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Metaphor History Poems | Metaphor Poems About History

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

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Details | Free verse | |

World War - Benita Margaronis

RED  DOOR (collaboration)


by~ Benita Margaronis

War Of The World Death, pain, blood, 
Shell-shocked men, suffering and darkness. 
It's all they ever saw.  
Soldiers thinking about their lives.  
Rotting flesh and the whimper of dying men with their bodies half blown off.  
Other soldiers shooting them in the head to end their pain.   
The shattering sound of an explosive destroying life and more ground.  
Blood and body parts spray through the air and spread throughout the ground. 
Total emptiness and nothingness.  
Mounds and mounds of biting bodies and horses.  
Scattered planes, tanks, trucks and others.  
Burning guns and oil.  
Because the world went to war so much was lost for so little gain.  
The war of the world shall never be forgotten. 


by~ Poet Destroyer

War of the world Sacrifice.
Doors tainted red, tragedies never forgotten.
Mediterranean swept the soul of combatants without a word to say.
A war so defiant both sides lost more than humanity to each other. 
Prisoners, white flag surrendering, shot in the head with no remorse.
Brave soldiers wiping off the blood of their face like a tear.
Men in fetal positions crying hard like the day they were born for*mom-MA.
Soldiers pocket full of notes and dog-tags for a loved one.
Achievements that followed death without a mother's hand to hold.
Chaotic news and telegrams traveled without a moment to spare.
A flag brought to the door painted black.
Mothers falling to the floor broken hearted.
Because no one can mend the courage one gave to us today. 
The war of the world shall never be forgotten.


A collaboration with * Benita Margaronis

My collaboration contest


Details | Verse | |

- Temujin -

Temujin

The purple Royal banners wave above the armored steel,
of Mongol Genghis Khan the Temujin who rules with wit,
and programs to expand his rights with sublimated zeal,
beneath his will to merge the lands, the warlords to befit.

Consorted by the Börte maid, of Onggirats' kin tribe,
the Mongol martial Temujin is honored by the clans;
a skillful warrior invades the lands while Börte bride
awaits; for no one else predestined is to be her man.

The chieftain slaughters on his pass across the western soils
invincible his tactics are and triumphs ascertain,
advance his rule, his territorial new marks and spoils,
while Börte, granting loyalty, in virtue she ordains.

How valued is the flight of eagles that conduct above,
depict trajectories, and soar to vanish where the Gods
embrace the sadness of unanswered prayers and bridal love,
the Royal maid in loneliness, defends against all odds?

So priceless have become their plumes upon the Mongol plains,
where cold the winds of Northern steppe embrace the  ghosts
and Princess Börte of the Onggirat, stands tall and reigns,
believing that her Temujin bestows his kind riposte!

" Support him Goddess of the moon when grooming Charon thuds
and sends the clanging of the steel, commanding thus, the souls,
to travel the descending route of loveless, coursing blood,
and through the gusting of the winds, transports their saddened calls. "

© 01-20-2014, G. Venetopoulos
(Iambic heptameter)


Details | Haiku | |

Haikus About God: IV

God made all people
But some better than others?
Stop being silly.


Details | Haiku | |

Haikus About God: VI

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


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 | 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 | I do not know? | |

The Petty Posh-WahZee - Liberation and Ostentation



The Petty Posh-Wahzee - Liberation & Ostentation


The Not-So Distant Past:

The fallen fighters for freedom, are unable to turn in their graves,
their battered, fragmented bones, mixed with a handful of torn rags,
are all that remain, a mute reminder of their selfless valiant sacrifice.

They endured brutal Apartheid harassment, detentions without trial,
torture in the cells, and mental anguish when loved ones disappeared,
they left their homeland, to continue the struggle against racial bigotry,
while countless others fought the scourge of white-minority rule at home.

Nelson Mandela and many, many others, spent their lives imprisoned,
on islands of stone, and on islands of the cruellest torture, yet they stood,
never bowing, never scraping, they stood, firm for ideals for which they were prepared to die,

and many, many comrades did die, at the hands of the callous oppressor,
and many, many comrades perished in distant lands, torn from their homes,
while the struggle continued, for decades, soaked in blood, in tears, in pain.


The Present:

19 years have passed, since freedom was secured at the highest of prices,
delivering unto us, this present, a gift of emancipation from servitude,

a freedom to walk this land, head held high, no longer second-class citizens,
in the land of our ancestors, whose voices we hear and need to heed today.

