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Metaphor Nature Poems | Nature Poems About Metaphor

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

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Details | Sonnet |

Gentle Summer Rain Art

Featuring:)  Giorgio Veneto

She writes about Fall's beauty in the rain 
The falling raindrops' dance ascribing thence 
Bespoken verse that lightens her refrain 
before the time they met - her steps commence. 

She listens to the soft and rhythmic thrum, 
her love turned to escape and cloudy string 
Where nimbus mistletoe fell, tears to become 
Their kiss of Autumn was symbolic ring. 

The first light cotton mists with summer rays 
While skyward cheerful laughs adorn the land, 
their ceremonial dance diffuses grays, 
affectionate embrace, where dreams expand. 

Upon September's sky the raindrops gleam 
With half of hidden Sun to laugh and beam.

Enjoy the FRAGRANCE OF RAIN

--------- 
FRAGRANCE OF RAIN 
8/29/13 
Sonnet 
---------

~A Poet Destroyer Collaboration~


Details | Quatrain |

Let Me Go

You have caged me for too long
I want you to just let me go,
I have to spread these feathered wings
I need to feel the wind's blow.

You know that I love you truly
I said that I would never leave,
I want to see the rain's dance
Not just sit here and perceive.

The scene never changes, day after day
I want to go where white roses bloom,
I have never seen an ocean's wave
And neither have you, I assume.

I need to see the autumn tree's change
I want to see the snowflake's glisten,
I am wishing on the stars as they fall
This is my dream, so please just listen.

I want to fly in the sky's blue
I need to feel the sun's burn,
When I have experienced these wonders
I promise that I will return.




Details | Rhyme |

Fall Came Early

Fall came a trifle early
And it caught me unaware--
Seems the leaves began their falling
Turning circles in the air.

I could hear the end of summer
With the rustle of the trees--
As I latched up every window
To escape the chilly breeze.

But the cold it overtook me
As it slipped beneath the door--
And the moaning wind, it whispered:
"The summer is no more!"

~Mel


Details | Free verse |

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 | Rhyme |

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 | Free verse |

A Night To Remember

So sweet a kiss
The murmuring tunes of Spring
In the fragrant breath of night
Hums within my slumbering ears.
Like the whispering trees dancing
In the softest dews descending
From the vapours of the skies 
When the soothing night
Was young with the glimmering moon of May.

The poor labouring clouds expanded wide
In the muted distance ripe with coldness
While the storming of the Eastern wind
Drifted through the blossoming fields
Graced by the sultry springs in the lulling hours.
I pulled the weary drapes
When the night grew old with silence
From a crystal window 
Mirrored against the dumb fields
Black with the night.
A soft mist exudes the dead wind
Curled around the nodding branches.
Then I stealed away to the vacant spot
Where a crackling fire
Invaded the mournful breath of silence.

Lipsing sounds intrudes the night
Upon the quiet slopes and verdant span
Where the blossoms gently bow
Kissing soft the silver spray
Fluttering in the starry distance.
There sauntered I
Under the gladsome sky
To pluck a cherry from its stem
Outstretched beneath the sobbing moon
That in the dawning misty hours
That silver orb of light expires
When the sun had greet the day
With a golden sigh!



















  


 


Details | Free verse |

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 | Free verse |

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 | Verse |

A Plane and The Eagle

O'er tempest,soars the 
eagle with wings 
stretching towards the 
smiling sun.
        Gliding-nature's 
handiwork.
    Up the sky,a figure 
with outstretched wings 
battling the turbulent 
wind and frowning sun.
      Soaring like an eagle-
Never an eagle.
      Gliding like an eagle-
Never an eagle.
      Mistaken for an eagle 
in the sky-never an eagle.
      Utter's sound as the 
eagle-never an eagle.
    This man-made 
handiwork,dismember's 
under a stormy wind.
    For paid price-loss of 
lives.
    The works of mother-
nature can never be out-
dated or equalled.
    Frog-men under sea 
and frogs in the waters 
can bear witness.


Details | Free verse |

The Color Missing

The Color Missing
Red, black, and blue are the colors of our work pens. Red is the color of the blood we spill on other people’s mistakes.  Blue is the color of the songs we sing on tax forms or pay stubs- every page has a secret melody. Black is the color of the streets we fear most. Black is the color of our signature of approval. Black is the color of our death.

‘But what about the Green pens?’ I ask. They say ‘the ink is too hard to see.’


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