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Metaphor Education Poems | Metaphor Poems About Education

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

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Details | Couplet |

STAMINA

           STAMINA

Nowhere near a force of nature
Challenging a source of nature

Building with the will to survive
A small measurement for those who strive

Lessons when it comes to strength
Multiplying the time found in length

Stop and learn the sound of weakness
Hard to find when one is relentless

Improving in a mental task
The answers are found when we ask

Stamina mania, you and I
To perform bravely in all we do

pump for long
yet never strong

Learn when ideas seem to fail
The wrong action is to bail

Thinking, thinking what could it be
Will not solve the problem between you and me

Practice is  the best energy
Memorize it-- stamina will come naturally

 
                    SKAT
                   6-29-10

Copyright © SKAT A | Year Posted 2010


Details | Free verse |

IQ Test

I could care less about the four 
corners of insults, 
That intelligence invites; 
It is always the first straw of 
grass that’s grows, 
which reveals the popular outcast; 
As a youth, I found my image cut down 
into this manufactured silhouette.

Drenched in social rain, my peers 
had never found me more alienated, 
Then when I spoke fluently of diverse 
topics; 
They did everything in their power to provide 
a verbal umbrella, 
However, the texture remains weak and 
defeated.

This stormy parade that remains’ dripping is
indeed an afterthought, 
For within this cranial mansion resides 
additional rooms, 
For the more abstract and surreal 
elements of life; 
It is that secluded gland which reveals 
the renaissance of men, who wear 
infinite Fedoras.

Now wearing the shoes of a young 
man, 
A taste of charisma resides in my 
veins; 
However this slight addiction to external 
haze, 
Comes in second to my first drug of 
choice: Wisdom. 

Membership into this fraternity may take a lifetime; 
So don’t be surprised when resistance 
knocks at your door, 
Intimidated by the lion that dwells within 
your temple; 
Indeed intellect is the misunderstood 
fruit, 
That blossoms sweeter when accepted.

Copyright © Jiril Clemons | Year Posted 2013

Details | Prose Poetry |

Because Education Is Important

The last time I had seen this particular cousin of mine, I was still in college and he had a head full of hair. In between, there had been three funerals, two weddings and four births in our Trojan royalty of a family. I had been a university graduate for a year, and the prospect for a job, a decent one at that, had started to grow dimmer by the day. He asked, “Will you tutor my daughter?” “Yes!” I said. And we set out immediately. He, on his bike and I, on my motorcycle following him. We took a right turn at the famous landmark of the statue of demoness Putana, sitting on the grass with her bosom out and legs spread forward. He introduced me to his wife and daughter. Telling them to stand side by side, he told me, “She's only eleven, but look at her! Already equal in length and width to her mother, who is no delicate petal herself. Do you think you can teach her GK?” 

The universe wasn't made with dissent. Plus, the chicken samosas were really delicious. I tried on a grin while the overachieving pre-teen bustled around the room showing me her accolades for painting, singing, studying. As I left he pointed at a tree, “Do you know what tree is that?”

“Bael?” I answered thoughtfully. 

“Apple. That's an apple tree.” 

“Oh! Does it bear fruits?” 

“Not in this climate!” He laughed out loud.





---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Date: 30 / 11 / 2016
Contest: James Tate
Sponsor: Space Cadet

Copyright © Tamal Kundu | Year Posted 2016


Details | Verse |

The Canvas

This poem is a farewell piece of advice to a group of students I have taught over the last four years. I do 
hope they find the metaphor meaningful and believe that they are the "architects of their own future."

Spread before you is a canvas of hope and opportunity Waiting to be painted with strokes of what you are and can be Waiting to be filled with colours that define you and the life you live Waiting to be stamped with the personality that only you can give To the portrait of your life, by itself a work of art A work which, on this day, with vigour you will start Spread before you is a canvas of vision and desire Waiting to be sketched with shades of passion and fire Waiting to be decorated with a story and theme Waiting to be etched with ambition that is now just a dream Of a picture whose tone, texture and style Would have made this work worth all the while Spread before you is a canvas, empty, yet full of space Waiting to be stroked with your wit, charm and grace Waiting to be brushed with strokes daring, vivid and bold Waiting to be painted with a story that can be told Of a life whose essence is one of sublime beauty Of a person who lived his life and did his duty Of a person who lived life the way it should be Of a complete canvas that will reflect many a memory.

