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Metaphor Write Poems | Metaphor Poems About Write

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

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Details | Haiku | |

The Internet: Rtrn

A void of Facebook
Creativity dies here...
Procrastination!

Copyright © Dan Keir | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse | |

Reality's Angel

I am Reality’s angel resting on the broad shoulders of discovery the truth feeds darkness and engulfs its target ideas and concepts in turn become meaningless to you there is a creator of all things He is just and patient many still have fallen into the masses of shadow wrapped in their own filthy idols of philosophy I have seen grown men fall like rose petals and weaklings rise into unjust leaders forever the follower of furtive evil dominating only to remain inferior the most important answers lie in the unseen regions where no sense can fully give assurance the mind that so many unreasonably twist and turn grows weary because of the distance it must take and truth be told the distance is not what frustrates it is knowing we are seeking something far that could very possibly not exist, that our minds can twist into theoretical, idealistic nonsense it is knowing all we really think we know is meaningless and yes—even a lie all that has been written thus far rests under my wings under the warmth in which you refuse to feel can you believe in me— though I am completely unseen? how much more difficult would it be to see Him?

Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2013

Details | I do not know? | |

Wrestling Verses


Wrestling Verses


Spilling ink onto paper,
reading tea-leaves,

fragments of mirth,
shards of anguish,

remain,
trapped in rolled-up sleeves.


Turning up my collar,
as blue as these days that slip by,

scattered verses plunge into,
the fathoms of unknown waters.


My ink runs, slips, treading lightly,
penning odes to love on bare skin,

your skin,
your bare back my canvas,

my fingers tracing, caressing, scribbling,
homages to our laughter, our tears.


Wrestling verses,

lie spent, exhausted,
famished and parched from saying too much,

still,

my fingers tickle your soft skin,

my ink would run dry,

were it not for your gentle touch

Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses | Year Posted 2013

Details | Verse | |

Letters On My Arm

you won’t listen to me, so i write to you on my arms. 
this one says i needed you and you weren’t there. 
this one says i’m bleeding but you don’t care. 
i wrote you this one out of despair, 
seemed like you always had to be at some other somewhere,
and it hurts, because it’s me you’re dismissin’, 
with no time to listen, just need your attention, 
it’s your touch i’m missin’, look me in my eye,
i know you see my letters, so why don’t i get a reply?
i guess it’s worth it just to try, 
to get you to notice me just one more time, 
write you just one last line, 
but i’m runnin’ out of time ‘cause i’m runnin’ out of ink, 
needin’ more time to think, 
but i don’t have it, so i sign my last letter and address it to you,
i hope this one gets through

Copyright © Erin Evans | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse | |

Self reflection

Self-reflection is an art
A two edged sword that no one teaches
No religion philosophized
my own personal goal 
to better myself 
and understand everything 
by seeing one another 
through the slide of me 
through another’s eyes 
and that person 
through yet another’s eyes

Four good qualities you truly possess is where I start
The good things about me
Actually that’s a lie
That’s what I recommend
I usually get a little bit sad sit here and realize 
That I think I’m deep and no one understands

I know through self-reflection of understanding history
and putting myself in other peoples shoes
Like a mental actor of how I would feel emotionally and mentally
and then writing it down
is like self reflection but not quite
close but no cigar I have learned we are truly all actors and life is indeed a stage
And when we learn how to manipulate the greatest acts of man for the history 
books
The next generations will be taught in school how to prevent wars and live in 
piece by us selling one perfect life or lie
And I wonder if I’m a 27-year-old psychological lie of a ghetto wizard
I’ve described

Through self reflection I know they're are things I need to change
Some things I never will
Some things I am a part of
And at least the parts and pieces of my life I live like poetry that if they were 
captured like dreams in a butterfly net
They would teach something to the future like Jesus or anybody would if they 
understood
Just how to self reflect emotionally mentally put yourself in another’s shoes and 
learn the lesson through writing a poem
or thinking it out

If each generation and the history books were all acts of men
and my generation has to top the last lie with a wisdom of the perfect metaphor 
to unlock the following generations thinking process
Is that the game of the planet?
Are those the reasons to the wars we fight today?
to teach tomorrow
When they write their essays that will become tomorrow’s politicians 
An insane asylum can teach politics and all we really want is to pay them to be 
rich and make global friends so we can have utopia
But in the history book of the essays they no longer write where life lessons were 
learned and taught through misfortune of man
there are gems to be uncovered of how to stop wars how to peace keep
How to mediate
How to live
How to heal
and every generation we discover it on our own as the teachers subtly shape our 
minds



Copyright © Troy Nelson | Year Posted 2007

Details | Rhyme | |

On Writing a Poem

I wish I could write a poem perfectly
But, alas, the process escapes me;
Instead, I write what I think, see or hear
And, sometimes, my real feelings appear

If I could write a poem e’er so sweetly
I’d share it with the world completely
Perhaps, ‘tis best for someone to find it
After I‘m gone – then, a surprise behind it!

