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Metaphor Home Poems | Metaphor Poems About Home

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

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Details | Free verse | |

Groundswell Girl - Named by JB

Enter a storybook tale
Where I can be 
The heroine you hail
Lucid dreams of soft reflection
A touch heated with lust and desired protection
A breathe a gasp as we succeed 
Join the fairytale with me
Valiant night within dark eyes
the right movement and I make them shine
like moonlight on the steamy hot spring
care to follow for a little dip with me
Trailing like the water at my fingertips
Grasp me around my hips
As close as the breeze on my skin 
Whisper lies as I let you in 
Lips mumbling up my thighs
bare heart exposed to the sky 
fire burning in my veins
Am I a mistress of this lust or simply a slave
Trembling with desire
Take me till we've lost count of the hours
enter this storybook tale
Where I can be the heroine you hail

Copyright © Jay Loveless

Details | Lyric | |

Raptor Dance

The sky screams, 
air is thick. 
Seconds like days, 
years 'tween each tick. 

Tit for tat the raptors dance. 
Each step wounds, talons like bayonets.
Earth below quakes at each traded blow. 
Foundations shaken by spat of foes. 

Frosted, frozen, clad in ice.
The world stands still, fear the vice.
The center may boil, but winter-wrapped still 
She cannot reach out, no pow'r to stop the kill. 

Alas, Earth stands back and wills done be the fray.
Final thundering shrill shrieks, 'tis gone for today. 

The scars still remain, 
Unbeknownst to they that tread. 
Earth still feels the pain, 
Still feels gelid winter's dread.

Copyright © Jonathan J.

Details | Haiku | |

The Internet: Rtrn

A void of Facebook
Creativity dies here...

Copyright © Dan Keir

Details | I do not know? | |

The Beach of Promises

The Beach of Promises


Fingers entwined, barely touching,
turquoise waters teasing your dancing toes,

strolling along that serene deserted beach,
our promised dreams within aching reach.


Hands clasped, holding on,
sea-breezes tickling the nape of your neck,

walking together, alone, vowing to never breach,
the dreams dreamed on that faraway velvet beach.


Hands in my pockets, alone,
traces of you linger, teasing,

lost in my scribbles, your memory fading out of reach,

my thoughts ablaze, now and then,
catching a whiff of your fragrance,

wafting through alleyways of nostalgia,
your hand in mine on our pristine beach.

Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses

Details | Narrative | |

The Forest

A woodland path stippled with sun, hushed and quiet -
but the path I found myself on was a dark and dangerous one.
I'd been blackberrying - bramble-scratched, branch-slapped -
snapping from barbs berries fat as leeches
seeping blood-juices on my fingers.
Wood anemones opened pale hands to reach for me;
their fragrant star faces enticed me.
They beckoned, pulling me further and further away
from the world I knew and deeper into the wood.

The forest closed around me, trapping me
in a tangle of twining paths and trembling trees,
the ground layered with brown and golden leaves. 
Treetops cackled with the black caws of crows,
bushes bled red berries, grasses lashed my legs.
And every time the footpath forked
I went deeper, I went darker.
Tick-tock time slowed to a crawl;
watch hands wound backwards.

The whispering wood grew dimmer;
what little light there was struck trees and disappeared.
Fly agaric mushroomed into blood-raw open sores,
ivy ropes dangled nooses from branches.
Crying was useless; my panic-forced tears were hopeless.
Moles mouldered, luminous with maggots;
rabbits rotted, their throats ripped out.
Sky turned ink-dark. Lonely wood-wild nights engulfed me.

With time, thoughts of home began to fade,
the seething forest seemed friendlier.
Trees were a tease of teal and green,
rippling with strange and teeming life.
Amber algae scorched sunsets on umber bark;
wood sorrel crept, beetles burrowed, lichens came alive.
The forest floor was feathered with ferns
and plush with sponge-soft moss.
Now and again I caught the briefest glimpse of blue,
cool and welcome as water,
and once or twice, through distant trees, I spotted
what I took to be the twinkling lights of a town,
but it was only rainbow flickers glinting on leaves.

