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Narrative Metaphor Poems | Narrative Poems About Metaphor

These Narrative Metaphor poems are examples of Narrative poems about Metaphor. These are the best examples of Narrative Metaphor poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Narrative | |

Silver Strands

Slate gray streets made even darker by cutting raindrops
Umbrellas popping up everywhere, people seeking shelter

But I stayed put, wanting to get drained with the rain,
then I hear this tinkling voice that says, “Don’t you just love it when it rains?!”

I look at her wearily and her eyes actually gleam with laughter
Oh geez, this lady was my total opposite.  I was brooding, she was brimming.
I power-up my go away vibes, but she was like a darned magnet…
Was I the ferromagnetic one, or was she?

She gushed on the metaphor of rain in her life, and I didn’t feel like drowning.
Listening to her amidst the onslaught was so refreshing, making me thirstier…


There we were, two drenched souls, sitting on the pavement, chatting up a storm.
Of all her descriptions of rain, one in particular stood out for me…

Pearl drops strung on silver strands …

She said, “Rain for me would be silver strands streaking an otherwise somber sky…
pearl drops strung on silver strands, broken by the heavens to share with us.
See how precious it is?” Then she continued on with the metaphor for pearls…

Her words felt like windshield wipers to me, and I could see clearly now
By then, the rains had softened, and a lone pearl drop landed on her eyelashes
-that made me look closer at her eyes… her beautiful, wise, yet cloudy eyes…


I have never looked at rain the same way since then.






For Andrea's and Susan's Silver Strands contest



Details | Narrative | |

Once Upon a Time

Once upon a time
She was watching the Sun
And she told her; ``Burn me!``
Then she wrote a poem
Which was so beautiful and sad
So beautiful and sad
That she destroyed it
But once, she was watching love
That resembled many dawns
And clouds over a plain field
And she felt that they became
A part of her, and for a moment
Only for a moment she experienced
Something that was whole and complete
And she thought that this particular moment
Defined her life


Details | Narrative | |

Two Trees

Oh tree to my right how you mirror the left
Tree on the left, with great vigor you grow
When waters run dry, your roots search below
To the ends of all branches; lush fruits like Eden
Hundred thousand leaves dance in the wind

Oh tree to my right what phantom did come
Yielding fruit no more; nor vivid leaves to sway
All branches have ceased, no more but a stump
Fifty thousand leaves dance in the wind

Oh tree to my left so valiant, so true
A whip of your branch & firm grip of the wind
To the right, one seed you give; let life grow anew
Solitude tis as fire bound for a tree, a simple truth to all
Fifty thousand leaves dance in the wind

Oh tree to my right; look, now you're grown
As was, now are; from the tree to the left came your rebirth
Teeming with life & beauty displayed
Hundred thousand leaves dance in the wind


Details | Narrative | |

A Land Bearing Green White Green

Which way leads to the 
land of green white 
green?
Which way are we 
heading?
   A country the wicked 
bears the rulership, and 
the people sighing 
continuously.
   A terrible thing sprouts 
beneath the sun: a 
pregnant woman 
delivering not.
Imps come to lime-light 
by snuffing air from the 
goose that laid the 
golden eggs.
The blind guiding the un
blind.
The weak suppressing 
the strong-a terrible 
thing.
Like the overthrow of the 
gods at Mt. Olympus by 
the Titans.
A country where also 
thieves appear as men of 
integrity.
Land of green white 
green,which way?
A land where the 
enlightened ones are 
overshadowed and 
peanuts given to them.
The masses are dogs that 
eat the crumbs.
 Which way to go you 
Land?
Iliterates stand on 
podium of power 
bellowing orders as milk 
of sorrow known as 
dividends of democracy 
is passed around.
The machine of progress 
manned by the 
unproductive.
"There is better 
tomorrow" we hear.
Land of green white 
green,my country 
where rule of law walk 
beside anarchy.
The proles are sentenced 
to adversity,and there 
endured death-like trials.
Chai! Aru! People 
dancing on thorns 
whimpering as they 
throng 
along.
  I see a new sun rising 
from the horizon,hope is 
rekindled as its rays 
grace on hopeless bodies.
 Look!! there soon be 
change!



Note: 
This 
is 
poem 
full 
of 
Nigeria 
political
 angst.


