Submit a Poem
Get Your Premium Membership
spacer

Metaphor Prose Poetry Poems | Prose Poetry Poems About Metaphor

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

12345
Details | Prose Poetry |

I Disappear

wake up to serendipity
ignorant and unknown
shaken and not stirred
blond can be bond

Reality, metaphor and cliche
cheesy juvenile decay
Love, care and hate
past the use by date

of fights and torment
and well deserved lament
salute to the solitary reaper
with Metallica... I disappear


Details | Prose Poetry |

The Stiff Upper Lip

It was with immense fortitude that he endured the pain.
His back was arched and head rose as he strode down the thoroughfare.
No one need know what lurked behind his eyes. 
Although in all honesty he wanted someone to know what lay behind his eyes. 
He composed his mind determined to ride this one out,
“Ok…I’m fine…I’m fine…there’s nothing wrong” he kept saying as if it were a mantra.

A few minutes passed. Finally, the steely gaze was drawn across his face. 
His lip no longer quivered. 
His heart no longer tightened. 
For now, he was a detached dispassionate walking skeleton, nothing to call human here!
Even the sight of a mangled kitten wouldn’t render a response.

My manners are now controlling my passion; they are forever in my debt.
Like Wellington, I’m going to have to grin and bear it!   
Throw my deepest love into a raging, scorching inferno, as it will only get in the way of my duty!
I shall never succumb to societies miss giving’s. Never shall I spew forth my sensibilities to the stranger in the street. My convictions are too honest to cheapen that.

A friend, however, has the misfortune or privilege to walk among my thoughts. 
I know that we will walk hand in hand into Daedalus’ Labyrinth, a Minotaur at every corner. Never knowing if we shall return. Nonetheless we do it together.
Judgement is never passed. A grimace expression will never rise from your face.

Only in your presence can I remove the mask. 
Only in your presence can I let my lip tremble.
Only in your presence can I let my heart feel the despair. 
…

Be that as it may, once I leave the comforts of your abode I shall once again display the stiff upper lip. 


By Michael Mearns




Copyright ©Michael Mearns


Details | Prose Poetry |

Blackbird

Trapped like a bird in this filthy cage 
Where I am starved of compassion and understanding 
Left to survive on meager crumbs 
Of affection and tolerance
Held captive and unable to fly and be free 
From the physical and emotional restrictions 
Placed upon me by my keeper
 
Who’s only reason for my presence it seems 
Is to stay its loneliness and insecurity 
To feed its selfish need for control 
Through its twisted concept 
Of love and adoration 
I am looked upon as a possession 
Other than the living, breathing individual 
That I long to be 

So now I sit upon my proverbial perch 
In my so called gilded cage
In the confines of my seemingly mundane existence 
And walk though my mind confused and alone
Aimlessly wandering through the now empty spaces 
That no longer hold the dreams or aspirations 
Which I once thought gave my life purpose 

Memories which were bright and alive 
Full of promise and hope but have faded away 
Into a past that is now grey and bleak 
Devoid of anything worth remembering 
My footfalls echo in the silence 
Giving testament that these memories 
Have been empty and forgotten long ago 

My only hopes now are that my keeper 
Will grow tired of my deliberate silence 
And obvious disdain and release me 
Whether through life or by death 
At this point either would be welcome 

How I long for the freedom 
And comfort of the clear blue sky 
The ability to soar like a bird 
High above the reaches 
Of those who only want to keep me 
And fly towards the bright and colorful horizon 
Where I know my future waits 
And new memories and dreams can be made.


Details | Prose Poetry |

Drowning

Gasping for air. . . you strain your neck; stretching..you look around, checking.
Struggling to keep the pace. . . you're movements, fluctuating; you panic, you try floating.
Screaming for help. . .  no one is around, you wish for a miracle; you're wheezing, yelp not helping.
Giving, no one is reaching. . . the waves starting to bring you down; you fight, your Will diminishing.
Vanishing. . . your light dimming; They look from afar, will they notice you're drowning?


Details | Prose Poetry |

A Super Man

The rise and fall of a broken soul; the pressure was too much to bear
The letter S was too brave to wear. He was a symbol, a pure form of admiration. Yet his life was 
not his own; full grown; denied the freedom of one’s true life journey
He could never fathom an opportunity of free will for he lived to will free others who hide in his 
silhouette
The darkest shadow brought an abundance of light to the needy. And greedy.
An unadorned model of self-less love dug him an early grave being a slave to aiding. Although 
help was never offered to a man that had a sense of direction. Every step forward followed 
echoing steps behind.
His feet became a carrier. The load was heavy
Regret was constant. Where was kryptonite when he needed it?


