Submit Your Poems
Get Your Premium Membership

Metaphor Childhood Poems | Metaphor Poems About Childhood

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

If you don't find the poem you want here, try our incredible, super duper, all-knowing, advanced poem search engine.

Details | Free verse | |

My Micke boys

                To be called ..
            ~   Grandma is a Honor ~

        I have been blessed with 4  Grandchildren

       ~ one lays in Heaven " Kaleb "  He is God's Angel ~
   ~ His twin brother he will always watch over , and be in his soul~

     For he loved his Brother so much in the womb ,
       he chose Heaven which gave life to his twin
      ~ I feel his spirit when I see the other Grandson ~
 
              Time passed another gift to see
               we are " Mickes" and Loved 
            Our Dad held the title in Baseball 
                   ~  that's how we roll ~
           those children are Grandmas hero's 

       The Irish they love big and Family is everything 
        The brothers will protect the beautiful sister 
              ~ as many lads will be calling ~

        Every time my Grandson hits a home run
     There will be a Angel watching proudly in the stand 

       It will be as if the Angel lifted him when he runs 
           ~no one runs faster then my Grandson~
     either baseball or Art  ~ you shall find your gift given

                These children have been blessed~
                 ~  a beauty to hard to describe 
        If you think not ~~  Take a look at the Mom  
                     That girl can stop Traffic   
                    after raising three and still~ 

          "Inspired by the gift and loss of Grandchildren "

     May our precious " Kaleb " softly rest where Angels only Dwell


Details | Free verse | |

IQ Test

I could care less about the four 
corners of insults, 
That intelligence invites; 
It is always the first straw of 
grass that’s grows, 
which reveals the popular outcast; 
As a youth, I found my image cut down 
into this manufactured silhouette.

Drenched in social rain, my peers 
had never found me more alienated, 
Then when I spoke fluently of diverse 
topics; 
They did everything in their power to provide 
a verbal umbrella, 
However, the texture remains weak and 
defeated.

This stormy parade that remains’ dripping is
indeed an afterthought, 
For within this cranial mansion resides 
additional rooms, 
For the more abstract and surreal 
elements of life; 
It is that secluded gland which reveals 
the renaissance of men, who wear 
infinite Fedoras.

Now wearing the shoes of a young 
man, 
A taste of charisma resides in my 
veins; 
However this slight addiction to external 
haze, 
Comes in second to my first drug of 
choice: Wisdom. 

Membership into this fraternity may take a lifetime; 
So don’t be surprised when resistance 
knocks at your door, 
Intimidated by the lion that dwells within 
your temple; 
Indeed intellect is the misunderstood 
fruit, 
That blossoms sweeter when accepted.


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 | I do not know? | |

The Warrior

The Warrior

My pencil is my sword
My eraser is my shield
And when I go to war
My paper is my battlefield 
When life is to much
This is how I express the way I feel
And so I write such words
As murder, stab, kill
When people read these words
Misunderstanding they think I’m insane
But this is just how I vent
All my anger, frustration and pain
People that don’t know me
Think I look like a bad man
The people that say they do know me
Think I live the life of a madman
All of these things
Circling in my head
Sometimes I have to wonder
Would I be better off dead
I used to be a somebody
And my reputation would reflect
That I used to be a person
To look up to and respect
But now you can see
By the trembling in my hands
That all I am these days
Is a tired, broken man


Details | Personification | |

'Little Sparrow'

Little sparrow, what troubles thee
      is it the stigma you face
little sparrow, what pierces thee
      is it the shame of disgrace

is it the bitterness in your heart, 
     or the offense you can't forgive
is it the anguish that sets you apart, 
     or the hurt that holds you captive 

what befalls you 
      is neither unfelt nor unknown
God cares and calls you
      when you're cast out and all alone 

God will never forsake you
     in your time of need;
God will never permit you
     to suffer or bleed.