Details | Narrative | |

Love Fast , Run Far

	Search
Patrick Kail
Long ago I lost a precious thing that used to lift me up as it lifted burdens shouldered with it's way of 
tender holding .How barren now that what has left it's mark to shame us .Just in a role and this acheless 
rage so apt a trick it lies alone as so in many ways reaching each as it denied us. Tertiary paid in knowledge 
first an icon green so paramount.Strip ped barren now and left us naught but naked thoughts of whats 
spilled a path while denying everything but woe to us the wickedness to whats yet still left so easily still 
wanting.
Apr 17 at 3:25am ·  · Like · Share · Remove
Patrick Kail
Love Fast Run Far 

by James P Kail Wednesday April 17th 2013
Like · Edit · Apr 17 at 3:56am


Details | Narrative | |

The unexpected


The man in the dark mask turns his head 
To face the crowd with evil eyes,
The crowd cry out with screams of dread
But he carries on amidst their cries

As he emits a booming laugh,
Which seems to echo, through the night,
He carries on his reign of wrath,
And slaughters everyone in sight
 
But one small, frail, child
Decides the masked man will be beat
And runs though crowds with bodies piled
And kneels down at the masked mans feet

The rogue looks down with chilling eyes
Upon the small child on the floor
And as he wields his knife to strike
Lets out a sudden painful roar
 
Beneath his legs the child had crawled
And stabbed his spine with one small knife
And when the brutal man did fall
His throat was slit to end his life.


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The Forest

A woodland path stippled with sun, hushed and quiet -
but the path I found myself on was a dark and dangerous one.
I'd been blackberrying - bramble-scratched, branch-slapped -
snapping from barbs berries fat as leeches
seeping blood-juices on my fingers.
Wood anemones opened pale hands to reach for me,
their fragrant star faces enticed me.
They beckoned, pulling me further and further away
from the world I knew and deeper into the wood.

The forest closed around me, trapping me
in a tangle of twining paths and trembling trees,
the ground layered with brown and golden leaves. 
Treetops cackled with the black caws of crows,
bushes bled red berries, grasses lashed my legs.
And every time the footpath forked
I went deeper, I went darker.
Tick-tock time slowed to a crawl,
watch hands wound backwards.

The whispering wood grew dimmer;
what little light there was struck trees and disappeared.
Fly agaric mushroomed into blood-raw open sores,
ivy ropes dangled nooses from branches.
Crying was useless, my panic-forced tears were hopeless.
Moles mouldered, luminous with maggots,
rabbits rotted, their throats ripped out.
Sky turned ink-dark, lonely wood-wild nights engulfed me.

With time, thoughts of home began to fade,
the seething forest seemed friendlier;
trees were a tease of teal and green,
rippling with strange and teeming life.
Amber algae scorched sunsets on umber bark,
wood sorrel crept, beetles burrowed, lichens came alive.
The forest floor was feathered with ferns
and plush with sponge-soft moss.
Now and again I caught the briefest glimpse of blue,
cool and welcome as water,
and once or twice, through distant trees, I spotted
what I took to be the twinkling lights of a town,
but it was only rainbow flickers glinting on leaves.

I've been gone too long, I'm too far gone.
Faint memories of home still siren-sing to me,
but just when I think I've found the right track
the forest tightens its grip, drawing me back.


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The Emptiness of Life

Oh how frail is the life of mortals
Look at how our tongue treasures the taste of food
Without oxygen we die
We sleep as though we're dead

I've seen demagogs rising and falling
History hasn't been fair to their very great powers
In our virtues, our pride lights our vice
Oh such hypocrites at heart

Oh how our desires hook us like fish bones
Into doom we gleam
Until we see our fragile weakness on Earth
True repentance is just a dream

I've seen the Light I believe
The truth of God who lived as man
His sacrifice made me free
Oh such a hope of eternity I share


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morning shower

Morning Shower

This morning I have carefully slumbered into the bathroom to start the shower
Groggy and tired I turn the control counterclockwise to a satisfying temperature
I step inside the cubical and shiver with the initial shock of water pouring on me
My body starts to melt as the warmth covers me like a warm blanket

Worries and agendas come seeping through the shower tiles like unavoidable green monsters
Clouds of steam give a ferocious roar and the mischievous scoundrels scamper off into hiding,
Knowing that they will return once again