Copyright © Alister Renaux | Year Posted 2009

Details | Lyric |

Rich Man Poor Man

By Ezar

As snow flakes fall to cover the side walk my people get tired of the side talk
Work for me You won't be financially but at least you put a couple gifts under the tree 
At least you can get your car fixed while I pull off in a new mercades
Oh ya make sure you fill out the paperwork for welfare
I will have my  secretary sign it while I set by my pool in Bellaire
Have you ever been there you can smell the sweetness of success in the air
How is Jamal doing 
I almost cried when I heard someone was at his school shooting
Thank goodness my son goes to the same school as the son of Patrick Ewing
You can stay in my guest house if you thinking about moving 
Rent free that's the least I can do for someone who works for me
I was going to stop by but that part of town is too rough for me 
I wanted you to meet my daughter she just got her masters degree 
So she can take over the business after me
You know how important it is to leave a legacy
What collage is Jamal going to or is he still going to the army
I hear they pay for college tuition 
I told my son its not worth it when your arms and legs missing
But I understand Jamal got to do what he got to do 
Giving Jamals hand he got to move how he has to move 
Well I have to go watch for the stocks on the news 
See you on Monday I hope your situation improves Peace

Copyright © Street Cries | Year Posted 2017

Details | Personification |

Chicken Slam

They want my thighs/ 
So smooth and innocent feathers flying across broken brunches of skeletons/ 
They want my rhymes/ 
This is no poultry for poetry/ 
My poetry is no coward type chicken/
My words are salty/  

I’m a bird i fly on top of state’s real brains/ 
Consuming meat and eggs of past fellow cowards/  
Omnivores lines/ 
These earth i scratch with my mouth/ 
Is a prostitute/
Tougher than concrete lines/
These earth i scratch with my mouth/ 
Is everyone's Present Day Hell 
Serving tissues/
My thoughts are concrete tears like rebels/

Poets
scratch and sing mirrored messages in flocks/ 
This pictures are born from chests incubated second hand writings/  

Smell my symptoms/
Stainless inks/ 
Blinking one eye ink/ 
Eyes wide open never see compost in words/
Aimed at fertilizing unattractively skinnny promises/

O gosh Chickens/

Shoes of chicken view touch souls with my hand clues/
Cowards spray away chicken slams/

They want my thighs/
In holidays they slaughter families born in days of slavery/
They want my rhymes/ 
They want my thighs/
(c) Ray

Copyright © Raymond Ngomane | Year Posted 2014

Details | Ballad |

Broken Dreams

  Do you believe in the things that you've always known,
Can you understand the things you've been shown.
   Is it the visions you see that make you believe,
Or is the feelings you get when you've been deceived.
    The pain you feel a never ending ache ,
Tearing your heart and soul from you every day.
    Time ticks slowly pounding away at you,
Throbbing heart breaking and there's nothing you can do,
    Must I settle for these lost and broken dreams,
Because it has all the signs that what it seems.
    How much should a man endure to find his way,
It cant possibly be like this hard for me every day.
    There is nothing so frustrating as being so confused,
Especially when you've discovered that you've been used.
    I will get through this lonely phase I have no doubts,
But I'm sure there will come a day I'll figure it all out.
    Cautiously I walk the path that's been laid before me,
In faith I will continue for I know he will let me see.
    Life will be thrown at you in so many different ways,
I will be prepared for these things for the rest of my days.
    Broken dreams will be the learning tree for me to grow ,
Living my life with Joy Happiness is what I'll always Know.
tac

Copyright © TIMOTHY CARTER | Year Posted 2013

Details | Haiku |

The Less I Have

the less i have of
the additional use of
the more it breaks down

Copyright © Trevor McLeod | 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 | Couplet |

AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN ATMOSPHERE

I am a party animal, my heritage is mixed
quite content to lounge about when conditions remain fixed. 

Suppose that’s the nobility which Krypton must provide,
maintaining stiff upper lip when I’m all buzzed inside.

Then too, I’m mostly nitrogen, which is very stable, 
tamping volatility of oxygen: it’s able

to combine with hydrogen (that’s also in my make up).
Uncontrolled? Oh that would lead to an explosive break up.

Carbon Dioxide? Its percentage varies night and day:
vegetative respiration, or so the boffins say.