02/19/2014; for "TO HEAL A HEART" Contest

 



Details | Alliteration | |

My Alligator Artie

My pet alligator sits under my feet.
He waits for food to fall while I simply eat.
He likes to chase the ball and bite with his sharp teeth.
His claws are super pointy, and he walks upon a leash.
He’s scaly without baths, 
Smelly when not clean.
He’s very good at “sit,”
And trained to not be mean.
He likes the water much, except for when it rains.
And when we’re gone,
All day long,
We keep him in a crate.
My pet alligator is the best pet on this Earth,
I’d never trade him ever, for everything he’s worth.


Details | Free verse | |

Just Be

Sometimes I admire the littlest things
A simple rock. A blade of grass. 
They need no future goals, no tax exemptions
They don’t need to go anywhere or be anything
They just are. 

Sometimes, especially when I’m reading life insurance policies,
I envy the rocks and the grass
And try to be like them for a moment. 
I sit perfectly still and give myself to the wind-
And it whispers in my ear:
Just be.
And for that moment I don’t need to go anywhere or be anything.
And at the snap of my fingers, 
All the complex widgets and gizmos that make up my life
Fold into paper airplanes and fly off in the wind.

Jacob Reinhardt
10/07/13


Details | Verse | |

Wildflowers

Standing out in a field alone, a little white flower named Daisy longed for someone to share her world.
One day a blue flower named Bachelor Button entered her world they became friends.
 She knew by his name that he was not the propagating kind, but that didn’t stop their relationship she called him BB short for best bud.
The seasons of Spring & Summer they enjoyed the sun, laughed in the rain and held on fast in the Fall.
Winter came it was long and hard they were both covered in a blanket of snow, not knowing whether they would ever see each other again or even survive .The snow fell     then came the ice, this went on for months.

The Sun shone brightly the first day of spring. A few days later warmth of the sun melted the snow, Daisy popped up .
 I’ve been waiting days for you to come out, said BB, they both chanted hooray!
The snow was completely gone in a few days, the birds started building their nests , bugs were crawling around ,butterflies began to visit the two flowers. I wish there were more of us Daisy said, to BB.

They laughed as the sun and wind blew through their leaves.  Then it started the sun and rain took turns until one morning the air & field was filled with the smell of flowers.
 
Daisy and BB looked at each other and asked what kind of flowers are these ? they’re not white like daisies they’re not blue like bachelor buttons. They did not know the birds and bugs carried the seeds from the two of them and the caterpillars buried them under the soil.
The seeds from the new flowers were then carried by the winds many miles away, they landed in fertilized gardens and flourished, although they faced danger everyday. 
as they were called WEEDS ..
 The Gardener pulls weeds out of the garden so they don’t choke the flowers, which cost a lot of money and require lots of maintenance.

However there was a Gardener who saw her friends spending hours weeding their garden , that they didn’t have enough time to admire and enjoy the labors of their love
So she set out to give a home to all the weeds ,she provided a place where they could fit in and multiply, they required no maintenance, rain provides their water .

The best part of all is their beauty is in the eye of the beholder.
 Ask my granddaughter-- What are those flowers in the garden ?
  She will answer "WILDFLOWERS " their parents were Daisy and BB


Details | Free verse | |

The Autumn Affect

There's something unspecific about the autumn nights
A certain shade of color that uplifts my inner child's eyes
Beside a cashmere moon Venus and Jupiter shine bright
Complimented by a sea of blinking infinite twilight
The scent of burning oak lingers in the air from home made fires
Reminiscent of a time when this man was just a child
Careless and so free to dream and any dream to live
Like feathers floating across a field carried by the wind
As a gentle breeze blows through the leaves shivering delightful gloom
Unlike flowers of springtime the disheveled autumn vibrance bloom
Leaves crackle beneath my feet along the skeleton tree path
Where I try to find my peace or a song to make me laugh
The air is so much crisper and also soothing when I breathe it in
Underneath a starry sky and brighter constellations of Heaven
Amidst the trail I pass a lovely couple holding hands
While their children run aside frolicking in a playful dance
An old man and his wife admire the view from a wooden bench 
With smiles on their face as if nostalgia is still their closest friend
Its these specific autumn affects that bring me sorrows and joy
Reminding me of all theses things Ive wanted as a man since I was a little boy 
Its times like these that I wish I wasn't always so alone
Because I would light an fire with my family and call it home


Details | Acrostic | |

Who Am I

Who am I?
Question indeed!