I do not care much for fashion, Lewis-Fit-On and Sleeves unSt.-Moron,
yet the ostentation that I witness baffles even my unsophisticated palate,

our ancestors' plaintive whispers are being dismissed, left unheeded, as
we browse the aisles for more and more, always for more and yet more.

Asphyxiated by the excess of the Petty Posh-Wahzee, we find ourselves,
perched precariously on the edge, of a dissolution of all that is humane,

babies go hungry, wives are battered, our elders left in hospitals for hours,
I cringe as I scribble these words, perhaps too sanctimonious and preachy,

yet I know, deep in the marrow of my brittle bones, I know, I know, I know,
this tree of freedom planted by the nameless daughters and sons of Africa,

needs to be shielded, nurtured, protected from our very own baser impulses,
so that the precious tree of freedom, may bear the fruit that may feed us all,

for if not, then we are doomed, to tip over, and into the yawning abyss, we shall fall.








Details | Haiku | |

Le Vacance Pretentieuse: Storm Part V

The English weather:
Rainclouds follow us from home
There is no escape.


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 | |

There Is No Now

The pollution is psychedelic
Hell, you could even say poetic nature
Terms of enragement
Definitely not engagement
Can suffice in describing the depredation

Fire from the skies
Burning through the system
Dropping through to nothing
Learning not what’s in them
Always running from them

We may hide our voices
But you hide your souls
Torturing us with woes
Never able to feed our hole
Scars bleed out like coals

Paint it any color you like
Doesn’t change a thing
This war that you’ve brought forth 
Has killed us all
In the past and future

There is no now…


Details | I do not know? | |

I Stand, Alone



I stand, alone.

Scratching for my truths,
peeling away the veneer,

I stand, alone, before this
impregnable cliff so sheer.

Cocooned in my solitary shell,
wrenching a smile from a tear,

I stand, alone, a little odd,
and definitely quite queer.

I stand, alone.


Details | Verse | |

Le Vacance Pretentieuse: Dessert in the Deserted Desert

Boiling, baking and blazing,
               Other synonyms for heat.
My camel is happily dazing,
	He was not a restful seat.
Poolside I’ll later be lazing,
	Resting my sunburnt feet.
Air conditioning is amazing,
               Ice cream is a lovely treat.


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 | Tanka | |

New Jersey

Lenni-Lenape smokes
still climb Appalachians
To dream the Passaic`s Great Falls, 
the banks Delaware,Hudson,
and Long Island Sound`s echo.


Details | I do not know? | |

The Sieve of Time



The Sieve of Time



Cast ashore,
along the banks of time,

whirling through the passing years,
clinging to my futile scribbles set in rhyme,


Cast ashore,
thrust into an unrehearsed pantomime,

clenching slivers of joy as weariness descends,
lulled into a peaceful slumber exhilaratingly sublime.


Cast ashore,
hazily adrift, a dandelion seed on the wings of time,

trapped in the sieve of spiralling memories,
caught between pristine bliss, and reeking slime.


Cast ashore,
flung aside for no discernible crime,

my human heart thuds with elusive hope,
though battered, bruised, and covered in grime,

I stagger ashore, 

alone,

embracing each moment of detached, oblivious time.



Details | I do not know? | |

Blasphemy

Blasphemy

The caustic tongues of the evangelists,
Across all creeds and faiths,
Seem as brittle as an old bone.

For they promise heaven and they spew forth threats of hell
While neglecting the words of that man who walked in Galilee

'let him who is without sin, cast the first stone'

the caustic tongues of the evangelists...

across all religions
new-age and the ones of old
baffle me even as I hear
a single simplistic sermon

for they really do, view us all
as blind imbeciles
scurrying around like faithless vermin


the caustic tongues of the evangelists...

wag on and dazzle us with visions of an eternal paradise
while here and now
their hypocrisy festers
within their earnest
well-meaning eyes...


'...dil mein hai khwaaish-e-hoor-o-jannat
aur zaahir mein shauk-e-ibaadat
bas hamen sheikh-ji aap jaise
allah-waalon se allah bachaaye...'