Oh! To be like the poets of yesteryear
“Golden daffodils” in “crowds” brought cheer;
Or as in, “From cocoon forth a butterfly”—
Flutter among those flowers would I

“The woods are dark, lovely and deep,” he wrote—
Mysterious beauty in the quote;
So, I’ll write with elegant simplicity
Lacking the format complexity

My thoughts shall flow in meters and rhyme
Until comes that metaphor in time
When a perfect poem I shall pen in ink—
At least, that will be what someone thinks!
                         -E. Pearl Anderson



			Quotes:    William Wordsworth, Daffodils, 1804
			Emily Dickinson, Art II Nature, VII, 1924
			Robert Frost, Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening, 1921

Copyright © E. Pearl Anderson | Year Posted 2009

Details | Free verse | |

Just Be

Sometimes I admire the littlest things
A simple rock. A blade of grass. 
They need no future goals, no tax exemptions
They don’t need to go anywhere or be anything
They just are. 

Sometimes, especially when I’m reading life insurance policies,
I envy the rocks and the grass
And try to be like them for a moment. 
I sit perfectly still and give myself to the wind-
And it whispers in my ear:
Just be.
And for that moment I don’t need to go anywhere or be anything.
And at the snap of my fingers, 
All the complex widgets and gizmos that make up my life
Fold into paper airplanes and fly off in the wind.

Jacob Reinhardt
10/07/13

Copyright © Jacob Reinhardt | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse | |

Who Am I

A new photograph floats to the surface
Playfully dressing up as the world around me
Hat, striped socks and all
Tiptoeing at the top for one last sweet moment 
Before sinking back into my ocean mind.

One after another they arrive
Single file,
Steeping my eyes in the world 
As the minds shutter, ever fluttering 
Strings together this conscious stream I play in.

My photographs fade in time’s wrinkled arms.
Joining their brothers and sisters at the ocean floor,
They hold hands and try to answer the question that is always asking itself:
Who am I?

Jacob Reinhardt
10/3/2013

Copyright © Jacob Reinhardt | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse | |

My Hiding Place

I hide here and there,
In a place that snares,
Sometimes full of my blares,
Full of ensnared traps...

I hide here and there,
In a place with many affairs,
Where my enemies are bare,
Where I can make them flee and hare...

I hide here and there,
In a place that only friendship knows,
A place located in the air,
A place below on earth,
Where no plow can cut its soil...

I hide here and there,
In a place with vast plains,
A place with deep and misty forests,
A place with an unreachable sky,
A place where flowers might bloom...

I hide here and there,
In a place where I can hide in my cloak,
A place where I breathe silently,
A place where I contemplate nature,
Where humidity longly persists,
In a place where I scream and no one listens...

I hide and there,
In a place where unwanted can get afflicted,
A place of bright darkness,
A place of dark lights,
Where nothing owns me...

I hide here and there,
In a place where my biggest wishes are spared,
A place where blood won't be splashed,
A place where tears might be shed,
A place where time and space are fair,
A place with some mare surfaces,
Where fear might be gone...

In a place where all sins might be forgiven,
A place where my instinct is tamed,
A place where my mind is thoughtful but reserved,
A place where my heart is controlled,
The place where my deepest secrets are held,
The place where I am the seer,
The place where my soul will forever reign,
The place I can call a hiding place...

Copyright © Ruben A. Hernandez Diaz | Year Posted 2013

Details | Haiku | |

Haikus About God: IV

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

Copyright © Dan Keir | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse | |

MAKEUP SEX

I’m on top
butt naked
‘bout to give it to him real slow
give it to him so good
‘til he begs   
please, no more
I’m sorry
didn’t mean it
please, no more
moans of forgiveness
`Im soorry
please, no more
going up, going down  
please, no more
he's begging
I’m not done yet
please, no more
tighten the walls 
I'm gridin' 
please, no more
two minutes
he's impatient
please, no more
I control it
I tell it
please, no more 
when to come 
when to let go
please, no more 
he’s going, he's screaming 
please, no more
I forgive you, I love you
please, no more

Copyright © Nailah Baniti | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse | |

Three Inch Cliches

The Soul is the Beautiful Light of Love
Shining like the sun through the 
NO
As the reader, I’m going to have to cut you off there.
Here’s a metaphor for you…
Reading is ****ing.
And your words hit our auditory canals
Like a hotdog down a hallway.
As an experienced reader, I’m after 
The virgin vernacular 
The aphrodisiac aphorism
You know- the big… black words
You feel me?
Because a line is a flashlight, exposing the world’s nudity-
And we’ll never get anywhere shining it in the same spot.
So kiss me with classy couplets
Smack my assonance!
Bring me to the climax-
And we’ll share a smoke together,
Warm beside the fire of your Three Inch Clichés.