  W-eaned from tender 
age,in noble family of ten.
  H-urt by the demise of 
the tube that brought 
me into this theater of 
struggles and pains.
  O-rdered about by the 
whimps of this 
world,facing the hurdles 
of life daily from 
cradle,never giving up 
hope.
  
  A-fine young man of 28 
I am,who has the 
experience and wisdom 
of the aged.
  M-astering the arts of 
life-learning from lessons 
of life's victims and 
didactic poems 'cos man 
of fame I intend to be for 
I bear the name Bob.

  I-lost my poetic gift at a 
stage but recovered it in 
poetrysoup for invisible 
entities say a 
lesser being I shall be,but 
another encourages me 
to move on,for great is 
one who comes out of 
the shackles of life 
undeterred for this is who 
I am.



Name: Ifeanyi Bob 
Ekechukwu.
Date:24-10-2013.


Details | Lyric | |

Coming From Where I'm From

Coming from where I’m from
By Nate Spears
Published 2013 in “Death OF A Rose” By Nate Spears


Coming from where I’m from
Every day is a battle to survive 
War is in session 
Right before our eyes

Each day we battle lessons
Just to be in the running for blessings
Coming from where I’m from
We move rapidly on missions

The dead is alive with every walk of the lifeless 
Limited income withholds wealth
The living is near death
Spirits are stripped of guilt

Coming from where I’m from
Deprived wealth
Creates bad health 
In occurrence to this 
Good feelings are killed


The worst gets exposed 
As times get worse
Financial situations become a disaster
No man on earth can rehearse
 
The world is broken
Hunger brings harm
Coming from where I’m from
Dictatorship is not fond

The environment brings the need to shoot
These activities loosens the roots
We’re grounded by values as thin as a pin
We lose ourselves at falling rates like bowling pens

No free passes
Prisons filled in masses
Separated by classes
Coming from where I’m from.



Details | Free verse | |

Growing Up

Run outside,
Jump in the leaves
That fall beneath the maple tree.
The rabbit hole been covered long,
So it is safe to sleep upon.
I sleep all day in the breeze,
Then finally wake from a dream.
In my dream, the monsters came,
As angels cried and Sirens sang.
We marched around for hours long,
Causing mayhem in the wrong.
We picked up cats by their tails,
Messed up rooms and let out wails.
We crashed cars, boats, and trains.
Knocked down buildings without blame,
Until I heard a voice that rang,
Dinnertime had come again.
Where I would sit quietly,
And even eat my food nicely.
I’d do my homework,
Brush my teeth,
Then go to bed and fall asleep.


Details | Imagism | |

The Red Symphony

A self-written poem begun in Christmas Time,
While it tasting the soup and looking for rhyme.
In the kitchen, neighbor with the quiet tomato paste,
The sorcerer's apprentice, a poet pretty well placed
Near Soups (ciorbe) with characteristic sour taste
With luminous face and much grace added the rest:
As he was sipping and tasting from raw and cooked.
His group had a passionate look at what was booked
For the dinner: These might be meat and vegetable soups.

They had to choose till the coming of the helping troops
For the pig`s sacrifice rite, old mixture of joy and grief
Under the hot and long debrief of the pleasant smell-thief 
Tripe soup (ciorba de burta) hard prepared from beef,
And calf foot soup (ciorba de vitel), with green-gold leaf 
Pickled soup (supa de moare) with pork and big rice;
But use the dice to decide between spice and allspice.