I’m taken to some place new
A beach with sand white as snow and the sun’s rays kissing every inch of my skin;
With the sounds of a soothing melody and a reggae beat off in the distance
I don’t recall the song but find myself knowing every word and sing along,
As my mood is calmed and contented 


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The Garden Spider

Among the flowers of beauty bright,
Upon leaves of green I sight 
Graceful webs of intricate fashion 
Of labor and of passion. 
No architect so proud can craft this shroud; 
Its sticky vines of ensnaring gloom 
Tell little of an impending doom.  
Hidden fangs await the unwary,
The thirsty, the greedy; 
Entangled vivacity thrashes about 
With a dreadful shout. 
The spider’s banquet is short and rich 
As it savors every twitch. 
No prying eye will dare to spy
On death’s descending cry. 
At dusk it drops from a canopy sky 
To taste the spoils from its ravenous eyes.
Death wrangles a martyr, wraps it in twine
Then dangles it from a vine. 
Flowering sprouts enjoy the morn, 
Marveling at the horde of spiders born. 
A cloud of spiders take to flight 
On currents of air lassoed
Just right.


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The Truth of the Dragon-Knight

Last knight Eye dreamed Eye was a dragon with wings made from disdain and shaped like quaking fear that burned holes through my subconscious imaginings. Eye was gliding soundlessly thru dark clouds, thunder, and rain, while the Slayers stood below, grounded in tyranny and trying to pull Me from the knight sky...Then Eye could hear, then Eye watched thru Dragon-I's as arrows joined my flight...trying to penetrate the hard scales of My spiritual skin. The muted sharpness of the arrows' dancing ricocheted off of Me.

Then Eye cried. Not in agony or pain or sadness...no

Eye cried in echoing defiance of the oppression of blind slavery and meaningless denial. Eye belched blue and green flame and roared aloud--as loud as my Dragon-voice would carry. Eye scorched the minds of the lie-ers and self-made martyrs (there, the ones who were carrying the omission of Truth of this world).

The Slayers still stood their ground. They kept circling  around and around under Me...but Eye kept pumping My neck, Eye kept beating My wings, but still the Slayers came...more and more of them...

Eye dived down deep toward their barren landscape (My Own Hunting Ground!!); Eye needed to see their torn, hated faces...Men, all. They kept their hoods drawn, their faces hidden from My I's. But their bodies were bare and naked to My Dragon-flame, naked to the force of My righteous wrath. Eye swept down closer, closer until Eye could smell the scents of their sweat and dried blood (of conquered servants before), and Eye could see, even count, the dark hairs sprouting from greasy, dirt-clogged pores. Eye could see that some bore vehement scars, jagged marks streaking across their man-flesh.

Their weapons were crude, mostly: wood axes, scythes, cudgels, kitchen knivez sharpened to a murderous edge...the only sophisticated armaments were their bows, their arrows. The bows were of blood and bone and tendon and blind fear, the sinewy string woven with acceptance of the  Truth...how odd (the Truth that they must stand and fight a common enemy as a single unit, that they must stop war amongst themselves to do so)...and their arrows were bound with Hope and Reason, that Eye would die before them, that they would live on. The bows were more beautiful than the Slayers deserved to wield, but they commanded them with such grace and poise and proficiency...

The Truth is Eye, the Dragon-Knight, and the Slayers are all of mankind's fear and war and social stigma among thorns...

Their bows were the making of Truth and Love and Acceptance, only constructed and command-able when mankind will stand together and open their I's and see.


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Coffee Shop v2

Prefece:
You're sitting alone at the bar of the coffee shop and you've got the usual.
black decaf latte, today's newspaper, and that pen that smears blue ink.
It’s the same every night, that's why you come back. Monotony is relief.
The only move you've made in what seems like hours was to refill your drink.



Coffee Shop:

You stare at the latte like you’re about to open a gift.
Lifting the cup high, your lips sip the heavy cream.
Tired eyes watch the frosted window and the drift
that carries the uninvited snow effortlessly past you.

The room behind you is burning loud with conversation;
The same arguments, theories, solutions
It's a sickness stuck in the same old rotation.
Like hopeless addicts, they fiend for absolution

There’s talk of Plato’s cave that shrouds enlightenment.
Others discuss Gandhi’s hidden path to the same effect.
They repeat wise men’s words in circles they invent,
leaving what’s more than a hint of ignorance to detect

The sun sets and you're blinded by a glare as you look to the skyline,
the light glows as it sits atop the trees; you look down with a sigh.
Through the window you catch the eyes of a battered man, the look of isolation and despair intertwined.
The man’s face, streaming with tears, tells a story of one too many goodbyes.

