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Father Metaphor Poems | Metaphor Poems About Father

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

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 |

Dementia

He was always so happy
strong and bold.
He'd give you the shirt off of his back.
Tough.
Independent.
He had a rough life
growing up through the depression,
but like he always does,
he got through it.
He has two boys, of whom he is so proud.
Moved from Regina, to Victoria.
He had the best life anyone his age could have wanted.
But ever since his wife died, 
he has not been the same.
Sad
Lonely
Empty.
But like he has always done,
he got through it.
Mind slipping, 
just a little forgetful.
That's how it always starts out...
But like always, he powered through it, 
until now...
He is not the same person that I used to know.
He been sentenced to the prison in his own mind.
Possessed by the thoughts of his dogs ashes.
He likes to play the blame game,
but we know he doesn't remember that it was him.
He wakes up in the night
shaking with pain, 
tears streaming down his face.
There is nothing we can do,
Oh well...
Two more tylenol.
Hold on to hope
for as long as you can,
It's only a matter of time now.
He gets vocal, a very loud tone.
He'll block you in your room
and make false accusations
But we know that it's the pain induced monster in him.
Tick tock, tick tock...
You can't handle the stress anymore
you have to leave.
Just hope for the best, 
maybe it will get better.
Surprise, it doesn't.
Your denial is foolish, everyone knows 
what happens next.
Sedation
Medication
Anger
Hurt
All results of
dementia


Details | Lyric |

Solipsist

Let the Deicide commence.

You're a voyeur at best!
Your vampiric heart is beating out of your chest!
And you have slayed the ones whom would love you for anything less
Ready to consume the final fragments of innocence,
And for you there is no forgiveness,
On your knees pleading, screaming to a tyrant in the skies;
The father of lies.

I will never be enslaved in your superiority
The people agree: jaded of your false dichotomies.
Know: I will be whomever nature intends to be
Apollo and I will share our dreams,
and you will be forced to see
your failure!

I know who you are...
Readily the first to present your scars
Chained by some despot or mental czar
An emotional homunculus in your mind, behind bars
Reluctant to escape - even when proven fake
Your demented mind - depths no one will penetrate!
 
...And you see me suffering
Not caring of any casualties
Just as long you recieve your safeguard of sympathy
So very wary of the masses and their Anarchy; Liberious ways

Solipsist - Is there no one you can see?
Even if she was presented burning?
Solipsist - Is there no one you can believe?
Even if Sophia was screaming?
Solipsist - Know you have killed and abused me
Imprisoned in your own  personal reality 




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 | Monorhyme |

Sins of my father

His sins are heavy/
He stood there silent/ 
Sweat dripping down his armpit this sins r heavy/
Victims see a savior sent from heaven his sins r blurry/
His sweat tastes no salt secrets hidden behind doors glued in bolt they worship his father/
Zip down unzipped to keep his zip down and never spit zip/
He is an experiment a doormat of his Father's zip/
He weeps but nobody speaks/
His father's sins are heavy/


Details | Imagism |

Something good

The smell of coffee: hot and bitter in the cold winter night 
With the rhythm in the left hand and the rhyme in the right, 
He wrote a poem in his secret pocket,
A wistful star like a speedy rocket
Ready to leave this planet intense blue
In search of other traces of life anew.
He remembered after mother had died,
In the cold touch ,stalagmites and stalactites cried.
Father and son felt a strong taste for sweets.
As in the sunset, the blind boatman meets
With an awkward touch the water`s ring
But generally they needn`t to eat anything
For a while they rested an extraordinary team:
Father insistently (sometimes boring) told him
All his recollections:childhood,war and the rest…
All muscles and teeth pressed hot, like ice on the crest.
The son learnt them by heart, and later
He would retell them to father, even better…
One was on duty to wash the dishes;
The other tried to follow his wishes…

Their only joy was to read and read and read…
One had to cook at home ,and to bake the bread
In a bread factory:He was happy even when he was sad.
He could recognize each bread: All his loafs were bad.
He was like Chaplin in “New Times”.
He was speaking in figures and rhymes.  
He wore a monk beard and father was much more younger.
Looking through the window: grey hunger and anger …

At the weekend, he used to ask his father 
About the favourite meal, but rather
He would find a surprise the next day.
Each day was windy winter and grey…

Father had the same touching answer:”Something good”.
In the strange interference ,water and fire ,one was rude.
Solitude  was their common friend stealing in like a lizard,                                       
But, in the afternoon they played sweeping their courtyard.
They had leaves in autumn and snow in the winter.
The sky was grey without sun, the clouds were bitter.
Father was counting the leaves, in the old horizon
The son was painting the days ,in the cold horizon.