From the slaughtered pig the village` families prepare: 
Carnati - sausages  kept in special aromatic smoke 
Of wet fir and oak burned at small fire as enjoyed by folk;
Caltabos - sausages made with liver sprinkled with beers;
Toba and piftie - dishes using pig's feet, head and ears 
Suspended in aspic like a frozen symphony in red
After cups of plum brandy and before going the bed
Tochitura - pan-fried pork to bid it a farewell, twice
Served with mamaliga - palesta , and red wine with ice,
Or boiled wine with pepper and cinnamon against frost; 
So that the pork can swim and the verse were glossed;
Piftie - inferior parts of the bashful pig, mainly the tail, 
Feet and ears, kind of meal like taken from a fairytale
In which all are cooked and served in a form of gelatin
In this naturalist field, all the poets smile like Mr.Bean;
                                                                              
Jumari - small pieces of pig meat are fried and tumbled 
Through various spices if after all, you are a little troubled 
 And may falter some poetical from the famous songs
Like "So, good people drink…" couples of diphthongs
Since Saturday to Thursday and make colorful the gray.

This poem was written in the Night of Tuesday to Friday.
 
( And later we`d find that the housewife had covered with it  the pickles cucumbers jar.)


Details | Verse | |

Inevitable Bear

Oh lonely Inevitable Bear,
Padding claws, death in white
Sorrow in recurring nightmare
Instinct’s test; fight or flight?

Camouflage against the fence,
A challenge; my subconscious fear
Ominous slowly moving silence,
“Let me in, there’s a bear out here!”


Details | Rhyme | |

Oodles of Joy

"Oodles of Joy"
In the morning of everyday i 
start
I make a food that's really 
smart
Crunch'em, rip'em, and pour'em out 
As saliva pools form in my 
mouth 
Put it in the mic for just about 
three
Impatiently  watching those 
beautiful noodles waiting for 
me
When the time Is up
I Pop it open and take them out 
And start shoving "Oodle's of 
Noodles" into my mouth. 
 
Khalil Wali


Details | I do not know? | |

Money

Sure it can live
No it cant feel
Something gives when the cream is real


Details | I do not know? | |

The Canvas of Night


The Canvas of Night


Stars like sprinkled sugar,
lay strewn across the canvas of night,


enthralled by the wonder of the cosmos,
my dreams take to the heavens in effervescent flight,


I bathe in the beauty, soaked in sublime delight,
absorbed in moments of bliss, transfixed by the serene sight.




Stars like sprinkled sugar,
lay strewn across the canvas of night,


and my being is infused with feelings of hope,


for even in darkness  I find the sprinkled sugar of hope's light.




note: special thanks to one of my heroes, the late Dr. Carl Sagan, for making science accessible to younger me, many, many moons ago.





Details | Free verse | |

This City Inspires Me

The Chicago skyline.
You symbolize home.
You are me and I am you.

There you are Sears Tower!
Just like you I will stand tall and strong
Even through life's toughest winds,
I might sway back and forth,
But to the ground which I was built on, 
I'll remain.
Even when people try to change my name, 
I'll just reply "Watchya talkin bout Willis?!" 
Yeah, you'll always be Sears to me.
And I'll always be Joe to you. 

Thank You Chicago.

I promise I will get as fast as 
The trains and planes that transport your people
And when I get caught up in life's traffic,
I promise to keep my cool and my destination in mind.
I promise to get as strong as your culture is.
I promise to always be filled with as much vigor as 
Your raging college students are.
I promise to stay as passionate as
The struggling musicians that serenade your "L" subways are.
I promise I will work as hard as 
Your workers that are just trying to pay their bills do.
I promise I'll always stay as hungry 
As the poor that beg on your streets are.

And I promise I'll make you proud of me.
For I am proud of you!
Chicago, don't you know? 
You will always put the "O" in Joe.



Details | Sonnet | |

The Broken Girl-not me

Is my life not tortured enough for you to see? 
I am broken as can be. 
My heart is torn. 
My tears stain these perfect floors.  
Why are singing with glee? 
Why do you not care about my every plea? 
I am trapped in your arms. 
I am the hopeless moth. 
How did you pick me? 
What is it that you see? 
A girl untouched by life? 
A flower blooming in the desert? 
I have said goodbye to my loving integrity.  
You took that from me through R-A-P-E.


Details | Lyric | |

Drifting Mainly

You belong to me mate 	 ( Intro )
And that be that!
Get on board
And grab your hat!