Copyright © Jacob Reinhardt | Year Posted 2013

Details | Haiku | |

Haikus About God: VI

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

Copyright © Dan Keir | Year Posted 2013

Details | Haiku | |

Graffity

Immortality,
youth`s luminous graffiti,
drawn on winter`s wall.

Copyright © Ovidiu Bocsa | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse | |

LOVE DOCTOR

There is power in words    
truth in words
buried treasures hidden  
deep in words
I find myself when I’m lost in words
crystal balling my words 
I see,  I see  
LAW in the WORD
I see,  I see   
GOD is the WORD
repeating God’s messages   
repeating God’s words
speaking God's language    
speaking good words   
metaphysical doctor
operating on words
love doctor
I'm loving thee world

Copyright © Nailah Baniti | Year Posted 2016

Details | Haiku | |

All About the Music: The Infinite Magic of Lyricism

Pop may be catchy
But not lyrically deep
Case in point: Chris Brown.


(N.B. Poem written after hearing "Don't Wake Me Up")

Copyright © Dan Keir | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse | |

MASTURBATION

I wanna feel me
the real me
every single part of me
the parts I've hidden from everyone else
the parts I’ve hidden from myself
forget everyone else
in this moment
see yourself
feel yourself
touch yourself
be yourself
bate your breath
temperature is rising
'oh, god
not yet
sense the energy that stills the mind
release the heat along the spine
why are you coming
keep going
go up
go up
go up
light is inherited
fill your cup
get to know yourself
know yourself for a moment
if only for a moment
know yourself

Copyright © Nailah Baniti | Year Posted 2015

Details | Clerihew | |

Not, yet

I dreamt myself as poet-frog
And good Fancy` Fairy
Would stoop to pick my verse…
But she didn`t come.

Copyright © Ovidiu Bocsa | Year Posted 2012

Details | Epic | |

Simply being

Simply being
Nothing more than 
Than it is gone out of hand
No winds to flow to grow in land
Given bright stars in darkness

Nothing more than  
Light years rose hope
Back flush riddles in game
Only hope once to face to face

As seen bleeding in tears

Copyright © reyhan yucebay | Year Posted 2012

Details | Lyric | |

I Can't Say It Without You

I was your never ending composer
We spent many a nights, and many an hour together
But now you’re lost inside
And I can’t find my way, again.

( chorus )
Cause I can’t say it without you		
It hurts to be without the feeling		
Never knowing when it will return		
But I know that you would stay with me	
If you came back, again some day		
But till then I’ll wait till you appear.	

I really miss the way you make me feel
People said we were meant to be together
Why’d you leave me so unexpectedly
I hope you come back soon.

( Chorus )

It’s been two months since I’ve written you
All I’ve got to show is crumpled bits of paper
The passion and creativity is now gone
So come back home so I can work it out.	

Copyright © John Paluszek | Year Posted 2013

Details | Rhyme royal | |

Fading Colors

It's hard not to look back at the things that happened in my past,
but it's the past, they passed on, kept runnin' now they're gone and I seem to forget that.
I try too hard to keep my head low, my skin out of this blazing sun,
but no matter how hard I try, not a day goes by I don't wanna get up and run.

So I sit still as the time stops and the world around me begins to fade in,
a black darkness where I don't want anything but for this world around me to end,
but it keeps on going, and keeps on slowing, 'till I'm to slow to defend.
All these kicks, from left and right, 'till I'm on the ground cause of my opponent

And I'm dazing, my mind erasing, any counter attack and I give up,
I understand that he's got me beat, but I can't seem to get out of this slump.

In my mind, I feel untied, I feel crossed, and I feel denied.
And from somewhere inside, I feel the ignition spark, and I ignite.

I have the immense weight of the world, that you dropped on my cold shoulders,
I rather be six feet deep under the ground, I don't want a tombstone, give me a boulder,
It's like every day in this ice cold world, I feel like it's only getting colder,
carrying this weight on my back, as the fiery depths of Hell smoulder.