The war with the falling down leaves fighting hard 
With red faces like an inveterate drunkard .
And years after his father met his final hope,
The son would stop in front of  the sweets shop , 
Ready to buy recollections as Christmas tree sweets.


Details | Verse |

Does the War Ever Really End

A moment stauls...
Somewhere in between
What shall always be... 
Known as my lost and forever hour

Where I wake to sounds of thrashing rains
A clock sits staring, ticking and tocking
My own darkness illuminating lightning
Distant thunder following her in shame

Although, throes of raven blackness
Slumber holds on to the pitch
But, I pass through limbo hallways of surreal
Stumbling forth in directions by my blinded feel itch

Walls of lucid memories like dripping paint 
Begin to lapse deep into the younger years 
And creaking footfalls shatter their echo
Of certian remembered fears 

"Ah" deja vu sounds the alarm even further
Cracks from father’s room, is the ceiling leaking?
Into my little ears I'm more awake
As I hear the faint famaliar tears of weeping

My curiosity ever stronger than before
And innocent eyes through doorways peer
It’s the war again; Mom said he tried...
To leave it all behind, but still it's always there

And the storm's outside, but in a booming violence
Rushes back surreal into the unforgotten killing
The death, its experiences still locked up
Within his mind never free or escaping

A heroes love is his strength
Protecting me from a world with terrible pains
But, somehow I’ve learned to understand
That he needs his son, to calm his troubled angst

And silently I step
Inching slowly towards him
And nestle up within his trembling hands
Tugging upon one sleeve whispering "Dad, oh dad?"

“God has sent me here”
I say directly in his ear
Quieter now “To love you”
My tone gentle to his needs

Wiping away his tears
He whispers back...
“I know”
And picks me up, relieved

And in turn we face the scene
Of a passing storm into silence
As the rain seems alive to notice
Stopping to watch our mends in evanescence

We are somewhat aware we are within God's presence 
Looking to each other with a shrug
And then my dad holds me up
Giving this boy the biggest hug

Beneath the returning quiet 
And the ambience of moonray light
He carries me back to my room
And places me into bed amid the last flash of white

Pulls the blankets up
Knowing this will comfort me
And I’ll never forget the words
He said so effortlessly 

“One day...
You will have a son
Always let him know you love him
And your bond will never end”

Again I wake, this time
To the sounds of an apologetic rain
The lightening has ceased its battle
And the thunder it no longer blames

I unwind the blanket
And uncover and sit
Rubbing the sleep out of my eyes
Awake, on the edge of bed

Was this a dream?
Or a twist of fate reality?
I ponder, running fingers through my hair
And, merely reflect upon it

Then I realize…
I was not alone
Dad is watching, not far away
And I know one day, I'll see him soon, after heaven's gates


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 | I do not know? |

boungiorno

hello! hey! boungiorno! what is the date?/
this world of dimensions created duality/
no letters/ no words/ are enough to express/
someone like you/ in reality/

i filled all your emptines/ MY still quiet bay/
as Jhon opened world in his Yoko/
you searched perfect princes/ looked for "right him"/
now at only one overman looking/

i swear/ i will hold you/ as much as i can/
would become all the axes/ and outer space/
voice is speared by the screaming wind/
falling down/ flakes to your place/

going crazy just seeing your knees/
don't regret anything/ my Benito/
unbelievable/ perfect/ unbearable/
you whisper/ "la comedia e finita"//


Details | Free verse |

The Sire's Journey

Off to mountains he climbs
Whilst staying in his mind.
Off to battles he goes 
Defeating many foes.

The nature of his quest
Unruly as it may be,
Sings noiselessly in the air.
It cries and screams,
Yet pride smirks on his face.
It wriggles and squeals,
Yet his begotten one he will not yield.

His words speak kindly to it,
Soft like the wind,
Yet harsh they become
Like leaves rushing through the mountains’ wrath,
To those who may bring it harm.

Invisible string links them no matter the distance,
And at the beckoning call it grows taller than trees,
And has become stronger than the foundation of the earth.

Off to mountains it climbs
Whilst staying in its mind.
Off to battles it goes
Defeating many foes.