Poetry Forum Areas

Introduce Yourself

New to PoetrySoup? Introduce yourself here. Tell us something about yourself.

Looking for a Poem

Can't find a poem you've read before? Looking for a poem for a special person or an occasion? Ask other member for help.

Writing Poetry

Ways to improve your poetry. Post your techniques, tips, and creative ideas how to write better.

High Critique

For poets who want unrestricted constructive criticism. This is NOT a vanity workshop. If you do not want your poem seriously critiqued, do not post here. Constructive criticism only. PLEASE Only Post One Poem a Day!!!

How do I...?

Ask PoetrySoup Members how to do something or find something on PoetrySoup.

Metaphor April Poems | Metaphor Poems About April

These Metaphor April poems are examples of Metaphor poems about April. These are the best examples of Metaphor April 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 | Verse |


follow on facebook,
adore on pinterest,
fall in love on instagram,
kiss on a hunch,
all under a tree.

Copyright © A.O. Taner | Year Posted 2016

Details | Acrostic |

Your Eyes

 (Dedicated to Folake)

Your eyes, woman
are like twilight rainbow
amorously bearing aloft passions of mine
toward androcytic ecstacy.
They tell of endless lights.

Night skies clarion the warmth of you
keep me balled-up till
i am tilted to your adorned essence.

May I call up words to adore you,
agglomerate them into a panoply of worshippers
unsandalled before you
like Moses at the burning bush.
And now you seem to fall asleep
but you tell me it's the heavy night
bidding toward a sunny dawn
wherein our love is lighted.

Slowly I let you fall asleep
impatient with the long night
waiting to gaze once more
into the eyes of my lovely love.

Then a lip is placed on yours
and you rouse up wide-eyed
smiling at my romantic move.
We enjoyed the night, cruising on.

Copyright © Onis Sampson | Year Posted 2013

Details | Sonnet |


I want to say good night
But its night as yet to you
I can see darkness now
If maybe you never left

I have to say good night
Darkness has defeated me
Only your love can resurrect me
I am afraid to go now
But I have to go and live under the shads
Love me to my silent place

Good night when you see the moon
Flower me with roses from abandon garden 
Cover me with what i was and be now
Good night sleep with elevated power

Copyright © Zakhe Michael Mcunu | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse |

The Storm

And the storm calls to me in ways you'll never understand
A gentle call that urges my soul forth
The lighting guiding a path for my feet to walk
Between the stones and ash of all that once was
I stand in the echoing silence of the rain 
It drops down upon my skin like the blessing waters of heaven
Soothing me, lifting the weight from my body 
I feel at once as if I am home
Standing amid two dimensions 
Caught between two skies - here and there
The night wraping around me in warmth
The gentle wind lifting me off my feet
Drops from the clouded moon washing away my body
and I am left just a soul, an essence 
The storm calls me forth from beneath my roof
Beckoning me into its depth 
I stand among the reeds in the basin 
They dance and sway as if welcoming me
And I sway with them back 
Caught up in the power that charges the air
That threatens to sweep me away 
If the ground will just loosen its hold
The thunder rumbles a low welcoming growl
And I get pleasently lost within it
I am so small compared to its vastness
I close my eyes and succumb to the skies wishes
Rising higher until my feet no longer touch the ground 
My fingertips touch the liquid color of the stars
A sigh drifts from my lips
There is no need of thought to stay afloat
There is no demand to breathe in air
No crushing weight upon my chest
As my lungs struggle to survive
There are no struggles here
I make my bed on blackened clouds
And give in to the call
The storm has claimed me as its own 
It was such a struggle to stay upon the ground
When the storm would call me home

Copyright © Jay Loveless | Year Posted 2013

Details | I do not know? |

For Bruce Springsteen

for bruce springsteen...

it was a rain-swept monsoon day

way back then, so many moons away

when i felt the music strumming in my veins

setting me free like a runaway horse without any reins

you sang of simple truths, 

your verse spoke to people just like me

in my lonely, wasted, and desolately quiet night

as you screamed out tragic human wrongs, and of everyone's plight

'bobby jean' spoke to me

of that girl down the street

glimpses of whom, we as innocents would furtively meet

and 'the river' that flowed through my ever-barren heart

led me down further roads of thunder

when slowly i finally learnt that the hardest part was fighting on

and never to surrender

to the hard-luck dreams that were born to run

while i danced in the dark 

with memories vivid and stark

even as i whined like that dog who for forever lost his howling bark

and then a 'human touch' came along

and 'better days' seemed real, not just words in a song

and still you sang and swayed and spoke straight into my unseeing eyes

as gardens of secrets were opened, and as your fist punched the skies

in an anger that i too felt and in whose cauldron i too burned

as we saw murder get incorporated, while on its wobbly axis, our fragile world apathetically turned

and then suddenly i was told that i was all grown up

working on a highway of scattered ideals

and absolving myself by sprinkling some coins in a waiting cup

well, after all these years of walking along so many a thorny road

with an armour of your verse covering me, even as i hear them taunt me and even as they continue to goad

but now i can feel myself fading away, into the bleakness of this coming night

just like the ghost of that old tom joad...

Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses | Year Posted 2013

Details | Haiku |


Tinged with a green haze
a tender 5 o'clock shadow
Burst from swollen buds

Copyright © Tim Peterson | Year Posted 2015

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 | Free verse |

A Lily Standing on the Pathway Between March and April

The sun peeks his face out from the passing wind 
still chilly and cold, and in this air the tree branches 
stretch their arms to hold the sun as if sails on the deep and gray sky

The sun that is out of reach of a hand 
may be a hope; no, it ought to be a hope

One night I saw a wayfarer, becoming a moonbeam,
going toward April stepping on the footmarks March 
has left behind 

Although he has gone through so many hills and high waters 
with a knapsack on his back that was full with the countless 
sentiments he put in it for pity’s sake, the sack was emptied;
for the lapse of time makes things wear and tear
his garment was worn to rags, and when the wind 
passes through it penetrates the garment to chill the bone 

The deep anxiety he is unable to shake off, and therefore, 
reflected on the running water murmuring through the field 
as ripples of moonbeam, which is not from the fleeting of time 
or his sufferings while he was walking among the foes, but because 
he is sorry for and worries about friends he has to leave behind 

The friends, not many in number shared his happiness 
at the time of banqueting, surrounding the table though 
plain and simple, abundance in God; 

at the time counting the falling stars lying on a stone pillow 
by the gap between rocks. The friends, not in damnation but 
in endurance and warmhearted understanding, talked about better day to come while burning the passions in the bone fire on a day when they were wet and shivering in early spring drizzle

For the days he was with his friends were too short,
it caused him an embarrassment in counting the days,
yet they were unforgettable moments of joyous and happy experiences

As he walked through the field with friends he talked about tomorrow
standing on the hill top side by side, he asked them to pray for him, 
sitting on the sands by the water he sighed for he has to leave 
the friends, the sweet and bitter memories behind

Nonetheless, he cannot just stand by a roadside as an emotionless stone, 
he crosses the hill under the shade of a waning moon, and when 
the humble hearted teary-eyed wanderer blooms as a lily on the other side of 
the hill in dawning, the sunray fall on the lily on the dew
as hope to those who remember him, as happiness to the friends 
he left behind, as the covenant of the Lord to all who trust in him

Copyright © Su Ben | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse |


Magnolia blooms,
in not yet warmed chilling air of early spring,
look gruesome rather than beauteous
because the flowers open in lots of large corollas
with a shade of pink and scarlet in milky white based petals
resemble to the ginggue* actress Dan’s make-up,
she wears heavy red eye shadow
on thickly painted white make-up
and always ends with tragic end,

because the flowers 
on the leafless brownish-black withered branches
look much too similar to the head of Medusa
sculpt on smooth but cold marble,
the large grotesque pupilless eyes
with hairs of ill-willed wiggling serpents.

When the sunlight appears momentarily
through thick and heavy gloomy air,
the blooms of neither white nor scarlet
fall on the ground and shatter to pieces of petals
that will never be able to come together again
in the gathering darkness of dismal weather
that is neither a winter nor the summer,
the magnolia,
though there is a shape,
like a lifeless artificial flower,
for unable to give off the fine scents, sobs.

And when magnolia sobs,
the spirit of deserted woman
roaming in the nether world
sighs her miserable life,
and when her grief piles up high,
the spirits of fallen corollas 
return to the withered branches
and shoot out as the green leaves.

*Ginggue: The Chinese traditional pantomimic-opera like drama developed 
  and greatly flourished at Beijing in Qing dynasty.

Copyright © Su Ben | Year Posted 2015

Details | I do not know? |


hello! hey! boungiorno! what is the date?/
this world of dimensions created duality/
no letters/ no words/ are enough to express/
someone like you/ in reality/

i filled all your emptines/ MY still quiet bay/
as Jhon opened world in his Yoko/
you searched perfect princes/ looked for "right him"/
now at only one overman looking/

i swear/ i will hold you/ as much as i can/
would become all the axes/ and outer space/
voice is speared by the screaming wind/
falling down/ flakes to your place/

going crazy just seeing your knees/
don't regret anything/ my Benito/
unbelievable/ perfect/ unbearable/
you whisper/ "la comedia e finita"//

Copyright © Ilya Emelin | Year Posted 2013

Details | Crystalline |


HemptiQue freshly brewed ganja tea, an environ smoke free. gettin' healTHy dose mediCally. time CheCk 4:20

Copyright © Keith Narne | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |


Date: Mon, Nov 30 2015 at 7:44 PM

I'm the Alpha
You the Omega 
I'm Alpha 
You Beta
Call me Zeta
I Move like the Gammas
I'm Sega
This the Genesis Theater
Playing my Sega on Saturn
While my dreamscast on the plasma 
They call me the great one I was born great
I was born from fate
Destiny child Birthed
In this vile curse
West Nile style verse 
thought y'all Nu
Mu the Uno Yall Cero
Born on the cuatro, Cero, dos
On my upper echelon fly like the Delta Epsilon
My flow Alumni I'm a Star like Sigma Ksi my Chi my Key & Enigma Energy of Super Saiyan 3 Chi & Ki
Inside this Optimus Prime


Copyright © uriel wisdom | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |

Morning April Sun

the April morning Sun
smiled at me joyfully
she extended her hands
touching me with love
massaging and caressing

Copyright © Solomon Ochwo-Oburu | Year Posted 2017