloudiness
overtakes the skies
the warm sunlight disappears
more and more each day
as the darkness closes in.
Frigid winds come down from the North,
bringing with them a reckless abandon
with no care for the warmth
of the human heart.

Cold raindrops evolve into icy snowflakes
that fall for miles 
before they reach the earth
and are caught by the barren arms of the tree.
The world is now silent in the grace of wintertime.

A stubborn chill surrounds the human heart
trying to instill itself into every chamber
yet, it cannot end the beating drum
when there is a song of happiness
dwelling there forevermore.

Some days the sun still shines,
yet, it changes nothing
the warmth lingers somewhere else,
until the sun decides to stay
a little more each day.

Eventually, the warm-hearted will melt 
away the frost around them.
The frozen ice will begin to thaw and disappear,
soon a small crack forms, and spreads across
separating the ice
where a trickle of water is finally free to flow
out into the warmth of springtime.
And the world comes back to life,
re-awakening and reborn again.




Details | Metaphor Poem |

How I Met Your Mother

Kids,
I once vacationed in the company of silence,
It was an unconscious scene bestowed upon
me;
Although I had a calling that answered my 
purpose, 
A myth of joy existed outside this career, 
I was left drowning in limbo, without an 
excuse; 
But there was a witness, who studied my trail 
without cause, 
And without apprehension, she helped to resurrect the 
the location of destiny; 
Allow me to reminisce on such. 

For it was in a previous portrait, that I encountered 
a dozen roses; 
Of these that I held, there were none that exceeded 
a brief touch,
A momentary scent that never returns; 
Now understand with this expression, it is not a
boast I intend to create, 
For I was seeking that gentle grip, in hopes of it never 
departing;
I continued a cold failure, never realizing the warmth of 
victory that smiled ahead. 

I settled on the peak of solitude, as my faith passed
away in obscurity, 
And yet, beyond these frozen eyes, there existed a 
narration of fate, waiting for my company; 
For you see kids, I’ve walked past the casual frame 
of your mother, 
And misplaced my sight, I’ve missed her spirit by 
petty inches, 
And when there was a vision of opportunity, my space
was occupied with trivial games. 

Then one day, I discovered a possession that linked 
heaven and earth forever, 
An umbrella your mother left abandoned; 
And yet, it was through her innocent misfortune, 
That I discovered her abstract songs, played upon
by the perfect key, 
Her heart that sits in prosperity, from the charity of 
deeds, 
A collection of beauty, your mother gracefully 
owns; 
By the time we crossed into cupid’s lair, I knew 
already, the verses of duality were written true, 
And with that, the perfect stranger discarded her 
title, 
Leading Renee into popularity; 
Hello became the endless quote, we spoiled into 
memory. 

As the task of life left this page briefly open, 
I responded with a mutual exit, confirming these 
lips of joy, 
And with revelations of challenge forever slayed,  
I peacefully fell, forever breathless. 


Details | Metaphor Poem |

Smoke Signals

If words could envelop fire,

I’d whisper softly into a quiet

note and let the pyre in my

lonely coffer spill out it’s smokey dispatch.

Letting pathos glow inside carrion’s beat,

I would endeavor this note reach a messenger

with quick feet, so that you would read it before

I became nothing more than a ruin,

damned by it’s own occasion.

I would speak with a gentle urgency,

through teeth like embers of brimstone.

" Let not your tender humor steer you

in a direction that would wilt us both. 

Fan the flames that have consumed me,

It’s a burn that fuels our passion

I love you and the pain that you bring,

you are the brightness in the sky,

and the darkness of night.

You are the sting of broken flesh,

and the sweet release of blood that flows.

You are the healing of my blackened benevolence,

and the anger in my wisdom.

You are my second eye, 

and my heaviest anchor.

You are the spark,

and the kindle.

You are my Queen.”



-James Kelley 2013, All rights reserved


Details | Metaphor Poem |

Love Bites

Love bites like the first frost in late autumn.
It kills whatever flowers have survived since summer ended.
The frost slowly seeps into the stem, totally consumes the petals,
then when it least expects it,
freezes them, biting deep into the roots, 
and choking it to death.
Eventually leaving nothing but a dead, rotted weed.

My love for you was like that flower,
and like that flower my heart was wild and free.
Until, one day when I was frost bitten, by your love for me,
which like that frost, was cold and uncaring.

Love bites like frost to a flower.
It hurts everything in it's path.
You know it's coming, and there is no way to stop it.
Nothing lasts forever.