What difference does this man make, which he is or what he needs?
You’ve seen it all before; a different movie, the same old theme.
Plus, the tilt of his head and pain in his eyes speak for him of his own misdeeds
Your stare stays locked as you say out loud, “things are always what they seem.”

You have a heavy feeling bring a question that stays planted in your mind
You wonder now if you walk the very path that hollowed this man's eyes.
The thought turns into voices, the words they say are all entwined.
Getting louder now, the more you try to block them out, the more they intensify.


-Jackson Kilgrow
rantedtirades.blogspot.com


Details | Narrative | |

GREEN Chapter One

Lying in an ocean of her own blood 
drowning in her own blood.
Her lungs burning from the bullet wounds 
she never thought this is how her
life would end.  Her tears start to flow as 
she thought of the years she spent 
slithering with
snakes.  Her job at the BNB bank made it 
easy to launder money for the Black 
Crime Syndicate.
It was six years ago on June the sixth that
 her life went to hell.  Upset at the thought 
of being late
for work Kenya floored the gas pedal.  
Weaving in and out of traffic hoping she 
didn't get a ticket.  
Arriving at the BNB bank right on time. 
Kenya rushed inside and greeted everyone 
with a warm friendly smile.
A short while later the most attractive man 
she had ever seen entered the bank.  Lost
in his good looks Kenya had to find the 
words "May I help you?"  He introduced 
himself.  "Yes my name is Malik Maxwell 
Williams.  I would like to open an 
account".  "Mr. Williams please follow me 
to my office".  Malik was in Kenya's office 
for twenty minutes before making his 
departure.  Kenya made it up in her mind 
that she would get to know Malik on a 
personal level.
Written by Keith Edward Baucum aka Red 
Seven aka The Green Poet aka The Brown 
Philosopher


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A Lover's Letter - Part 1 of 4

(Canticles/The Song of Solomon / 2 Tim. 3: 16* / Ps. 33: 5
Ps. 37: 28 / Ps. 97: 10 / 2 Chron. 20: 7 / Isa. 54: 5
Deut. 7: 8 / Gen. 1: 1 / John 1: 1, 14, 18 / Ps. 83: 18)

May Liquid Lava Drip and Pool
From This Pen Tonight
As This Lover’s Letter I Have Longed
To Express To You and Write

May Lightning Rods Fuse On These Pages
To Enlighten and Ignite
Words, That Are As Clear As Bells
… as Clear As Black and White

… and Impart Good News
That Encourage and Excite
And Enthuse You With Joy
Like Wind Thru Tree Leaves Incite

And Bring Forth Your Smile
That Resembles Starry Sights
As I Reply and Verify
That All Will Be Alright
For Love Proceeds and Aligns
Just Like A Butterfly Alights …

So Like Blossoms Spread
On Silken Sheets Invite
May This Letter Convey
My Emotions Intense-Felt Might

And Reach You By Moon
Or On The Morrow’s Dawn Light
This Letter Being Sent
With All Hopes Bright
With The Eagerness of Swift Eagles
Focused In-Flight …

While At Present, Being Apart –
To You Seems Not So Clear
And Yes, A Generation of Youth
Ages In A Few Spent Years

But A Generation of Love
Will Not Disappear
For Our Love Will Generate
Power Strong and Secure
(Luke 21: 31, 32*, 33)

For Even Away … In Our Hearts
We Are Ever Near
And For Each Written Word
I Whisper For You To Hear …

For I Want You To Know
I Hold You Cherished, Dear
And I Will Not Forget You …
So Have No Fear …

Have No Fear … For There Is Not
Even To Compare Another
Our Bond Is Unique Like Fingerprints
& Snowflakes, Ocean Waves & Thunders
This, I Speak In Truth To You …
For I Am Your One-True-Lover

So Any Doubts, Lack of Faith
Or Infidelity – Please Smother
While We Are Absent …
One From The Other
(Gen. 31: 49)

There Is A War Raging On
Outside of Your Protected Walls
There Is A Battle Being Fought
Outside of Your Castle’s Halls
So I Need You To Be Brave
I Need You To Stand Tall …

