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Metaphor Education Poems | Metaphor Poems About Education

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Details | Couplet | |

STAMINA

           STAMINA

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.

 
                    SKAT
                   6-29-10


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 | Verse | |

The Canvas

This poem is a farewell piece of advice to a group of students I have taught over the last four years. I do 
hope they find the metaphor meaningful and believe that they are the "architects of their own future."

Spread before you is a canvas of hope and opportunity Waiting to be painted with strokes of what you are and can be Waiting to be filled with colours that define you and the life you live Waiting to be stamped with the personality that only you can give To the portrait of your life, by itself a work of art A work which, on this day, with vigour you will start Spread before you is a canvas of vision and desire Waiting to be sketched with shades of passion and fire Waiting to be decorated with a story and theme Waiting to be etched with ambition that is now just a dream Of a picture whose tone, texture and style Would have made this work worth all the while Spread before you is a canvas, empty, yet full of space Waiting to be stroked with your wit, charm and grace Waiting to be brushed with strokes daring, vivid and bold Waiting to be painted with a story that can be told Of a life whose essence is one of sublime beauty Of a person who lived his life and did his duty Of a person who lived life the way it should be Of a complete canvas that will reflect many a memory.


Details | Diminished Hexaverse | |

Water Being Cleaned

The ram died high
On the snow covered
Mountain, when the thaw
Of spring came, it's
Decaying body

Contaminates
The melting snow
The waters flow
Brings death in grip

The farther
It traveled
The less germs

And death
Were there

Clean


(This is also a metaphor for sin.  The farther we stay away from it the cleaner we stay.  Of 
course, we can repent but the results lingers.)


Details | Personification | |

Chicken Slam

They want my thighs/ 
So smooth and innocent feathers flying across broken brunches of skeletons/ 
They want my rhymes/ 
This is no poultry for poetry/ 
My poetry is no coward type chicken/
My words are salty/  

I’m a bird i fly on top of state’s real brains/ 
Consuming meat and eggs of past fellow cowards/  
Omnivores lines/ 
These earth i scratch with my mouth/ 
Is a prostitute/
Tougher than concrete lines/
These earth i scratch with my mouth/ 
Is everyone's Present Day Hell 
Serving tissues/
My thoughts are concrete tears like rebels/

Poets
scratch and sing mirrored messages in flocks/ 
This pictures are born from chests incubated second hand writings/  

Smell my symptoms/
Stainless inks/ 
Blinking one eye ink/ 
Eyes wide open never see compost in words/
Aimed at fertilizing unattractively skinnny promises/

O gosh Chickens/

Shoes of chicken view touch souls with my hand clues/
Cowards spray away chicken slams/

They want my thighs/
In holidays they slaughter families born in days of slavery/
They want my rhymes/ 
They want my thighs/
(c) Ray


Details | Ballad | |

Broken Dreams

  Do you believe in the things that you've always known,
Can you understand the things you've been shown.
   Is it the visions you see that make you believe,
Or is the feelings you get when you've been deceived.
    The pain you feel a never ending ache ,
Tearing your heart and soul from you every day.
    Time ticks slowly pounding away at you,
Throbbing heart breaking and there's you can do,
    Must I settle for these lost and broken dreams,
Because it has all the signs that what it seems.
    How much should a man endure to find his way,
It cant possibly be like this hard for me every day.
    There is nothing so frustrating as being so confused,
Especially when you've discovered that you've been used.
    I will get through this lonely phase I have no doubts,
But I'm sure there will come a day I'll figure it all out.
    Cautiously I walk the path that's been laid before me,
In faith I will continue for I know he will let me see.
    Life will be thrown at you in so many different ways,
I will be prepared for these things for the rest of my days.
    Broken dreams will be the learning tree for me to grow ,
Living my life with Joy Happiness is what I'll always Know.
tac


Details | Alliteration | |

FEEL THE FALL BEFORE FALLEN

FIGHTING FOR FOLKS FEES FALLING FREELY
FEELING FEMININE FILING FOR FALLS
FORCING FAMILY FACING FURY
FRIGHTENING FRIENDS FUSING FUSION

FEIGHNING FATIGUE FREE FRAME
FRAUDULENT FACTS FALL FALLACY
FREE FROM FINITE FRENZY
FAIDING FEELING FOR FAIRY

FIRST FIGURE FILLS FRONT
FAULTING FATE FAKES FINDING
FALLING FAME FROWN FAITH
FUMED FUR, FENCE FREAKY.