Written by: Kelly Deschler   motif: nature & philosophical    (old poem)


Details | Metaphor Poem |

Wrestling Verses


Wrestling Verses


Spilling ink onto paper,
reading tea-leaves,

fragments of mirth,
shards of anguish,

remain,
trapped in rolled-up sleeves.


Turning up my collar,
as blue as these days that slip by,

scattered verses plunge into,
the fathoms of unknown waters.


My ink runs, slips, treading lightly,
penning odes to love on bare skin,

your skin,
your bare back my canvas,

my fingers tracing, caressing, scribbling,
homages to our laughter, our tears.


Wrestling verses,

lie spent, exhausted,
famished and parched from saying too much,

still,

my fingers tickle your soft skin,

my ink would run dry,

were it not for your gentle touch


Details | Metaphor Poem |

I Disappear

wake up to serendipity
ignorant and unknown
shaken and not stirred
blond can be bond

Reality, metaphor and cliche
cheesy juvenile decay
Love, care and hate
past the use by date

of fights and torment
and well deserved lament
salute to the solitary reaper
with Metallica... I disappear


Details | Metaphor Poem |

Groundswell Girl - Named by JB

Enter a storybook tale
Where I can be 
The heroine you hail
Lucid dreams of soft reflection
A touch heated with lust and desired protection
A breathe a gasp as we succeed 
Join the fairytale with me
Valiant night within dark eyes
the right movement and I make them shine
like moonlight on the steamy hot spring
care to follow for a little dip with me
Trailing like the water at my fingertips
Grasp me around my hips
As close as the breeze on my skin 
Whisper lies as I let you in 
Lips mumbling up my thighs
bare heart exposed to the sky 
fire burning in my veins
Am I a mistress of this lust or simply a slave
Trembling with desire
Take me till we've lost count of the hours
enter this storybook tale
Where I can be the heroine you hail


Details | Metaphor Poem |

Echo

Many voices from the past,
Always echoing in my head,
How long can it last,
I thought you were dead.

You always tell me what to do,
So I don't make a mistake,
Somehow you always knew,
How many I could make.

Because once I hurt you,
And you'll never let me forget,
But what can I do,
You're not quite dead yet.

Why won't you leave me alone,
Will you never forgive me,
I wish I could atone,
Please, just let me be.

The hollow echo of your voice,
Will linger on forever,
You've given me no choice,
It'll never stop, ever.

The sound of you used to make me smile,
But now it tortures me,
I will always be in denial,
So an end I'll never see.





Written by: Kelly Deschler

Giorgio V.'s contest - "Impress Me 2" -  themes-gothic/spiritual


Details | Metaphor Poem |

The Door

Noah’s ark was real not a fiction
It had a door to escape God’s affliction
Noah delivered a warning message
But the folks mock their own presage

Men grew in sin and matured in transgression
And ignored Noah’s loving confession
The Door stood open a long time
Until time begin to climb

The Lord finally shut the Door
And the rain begin to pour
120 years of grace finally came to a halt
God administered judgment by default

The Door was a glorious type of Christ
He was the Lamb of God who was price
Jesus said “I am the Door of the sheep”
He is the only Door of that Great ship

Jesus is our Door of salvation
Wherein we enter and float as new creation
Behold He stands at your door this day and knock
Let Him in, you’ll find pasture as a partaker of His Holy flock

Then said Jesus unto them again, Verily, verily, I say unto you, I am the door of the sheep- John 10:7


Details | Metaphor Poem |

Witness and Behold the End

White Lilies,
Scattered on the ground,
Out of their element.
Witness,
Purity,
Deprived of its origin.
Behold,
Clarity no longer visible.
 
White Roses,
In the purest snow,
Frozen to the core.
Witness,
Loveliness,
Stripped away so rash.
Behold,
Beauty destroyed.

White flowers,
All around,
Trampled into dust.
Witness,
Wildness,
Stolen without knowledge.
Behold,
Endless death fighting to prevail.


Details | Metaphor Poem |

What Is It To Be A Tree

What is it to be a Tree?
Do trees ever mind being so close ...so intertwined ?
Do they ever long for space as I do? 
Do they prefer to be so meshed…branches touching branches
 all the time or do they like me long 
............................................................for autonomy

Do their branches reach for another’s touch? 
….................stretching to find it?
Do they cling and pine when isolated …as we do sometimes?

When a tree falls does another one grieve?
...............................................................

Do they sometimes wish to be free?
To be as free 
as he does....... from me?

Does life always include such serious stuff? 
Or do trees simply shift in the breezes
of superfluous fluff?