'...in your heart you desire the maidens of heaven
yet in the now you practice the rituals of piety
o' sheikh, may allah protect me
from the people of allah like yourself...'

is my tongue as caustic as the tongues I write about?
if so, then glad am I
for they shouldn't be the only ones
who preach and rant and continually shout

from their pulpits ever so high in the sky
from their hubris of comfort in possessing the 'truth'

from their 'knowing' that heaven or hell
awaits both the strong as well as the meek

while oblivious to the reeking foul smell
that encourages prejudice and hate
and visions not of peace
but of endless chants and prayers

which they, in their opium haze
rattle on and on
as they never seem to cease to speak

and though I’m sure that all this bile that I have spewed
will threaten
hurt
and offend

friend and
unfriend and
acquaintance alike

but...

take pity on me instead
for it'll surely be I
who'll burn eternally
impaled by a benevolent god
on a slightly warmer than normal day in hell

on a crude wooden spike.


Details | I do not know? | |

For Primo Levi

For Primo Levi

it darkened more
as light shone through
and the haunting past stabbed

you felt
wept
screamed
as
silently the blind were led
'thieves' you called them
emerging from nowhere
yet everywhere
'thieves' you called them
no one
yet everyone
you felt
wept
screamed
till
finally

you left


Details | Free verse | |

Gods and Devils

We built the Great Pyramids of Giza.
We made the Atomic Bomb.

We discovered herbs to heal.
We grow viruses in underground labs.

Religion was created to bring peace.
Religion was also created to divide.

Books have been written to inspire,
but also to spread hatred.

We have made love in war,
and war in love.

Different races have united,
and people of one blood have divided.

We are gods and devils....


Details | Nonet | |

Father of Independence


“Father of Independence”                Nonet Poetry

General Aung San was a hero  		
and father of independence   		 
of our country of Myanmar.   		
Aung San fought the British  		
and went to london           		
to claim freedom.            		  
He was killed                		
by the                       		
thugs.
                       		
                            
written by: Dr Ko Ko Thein
            Salt Lake City


Details | I do not know? | |

Port of Call

Port of Call


Barefoot on a talcum beach,

alone, not lonely,

with the breath of the ocean a caressing balm,
soothing pained memories away,
to the swaying of a solitary palm.


Barefoot on a talcum beach,

alone, not lonely,

feeling the brushing away of all past turmoil,
on a quest for solace, ever so hard to find,
yet comforted by the crashing of the waves,
as the tide cleanses all pain,
and leaves despair far, far behind.


Barefoot on a talcum beach,

alone, not lonely,

drenched in a sea-breeze of mist,
that hushes the ache of bygone moons,
tasting the salty tang on my lips,
as the burnished sun,
over the distant horizon,
swoons,

and dips.


Barefoot on a talcum beach,

alone, not lonely,

searching, ever searching,
for a slice of solitude,
as memory bids a final adieu,
reaching under the sea so vast,
and seeking comfort in the depths,
while embracing,
the tomorrows to come,
wishing that they be true.


Barefoot on a talcum beach,

alone, not lonely,

seeing my truths drown,
as they slip beneath the turquoise waters,

feeling my heart ablaze,
with a passion that rarely falters.


Barefoot on a talcum beach,

alone, not lonely,

yet knowing that I am home at long last,
wishing the waves would wash away,
the defences that once stood,
like an impregnable wall.


Barefoot on a talcum beach,

alone, not lonely,

I have found, at long last,

my final port of call.


Details | I do not know? | |

For Aung San Suu Kyi

For Aung San Suu Kyi

manacled
you remained unyielding
bruised by their bayonets of power
you remained unyielding
gagged by their coarse brutality
you remained unyielding
today you return
and we salute
your spirit
that remained
and remains
unyielding


Details | Free verse | |

My tatoos

Drops 
Falling
Drops leaving stains
Drops
Falling
Am I the stain? Do I harbour the stains?

Drops falling from above 
They seem to come in unison 
Why do I feel?
Why do I feel not?
The stains are not a bother
Whether by me or the drops
They are my tattoos 
I'll wear them wherever I go
I'll wear them proud


Details | Free verse | |

Captain Bostock's Jungle Bungle

The Coney Islands new(est) attraction arrives!
The Dreampark delivers drollness inside, a guaranteed grin.
Mr. Bostock trains with the wildest of beasts.
Eating seated with bears, slacks on them creased with a hat!

Positively the most wonderful and fierce!
Of animal exhibitions that’s sure to pierce, eyes in awe.
Mr. Bostock guarantees a thrill.
For 25 cents your night we fill, with astonishment!

Elephants, lions, tigers, and goats!
A merriment carnival of wonder we tote, on coney isle.
Mr. Bo escapes the viscous bites.
Escaping death every night, amusing you!

Seating opens at 5 to 6!
The monkey collects money for tricks, at the gate.
Don’t be late and miss the fun.
Our menagerie is sure to stun, without debate! 

