These Metaphor ABC poems are examples of ABC poems about Metaphor. These are the best examples of Metaphor ABC poems written by international PoetrySoup poets
A predator among us.
A villian in our midst.
An entity of evil,
Clouding up our wits.
Preying on the innocent.
Devouring the strong.
A sycophant immortal.
Unbound by right and wrong.
White wool adorning
The curves of their form.
Cloven hooves dragging
on the ground with the worms.
No hoofprints behind them.
just the four toed paws
dotted at the tips
by their long and angry claws.
Nature is a cruel being.
Creating monsters in her storms.
No one understands
And everyone is torn.
The prey will always villify
those who are higher than they
on the food chains bottom
the sheep will always stay.
The wolves are meant to feed
without remourse consume
The psyches of the weak
to bring them to their doom.
The sheep will bleat and bellow
in fear of those wolves
And try to justify their blindness
by stamping hard their hooves.
Hiding in the herd,
the prey upon their back
the predators facade
turns their wool to black.
Such is natures way.
No one is at fault.
The circle of life.
The predators of thought.
For who can blame the hungry beast
for eating to survive
When you people create such feasts
And tantalize our eyes.
We can not feel guilty
for gaining our sustenance.
consider this my fealty
for i shall not repent.
i could sit here. day in and day out
thinking of the most proper way
to let the ink in the pen spill out
but as of late im feeling prehistoric
so much weight on my shoulders
and i dont know where to go
resuscitate my soul
look back up and head to the goal
so much evil around. i feel like the devils workin double shifts just to bring me down.
on the road to redemption
you can take a seat up in the front section
just so you can feel the emotions
in this electric notion
i've done a lot of things that hide the halo
let it all collaborate when i medicate
now look at me, mind workin like plato
formulate a new path to take so i can
maneuver through all the mistakes
we all know we cant change what we've already made
but we can change the next thing we create
startin to sound like a serenity prayer
5 steps till im thirty
and the twenty four before i was never a player
found out when the lights came back on im strictly a lover
its the strongest drink for your soul, when its thirsty
so careful how much you intake or be left hungover
even worse be the one she ran over
i dont mean to come off like im too deep
but the obstacles made there way through just to scrape through
and leave me suffocating
just for me to re-invent a new way to breathe, re-decorating
is your life so complicated
you rather wet up your pillows and revoke from the life you live
just think of your kids mourning
theyll never see that pretty face in the morning any more
cheer your self up
you got a lot to live for
your a gem and im that friend
trynna appraise the value
that you dont see inside of you
just another day for him
searchin wonderin what his purpose is
running in circles
till he found a way through all the turbulence
There's fire in my lungs.
smoke flows through my veins.
I feed the beast my soul
to gain euphoric pain.
I serve he who lives in me.
The monster in my mind.
The creature so abusive,
at times can be so kind.
In my mental hell,
I sit beside his throne.
I tend to his desire,
so I don't have to be alone.
Here He is my god.
And I, in turn, am his.
A symbiotic worship,
sealed within a kiss.
Sulfuric fumes consume us,
as we dance into the ether.
The hands of god are ours.
Hes made me a believer.
My halo, so very worn.
His horns, so alluring.
Hand in hand we walk,
love and hate enduring.
His guidance lifts me higher
than any drug could try.
His chains hold me down.
bound wings can not fly.
Walking straight and tall,
crawling on my floor.
I am his moonlit goddess.
And his filthy whore.
I wont break his binds.
I wish not, to be free.
I can never escape him,
for this beast is me.
When men of fame do meet discord,
They find a way to prove their point.
Then it is, they think of the art,
And call to play artists of doom.
The artists too, who know their art,
Would play the strings from their guitars,
Releasing pleasant sounds of doom
That leave men gasping for breaths of air.
Babies wail, toddlers weep;
Their mothers too have felt the sounds
Taking rise from the guitars of war,
And lay by them with gaping eyes.
Young boys leave, all on their heels,
And flee without their closest ones,
Fear oozing out of every pore
That yet has not been blocked by blood.
Sounds of horror fill the misty air:
Bombshells cracking open, ‘leasing doom,
Creaking sounds from shattered houses
Under attack by massive arson,
Rhythmic thuds of bodies to the ground
From mortal tones that vade the air,
The agonised screams of innocence,
Dwarfed only by the dreadful cannonade.
Screams of little girls, barely grown,
Receiving men they’ve never known,
Left alone in shattered raiment
To brood and lick their bleeding wounds.
Tender ones, better off dead,
Trudge along, barely standing,
With sunken cheeks and pointed ribs
Peeping from transparent chests.
They’d give their leaf-thick fleshy parts
Just to lay their hands on flour,
Before the next artistic blast takes them unawares.