I've been gone too long, I'm too far gone.
Faint memories of home still siren-sing to me,
but just when I think I've found the right track
the forest tightens its grip, drawing me back.

Copyright © Charlotte Jade Puddifoot

Details | Rhyme | |


High or Low on the Brick Road; traveling to and from ones own abode.
The wind crashes, smashes cans and thus: My home waltzes in a cacophony. So long is the dead wait In my red ballon hands. Am I falling up or down?
Which is which is a matter of tempo as the little notes grow into full bands Now scared I go onward swiftly into the darkness for rest to be beaten by sins so originally
A lost resolve to continue on My courage faded and legs felt rusty The beauty of a flower delivered the answer Closed but then opening, spiraling awake Reveling and dancing to each new dawn.
Green with envy for what I had seen I chose to pour water on both flowers and fear Then instantly exposed the path back home as being nothing more than a palindrome Home is everywhere and everywhere is Home

Copyright © Joshua Pracchia

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 

Jacob Reinhardt	

Copyright © Jacob Reinhardt

Details | Quatern | |

Fortress Home

Prepare your home like a fortress

For the battle’s already come.

The Fallen One’s hosts are endless,

And our world may be soon undone.


We already are surrounded.

Prepare your home like a fortress.

Don’t stand there looking astounded;

The Adversary’s merciless!


Watch what you say; be most cautious.

Hide rations behind walls and floors.

Prepare your home like a fortress.

‘Friends’ may be crashing down your doors.


Disasters, plagues, insurrections,

Or whatever may cause distress. 

If you can’t escape, load your guns!

Prepare your home like a fortress.

Copyright © Mark J. Halliday

Details | Haiku | |

Le Vacance Pretentieuse: Storm Part VI

Water licks your feet
Far cry from the beating sun
Desert sand to sea

Copyright © Dan Keir

Details | Verse | |

Philosophical Poetry Week: Transient Tuesday

I am a misprint,
Ink blot on love,
I remain a maybe
Longing for fact,
No speck of lint,
A hand in glove.
Thunder; a baby
Will only react

When you etch
Parallel clouds,
Whistling on cue
To a dead town.
Dream a sketch
Of silent crowds
Becoming you,
This boiling crown

Chews thought
Into flagellation.
Holes in the walls
To spy through,
Seeking a sort
Of bricked-up sun.
A heaven of halls,
All leaving you.

Copyright © Dan Keir

Details | I do not know? | |

My Wishes are Simple

My Wishes are Simple

My wishes are simple,
my desires few,

to gaze upon an ocean,
and marvel at a solitary drop of dew.

My wishes are simple,
my dreams not too grand,

to feel the waves teasing my tired feet,
with no footprints left in the cool, wet sand.

My wishes are simple,
my thoughts serenely gentle, calm,

my heart resting beneath a swaying palm,

healing my being, caressed by nature's soothing balm.

Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses

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.

Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses

Details | Haiku | |

Le Vacance Pretentieuse: Storm Part V

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

Copyright © Dan Keir

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.

Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses

Details | I do not know? | |

For Bruce Springsteen

for bruce springsteen...

it was a rain-swept monsoon day

way back then, so many moons away

when i felt the music strumming in my veins

setting me free like a runaway horse without any reins

you sang of simple truths, 

your verse spoke to people just like me

in my lonely, wasted, and desolately quiet night

as you screamed out tragic human wrongs, and of everyone's plight

'bobby jean' spoke to me

of that girl down the street

glimpses of whom, we as innocents would furtively meet

and 'the river' that flowed through my ever-barren heart

led me down further roads of thunder

when slowly i finally learnt that the hardest part was fighting on

and never to surrender

to the hard-luck dreams that were born to run

while i danced in the dark 

with memories vivid and stark

even as i whined like that dog who for forever lost his howling bark

and then a 'human touch' came along

and 'better days' seemed real, not just words in a song

and still you sang and swayed and spoke straight into my unseeing eyes

as gardens of secrets were opened, and as your fist punched the skies

in an anger that i too felt and in whose cauldron i too burned

as we saw murder get incorporated, while on its wobbly axis, our fragile world apathetically turned