Details | Haiku | |

The Less I Have

the less i have of
the additional use of
the more it breaks down


Details | Personification | |

Conium


With airy moves the thinker tried to gulp
one more full glass of the potent liquor,
'das zould bee iit', he said, in English calque,
'afta zis bottle I'll be a quitter'.

His mind analyzed why Socrates drunk,
instead of this pure nectar, conium,
He started writing knowing he would flunk,
and his pen's gems would be zirconium.

He drunk and gargled the eighty proof gold,
in his blurred vision Philipp Lenard laughed,
and Karl Max Plank's postulate did unfold
quantized integration calculus' craft.

He wondered if the philosopher's norm
that electromagnetic energy,
could solely emit in quantized form,
was the discovery of last century.

(You know in zis vorld ze gut schnapps is rare,
like slivovitz und aquavit und kirsch),
he read somewhere from drinks to be aware,
- 'Chain nuclear reactions' book of Frisch,

Outraged he saw the drink's surface descend,
with airy moves he called the liquor store,
Maxwell's equations started to blend,
through electrodynamics slept with snore.

© 02-09-2013, G. V., All Rights Reserved
(rhyme)
(a poem against excessive alcohol consumption)

Sponsor: Sheri Fresonke Harper
Contest: Personifying Science
Placement: 3rd


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 | Rhyme | |

THE REASON WHY THE WORLD IS FLAT

The reason why the world is flat is simple;
why we don’t see round a bend and corner.
We search, inquire, to information garner,
but blinkered by self-imposed wimple.

A face lights up with broad smile and dimple;
a child’s delight to discover patch darner.
The reason why the world is flat is simple;
why we don’t see round a bend and corner.

Set views, a minor obstacle, mere pimple
on nose - sniff at life’s knowledge; a mourner
of preconceived ideas, is a *gonner.
Facts at our fingertips, owing to **Kimble:
The reason why the world is flat is simple. 

* dead
**Kimble County, Texas – Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia. 

Poetry form: Rondel (not listed by PS)


Details | Haiku | |

Haikus About God: VI

The body: sacred
We’re all made in God’s image
Hence... circumcision?


Details | I do not know? | |

Tomorrow is Ours



Tomorrow is Ours.


Suffocating beneath the weight of historical fear,
asphyxiated by the legacy of traumatised yesteryear,

the festering wounds of enslavement still remain,
juggling euphemisms in a crisp sound-bitten refrain,

spewing out neo-liberal economic charades,
doling out charity in strips of plastic band-aids,

but,

tomorrow shall be ours,

casting away subservient mind-sets that shackle,
no longer the weakened prey of the insatiable jackal,

tomorrow shall be ours,

we shall reclaim our plundered mindspaces,
we shall shed our chains, leaving behind the traces,

of past injustice, of the hurt and pain of our ancestors' sorrows,

we are here, now, alive with hope,


we shall rightfully claim our own tomorrows.





Details | Rhyme | |

When He Breaks You

When He breaks you

It is to re-make you.

 

If given the choice

To give destiny your voice

You would undoubtedly have picked this state

Such is the irony of fate

 

He breaks you now

So you later see the how -

How the pieces of your journey come to be

A slow but eventual solving of this mystery

 

He makes you work work work – then fail

So that you realize your means are of no avail

Without His will -

But feel His mercy fill -

Even through the aches still

 

He punctures your bubble of hope

To teach you the meaning of struggling to cope

To avoid you saying ‘this was all from me’

Which you might say if it always did come so easy

 

He lets you fall

So that when you stand

It’s straight and tall

Your past sorrows

Not letting you drown

Without your ego

Weighing you down

 

Even while the road appears smooth

He lets you trip and trip again

So that you might stumble upon hidden treasures

From the dirt, which you may otherwise not gain

 

In essence,

He knows Best

The perfect Teacher

Who puts the perfect test

-

Truly,

He breaks you

To re-make you…

Better.


Details | Haiku | |

All About the Music: The Infinite Magic of Lyricism

Pop may be catchy
But not lyrically deep
Case in point: Chris Brown.


(N.B. Poem written after hearing "Don't Wake Me Up")


Details | Imagism | |

A snowman with arms akimbo

A melting snowman begs in the troubled tired minds 
Dirty snow at the Crossroads of times and the winds, 
Revives fountain purling the first word, gold rain: 
How to share happiness from the high mountain?

