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Family Metaphor Poems | Metaphor Poems About Family

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

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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 |

Onion of Passion - A Blitz Poem for Poetry Soup

Onion of Passion (A Blitz Poem for Poetry Soup)

Start with an idea
Start with an onion

Onion on a cutting board
Onion from the crisper drawer

Drawer of firm vegetables
Drawer of future soup

Soup to feed the poet’s soul
Soup to cure the common cold

Cold days feeling uninspired
Cold nights feeling over tired

Tired of the same same same
Tired of this empty feeling

Feeling compulsive
Feeling hungry

Hungry for a poem to come
Hungry for some hearty soup

Soup flavored with Whitman’s marrow
Soup that starts with his sort of rawness

Rawness of starchy emotion
Rawness of aromatic images

Images of stiff green celery stalks
Images of bright chunked carrot snips

Snips sautéing in olive oil (dash of salt!)
Snips of memory softening

Softening and blending into metaphors
Softening with those onions now translucent

Translucent as distant dreams
Translucent as childhood kisses

Kisses snuck behind the bushes or
Kisses from great grandma

Grandma gave this life recipe
Grandma said to let things simmer

Simmer with love like chicken stock
Simmer then add the bag of herbs

Herbs are like adjectives
Herbs like just the right verbs

Verbs of action rather than being
Verbs like heat and sear and cook and flavor

Flavor the soup
Flavor for sharing

Sharing ourselves
Sharing is why

Why we cook these chunky poems
Why we cook anything

Anything at all
Anything  with passion

Passion and heart
Passion pulsing

Pulsing…
Heart…


Details | I do not know? |

Blood loss

 
You're empty already, but still bleed more
As you open my veins and drip blood on your floor
You can’t smile; you don't laugh or put on an illusion
You just sit there blood drained, whilst you beg for transfusion.
This here’s your knife; it’s seen plenty of woes
It has travelled through time, helped you battle your foes.
Shall you slit across tracks, so it oozes when bleeds?
Or follow it down and find rest with the weeds?
A sane healthy man will find comfort in ties.
Always knows where to go, to find care, when he cries
Whilst others they yearn for their wish to come true
Whilst they suffer from blood loss, like me or like you.







Details | Haiku |

Two Haiku

Strokes after midnight
received a distant sad news
a swallow has flown

Watch over us dear
I kept my prayers for you
frosted in flowers


Details | Dramatic Verse (Verse Drama) |

Rainbow

Running through the universe,
Looking for the light,
I found a broken rainbow,
Crying in the night.

I tried to glue it back again,
Fix it's bleeding heart,
But the circle had been broken,
Before it's song could start.

The push and pull of meaning,
Are tugging at my sleeve,
The million colours dancing,
In the cloth the weaver weaves.

Are burning in the darkness,
Burning in the night,
As the rainbow goes on crying,
Sinking out of sight.

And now I'm crying loneliness,
Crying on my knees,
The butterflies of emptiness,
Are dancing in the breeze.

Running through the universe,
Looking for your face,
I come back to the start again,
To find my  tail I chase.

I know I've found my destiny,
I know that it is true,
The beginning and the end of it,
Is where we'll all meet you.

more at http://labyrinthoflies.com


Details | Free verse |

Your Secret Place

Everyone should have a secret place
where everything is so beautiful, you just belong
as peaceful as a day is long, an out of your usual pace,
sounds of nature all about, where birds sing there song,

Meditation replaces frustration, along your happy trail
moving about streams, pine trees as tall as a waterfall
where pine cones grace a foliage landscape  so surreal,
woes are meaningless about green grass, lollypop bushes

A cool spring where skinny dipping hasn’t a sign to obey
trails going every which way, too choose, you can’t lose…
your way, this sunny day, misty spray, a couple out to play,
no weight to bare, deadlines to meet, nor fail too win

time only absent from laughter heard as children frolic there...
in a caressing manner, with her long hair draped about your face,
sounds echo off boulders where water flows by gallons everywhere
yes - your secret place, where good time memories are your true nature


Details | Light Poetry |

Butterfly

I once was like a catipiller young,naive,and new
Always living from my heart not knowing what
else to do.Easy to take advantage of, that is 
just the case, people would walk over me
like I was their dirty used up suitcase.
Now I feel a newness coming, like a light
shining from the sky, colors fill my world
and I know I am blooming into a butterfly.
Purple,Pink, Blue and Green I can feel them
flowing through. Colors of the rainbow raising
me into full bloom. Wise and strong I am becoming
My faith leads me where I need to go giving me
insight and wiseness for only me to know.
I have not  done this on my own you see
I have been guided by God and Angels
on this Earth. Wise words the wisdom at
it's best comes from a wise lady who
seems to know me best. Lucky, I am 
to have her in my life, she always shoots
it straight and tells me like it is, knowing
her words touch my heart and gives me tons of faith..
I feel like flying through the sky or climbing 
a tree way up high. I feel like observing the 
world just like a brand new butterfly so as I
Bloom I become Anew something unlike the past
Smart and wise beautiful on the inside and outside 
 a touch of color here a touch of color there
makes me glow and become a beautiful blooming butterfly...


Written By: Christina A McCullouch 
04/09/2013


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 |

The Glass Goddess

All around me
Great cities made of sand.
Green sky scrapers poke through the ground 
To thrive in life’s strict conditions
And melt away with the tide…

Great houses made of cards
Form lines, and tightrope walk existence,
Knowing that any moment, the wrong brick may fall
And buckle our world to its knees
As Mother Earth shouts Jenga! from the sidelines.

So while were here
We dance with the Glass Goddess 
Poised miles above reality,
Leaping over the heavens on our domino stilts-

We floor it in the sky
Living death in the fast lane, 
Seizing the day
Because any moment 
We could disappear 
Into



Jacob Reinhardt	
10/15/2013



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.)


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