Arrive if you like on a goat carriage bike!
Or have a pale ale imported from Wales.
Mr. Bo’s jungle, is sure to stir rumble, tonight.
Come see his convivial companions, in sight! 

Coney Isle strives to curb daily strife!
Limitless boundaries to your delight.
Can promise you won’t leave contrite.
Tonights the night, turn frowns upright.
Now that’s a bargain to cure your smite, right?


Details | Light Poetry | |

Human Campfire Legacy

" Human Campfire Legacy ... "

( Gen. 2: 4 / Gen. 3: 24 / Ex. 13: 21 )
( Ex. 3: 2 / Rev. 22: 5, 6 )


All & Every Family of Man
Must Have Gathered Around Campfires
Telling Stories of Dreams & Dramas of Life
(Tho' Some of Them Have Been Liars) ...

... Gathered Around Great Campfires
At The End of Sunlit Days
Gathered Close, Around Warm Campfires
To Hear What Storytellers Had To Say ...

... of Fantasy Or Forecasts Around The Flames
Feeling Protected By It Bonfire-Blaze
Or Gazing At Each Familiar, Glowing Face
... Gathered Around A Family's Fireplace

Such Was This Ancient Entertainment
Throughout Time & Tongues of Tribes
Telling Histories, Heritage, Legends, Myths & Fables
In Oratories of Bards & Scribes ...

" I Saw Four Men Living Out On The Street
Gathered Around A Big, Smoking Fire-Barrel
Their Hands Outstretched To Its Flames
To Ward Off The World's Ice-Age-Peril ...

One Was Gesturing & Speaking To The Others
And They Began To Uproariously Laugh ...
It Was Then, That I Saw A Glimpse of
How Mankind 'Sticks To' Campfires-Past " ...

... Gathered Around A Flickering Campfire
See, There Is Nothing New Under The Sun
And When Earth's Great Star, Staircases-Down
Man, Still Gathers 'Round Fires' Heated-Fun ...

So If You Find Yourself At A Campsite
Indulging In Its Ritual Tradition
of Looking & Listening To Campfire Tales
Or Gathered 'Round A Television ...

... It's A Long-Time-Honored, Human Custom
To Gather Around Warm Campfires
From Tents To Huts - To Applianced-Homes
Or In Palaces of Great Empires ...

The Civilizations of The Family of Man
Must Have Gathered Around Campfires
Telling-Visions of Dreams & Dramas of Life
In High-Def  ... 3-D, Wire-Pyres ...

In Conflagrations & Rubbed Frictions of Man
Gathered & Chronicled Thru Sparks of Campfires
Some Became Skilled At Fairytales & Folklore
& Yes, Some Were Just Branded - Burnt Liars)
( Rom. 3: 4  /  1 Tim. 4: 1, 7 )

                                                                
 Written & Copyrighted ©:  5/20/2014
            by:  MoonBee  Canady


Details | I do not know? | |

To the Nameless Soldier

To the Nameless Soldier

Your orders may come now...

...or at 19h45 this evening.

'Shoot to kill'
'Engage the enemy'
'Hold the line'
'Break up the gathering'

'Ready, aim, fire'

but you have felt too

the stab of hunger
the bite of thirst
the bayonet of loss
the wound of despair

but you have seen too

the pain in a mother's eyes
the grief in a father's face
the incomprehension in a child's down-cast look

'Ready, aim, fire'

but you, the nameless soldier have heard

the cries of the grieving family
the wailing of the widowed wife
the quiet agonizing sound of the child's weeping

'Ready, aim, fire'

your orders may come now
or at 23h30 tonight
or tomorrow
or the day after that
or next week or month or year

but you have seen and felt and heard too

the agony of a peoples' simple desire
the hurt of a nation long bludgeoned
the wounds of your stolen generation

so when that order comes

now

or at 03h30 tomorrow morning
'Ready, aim, fire'

let your humanity muzzle your rifle
let your conscience dismiss the order
let your better side come to the fore 

and let your very own people, your mother and your father, your sister and your brother, your son and your daughter, your friend and your lover
let them live
let them be
let your rifle fall to the soil of your beloved motherland

o' nameless soldier.


Details | I do not know? | |

May 1st 3025

May 1st 3025

They dug deep into the terre
And there,
There was something there.
Round in itself enclosed and round
Like a small solid stone rolled into a nugget
and discarded, over time
like a lost bent silver sixpence thrown clumsily
down a long forgotten wishing well.

