These Metaphor Quatrain poems are examples of Quatrain poems about Metaphor. These are the best examples of Metaphor Quatrain poems written by international PoetrySoup poets
Walking through the land of shadows
wearing my yellow shoes
With each and every step
I created color and hues
The shadows started retreating
As color permeated the ground
Out of the darkness
I heard a horrible sound
"You do not belong here
I command you to go away
You are in the land of darkness
You must listen to what I say"
I kept on moving forward
Not sure what I would see
Where was the voice coming from
I looked behind a tree
Light and color expanded
Traveling up to the skies
The entity that scared me
Was right before my eyes
As my shoes banished the darkness
The entity was reduced to tears
Without the aid of shadows
He couldn't tap into my fears
I reached down to touch him
I told him he was safe
He looked up with confusion
As I gazed upon his face
"Are you here to destroy me?
Have you come to take me away?
There is a purpose for shadows
They create hope for brighter days."
I heard what he was saying
The shadows have their reason
In order for spring to come
We need a darker season
So I removed my yellow shoes
Watched as the shadows returned
It was time for me to go home
With this strange lesson I had learned
If you sow seeds of kindness,
Then kindness is what you'll reap.
If you sow seeds of forgiveness,
You'll reap untroubled sleep.
If you sow seeds of anger,
of hatred or discontent,
You'll reap a crop of violence,
Discord and evil intent.
If you sow seeds of brotherly love,
Then love you will receive,
But if wickedness is what you sow,
Then wicked you will be.
The lesson here is pretty clear:
You reap just what you sow.
Therefore, strive to sow only good seeds,
And spread them wherever you go.
For SandyIvy's Seed contest
Green…you always reflected in my peripheral
And kept watch as I tried to color my world
But there I lay in my blacks and my blues,
lifeless and faltering In monotone hues.
Through kaleidoscope eyes, I envisioned my skies
But the pot at the rainbow was storybook lies
so with nothing to gain and nothing to lose,
I just shuffled around In my blacks and my blues.
Never did I imagine you!, Green… to be my savior
But there you arose, out of my dark abyss
With your bottle green dress and scarlet kiss
Your emerald green eyes and unbridled bliss.
Now my kaleidoscope dreams have all been unfurled
Since you Green, have colored my world
You rescued my heart, Green
You rescued my heart.
Many voices from the past,
Always echoing in my head,
How long can it last,
I thought you were dead.
You always tell me what to do,
So I don't make a mistake,
Somehow you always knew,
How many I could make.
Because once I hurt you,
And you'll never let me forget,
But what can I do,
You're not quite dead yet.
Why won't you leave me alone,
Will you never forgive me,
I wish I could atone,
Please, just let me be.
The hollow echo of your voice,
Will linger on forever,
You've given me no choice,
It'll never stop, ever.
The sound of you used to make me smile,
But now it tortures me,
I will always be in denial,
So an end I'll never see.
Written by: Kelly Deschler
Giorgio V.'s contest - "Impress Me 2" - themes-gothic/spiritual
An old herbal gard’ner turned bard
dedicated and well-versed
now works his pen from his backyard
in plants and poems immersed.
His choice nouns engender meaning
cleverly minted with scents.
Rare verbs gingerly gleaning
from time’s savory essence.
Somewhat focused on composing
but nettled by a drizzle;
causes his brain to fizzle.
Lo! His inspiration now gone
like the ink upon his page.
Mrs. Bard calls from the lawn
“I just watered the sage.”
Noah’s ark was real not a fiction
It had a door to escape God’s affliction
Noah delivered a warning message
But the folks mock their own presage
Men grew in sin and matured in transgression
And ignored Noah’s loving confession
The Door stood open a long time
Until time begin to climb
The Lord finally shut the Door
And the rain begin to pour
120 years of grace finally came to a halt
God administered judgment by default
The Door was a glorious type of Christ
He was the Lamb of God who was price
Jesus said “I am the Door of the sheep”
He is the only Door of that Great ship
Jesus is our Door of salvation
Wherein we enter and float as new creation
Behold He stands at your door this day and knock
Let Him in, you’ll find pasture as a partaker of His Holy flock
Then said Jesus unto them again, Verily, verily, I say unto you, I am the door of the sheep- John 10:7
Struggles and success,
Sufferings and happiness,
Dreams and Goals building to life;
Like colours of the rainbow making light.
A blessed day for you my dear readers :) Cheer Up, God bless
From the dark cocoon, the butterfly emerges,
Finally realizing she cannot control her urges,
To witness the beauty of the midnight moon,
The butterfly emerges, from the dark cocoon.
She flew from the shadows, out into the daylight,
The colors on her wings had never shone so bright,
She was meant to be here, her brave heart knows,
Out into the daylight, she flew from the shadows.
No more sitting alone, back in her little room,
No more hiding in dampness, darkness and gloom,
She had finally found a friend to call her own,
Back in her little room, no more sitting alone.
Andrea Dietrich's contest - "Swap Quatrains. Let's See What You've Got!"
Many a mind hurries past
the gripping splendour
in search of beauty, not to last,
while continuing in rejection of grandeur.
I look as the moments pass
at the wounded walkway.
The sand flows through the hourglass
and time conforms to seconds and seconds to day.
There, in the heart of pain,
at the crack of dawn
grows through the mundane,
purity, life’s mystery in an image drawn
Red bursts open in colours array
but expectation it defied
as time had not intended bloom ‘till the following day
and still nature’s scarlet tears are cried.
Dusk was meant to encompass
the brooding gem in the snows
but the bud unfolded in its stubbornness
and yet not its pedals froze.
I suppose the dark of night
and the bitterness of day
could not smite
what would have its own way.
The bud grew beautifully in strength
and blossomed in wisdom,
knowledgeable in great length,
yet its leaves forbade a future grim.
Somehow it lacked endurance
and what blind humanity refused to meet
became the trampling of our innocence:
the rose that grew from concrete.
Sorrow chokes sanity
in the brimstone fumes of Hell
that consumes all but memory
plastered against the walls of his cell.
My mind can't comprehend...
Perhaps he did wrong
or mercy he did not lend,
but here resides the angel of song.
His wings are torn,
tattered like his serenity
when he fell into heat's scorn.
Once he was beauty's epiphany.
The shofar's sound dwindled
to let screams take stage.
The music he once kindled
turned against him in bloody rage.
Yet he will rise once more.
The fallen creature in his cell
and will play a new music's score
telling of the angel in Hell.