The ship was aghast at its new passenger	( Verse )
Like disdain for the lives that they now left behind,
Newcomers were scarce 
And they never would last
But I held up my chin nice and high.


The bloke who took me screamed	( Pre-chorus )
“Mop up the deck we’ve got things to do!” 
But I said sir, 
I’m just a boy and don’t know what’s to do.

And he said		( Chorus )
“Drifting mainly
Sailin the shores
Taking what’s mine 
And leaving what’s yours
Cause you know, we ain’t dead yet.”

Taking the seas for more than eight moons
We found islands and loot
That was bigger than most.
The taste of sea air 
With its wind in my hair
Took me away to this new life I lead.

After mopping the deck 
He grabbed my hand and screamed
 “Steer this ship boy!”
But I said sir,
I’m just a lad and don’t know where to go.

So the crew yelled	( Chorus )
“Drifting mainly
Sailin the shore
Taking what’s mine 
And leaving what’s yours
Cause you know, we ain’t dead yet.”

Surprising to me 
Was my unshaven face
The captain looked on 
And smiled with grace,
We stopped at a place 
Where the women were loose and didn’t mind
If we took a peak.

He said “Now you’re a man so let’s get on that boat,
We got places to be and some people to rope,
So grab that sword and drop that mop
Cause you’re no longer a boy in my eyes.”

I practiced the duel with the men in the crew
The captain took eye to my devilish pride,
And he took me aside and said 
 “Even in death I’m gonna miss you boy 
But don’t let it strike you 
Or kill your spirits
Cause even time can beat out the Grim.”

Then in the darkness came fire and screams,
Our vessel had stopped after fourteen years,
The crew fought hard and beat most of the men
But now, my Captain was dead.

We took the new ship watching ours sink deep
Saying goodbye to our drowning escape,
The crew turned towards me and asked
“What do we do?” and I smiled,
And they did to.

And we yelled    ( Chorus )
“Drifting mainly
Sailin the shores
Takin what’s mine
And leaving what’s yours
Cause you know, we ain’t dead yet.”


Details | Lyric | |

The Other Side of the Coin

The night seems sad,
its stars are empty-
all magic gone, no luck
to gain from breathing a wish-
your dreams masked by shadow.
But this chance is not needed,
nor magic or spells,
to fight against the tears-
one must conquer them alone.
Luck is temporary for he
who counts on it.
It drains the stars 
of light and warmth.
In sadness we tend to forget
That we ourselves
have the power
to conquer the pain we feel.
Do not rely on good fortune
for soon as it comes
it will disintegrate into a sea
of sorrow and regrets.
Instead,
create your own magic
rather than pretend.
The stories and tales of childhood
may seem alluring
but do not let them
steal you away
from reality.


Details | Lyric | |

Pledge Not The Allegiance

It's the third verse,
I got the urge to purge
All the curt words I've splurged,
I've submerged in sin,
I'll go to church repent,
Then go curse again,
Lets reverse this trend
We nurse tolerance,
When it might offend,
If I white wash my fence,
So try to not get tense,
When I do not defend, 
Those who chose to be dense
And not use their two cents,
To show kids the reverence,
For the pledge of allegiance.


Details | Free verse | |

Her Final Words

"No." She whispered before drowning into her sorrows.
Her life had been a simple happy one. 
There were no pains and no troubles.
Life was life and people were people.
Life was simple.
and life was all about tomorrows.
Life didn't know about sorrows.
Her sorrows.
Those same sorrows that she drowned in never existed. 
They were never there, but where?
First to be sad in the naive town of joy.
Sorrow became contagious and what was known as happiness no longer was there.
It was non-exististent. 
A meager thought 
and a blessed memory.
She tried and tried.
She failed and failed.
Life was no longer hers.
For Pain was her only possession.
Her curse.
She lived and she died.
Yet, her legacy was passed on.
Never was it gone.
"No." She whispered before drowning in her sorrows, 
"Save them."


Details | Blank verse | |

Walking Contradiction

A metaphor you wont understand, a hint you don't quite get, a curtain slowly opening 
up and then falling closed once more. A skittish animal running out of reach and then 
looking back, the sun shining behind the clouds, and a bright eyed child, so curious, but 
hesitating just behind its mothers skirts. 

