Submit Your Poems
Get Your Premium Membership




Metaphor Sonnet Poems | Metaphor Poems About Sonnet

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

If you don't find the poem you want here, try our incredible, super duper, all-knowing, advanced poem search engine.

Details | Sonnet | |

''Love, love, love, what is love'': a condensed sonnet

Love, love, love, what is love?
Love soars and fears no height;
love is joy and feels right;
love's god-like, from above.
Love softens the stone heart
and pierces the dark night;
it releases Christ's light
and stays, to ne'er depart.
Love loves you at all cost
and gives eternal life;
love saves those dead and lost
and kills Death with God's Knife!
     Love's God's divine, free grace,
     his love for the human race.






Copyright © Ngoc Nguyen

Details | Sonnet | |

MOM OF GAZA OR A BANNED SONNET



An omnipotent'd been ideated by militant clan,
Aeons tell how it put them through a social pace.
To set up abode or to relate races with astute plan,
God had its genesis;women-men needed it to seek solace.


As fact a woman conceives, is manifest
Man couldn't conceive of anything but God for law and lex.
Dyed-in-the-wool,they kept bending head for mending mind lest
They vex orders of war, worship and women for sex.


But missile killed gravid woman with faded hue,
Her baby survived in placenta of its mom of Gaza:
A whole race, policies, religion; yet nothing to rue,
As if all were busy computing to bring future bonanza.
  

No more sacred are our Temple and Church or Mosque and tomb.
Truth says:fetus Jesus'd been bestowed on Mary's womb!

Copyright © PRITHWISH MUKHERJEE

Details | Sonnet | |

Sonnet Without An Audience

You dislike poetry 
because you think 
you do not speak it, 
never listening, 
because you cannot see it down in ink. 
You’ve not heard your honeyed words glistening, 
but I have heard you
speak in meter sweet 
and metaphor and simile sublime. 
To walk in verse, 
you needn’t count your feet, 
nor is it necessary all lines rhyme. 
You disown your words 
and deny your tongue 
to say you have no interest in verse,
 ignorant of the images you’ve sung 
and of your own soul’s music 
(which is worse). 
Poetry’s no academic notion; 
its function is to express emotion.

Copyright © James Ph. Kotsybar

Details | Sonnet | |

Sonnet, Again

Use the sonnet form as you please.  Treat her
Like a queen or like a whore.  Give her what
She craves.  She will with grace so softly guide
Each word written through her body.  She will
Let you leave your seed between her lines, so 
Let her crave the ink of your pen upon
Her face, your mastery of written word
Displayed.  Be not afraid of what she will 
Cause you to say in your sleep.  Though she induces 
Nightmares and cold night sweats, you will
Always, desperately return to her.
The coaxing of her rhythmic heartbeat
Mid-coitus in iambic pentameter
Her loins dripping in satisfied quivers.  

Copyright © Samuel Lee

Details | Sonnet | |

Envious - Sonnet 11:22

This is the greatest struggle that mocks me, 
To be a distant sigh, caused by this queen;
A rose that has yet to compliment thee,
beyond the scope of eyes, already seen. 
There is mystery in her soft appeal, 
a humble frame that solicits my quest; 
and while life leaves us with answers concealed, 
I’m convinced this broad advance is perfect. 
For while life is bitter, this is pleasure; 
To gracefully shatter this mundane silence, 
and dispel the devils space, indeed clever; 
let’s rejoice in brief absence coined timeless. 
With these tendencies forever burning, 
may this one flesh never cease from yearning.

Copyright © Jiril Clemons

Details | Prose | |

Skin Like Stained Glass -an incorrect sonnet-

My life is shattered pieces of stained glass,
a thousand puzzle pieces on the ground,
under a skeleton of amder brass,
red, blue, green, yellow, breaks without a sound.

I pick up pieces, trying to see me,
but I just cut my fingers on the side.
Now just an obscure view is all I see, 
and it makes me wonder how much I hide.

But its those moments when the rain falls down,
and the rust washes right off my skin.
When I catch a speak at my glowing crown,
and the clear glass lets me see within.

So I put together my stained mirror, 
and swore that I wouldn't break, or disappear.

Copyright © Allie Rosenthal