The whole hole was dug.
And down, down and down
through the layers 
This small orb
lay in wait, shimmering
as if uneasy in its new home.
Sacred like a lost find.
A time capsule
encapsulating time.
They all teared up and
they gathered round.
Next to it
an excavated mound.
Gently they lifted it
and held it up to the sun
as if to make an offering
There at the bottom
an indentation.
Which unmade the purity
of the round

July 4th 1972

In his car he rolled
down his window.
Pushed-in his eight track 
till it clicked.
Lit up a cigarette.
Turned up the volume.
Took a last chew.
And spat gum on the ground.
And then he kissed her 
and told her he loved her.


Details | Free verse | |

Old Bridges Torn Down

They lie asleep
With no wheels ajar--
No turning of the sky
Awaits their doom.

Rusty is the color
Of the painted steel.
Long lost to beauty
But yet a certain charm

Reveals them to pleasure
Of the eye.
Born to support more than
Their own; lofty it seems

Above the roiling water.
Old bridge-wood knew
Rolls and rolls, uneven
Tires and spikes of steel.

Have you heard the rattling
Of the bridge through time
And times evolution being
More than clock?

Walk no more here
Where paths no longer cross,
And barefoot boys 
No longer fish with worms.

A certain flood came down
Muddy and swirling,
Logs afloat and rolling,
Bumping like friends.

Such dents appeared as to
Surprise the passerby
Who appraised the steel
And rubbed the wood.

The river was raging, raging.
Time was passing, passing,
Rolling with a certain humility
Toward uncertain breathing.

They plucked the planks
And cut the steel with fire.
They hauled away the years
And blotted out the span.


Details | I do not know? | |

Observation

"When a self- centered animal cries it's considered weakness, 
which necessarily isn't a bad thing .However, 
when a  soulful animal cries it's considered strength , which necessarily isn't a good thing. For the latter, Its like the stars in relation to the universe. They  have witnessed the past present and future based on the weight of the ocean and the constant reminder of ones infinite sympathy and empathy"


Details | I do not know? | |

Awake at Midnight

Awake at Midnight

sleep retreats
into tunnels of dewy thoughts

teasing the worn mind

awake at midnight
dreams recede

into caverns of mist
to brew their hazy potions

awake at midnight
weariness seduces the being

seeking to slip away
thirsting for solace in
the numbness of slumber
awake at midnight

still.


Details | Free verse | |

The Tithe, and The wills, And the lists

Guilty party Alcohol companies
and those responsible for that product being targeted 
to the youth
put my name
in your will

I don't care if you make it a metaphor for a prayer
in the amounts that you leave me
and the message you leave me
with the way you care to swallow your footsteps
you've left behind

Cigarette companies
and those who advertise for them
put my name in your will
find it for a way
make it an amends
to the past present and future
I will find a way with your amounts given to me
to swallow you down
to choke you out
from beyond the grave

Porn companies
porn stars
all those who think 
I don't have a black file
and i'm just some ghetto wizard
and maybe a gullible god
put my name in your will 
pay off your debt
how you have tarnished
tainted mankind's image

All those building weapons of mass destruction
welcome to Gabrielles dance
joining those greedy people going to hell
And this is also for those with the power to send people to war
wether you crawled for me or not
put my name in your will
find a message for me to carry out
with your money
to choke you out
to tear you out of reality
with your money 
you will leave me a better way

This is the list
This is my tithe, pay it well
don't think i don't have a list
and be ready to buy yourself a few more cycles under the stars
Light in the darkness
may hunt you down
poisoning the well
you don't see the righteous wolf in sheep's clothing
nailing martyrs to the past
i have the list
you pay the tithe
and we'll see your historical wills!

Let's not leave out
those making drug abuse seem good
put my name 
in your will
and a metaphor for a prayer
to tear your shadow into holes
all you thugs and druglords
who think theyve escaped the lists
thats my biggest trick
put my name in your will
pay my tithe
swallow this omen
to set the future right
put my name in your will

I might claim some of your hard earned dreams
you've stolen from the innocent
of radiostations and entertainment
I might claim a method to the madness
of counterintelligence
I just might one day be the name used
when someone is stalking you

You whisper my name
you say my name
put my name in your will
make your amends in your death
you threw everything
and everybody away in your life
one way or another
someone gets the last laugh

wether your soul gets revenge
or you question mine
You are a name a number
a disguise configured 
found and discovered on satelite
and I'm ready to pull the rug under your feet
I'm about to pull the wool off the wolf