These Metaphor Couplet poems are examples of Couplet poems about Metaphor. These are the best examples of Metaphor Couplet poems written by international PoetrySoup poets
No where near a force of nature.
Challenging the things that are not for sure.
Building what we can survive.
A small measurement when we strive.
Lessons when it comes to strength.
Multiplying the time found in length.
Stop and learn the sound of weakness.
Hard to find when one is restless.
Improving in a mental task.
The answers are found when we ask.
Stamina is needed between me and you.
To perform bravely in all we do.
Losing the ability to rump for long.
You're out of shape comes in way too wrong.
The idea is to learn when ideas seem to fail.
The wrong action is to bail.
Thinking, thinking what could it be.
Will not solve the problem between you and me.
Practice is the best energy.
Memorize it and stamina will come naturally.
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,
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.
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.
Poem: Titled: Eat A Little Piece?My Poetry on PoetrySoup
Written by: Ronald Watson.
March 10, 2013.
Eat A Little Piece?
Ethel, she is an elderly little lady who bakes sweet tasty treats, and constantly, she is asking,” Please, come on, eat a little piece?”
It was her secret cooking recipe’ that would knock the socks right off of your feet.
Then, she gathered up together all of, “The Powers That Be.”
When it came time for them to eat a little piece.
To sip it up with their coffee and tea;
Devour some up like, the cookie monster on: Sesame Street.
Either, it should taste more like, their moms red beans and rice.
Or it would taste just like, those sweet and honey barbeque ribs that is cooked so nicely.
Because it is her secret cooking recipe’. Yet, still she is asking, “Come on now, please try a little peace?”
But, they all just stood and shook their heads, saying that they were all having War instead.My Poetry on PoetrySoup
Day in, and day out, from the ripe old age of five
I’ve take to sharp objects and whittled at their sides.
Plotting the precise angle with penetrating gaze,
the slant of slice, just so nice, as memory replays.
With curt tongue and tireless ire, I shred the sages
Burroughs, and Asimov, the Shakespeare past ages.
Butchering with rare delight, the language on the page
lancing every metaphor and simile upstaged.
and so I've arrived her in rhythm and in rhyme
killing the English language as other people dine.
*Nibbs are the pointed ends of fountain pens
as well as being an important or self-important person
Light and dark
In the middle of the park
Where the shadows dance
With every glance.
The breeze goes by
With just a sigh
By trembling leaves
A spider weaves
To a silent beat
A web of deceit
Set in light and dark
In the middle of the park.
Author: Paul Callus ~ 25 February, 2014
Contest: Impress me with a small poem written in Feb or Mar 2014
Sponsor: Giorgio A. V.
Life is like a hurricane.
Life, is like a heavy rain.
A lake of pain like lake Baikal.
Tears, flow like a waterfall.
People are like granite stone;
in the end your'e left alone.
But what of the good things?
Like the sound of when a church bell rings?
Or the miraculous, beautiful way
one helps another through troublesome day?
Tragedies of life aren't fun,
but in the end we learn a ton.
Though pain we do remember,
the flame eventually turns to ember.
You see, the thing about walking through earth each day,
is The King turns the curse to a healthy pathway.
I wrote a little poem that went toot toot toot.
With every second line do-op do-op.
It started with a scale that went doe ray me.
and had a tiny chorus of tick tick tock.
I added tiny rests that went sigh sigh sigh.
I balanced them with sounds that went ring ring ring.
Now half the words were higher and half were low.
Until they reached the end and went ping ping ping.
I gave it to a man who played with instruments.
Who said he was the best and the king king king.
He wasn't very good when he started to play.
Until he opened up his mouth to sing sing sing.
And that is how I invented the song song song.
I hope I haven't bored and strung you along long long.
The undulating waters caress the bank seamlessly
Lapping little wavelets, just to tease and to tempt me
‘Dip in you’ll be alright’ they softly sing my name
But one dip I could be lost, I know the name of this game.
Come now, slide into me, come feel the real delight
The river ripples on, the water cool, the moon so bright.
Just break the surface quickly; you know you really want to
Let your body be caressed, you are with the one that wants you.
Let the river flow, where it meets the raging sea
Let the river flow, the way that you want me.
The cooling waters, sooth the beast of savage brow
Flowing and caressing as only it knows how.
From cooling waters to raging torrent, let it flow where it might
Just let the river flow, while you hold me close and tight.
© 07/06/2013 ~GG~
Always pulling rabbits
From the bottom of my hat,
Always looking forwards,
Never looking back.
Like to keep you laughing,
Laughing through the night,
Keeps our broken hearts at bay,
Hidden from the light.
more of my poems at: http://labyrinthoflies.com
A summer rain arrived, unwelcome, cold and unannounced,
Spattering softly then louder, as if a hidden tiger had pounced.
I stared out of the window pane as the world turned silver-black,
With distorted reflections of lights from the thunder flash and crack.
A face stares back from the window, captured in each rain bead,
Like a fragmented, displaced reflection of a soul clinging to a need.
They wriggle down the window pane, as if searching for a course,
Like a hidden memory surfacing, loosening a mighty natural force.
Each bead a broken part of me or perhaps a fragment of my soul,
As it clings to the window pane, fighting and crashing as they roll.
Some they merge together as lover warriors against the world,
But they tumble fall to nothing as more raindrops are unfurled.
They softly flow away together, their identities lost from view,
Leaving the world so refreshed, fragrant as early morning dew
An order and a reason, portrayed so assured and so intense,
Rests behind its demeanour, its nature, is not an offence.
What of the different parts of me that are lost upon the pane?
They are washed away to nothingness and purified by the rain!