In another place, another time, tomorrow is the here and now. but in the here and 
now, tomorrow never comes and we seem to live in the past. Through the metaphor, 
through this opening curtain, trots a skittish wolf with its ears laid back, as light as the 
mist around it. Stalking silently through the low brush, as i'm walking past these 
speeding cars on this empty street. The glittering sun breaks free from the clouds 
grasp. its a golden meadow in the city of backwards trees.

Finding my way to a smooth pond, gazing into the glass surface where the raindrops 
fall up. Hearing everything when nothing is making noise, looking up at the invisible 
people, smiling, and looking down once again. Hiding behind a different sort of skirt 
now, not a child anymore. And as the rain petals fall up, distorting the ponds surface, 
the mist wolf stands beside me as we stare into the water, and our reflections slowly 
disappear. Gone, along with the invisible people...
None of us were ever really there to begin with.


Details | Seharaa | |

homeless dude on my corner

My belly aint nearly full
Cause what I got I spend on this
I **** my brains all day
I find peace
If you want my peace 


Details | Dramatic Verse (Verse Drama) | |

Emotional Hole

I did not find myself to be so important
So I ask my friends do I seem distant?
When I ask the question I had received an answer, Yes
So I think that made it clear that I had been not the best
I am a friend of a friend that talks so many things
That friend talks to much it is insane and insanity it brings
I do care, about my friends they are all good people
They tend to stand on their high steeple 
Today I find myself not so aware
Disbanding my fear of regret and care
Walking many different paths I see that I have found holes
It is the path that people choose to use to fuel their rage with coals
Coals are partially burnt wood or fossils a piece of fuel
It is the source of burden and fire a rage of emotions that stands cruel
It can be warm and caring, but it also can be baring
I just start to feel so low, below the ground I keep on staring
I reach for my friends so many times I feel so ignorant at times
Just once I feel I should not rely on them when feeling I can not find 
I dig my hole deeper and I can not climb out
For some reason I am just full of doubt
I care about so many things and what I have is confusion
One person should be all I should think about to get out of that illusion
My battle in my heart and mind is not at all so pleasant
I feel so alone in an island that is shaped like a crescent
My emotions is like coinciding with a diameter of the semicircle
Not a full emotion that is complete like a circle
My feelings is circular full of incomplete thoughts, so much deeper
I feel it will wake up my evil half a evil soul that is a sleeper
What question should I ask myself? to believe that I am not so alone
As I feel like a person who is deteriorating to the bone
I ask my friends the same question once again
I figure I should do it, to know what kind of feelings I should end
So many thoughts that come out of my feeling
I feel like my friends take, an emotional trauma of stealing
They ask me questions and I answer theirs
But when I need mine answered I feel burning inside like a flare
Are they even friends when they do not take me serious in anyway
Just put me in my hole cause I feel nothing in their will be getting in my way
It's just so simple to answer someones problem
I answer friends with beauty of a rose, but when they answer mine I get the stem
I know the stem is very important in life, with out it how can a rose be a rose
With a hole to put the root and stem in how can it grow
The words we speak I guess is like all natural things we reap and sow


Details | Free verse | |

Now I Am Free from My Step-parent

A life of beauty and happiness denied, of innocence 
smothered like a flame, I have always lived; but when 
I hear your lovely voice, my Lisa--

now I am free.

I was dead before I even entered into this world, a
place cruel and without feeling, cruel and without 
the love and understanding I finally know in the rich 
harmonies of your voice, my Lisa--

which sets me free.

Before I could even hope to bloom like a sensual
flower caught breathless and naked in the first, rainy
sunbeams of spring a great evil--the threatening, 
inner hostility of a dark figure overflowing with 
bigotry--transformed me into a joyless 

waste of ashes.

From that terrible moment on I fought all the ugly
and horrible assaults as his unwilling possession, a
gladiator in the arena of his constant abuse and 
myriad threats, subject to his occasional hostile 
looks from 

across the dinner table.