For I Will Return For You
Victorious and All …
And There Is No Chance of Failure
To Make Me Slip-Away or Stall

With This Letter I Want You To Feel
Assured and Also My Touch
… Feel It Like A Soft Breeze
Raindrops, Sunshine and Such
For Our Intimacy Is A Purity
and No Need To Blush

We’ve Shared Secrets and Sacred Events
and Significant Times So Much
We’ve Even Shared Thru Sorrows
… and Neither of Us Gave Up …

And I Can Barely Wait To See You;
To Be Close As Face To Face
and Look Into Your Watchful Eyes
That So Beautifully Gaze
… and To Lift You Gently Up
Like A Black Swan Being Raised
(The Song of Solomon 1: 5)

(Part 1 of 4)


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Stilts

          Sick people with sick brains
Really nothing to desire as a (wo)man
          They walk around insane.
A horror and I am not playing.
          The tall tale goes they are Stilts, a circus clown nothing like Pennywise.
Just a hideous premonition place in a different medium lives in the mentality of 
          little people. 
He is nothing to fear.
          He will tell you your destiny, for real.
If you heed his words, the circus performers will destroy your world.
          Make your life a living hell.
Do not do his will.
          Riddle, riddle, riddle and you shall live.
Do you believe?
          I tell the truth.
Stilts, the circus clown, is coming for you.

         On Halloween night, the adults gather their children around the barn fire.
They believe that this brought peace on Halloween night.
         But little did they know that Stilts was a real life who captivated 
humans' minds.
         Such behavior allows his spirit to rise.
And while everyone is outside, Stilts enters each house.
         The clock chimes on the hour of nine.
The barn fire is ceased and each family enters their homes for a good night sleep.
         Stilts would form to scare only the little ones.
The reality would be surreal.
         The lives in the Town would not ever tell.
Never again would the families be aware of Halloween night without fear.
         The town would thrive.
Stilts, a hideous depiction is now in their lives.
         Cross my heart and hope to die, if I am telling a lie.
___________________________________________|
Penned on May 07, 2014! Updated August 28, 2014!


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Sins and Virtues Chapter Three

As Love exited her house she found Faith hovering in her New transporter.
"Wow Faith this is beautiful".  "Thank you Love.  This is the new Neo 7000.
It was the last one left".  Interrupted by her communicator Faith answers
her call from Loyalty.  "Hello Loyalty what do you want?"  "Why you have to
ask like that Faith?"  "Just make sure Knowledge have you at the chapel on
time.  Now if you'll excuse me I have things to do".  "C'mon Faith we don't have 
time to play with Loyalty".  Rising higher in the air Faith and Love zoomed away.
As they flew through the sky Faith asked Love about her humanitarian organization
Opened Arms.  "How was your peace keeping mission in the country Limbo?"  
"The citizens there had a lot of raw emotions from the war.  There was a big scar dividing
the country".  "Your organization Opened Arms has a lot of strong positive influence.  How
long have Opened Arms been active in the humanitarian field?"  "Five years".  When the two
landed at the chapel Wisdom was waiting for them.
Written by Keith Edward Baucum aka The Green Poet aka Red Seven aka The Brown Philosopher


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A Lover's Letter - Part 4 of 4

I Send This Letter, Like A Message
Drumming Like Earth’s Hearts-Tribal
It Is A Lover’s Letter To You
Sent Like A Heaven-Sent Bible
Filled With Love –Just Like A Bible

My Lovely One –I Know Its Been Hard
During Our Separation
Its Like A Razor’s Blade
Steady Slicing At Our Relation

And You Told Me Last Time
About Someone’s Insinuations
But What We Feel
Is No Mere Infatuation
& What We Have Is No Fantasy Fabrication

For We Are Linked Together
Like A Throat and A Tongue
We Are As Joined Together
Like A Hand and Its Thumb

We Are United-Bound
In Love’s Spirit As One
& We Will Be Together
Like Sky and Sun
And My Lovely One
Only You Can Break This Bond

& Our Love Is Built On Mercy’s Monoliths
& Mutual Funds of Trust
Our Love Is Like Truth & Peace Treaties
If Filled With Lies & Suspicions –It Busts

And Even If You Should Die, My Lovely One
I Will Look For Your Dust
Because For The Pleasure of Your Company
I’ll Court You ‘Til You Are Conscious!
For The Pleasure of Your Company
Every Obstacle I Will Push!