But everyday I, feel like I'm a little bit closer to breaking out of this shell,
I write a little bit more, 'till I develop carpel tunnel syndrome then I exhale.

My colors are fading, but black and white are all I need to sit still.
So I'll keep writing, and keep on fighting, as long as I can keep this skill.

Copyright © Aaron Guttery | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse | |

You Are Rich

Festered lament maddens me
Why must the despair of my heart’s desire
Truly enlighten me? 
I rested among the sick and lame
And found myself no different from the rest
For a troubled mind holds endless poverty
Penniless regret marks as a sickness no doctor can prescribe
For the bottles of balm are empty
And medicinal hope grows angry
I derived my madness from creativity
Revealing the remains of my humanity
‘Cool off, child’, I heard a soft voice whisper
But can’t you see I live off the flame?
It asks for no nickel or dime!
But it seeks to destroy all the same
The small voice returns at times
And often my heart listens
But we all listen
And only believe in the inevitability of pain 
I speak of the majority
Not of you
For you are blessed and beyond disgrace
You have a life—a beautiful face

And most of all, you are rich
With attributes I can only dream of 

You are rich with life and purpose
Holding inscrutabilities I can only wish to understand
You lift me without touch or care
Disposing me from your treasures
Because though you meant no harm, 
You are rich with blessing
And must remove all possible threats
So my festered lament
Remains an enlightenment

I can say I am rich in poverty
But you are forever rich
In Mystery

What hurts the most is knowing
I may be wrong about you
For you are so obscure in this mind
And as empty as I am I wish to be filled
In your richness
But we all are filled to the brim in the end
And sometimes I cannot distinguish the good from the bad
There is nothing I wish to discard
So I hoard in constant deficiency and despair  
And I hoard the idea that you are beyond compare

That you are rich
And always will be richer
Than me—or he

Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2013

Details | Sijo | |

Sky Is As Black As Ink

The sky is black as ink, storms brewing sitting in the dark.
Hypnotizing effect, my eyelids closing in a trance like state.
A candle I did light, glowing, penning ink into words.



For Rick Parise's Sijo Contest

Copyright © Connie Gildersleeve | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse | |

Black Ink

My black pen.
The way you flow,
And tell my tale.
You spill my thoughts,
And always prevail.
My soul bleeds out,
Through your black ink..
Everytime that my thoughts,
Had started to sink.
You let me drain my pain out,
In smooth cursive letters..
And I smile,
As your black ink, stains..
My newly purchased,
Lined white paper.
You relieve me,
As you leave a trail of my angst.
Thank you black pen..
For being my strength.

Copyright © Karissa Kelley | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse | |

Backwaters Of My Mind

Whispers of hope spark sorrowful sighs,
slowly fanning smoldering embers
of inspiration into full flame.

And a fledgling collection of words
rise on poetic wing, to digest
the very essence of the moment.

And they regurgitate, metaphors,
superlatives, and prose, injecting
order into veins of rambling thoughts.

The semblance of a poem takes shape
wrestling fragile feelings to paper,
adding flesh and sinew to bare bone.

And thoughts flow in and out of chaos,
salvaging verses, before they drown
within the backwaters of my mind.

Copyright © Emile Pinet | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse | |

WET KISSES

come here
let me kiss him for you
sloppy , wet kisses for you
all over your shaft
make my tongue dance for you
hand stroke him 
lick all over your treasures for you
back of the throat
make your knees buckle for you
be nasty
spit on him 
go all the way down for you
`ahhhh
the sound
swallow it down
real good
nasty for you