But when I hear your voice and imagine its tender-
ness and compassion as an unearned gift meant for 
me despite him and my child-like self-loathing: 

I feel the love and self-worth denied me, taken from
me simply because it was too easy to not rape from 
a child whose only fault was that he was born 

defenseless and
white.

O Lisa! Because of the music of your lovely voice--
now I am free! Free from my years as a gladiator in 
the arena of his constant abuse and attacks; 

free to bloom like a sensual flower caught breathless
and naked in the first, rainy sunbeams 

of Spring again!


Details | Free verse | |

Winter Winds

Winter winds blow all around. 
I’m astonished by the sounds of Jingle Bells and reindeer stomps. 
All of this should never stop. 
Snow lies on the ground, if only that weren't too profound. 
Time only leads to decay, but not on Christmas, not today. 
You should see the angels pray. 
Toy trains, and rag dolls are the things kids used to want. 
But time has changed, yes so have children… 
Santa seems as if a villain. 
So much fighting, so much crying, it sounds as if the kids are dying. 
“I want money, I want fame, and these toys are just so lame.” 
But that’s the product we provided. 
Second chances are no more, Santa’s plot we wait for. 
He’s sick of this, he doesn't care, it’s as if he’s not wanted here. 
He gets ready to take it all back…. 
WAIT! 
There’s still one toy left in his sack, it’s for a little girl, half a world away. 
Now how could he have missed this, on the perfect Christmas day? 
He turns around, not time for war. 
This toy, the girl is waiting for… It’s not a toy like you’d expect. 
She didn't ask for electronics, or stupid games such as Sonic. 
She just wanted one small thing… 
She’s waiting for something EXTRA special this gloomy day. 
In a bed she sits and stares, at the window near a chair. 
She’s so weak, and all alone. 
She doesn't even have a real home, not where there are bright lights anyways. 
They've decorated a weeping willow, the only tree around the “home”. 
So she has lights to see. 
It’s Christmas after all, but there’s no way to calm the raging sea. 
She’s dying, it won’t take much longer, and she doesn't care about the tree. 
She needs a new heart extra bad. 
So, Santa’s bringing her the one thing, that will stop her parents from being sad. 
He rushes to the hospital in his golden sleigh, and climbs right down the vent, 
He’s saving Christmas today. 
Santa rushes in just in time, finds a doctor, the girl is dying. 
It’s not what he usually does, but he stays and watches as they save her life. 
He waits for her to wake up. 
“Santa, you saved my life, oh thank you so much! I needed my heart to be touched.” 
He just smiles, and kisses her hand. He’s so glad he didn't destroy the land. 
Christmas is still a special day. 
There’s no more sorrow, no, not today. Santa smiles though some are still ungrateful. 
There’s that one child, standing in the snow, her life can now be started in the evening glow. That’s life for the grateful, loving, caring, and the thankful. Most of the time Santa just gives toys. For all the good girls and boys. But not today, and not tomorrow, once a year he gets rid of sorrow. So sleep tight and say your prayers, Christmas time is but once a year.


Details | Free verse | |

You Can Be

What would anyone do
if I woke up one day
and decided I was
going to be the next
murderer?
That I was going to steal my fathers gun,
and of course I start with him,
the feelings so rough,
tears bursting from my eyes.
I move on to my mother,
my brother,
my grandparents,
and with every kill
the emotion ebbs away.
Things get easier.
What would anyone do
if that day I
proclaimed to the world
that I no longer wanted to
live in this world?
I created the noose
from my old Playstation 3 controller cords,
wrote my last words
"To the world, **** you"
and made an ornament
out of myself on the
back of my bedroom door.
What would anyone do
if I decided one day that
The world is full of pixies and unicorns!
that everything was red,
oh but not the light fire red,
but instead the color of blood,
oh how magnificent things look!
I work for the trolls under
the bridge behind my house
he pays me in finger nails!
You told me I can be anything,
do anything,
so why do you look at me like I'm crazy?
I see the fairies, not you,
so who are you to say I'm insane?
They tell me I'm perfectly alright.
I never really understand why
people were comforted by such an obvious phrase,
I KNOW I can do whatever I want!
Just like Jim Jones wanted to
control and murder 1,000 people,
just like how the people of Rwanda
murdered each other;
brothers, fathers, neighbors fighting each other.
So what if I want to conquer china,
put rat poison in all the exports
and watch the world die,
its my decision right?
you told me so,
and I'll plead that,
I'll plead that you told me
I can murder the whole world,
start the zombie apocalypse,
destroy all animals in the world,
when I'm up in that electric chair.
Hello my future,
Good-bye Sanity.