For Love Is What Makes Life’s Pinnacle
Passionate, Joyous and Just
Our Love Is Like Time –It Exists
Whether We Slow It Down or Rush

Love Is Like A Steel Will
Or A Mountain Which Men Can’t Crush
& If Hours Are Ticking By Too Loud
May This Letter Make Them Hush
& My Lovely One –Don’t Let Anyone
Ever Come Between Us

My Lovely One –While Away From Me
Don’t Let Anyone Entice You
& If They Vie For Your Affections
Don’t Let Anyone Revise You

Tell Them To: “Go Away
Because I Don’t Recognize You!”
& Even Say: “My One-True-Lover
Did Not Authorize You!”

My Love … Your Sweet, Sweet Love
I’ve Never Taken For Granted
You Gave It To Me Freely
with No Ulterior Motives Demanded

And My Desire For You
Goes Beyond The Romantic …
The Way We Love –  Is A Rising
and Radiant Rite-of-Passage!

And I View Your Love As A Badge
& An Accolade-Advantage
for Over All My Rivals …
You Gave ‘Me’ Your Precious Package!

And You Entrusted Me
With All Your Worth To Manage
& I’ve Heard From Our Friends
You Repeat All My Advice Like An Adage
& That’s Why I Wrote So Much
In This Lover’s Message …

&So I End This Utmost
Fervent and Urgent Letter
Lovely, I Heartily Hope These Words
Help You To Feel Better

And I Send This Token Along …
A Comforting, Cashmere Blazer & Sweater
But I’m Coming Soon To Keep You Safe
In The Onset of Forecast-Troubled Weather
For I Can Hardly Wait
To Be Finally Together

Eternal Love –Everlasting Love
That Will Leave You, Never …


Written & ©:  6/8-19/2013
By: MoonBee


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The Whirlwind

Hewn in verse and ancient lore, 
It descends through an open door 
To place its fingers on mortal souls,
On meager pleas on lifeless shoals. 
Far below where creatures dwell,
Its surging scorn is born as rising embers swell.
Small shadows merge where thoughts collect, 
And pierce the fog of day, 
Murmured sounds rise to settle on unsympathetic play.
Cast aside each whimper lost within a chastening howl;
Hidden in burrows, mortals scurry
And feel the weight of worry. 
Dark whispers mingle ravenous desires 
From misty lofts in chambers forlorn, 
From anvil thrones their cries adorn the morn.
From a heavenly palace, they scatter stones of malice;
Sparks of thunder pierce the night,
Then fade from sight. 
Their cold embrace excites our race; 
Unleashed hordes reap our toil,
And plunder our grace. 


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Betwixt food and human relationship

It’s good to get together as friends and confreres
like in table fellowship or religious convocation
and then, enjoy the company of each other’s culture
as Italians, Colombians, Filipinos or Brazilians.

The day after Easter Sunday adds another occasion
for us Scalabrinians to be reunited at this point in time
sharing the gifts of food, life, humor and relationship 
with a space for fraternity, some updates and good wishes.

Truly, it shows the spirit of oneness and fraternal fellowship
sharing the commonality of our commitmment to faith
as brothers in Christ and members of our Founder’s order,
the religious congregation that cares for migrant people. 

There’s much to do and plan for what we aim to materialize
in today’s world where migration poses a huge issue
like a salad bowl with mozzarella, tomato and olive oil
a metaphor for migration that deals with human cultures.

Described in the Bible as a growing missionary virtue
hospitality as a key to open one’s heart in this journey
With fearlessness and confidence, it’s a major issue
depicting the picture of global movements raised in action.

Our days of darkness, our bickering confreres in places –
where community life matters and features one’s emptiness
in dealing with one another in our quest for human and divine.
it’s indeed a challenge and will always be a test of faith, thus far.

This helps us understand through our setbacks, pains and joys,
with friends around and those who share with us many times
those sacred stories of being called to worship God and be present
especially in the Eucharist that nourishes our souls to be whole.