What a sharp contrast they are
To all their mates that live with fame.
The day is dead, the show is off,
The artists then return to base
To meet females with smiling kids
That know not what their fathers do.
All is well, their lives are good,
As pay bags do weigh higher.
Victory is here, but for whom?
The hundreds that hushed the thousand?
Fellow men, what have you done?
Composed your master piece i guess!
"Oodles of Joy"
In the morning of everyday i
I make a food that's really
Crunch'em, rip'em, and pour'em out
As saliva pools form in my
Put it in the mic for just about
Impatiently watching those
beautiful noodles waiting for
When the time Is up
I Pop it open and take them out
And start shoving "Oodle's of
Noodles" into my mouth.
What lies beneath
The flooding drains
A spiders web
Spawned of rustic chains
If you ask me how I am
I'll reply that I'm ok
Hiding behind this mask
As I resume to face this day
Then theres the sights
A synonym of what I cannot find in you
But I have found
Sometimes hunger is the only kind of food
Have I lost my Faith?
Its something that I could never see
Then theres your eyes
Still falling away from me
But if I was a better man
Would your rivers run deep into outer space
While all along your insisting
That we are both two worlds away
Behold this longer list of denials
And uncertain hope
Reflecting fears of affection
And you still keep your eyes closed
Then by my own admissions
My heart has grown from cold to colder
And by my own submissions
Losing your love has bled me sober
Around me all my eyes can see
Beyond the ruins of tomorrow
confused and lonely people plea
Drowning in a sea of sorrow.
Every head is lifted high
Facing towards eclectic suns
Grasping at the shallow sigh
Hiding with the lonely ones.
Inside the martial law begins
Judges have no self respect
Killed her with the empty tins
Liberty swore to protect.
More laws are made for terrorists
No one even says a word
Overtly fearful catalysts
Promised danger is inferred.
Questioning is not allowed
Remember that you patriot
Stay the course follow the crowd
Thankful for the things you got.
Under all the false pretenses
Valued in some greedy hands
Washington still shocks my senses
Xenophobes, their heads in sands.
Yesterday the breeze blew free-
Zephyr wind, come back for me.
It all began when the blind seers
Took the step and trusted their sight.
It was dark, the night was cold,
The storm had dropped, places were damp
When the torch-bearers brought their light.
Their words were warm, their speeches tuned.
That was all it took to steal some hearts.
Yet, just before the fowl could yawn,
A little before the dark could bleach,
Away they bolted with everything;
Walking sticks, clothes, shoes and all.
But the seers didn’t see that coming
Since they be not like those
That do see with their ears
And trust not in high-sounding words.
Brother, brother, pray, help me out;
Climb the ladder to the top,
And bring down the pawpaw fruit.
Brother, brother, you got it now.
Climb the ladder down, let us share
And taste the joy of brotherhood.
Brother, brother, bring forth the fruit
You were to pluck with your hand of power,
And send some down to the lower man.
Brother, brother, treat me not so.
Recollect the kindly deed i did,
And let me taste of the fruit.
Brother, brother, cling to the top,
But I envy you no more,
As while you’re there, i see your shame!
Almost four years now since you left us, wringing our hearts.
Beginning your new chapter, you slipped away in the night,
Connecting with an expanse of new and perhaps, old, companions.
Doing everything we could, we struggled with releasing you.
Everything you wished for, we wanted you to have in abundance.
Fading memories cloud the realities of life, and the disappointments too.
Gaining perspective for our own lives, we know that we are not perfect.
High expectations were modeled and imprinted in a profound way. The
Intensity of your love was not doubted. You told us we were your gifts, bringing
Joy and meaning to your life, but we wanted you to soar and explore too.
Kindness was your way, as many friends will remember and miss.
Love is a fragile thing, yet it is the glue that binds us all together now. Your
Mothering willl not be forgotten, and was not a waste of time. Morning and
Night, you tended to us as best as you could. Your visions and dreams waited.
Opening night performances, you could have mastered with practice.
Perfecting your paintings with feeling and skill was always so clear and precise.
Questions and doubts still bubble up. Will we meet you again, or not? Your
Restful grave seems cold and austere, but we remind ourselves, you are not there.
Sleeping is a metaphor for death, but it does not comfort us, or seem real.
Trusting your fate was as you wished, we get on with our own lives,
Understanding that one day, sooner than we think, we will have to still our own
Voices, and calm our own hearts into stopping the frenetiic pace.
Worldly ways, will become obsolete, even "Mother's Day" will pass on.
Xray's reveal we are the same, inherited traits, not to be changed.
Yesterday, we ran and played the the sun. We cried and we laughed. The
Zepher waits for no one when it comes to collect.