Details | Prose Poetry |

POETIC JUSTICE --VIRTUE OVER VICE

“POETIC JUSTICE” (VIRTUE OVER VICE)

Virtue over vice—who will pay the price
Ironic twists of fate are flawed if virtue does not equal reward
Logic needs to triumph—to beat and defeat
The tragedy of treachery that strives to cheat and repeat

Try to see outside myself and understand the eyes
To analyze, theorize, recognize and polarize
Excuse all the highs that terrorize
Unacknowledged trauma’s are like wounds that never heal
Never feel—on a constant wheel—a terrible price to pay for sin
Until at last the outside matches the justice
History written on the body—a canvas of poetry
In the end, reality, the price to pay would be too great
Too much at stake 
Comfort zones obliterated, confusion reiterated
What then… the end?

Life seems slow to reach conclusion
To wait, turn back, to stop or go
To fly or dive when there is no restraint or self control

 Deceit makes it hard to separate the self
Seeking truth above the easy way out
To shout, express doubt, to dropout--- burnout


Justice is tested through another’s eyes
Disguising their own lies as they spy and deny
The poetry of playing the same game
Camouflaged by another name—to shame blame and disclaim

Does virtue win the day?
Or vice have its say and inevitably stay
Does it triumph and receive reward?
Or is logic a masquerading fraud 

The poetry in justice must ultimately distrust and adjust this
Lift the darkness
Make it painless, nameless and stainless
The punishment… its sword






Details | Prose Poetry |

A bed of Ashes

I found myself needing something more than a tender curve of dimly lit flesh.
I needed a woman's fire that could stoke my soul into a living rage.
I needed a courageous lioness to teethe my muse and let the pain
in my brain bleed unto the Earthy canvas before me.
The salt of my skin wept unto her, and she made it steam.
She was a cleansing fury that damned the man I once was.
She tore me apart so that I could become something new.
Sometimes there is beauty in destruction,
sometimes forgiveness is born out of pain.
She let it rain inside of me when she left,
and I found myself in a bed of ashes.
A new man.
 
-James Kelley 2013, All rights reserved.


Details | Prose Poetry |

the girl on stairs

A woman in a staircase
watching on her watch case
So, I decide to stop
Even if I have to go
Then she thought to alert me
Man up there is your gallows
In my turn I asked
Life wants to leave me?
Heartbreaker you're too pressed
If you like my old oldie
Flee the roar of the djembe
And hold out my hand tenderly

Tell her I love you she will trust you
Tell me lies i love you more 

But I spans and then I go
Climbing a hushed not
All degrees of the staircase
And the beautiful lady cry
Will despise me villain
You who do not know mercy
You will know my sentence
And if the lifestyle you lead
This is your vision of Eden
What is happen there up there
It's not a bird singing
This is not your despair
This is a watch that will stop

Tell her I love you she will trust you
Tell me lies i love you more 

The clicking of hands on the dial
Would to show you something real
That heartbreaker must been fall
There is only one destiny for them
This is to observe their own eyes
Each in a total reflection mirror
The crafty smile of assassins
This morbid craving that sweet rage
This bloodlust never satisfied
neither wine nor intrigues
Where their heart is still fickle
grab them by the neck 
Like an unlucky fox 
By many women 
He has made down

Tell her I love you she will trust you
Tell me lies i love you more 


Details | Prose Poetry |

dry your tears

dry your tears
death has gone
and I am here,
no fear my love
no fear my dear

no fear for love is a monster
with flowers for hair
and a warm heart with a sore thumb,
no fear my dear, for love will not eat you-
but in turn will make you smile and laugh
-with a joke or two-
(about a fool in love)
and love shall sing you a song
and lead you to me
so my love don't cry
dry your tears
for I am here now,
no fear my love...
...no fear my dear...

.1.6.2014.


Details | Prose Poetry |

The Rising Son

                                      Son of the Sea Trilogy Part 2 (copyright 1989)
                                      by:Allen Hacket
                            

                                      The Rising Son 
                                      Dedicated to: The Slauson Village


On a hot summers night lovers lay along the beachfront
Caressing each other so gently as the amber coals in the sandpits slowly melt away
The waves rise and tumult with such majestic force and beauty splashing against the shoreline relentlessly
Infinite as time itself and ever constant.
The pulsation of the conga drum permeates every pebble and grain of sand on the beach
The tinkle and the rat-a-tat-tat of empty bottles and discarded tin cans are transformed into precise percussion instruments
The melodic shrills of the magic flute weave it's translucent web encompassing the gritty growls and riffs that emanate from the golden mouth of the improvisational sounding sax

The dance has begun...slender black bodies glisten in the soft moonlight...jerking and gyrating in perfect rhythm to the beat of the drum
The sweet aroma of herbs fills the night air and wine flows freely
Emotions are high and love abounds
The music reaches a crescendo and comes to a gradual halt
A long awaited sigh of relief can be heard then solitude follows...
Dawn ushers in the distant light 
Destined to radiate its warmth and shine in the new day of the rising son.


Check out our library of e-books @ amazon.com in the kindle store, or visit:www.booktango.com
authors website:apluszips.com
 
Thanks


12345