Details | Narrative | |

Sins and Virtues Chapter Three

As Love exited her house she found Faith hovering in her New transporter.
"Wow Faith this is beautiful".  "Thank you Love.  This is the new Neo 7000.
It was the last one left".  Interrupted by her communicator Faith answers
her call from Loyalty.  "Hello Loyalty what do you want?"  "Why you have to
ask like that Faith?"  "Just make sure Knowledge have you at the chapel on
time.  Now if you'll excuse me I have things to do".  "C'mon Faith we don't have 
time to play with Loyalty".  Rising higher in the air Faith and Love zoomed away.
As they flew through the sky Faith asked Love about her humanitarian organization
Opened Arms.  "How was your peace keeping mission in the country Limbo?"  
"The citizens there had a lot of raw emotions from the war.  There was a big scar dividing
the country".  "Your organization Opened Arms has a lot of strong positive influence.  How
long have Opened Arms been active in the humanitarian field?"  "Five years".  When the two
landed at the chapel Wisdom was waiting for them.
Written by Keith Edward Baucum aka The Green Poet aka Red Seven aka The Brown Philosopher


Details | Narrative | |

A Lover's Letter - Part 2 of 4

- continued from Part 1 -


and Feel Your Form and Supple Figure
Blessed With Such Restful Grace
… and Flow Into Your Being
Like Embraced Ocean Waves

I Wanted To Send You Words
Of How Deeply I Care
I’m Sending Words and Wishes
As You Wait For Me There
And I Remember and Count
Each Star-Strand Lock of Your Hair

And Do You Remember I Sent You
That Priceless Gift So Rare? …
… of A Pearl-Bone Framed Portrait
Of Which You Said You Loved To Stare!
Oh, I Have So Many Wonderful
Things To Tell and Share!

I Want To Be The One To Show You …
The Infinite, Mysterious Universe
And I Will Fill & Quench All Your Desires
Your Needs, Your Hunger & Your Thirst

I Will Enrich Your Life
Like A King’s Treasure-Purse
I Only Ask You Wait For Me …
and Remember Me – First

I’ll Always Be Your Support
and On Your Conscience’s Side
and I Will Be Your Bridge
Over Any Wide Chasm Divide

… and Always Cherish You
As Beloved, Beautiful Wife-Bride
And I Want To Give You
Eternity-Elephants To Ride
And I’ll Be Right There
I’ll Be Your Eden’s Gate and Guide …

I Will Take You Where Passion
… Doesn’t Have To Hide (Gen) 3: 8-10)
To A Place Where I Wash You
In Moonlight and Surging Tides

With You … I Want To Share
This Buoyant Breath of Life
And Together … We’ll Climb
Mountains and Thru Waterfalls Dives

And To Show This Dedication …
We Won’t Need A Shrine
Your Devoted Heart Is All
I Desire In Love’s Design

So Keep My Hand and I Will
Keep You Satisfied (Ps. 145: 16)
But For Now, My Lovely One …
Please Let Patience Abide

With This Letter I Am Sending
A Substantial Means of Living
With This Letter Comes A Token
Of The Love I’ll Be Giving

I Am Sending A Portion of
The Fortune & Allowance You’ll Be Spending
With Great Principles and Privileges
and Potential and Possibilities … Pending

It Is The Affairs of Our Hearts
That I Am Taking Care In Tending
My Lovely One … It Is The Wealth
Of My Love I Am Sending

Enclosed, You Will Find
The Drafted Subsidy Bank Note
and All The Investments Are In Order
and On Time, Like I Wrote
(Isa. 46: 9, 10, 11)

And It Was A Pleasure To Sign
With Each Flourish of My Pen-Stroke
Remembering All The Dreams
… About Which We Spoke …

I Can’t Wait To Tell You The Good News
Of The  Dividends With Each Post
Now, Here’s The Proofs and Payoff
With Each Exact Quote …

And I Can Just Picture You Reading
& Memorizing What I Wrote By Rote
Oh, Just Keep Believing In Me, Lovely
and You’ll Never Be Heartbroke …



(Part 2 of 4)


Details | Narrative | |

The state of my heart

It’s a journey to be reconciled with the past,
especially when one’s life still carries the wound;
it’s like a running sore that permeates the soul,
a gigantic barrier, an impediment in any way.

God’s promise, “The light shines in the darkness,
and the darkness did not overcome it.”   True!
Comparatively, some shades of darkness
have to be cleared and dispelled in one’s heart 
the revealing darkness that symbolizes pain,
closed windows that block God’s blessing.

Well, it’s a metaphor to the so-called ‘wound’
a kind of silhouette that’s difficult to mirror
a kind of misfortune that ruins disposition.