Do they ever 
wish 
to find
the sea?
To fly 
to fly?
just 
like me?
What on earth is it like ....to be?
to be a standing…a standing only ...are they lonely? 
beloved tree?
What is it?
to be a tree?



Details | Metaphor Poem |

Letters On My Arm

you won’t listen to me, so i write to you on my arms. 
this one says i needed you and you weren’t there. 
this one says i’m bleeding but you don’t care. 
i wrote you this one out of despair, 
seemed like you always had to be at some other somewhere,
and it hurts, because it’s me you’re dismissin’, 
with no time to listen, just need your attention, 
it’s your touch i’m missin’, look me in my eye,
i know you see my letters, so why don’t i get a reply?
i guess it’s worth it just to try, 
to get you to notice me just one more time, 
write you just one last line, 
but i’m runnin’ out of time ‘cause i’m runnin’ out of ink, 
needin’ more time to think, 
but i don’t have it, so i sign my last letter and address it to you,
i hope this one gets through


Details | Metaphor Poem |

Coming Back

Synopsis: The events in this poem never actually happened. I wrote this in a metaphor to 
express what was going on at the time.

The stage lights up,
The curtains rise.
I raise my head,
And look in your eyes.

Sounds come through,
The music plays.
This song's for you,
You're in a daze.

The crowd is vast,
The fans are crazed.
You're leaving fast,
You looked amazed...

I keep on singing,
I don't understand.
Your ears are ringing,
I look at the band.

They're still playing,
I walk off stage,
Drop the mic,
And disengage.

I'm running for you,
And you look back,
You keep walking, 
It feels like a smack.

I know you don't like it,
When i leave,
Pick up the mic,
And make you grieve.

There isn't much time,
At all anymore,
To see you be mine.
The music took o'er.

You couldn't take it,
Thats why you left.
Our anniversary,
I know I missed.

I know you planned,
And I ignored.
Now I'm banned,
From entering your door.

I finally catch up,
Tell you I'm sorry.
You give me a hug,
That night so starry.

I left the band,
We both kissed again.
I hope you understand,
I loved you more then.




Details | Metaphor Poem |

Loose Change

I dig into the open wounds of self preservation,

and hear

                   ...from way over there,

my love jingling in your pocket

as if it were the loose change 

in your wet dreams. 

You were always numb to the mirror,

taking comfort in the blind eyed 

discontent you've reigned in 

with hard strokes of denial,

making your makeup seem

a little more made up in the dim lighting

of reflection. 

Don't you think? 

It was never about making love,

it was about forgetting.

My hips were a glowing red exit sign,

on the route of 

                           ....screwing life away.

Each moan, a promise that 

even though you were dead inside,

you could still make a piece of the 

world shake. 

Maybe even make something break. 

And that made everything seem

a bit more tolerable...

until I started thanking you 

for the damage inflicted.

The pain I felt, assurance 

that I was alive.

I'm not sure why that 

took the fun out of it 

for you..

I still screamed bloody murder

when you sunk your teeth into

newly adjusted nerve endings..

The pain, more real than ever before.

I guess you never meant to 

take a ride with someone just as 

damaged as you. 

You were hoping to be the only 

ghost in this city, still bound

to a carnal playhouse. 

But baby..

                I was a corpse long before I had any change to spare.

-James Kelley 2014, All rights reserved.


Details | Metaphor Poem |

Shotgun Lovesong

Let's play a game
of Russian Roulette.
I'll go first,
you can pull the trigger.
Look me in the eyes
as the muzzle 
nuzzles
the temple of my skull.

Fire.

I'll probably be fine,
more than alright in fact, 
as I watch you
watch me
remain alive.

It'll look like you love me.
It'll look like you care.


Details | Metaphor Poem |

You

Smile...

Dream...

Sun beams like Hot Choclate on a blue day...

Soft silky and smooth on your skin...

Smile....

Dream...

Butterflies softly floating like falling feathers in the wind...

Gently gliding gracefully over the bright green grass...

Smile...

Dream...

Eyelashes brush against your cheek like soft snowflakes on your face...

Fingertips flit freely across your arm...

Smile...

Dream...

Together playfully prancing like horses running wild...

Spinning tops twiling tenderly....

Smile....

Dream....

Wishes whispered wimsically like pixies playing hopscotch...

Softly calling quietly,

I love you!


Details | Metaphor Poem |

Dark Ice

Shadows and murky darkness deep
Describe the depths of lonely hearts
That lie in wait and icy chill
For fiery love to burst in flames;
That empty chests may be refilled
And taste sweet love again!


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