Details | Free verse | |

Ravnica na ispucalom dlanu

Napušteni roditeljski dom
Još uvijek je mirisao na kukuruzni kruh
I beztjelesne korake ravnodušnog majcinstva.
 
U uglu djecje sobe pronadena muzicka kutija
Puna Mocarta i ožiljaka,
Trošni ormar 
S policama za slaganje
Uvijek svježe nabranog mraza,
 
Sve to,
I poneki otisak
Oceve zjenice
Na nevidljivom akvarelu,
Natjera je da zaledi srce
I stisne pesnice,
Da se sjecanja ne prostru po duši
Kao nepregledna ravnica
Na ispucalom dlanu.
 


Details | Free verse | |

Window

In one corner of my room,
That is shaped like a tomb,
There is a window, where I sit
And see my world through it.

I see the rising sun,
I see the melting dew,
I see the blooming flowers,
I see the sky’s changing hues.

Through it
I embrace the fading sun,
I live the joyous rains,
I feel the flowery fragrance,
I walk those lonely ways.

Through it
I float with the summer clouds,
I breathe the winter breeze,
I touch the autumn leaves,
I celebrate the cuckoo’s springtime songs.

Through the window,
I see my world.
Neither the autumn leaves,
Nor the springtime songs;
Neither the winter sunshine,
Nor the summer rains;
Would have been great
Had it not been through my window rails.

Through my window,
I see the world.
In the window, lies the entire bliss;
Beyond the window is only an illusion.

Suyash Saxena


Details | Free verse | |

Yellow Crayon

In the art gallery where sharp-edged women 
stop their strides abruptly before famous paintings 
... of colored squares- 
In discussions of a novel, where sex is not exactly 
sex, only a metaphor we squint eyes at eachother 
across wooden tables, desperate to see- 
In conversation, where the surety I felt for you 
has faded to an ache across my ribs, 
faint, but still not nothing- 

In a shape-shifting world 
where I am taught the shades of 
subtleties in the tipping-forward of a smile, 
skin striking skin, and 
red against blue, 
I only want to be white on white, 
a small child with a red hair-ribbon 
frantically scribbling smiles 
in bright yellow crayon.


Details | I do not know? | |

Home

Home


Squirming through my skin, 
moulting once again.

Roots flailing like rotting driftwood, 
bashed upon the merciless shore.

Home awaits the weary traveller, 
to comfort and offer solace.
No home awaits me, 
mere bricks and scattered memories.

Lost in the folds of memory, 
a withered identity beyond recall.

Home.

Long misplaced by the wayside, 
forever gone, vanished in time.

Home.

As skin moults with dreary repetition.

No home, no place of solace.

For I left myself in a half-forgotten alley, 

While I forever trawl for the way home.


Details | Couplet | |

Patient X

Plagued ebony tongue of evil spores;
Invitro beings with polluted cores.
Soul's lab of hope in dreamer's test tube;
A puzzle solver's Rubik cube.
Spirit smashed in life's dress rehearsal;
Faith inside psychology's Reversal.
Wounding truth upon lips spoken;
within a heart, opaquely, broken.
Felt and touched through words' real life;
The hidden angst of heart in strife.
Emotions conflict in mind's sweet shop;
Laned childhood memoirs' spinning top.
Down yester's avenue are audible taunts;
The not so abandoned ruin, haunts.
Chemical bodies infect and deceive;
Equation's encouragement to bravely believe.
Fears overboard in blood stream's boat;
Sailed backbone ventures' antidote.

© March 2013