and then suddenly i was told that i was all grown up

working on a highway of scattered ideals

and absolving myself by sprinkling some coins in a waiting cup

well, after all these years of walking along so many a thorny road

with an armour of your verse covering me, even as i hear them taunt me and even as they continue to goad

but now i can feel myself fading away, into the bleakness of this coming night

just like the ghost of that old tom joad...

Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses

Details | Imagism | |


In the village that where my life burrow
In the fields, I roam and play
In Catholic School, my knowledge grow
Through experience, I mature in bay

Coconut trees adorns the house
Luscious grasses floods in clause
Flowers of white, pink & red invites 
To anyone who passes, it entice

Familiar persons halts and talk
A wink, a wave or a little distance walk
Shared by youth, couple and folks
Freely caring, not effacing a hulk

Children roam and run
Everyone seem having fun
Under the warmth of the sun
As if a goddess span her wand

Turning a regular day to a special one
Everyone will try to welcome
It must be! It must be!
This should be a wonderful realm

By: olive_eloi

Copyright © Olive Eloisa Guillermo

Details | I do not know? | |

Where Wild Violets Grow

Where Wild Violets Grow

Scribbling these verses,
caressing your bare back,
simple rhymes,
flowing from my fingertips.

Scribbling verses,
sprinkling odes to fragrant promises,
your smile lightens the burdens,
off my heavy heart.

Scribbling verses,
soaked in countless kisses,
the moonlight waltzing on your skin.

Scribbling verses,
feeling you,
your love never ceases to flow,

through the streams of my mind,
to a place of our own,
where wild violets grow

Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses

Details | I do not know? | |

My Love

my love...

my love blossoms amidst the thunder

across the oceans and the beyond the seas

my love reaches out and touches

the moments of bliss as the loneliness flees

my love is simple
with profound feelings of yearning desire

my love rages within
the furnace of this aching heart's unquenchable fire

my love basks in the warmth of the knowledge

that in the spring it takes root and it will flower

my love breathes in the light fragrance

of her hair after her warm and delicate shower

my love remembers drowning in her eyes

of those ethereal moments frozen forever more

my love recalls the fleeting ticking of the clock

each minute apart stabbing at my very core

my love she knows I need her so

for she needs me just as much

my love she sprinkles light flourishes of her sensual touch

as my love for her continues to ceaselessly grow

my love reaches down into the crevasses of my of being

my love for her is held onto deep inside

for in the coming of the cold ache of seperation

my love settles between the folds of her heart, for 'tis there that my love for will reside

my love like an eternal dream caresses me in wakefulness and in sleep

and that is the feeling that I shall cherish

a feeling of love that has settled in me 

a feeling so pure and a feeling so very deep...

Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses

Details | I do not know? | |

A Chipped Heart

A Chipped Heart...

Dreaming, my heart brittle as glass,
my solitary facade a pitiful farce,

shards tearing out of my skin,
seeking release, from cages within,

I am lost, in the dream,
bellowing out a silent scream,

torn from reality, drowning in the now,
yet I refuse,
I refuse to succumb,

I refuse to bow.

My chipped heart, may be wounded,
wreathed in pain,


I believe, love, truth, belonging,

will take my hand,


Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses

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.

Copyright © Josef Rau

Details | I do not know? | |

You and I

You and I.


Your heart blazed,
with a warmth of spirit,



soaked in truth.

Your smile burned,
branding me permanently,



enveloping my being.

Your love was complete,
from the depths of your soul,


yet fierce,

bathed in silent knowing.

Your dreams were poetic,
fluttering in the afternoon breeze,
infused with the distilled essence of rhyme.


I squandered your generosity of spirit.

I vainly discarded your priceless poems.