The same, melting into the gray masses of secularization, 
The bitter taste of freedom as a necessity, globalization 
Of conviction and imagery for poets in times of need, 
With sweat emanation of democratic transitions that feed 
Our misunderstood freedom and what else might be?
 In the abundance of the unimportant things so free; 
And the crisis of the essential ones...calling stability
Like little Prince and forgotten language of Morality.
Like the dream in another incredible long dream,
The landscape is covered by so much ice-cream,
That never-never paid hopes grew as glorious grass
In the horizon of strawberries and invincible glass;

How many eyes look at the wrinkles of those mirrors?
There sun dies and sometimes arises to face new dangers.
Like in the unforgettable party of each blond spring;
Like Narcissus who saved himself in the fountain ring;
Like alliteration in remarkable moral nations,
That lived in the desert of changeable motions
Of obedient stripped dunes under the power of wind,
Calling the thirsty camel in the horizon ready to bind
The earth and the sky around the shinning red moon:
And all those without heart will be lost in that afternoon?

Even mountains of rice can be moved by the new faith,
From desert, in the frozen Europe with white wreath;
There Sisyphus guided generations in the realm of ethics, 
And new prophets lead crowds of poll sweat heretics;
Counting endangered ethical animals in the national park.
At Poles, imaginary people live their half life in dark.


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 | I do not know? | |

MLK - 1929 - 1968

MLK...
(January 15, 1929 – April 4, 1968)


they shot you down
all those years ago

but

your dream lives on
and always will

for though much has been
gained since you dreamed
your dream

there is much to fight for
and much more to struggle for

and much, much more
to fight for still

so
your dream resounds in
our hearts and we pledge 
this to you today
for though they shot you down
all those years ago on a memphis day
we shall overcome
this we do believe
deep in our hearts
that
we shall overcome
someday...


(for Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.)


Details | Free verse | |

In Between

There’s a moment when, crossing between two streetlamps, a double shadow appears,
arching from your fears, a body projected through years onto cracked concrete. 
So, stopping, you watch it split in separate directions, no fixed perfections, 
all later corrections point from now dividing as forces pull one into two, 
coloured red or blue at different ends of the spectrum, matter is best left some space,
life isn’t a race in the traditional sense, but against the perception of yourself.
Worrying is bad for your health, because as much as television may scream in your ear, 
grinding each individual gear, you need not wealth, 
but a hand to pick you up and dust you off when you fall,
no problem at all, giving pats on the back, setting the wheels back on the track,
in motion again you walk on from staring at your shadow, standing won’t help you grow.
And I know it says not to walk towards the light, but this time it’s alright, 
because looking back won’t help either. As a fighter, neither Rocky nor Rambo, 
you face the night ahead, spit to clear your mouth of lead, and strut on son, 
because you are only born once, and you only die once, 
but it’s what you do between the two that makes you awesome.


Details | Couplet | |

AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN ATMOSPHERE

I am a party animal, my heritage is mixed
quite content to lounge about when conditions remain fixed. 

Suppose that’s the nobility which Krypton must provide,
maintaining stiff upper lip when I’m all buzzed inside.

Then too, I’m mostly nitrogen, which is very stable, 
tamping volatility of oxygen: it’s able

to combine with hydrogen (that’s also in my make up).
Uncontrolled? Oh that would lead to an explosive break up.

Carbon Dioxide? Its percentage varies night and day:
vegetative respiration, or so the boffins say.

I wonder why I don’t glow multicoloured in a storm:
my neon, argon, radon being Vegas lighting norm.

If I had more Helium the humans would sound squeaky.
I imagine the attraction of that chap Enrique

Would suffer greatly from affliction. He’d become mundane,
and prove downright offensive if I gave him more methane.

I’ve also Nitrogen Oxide, not Nitrous NO2, 
and a soupçon of ozone which had once protected you

from harmful rays from Out There much more than now is measured.
It seems that humans cannot see what really should be treasured.

I’m moved by friction of the Earth and pressure off the bat
while Coriolis effect pushes me this way and that:

north and south of the equator, the opposite I spin.
Any other speculations, my friends, are simply wind.


Details | Free verse | |

The game played in the name of virginity

When kane is mankind's lesson in life
there remains a need for a lesson in love
when your television is hell's proof of a holy war
your blind muse confused with the legacy of christ
and the battle of troy
Both seem to have a name similar to genocide
and a plan to love this loveless weapon
since the planet is a homeless shelter
the realisation we have nowhere better to go
we cheer on the one man army at war
one in which we know there will be no victoms
and results in no non believers

When two peaceful men stand tall
one hand washing the other
even in metaphor in the midst of mankind's obsessive compulsions
that had left them thinking their wills to do good werre being tested as if they were flawed

A continual life lesson
of your media and music
string theory at god's birthday
simple cliches of your life lesson
gives you another chance at winning one of god's lottery's
either way, this is an ultimate payday