It’s hard to believe those who’re with God,
those who teach about love and respect,
yet, it’s a tragedy to see them on the contrary
because they live with hypocrisy and irony.

This is what I feel as I welcome the New Year,
mired in hope that someday healing takes place
such a great deal that needs love and understanding
that life may be whole again with a heart that cares.

The throbbing verses of cultures

Chronicled as part of history
the reality gives meaning;
it's a pathway to move along,
a commitment to future dream,
a response to what is ideal.

Addressed as a piece of literature
the struggles involved with one another.
It's a life of experience that forms,
a historical menu to savor,
an enormous task to fulfill.

Lived as a language I best hear
with silence and profound meaning;
It's a human action and reaction,
a point to what we're here for;
being called to serve -
a measure to Christian perfection.

Proclaimed as a gospel of inspiration,
with diversity of cultures
that runs through this generation,
its texture, zest and color,
aptly describes, "we're one nation."

Being grateful for various reasons
with different contexts and situations.
They're hallmarks to great civilization;
with the continuing growth amid some afflictions,
a message of hope, worthy of revelation.


Details | Narrative | |

The state of my heart

It’s a journey to be reconciled with the past,
especially when one’s life still carries the wound;
it’s like a running sore that permeates the soul,
a gigantic barrier, an impediment in any way.

God’s promise, “The light shines in the darkness,
and the darkness did not overcome it.”   True!
Comparatively, some shades of darkness
have to be cleared and dispelled in one’s heart 
the revealing darkness that symbolizes pain,
closed windows that block God’s blessing.

Well, it’s a metaphor to the so-called ‘wound’
a kind of silhouette that’s difficult to mirror
a kind of misfortune that ruins disposition.

It’s hard to believe those who’re with God,
those who teach about love and respect,
yet, it’s a tragedy to see them on the contrary
because they live with hypocrisy and irony.

This is what I feel as I welcome the New Year,
mired in hope that someday healing takes place
such a great deal that needs love and understanding
that life may be whole again with a heart that cares.


Details | Narrative | |

Earthbound sobriety

While crossing Verrazano Narrows Bridge
recurring mem’ries of New York recapture 
history and civilization of the two boroughs
provide me with deep interest and emphasis.

Brooklyn in its old Dutch for “broken land,”
and Staten Island named “Staaten Eylandt”
named in the early 1600s by Henry Hudson,
trailed off on a tangent through centuries.

A myth or perhaps a legend, the island thus far,
was like a quagmire of townships and disputes;
its meaning to immigrants’ culture and religion,
favored silence, security, peace, and integration.

The burden of too many choices based on clans,
growing businesses and stories of interactions;
new immigrants in droves through generations
like an orchestra combined with a sense of drama.

Reflections of their struggles to make ends meet,
reminded me of articulation through interpretation;
in sobriety of heeding of the composer’s intent,
such a musical piece made me suffer and sweat.

Oh, the pedal, rhythmic vitality and expression!
all these elements comprise what piano playing is,
the technique, in a special way, a benchmark item
indeed, a struggle to interiorize those conventions.

But as a human person with some limitations,
with my own history and capability in playing,
I see where I can be fit and freely express myself;
through movements in diverse missionary works.

As it says in French, “bon débarras, il est partí.” 
my life continues with a backlog of other issues,
a different world focused on service to the Lord;
with my own repertory – its beauty to humanity.

It’s true that my prayer for the church at large,
is also a bridge across the gulf of separation;
coming to this borough of Staten Island
a hodge-podge of concerns, covenanted within.

Now that relationship with God and people
brings me to nourish that faith and commitment;
with that long stretch of Verrazano Narrows Bridge,
a metaphor to my own journey as a missionary.


Details | Narrative | |

Autumn of life

Episodes of yearly autumn
bring back to mind
some realities pertinent to life -
the changing of colors and
falling of withered leaves;
similar to aging,
a metaphor of dying.

  The wind blows these leaves
  trees seem to be in tears,
  with no birds singing nor chirping
  like a scene in a graveland.

Death in the surface
silence across the land
others hidden in their abodes,
like a refuge against this season.

  As the sun hides its face
  darkness caves in elsewhere
  where many seem to be set
  to get home and be able to take a rest.

Oh, the autumn of life!
starts to unfold the how it feels
the beginning of the accumulated youth, 
energy and dynamism, so to speak,
of the years gone by.