Now I stand,




wasting away,

rotting inside, day by day.

Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses

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.

Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses

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.

Copyright © Dan Keir

Details | Free verse | |

The Bird that is Loved and Loathed

It burns and it stings.
It hurts.
More than drowning beneath 
the ice.
More than remaining in a 
kindled flame
She hits and I no longer cry.
Why mother, why? 

It burned and it stung.
The markings remained, 
returned, and were relived
Looking, loving, and little 
known loathing were the known 
ways of living.
Never was their pity for the 
child that cried
Never was their relief for the 
child that tried

You were that lovely bird that 
understood the complications of 
Nothing looked the same in 
those dewy browns of yours.
My everbeating would cry tears 
of joy.
The others-they were yet to 
Caring Mother, o' so fair
 You were that beautiful bird 
filled with care.

The others came and were not 
alone. Their two suitors sat on 
the throne.
Rampage and rage why did you 
I began to wither and wither 
slumping along. So very soon I-
the child of fines- became a 
human raceme. 
The droops of the Lily of the 
Valley became the slumping of 
my heart.
My lovely bird the enemy had 
taken you and the person you 
were is far from near.
For that divine nature left its 
intricate self and you became 
irretrievable my big bird.
All of your fairness died.
With that went my pride.
Mother, Mother what moved 
you so? 
Your intense spirt vanished only 
to supplement a monster. 
Mother, Monster and your tar 
filled lungs. 
How did I kill that liver that was 
so, so strong?
The lesson of pain was one you 
came to learn.
My darling bird why did you 
My lovely bird and your big 
brown eyes
I'll tell you once, but never 
Pain is only a flower for it 
blooms and dies
And a mistake can be killed as 
quickly as lice.
 You dear bird hurt me well. 
Though, haven't you heard?
Weakness is a souls greatest 
You brought me up, then you 
brought me down.
You haved helped, hurt, and 
hindered my blazing spirit.
A hero in my heart-I left you 
down in your deep black 
Escaping those terrible nights
To go for the town of delights. 

Copyright © Layla Elkoulily

Details | I do not know? | |

Love Endures

Love floats by,


tip-toeing past pain,

leaping through walls,
weakening the barricades,

of the most private heart.

Love settles in,


quietly beyond anguish,

erasing the desolation,
soothing a battered spirit,
enveloping the shivering soul.

Love stays, it is true,

love endures, as do you

Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses

Details | Rhyme | |

heart, mind, and soul

father time in my chest
keeper of its own pace
just skin and bone depth
influences time and space
what are we but drifters
 in an unknown

see truth in a literal
belief before my face
stars with no funeral
light will win the race
here i am, not for long
death starts at home

where is this leading?
which story could it be?
despite all my reading
writings the cup of tea
i dont need to know it all
as long as im not alone

Copyright © Davin Payne

Details | I do not know? | |

MLK - 1929 - 1968

(January 15, 1929 – April 4, 1968)

they shot you down
all those years ago


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

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
we shall overcome

(for Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.)

Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses

Details | I do not know? | |



She smiled, gently,
her warmth infusing me,
with a serene stillness of time.

She settled, slowly,
in my waking thoughts,
a soothing balm of simple joy.

She remains, scribbled,
on the walls of my fractured heart,
memories of happiness that once breathed...

Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses

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, 


embracing each moment of detached, oblivious time.

Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses

Details | I do not know? | |

A Simple Wish

a simple wish...

no fancy words
no more clever rhymes
no more slickly crafted verse

just a simple wish
to cherish the moments
in-between the hue and cry of this life

no more the dull-edged jab
no more the anger and the strife

a simple wish
beyond the wasted hours and the days and the blurry fears

a simple wish
of a simpler life

after all the bitterness of the passing years

and so

to retire from the hustle
to flee from the hollow wasted breaths that have been breathed

to bid the emptiness farewell


ushering in the new tomorrow

bathed in the soft glow of hope

and kissing adieu to all the hurt and all the doleful sorrow...

Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses