Best Metaphor Poems
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Metaphor
Poems
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Metaphor
Poem
Illusory Disguise
My reflection is vague, perception unclear.
My mind is like a shattered mirror
That devises a veneer fashioned of my fears.
I'm seized inside this illusory disguise
That's only feeding me a mouth full of lies.
Oh, how I hunger to be recognized…
Actuality stays hidden behind the scenes:
What my eyes perceive is make believe.
Trickeries are fitted in deceiving sleeves.
I'm incapable of comprehending the genuine me.
By Anne Currin
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Metaphor
Poem
Looks Can Be Deceiving
There was a young girl whose silk skin
Was sewn up with some thread and a pin.
It would drive the men mad,
That sleek layer she had,
Well, until she took off her silk skin.
By Anne Currin
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Metaphor
Poem
Yellow Shoes in the Darkness
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
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Metaphor
Poem
Kaleidoscope Dreams
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.
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Metaphor
Poem
A Risque Ballroom Dance
The steamy room is screaming with sin;
they dance with the passion of lovers.
He's caressing her soft, satin skin–
every stroke filling them with rapture.
He uses his hands to guide her hips,
she spins around oozing with ardor.
He pulls her in to kiss her plump lips
and then he twirls her around faster.
Gripping onto her waist, she dips back
her body that's really quite supple.
They lead the evening to its climax
with a dance that's truly sensual.
By Anne Currin
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Metaphor
Poem
Her Soul Restored
-Searching for Deliverance-
There’s a question tightly tied to her heart and it tugs with every pound;
As each rhythmic beat inflates her chest, it’s fitted more firmly around.
Twined with her strings, it pulls her to the ground, dropping her to her knees
While the answer hovers ever so patiently above her and waits to set her free.
__________________________________________________________________
-Finding Redemption-
She's entombed in her battered prison with some blood stained empty hands;
She finally raises them to the skies above and senses where the answer now stands.
She begs for salvation as she’s being secured in the embrace of sturdy towers
While redemption envelops her soul, for at last she's noticed the towers around her.
By Anne Currin
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Metaphor
Poem
Heroin Heroine
If only he'd realize that he's my hero,
then I could become his heroine
and we'd defeat this evil beast together
for without support, he may never win.
He's fighting a losing battle that no
hero can possibly conquer on his own!
Oh, if only he'd start to realize that he
doesn't have to tackle this beast alone...
By Anne Currin
*This poem is dedicated to my brother
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Metaphor
Poem
A cyclical life
Here in the heavy depths of insolent woes,
We gesture and talk and waste our time,
Staking claim to each minute of our earthly life,
Running the hours through a clock by the day,
Never sated, not content to find even love,
Buried deep inside the petals of a perfect rose.
So was a metaphor created from the rose,
Then plagiarized and used for all of time,
Simply here to represent the beauty of love,
A perfection to which we cannot aspire to in life,
Or even death, in the darkest of all those woes,
Great though they may seem by the passing day.
It's a fragile, soulful kind of love,
In the pressing presence of the breaking day,
Where your back breaks beneath ample woes,
And there just simply isn’t ever enough time,
To do what you plan to do with your life.
Then you start to resemble that rose.
Soft and delicate, with easy loss of life,
Mournful of the passage of time,
Counting down, day by dreary day,
Ever seeking out to find dear love,
The theoretical banishment of woes.
Such is the way of the deep red rose.
Has it ever occurred to us not to mark time?
Just to ignore it, along with any such woes,
Just to leap forth and enjoy life,
To live to the absolute fullest everyday,
And just as chosen by the poet's rose,
To find and hold on to, that one true love.
For I find, that it's mostly true these days,
That people don't make enough time,
For laughter and fullness in life,
So preoccupied with petty woes,
That they forget about the beauty of love,
And in doing that, they forget about the rose,
I know what the rose represents in my life,
And I work hard to expel my woes every day,
So that soon I will have time for true love.
*****Written in Sestina for Constance's Poetry 101 contest.*****
******* 5th Place winner*******
******Sarah Blake August 2010******
A sestina is a highly structured form of poetry consisting of six six-line stanzas and a three-
line envoy (thirty-nine lines). The end words of the first stanza are repeated in varied order
as end words in the other stanzas and also recur in the envoy.
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Metaphor
Poem
What Lurks Within
Beware the secrets castles keep,
In empty chambers tucked away,
Within your soul they do not sleep.
There, quietly within they creep
Kept hidden from the light of day.
Beware the secrets castles keep.
Lost down behind where conscience weeps
The secrets know they cannot stay.
Within your soul they do not sleep.
Through many walls it slowly seeps
Till when our peace becomes the prey.
Beware the secrets castles keep.
We're warned that what we sow we reap.
At harvest time we'll have to pay.
Within your soul they do not sleep.
Loud echos from within betray
The secret truths that were delayed.
Beware the secrets castles keep.
Within your soul they do not sleep.
Written 3/23/2013
In more of a 19th century form using tetrameter
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Metaphor
Poem
You Reap What You Sow
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.
2/13/13
Kim Merryman
For SandyIvy's Seed contest
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