Copyright © Nailah Baniti | Year Posted 2016

Details | Dramatic Verse | |

Emotional Hole

I did not find myself to be so important
So I ask my friends do I seem distant?
When I ask the question I had received an answer, Yes
So I think that made it clear that I had been not the best
I am a friend of a friend that talks so many things
That friend talks to much it is insane and insanity it brings
I do care, about my friends they are all good people
They tend to stand on their high steeple 
Today I find myself not so aware
Disbanding my fear of regret and care
Walking many different paths I see that I have found holes
It is the path that people choose to use to fuel their rage with coals
Coals are partially burnt wood or fossils a piece of fuel
It is the source of burden and fire a rage of emotions that stands cruel
It can be warm and caring, but it also can be baring
I just start to feel so low, below the ground I keep on staring
I reach for my friends so many times I feel so ignorant at times
Just once I feel I should not rely on them when feeling I can not find 
I dig my hole deeper and I can not climb out
For some reason I am just full of doubt
I care about so many things and what I have is confusion
One person should be all I should think about to get out of that illusion
My battle in my heart and mind is not at all so pleasant
I feel so alone in an island that is shaped like a crescent
My emotions is like coinciding with a diameter of the semicircle
Not a full emotion that is complete like a circle
My feelings is circular full of incomplete thoughts, so much deeper
I feel it will wake up my evil half a evil soul that is a sleeper
What question should I ask myself? to believe that I am not so alone
As I feel like a person who is deteriorating to the bone
I ask my friends the same question once again
I figure I should do it, to know what kind of feelings I should end
So many thoughts that come out of my feeling
I feel like my friends take, an emotional trauma of stealing
They ask me questions and I answer theirs
But when I need mine answered I feel burning inside like a flare
Are they even friends when they do not take me serious in anyway
Just put me in my hole cause I feel nothing in their will be getting in my way
It's just so simple to answer someones problem
I answer friends with beauty of a rose, but when they answer mine I get the stem
I know the stem is very important in life, with out it how can a rose be a rose
With a hole to put the root and stem in how can it grow
The words we speak I guess is like all natural things we reap and sow

Copyright © Reynaldo Mast | Year Posted 2013

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Ode to the Writer

Play you noted Lyricists! Let not your lyrics be missed! Your silence is the frequency, Enticed by a laced melody Condemned in a rhythmic spell Only time will really tell Your lyrical harmony Etched in life's symphony Oh, Hail! Or Hale! Kings of speech! May your words reign or rain on minds inpeach Let knowledge rule as you teach You are to blame for the popular fiction And the lost hip hop depiction Your vowel movement is the mission As they are turning to wrong station So arise oh sons of scribes! Let not fame be your weakening bribes The mystery is your story is still empty But the words to be written are plenty I plant thee in the soil of possibility Growing history in eternity Let the acclaimed awaiting your spark, put page to flame, Illuminating the shame where fiction is no longer fame Arise masters of word! The creators of a new world. Your potency is cryptic avalanche in dormant To awaken minds with your content With an earth shattering rumble you move earth with your stumble Tripping all over yourself to cause a rampage and turn a page marked in history That leads to the bread crumbs of destiny, displaying your self-mastery Oh again rise blood line of prophets! Be not sold out by profits. Your words intertwine the future with the past As ignorance over knowledge shall never be surpassed So your prophecies can be for the youth’s benefits And lost in the realm of the elder’s forfeit While bleeding your ink work, flooding the stage Flowing ears steadily from age to age I say rage warrior of the Pens! This is the age when ignorance ends. As wielders of the pen die by the pen are heard Cutting and stabbing the paper in furry blurred Let those pens bleed till society flood Cleansing it with its righteous blood To awaken other giants from their slumber Killing silence's winter into summer Where ignorance is not left to its own device Only your golden silence should be an adequate price

Copyright © siza sibiya | Year Posted 2014

Details | I do not know? | |

and I will come

…and I will come.
When the first snow falls down/ 
when the fall gives its rights/ 
to the winter/
you know I will come/
for good or for bad/
I’ll board the train/
Passing by / stations/ and countries/
I promised/ and I remember/
You said “there’s no fortuitous meetings/

…and I will come.
When the first snow falls down/
When you’ll lose the trace/
When my firmest snickers/ wipe out/
I will/ I will come…
Unexpectedly/ knowing solely the door/
Just the road / for sure/
Before/ take you I’ll ask/
“are you ready to go?” / 
You are ready/ I know/
All the noise doesn’t matter/
I don’t haste/ will be later/

…I will come.
When it finally turns out/
That November is overthrown by December/
When the first snow falls down/
Will be clear/ that nobody is remembered/ 

And I will come…
Somewhere in chest/ between ribs/
You slashed me/ with thoughts/ 
I can feel it with lips/ crawling under my cloths/
Our world is alive/ our life/ we’re alike/
And I….

I will come.
When the first snow falls down/
When the death is changed into fate/
When the winter gives up/ 
To wait/ for spring/
to stay with shining sun/
I will come.

Copyright © Ilya Emelin | Year Posted 2013

Details | Bio | |

Why I write

I write because my father died
For there are feelings I no longer can hide

I write to swallow tears when they let me down
To overcome fears that ever caused me fright

I write to forget past plight
So that I can sleep during long winter night
So I can believe I could touch the sky
Even if I’m too short to reach so high

I write to comprehend what I am
To explore what floats in the air
To understand why roses are red
To express my deep affection to Her

I write because I dare
To share joys and sorrows
No matter if they care

Copyright © Lukasz Walterowicz | Year Posted 2013