I wonder why I don’t glow multicoloured in a storm:
my neon, argon, radon being Vegas lighting norm.

If I had more Helium the humans would sound squeaky.
I imagine the attraction of that chap Enrique

Would suffer greatly from affliction. He’d become mundane,
and prove downright offensive if I gave him more methane.

I’ve also Nitrogen Oxide, not Nitrous NO2, 
and a soupçon of ozone which had once protected you

from harmful rays from Out There much more than now is measured.
It seems that humans cannot see what really should be treasured.

I’m moved by friction of the Earth and pressure off the bat
while Coriolis effect pushes me this way and that:

north and south of the equator, the opposite I spin.
Any other speculations, my friends, are simply wind.

Copyright © Perry McDaid | Year Posted 2014

Details | Rhyme |

THE REASON WHY THE WORLD IS FLAT

The reason why the world is flat is simple;
why we don’t see round a bend and corner.
We search, inquire, to information garner,
but blinkered by self-imposed wimple.

A face lights up with broad smile and dimple;
a child’s delight to discover patch darner.
The reason why the world is flat is simple;
why we don’t see round a bend and corner.

Set views, a minor obstacle, mere pimple
on nose - sniff at life’s knowledge; a mourner
of preconceived ideas, is a *gonner.
Facts at our fingertips, owing to **Kimble:
The reason why the world is flat is simple. 

* dead
**Kimble County, Texas – Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia. 

Poetry form: Rondel (not listed by PS)

Copyright © Suzette Richards | Year Posted 2013

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 | Lyric |

Coming From Where I'm From

Coming from where I’m from
By Nate Spears
Published 2013 in “Death OF A Rose” By Nate Spears


Coming from where I’m from
Every day is a battle to survive 
War is in session 
Right before our eyes

Each day we battle lessons
Just to be in the running for blessings
Coming from where I’m from
We move rapidly on missions

The dead is alive with every walk of the lifeless 
Limited income withholds wealth
The living is near death
Spirits are stripped of guilt

Coming from where I’m from
Deprived wealth
Creates bad health 
In occurrence to this 
Good feelings are killed


The worst gets exposed 
As times get worse
Financial situations become a disaster
No man on earth can rehearse
 
The world is broken
Hunger brings harm
Coming from where I’m from
Dictatorship is not fond

The environment brings the need to shoot
These activities loosens the roots
We’re grounded by values as thin as a pin
We lose ourselves at falling rates like bowling pens

No free passes
Prisons filled in masses
Separated by classes
Coming from where I’m from.


Copyright © Nate Spears | Year Posted 2013

Details | I do not know? |

Tomorrow is Ours



Tomorrow is Ours.


Suffocating beneath the weight of historical fear,
asphyxiated by the legacy of traumatised yesteryear,

the festering wounds of enslavement still remain,
juggling euphemisms in a crisp sound-bitten refrain,

spewing out neo-liberal economic charades,
doling out charity in strips of plastic band-aids,

but,

tomorrow shall be ours,

casting away subservient mind-sets that shackle,
no longer the weakened prey of the insatiable jackal,

tomorrow shall be ours,

we shall reclaim our plundered mindspaces,
we shall shed our chains, leaving behind the traces,

of past injustice, of the hurt and pain of our ancestors' sorrows,

we are here, now, alive with hope,


we shall rightfully claim our own tomorrows.




Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses | Year Posted 2013

Details | Alliteration |

FEEL THE FALL BEFORE FALLEN

FIGHTING FOR FOLKS FEES FALLING FREELY
FEELING FEMININE FILING FOR FALLS
FORCING FAMILY FACING FURY
FRIGHTENING FRIENDS FUSING FUSION

FEIGHNING FATIGUE FREE FRAME
FRAUDULENT FACTS FALL FALLACY
FREE FROM FINITE FRENZY
FAIDING FEELING FOR FAIRY

FIRST FIGURE FILLS FRONT
FAULTING FATE FAKES FINDING
FALLING FAME FROWN FAITH
FUMED FUR, FENCE FREAKY.

Copyright © Teslim Badmus | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |

Winged Lessons

Winged Lessons
            by Odin Roark

Sitting astride his backpack,
A roadside nomadic looked up from his book.
The sun oppressing,
The sand distressing,
The bird noise progressing.

“From where came your right
To straddle fence wire and incessantly complain
With pompous cawing at a resting traveler,
As if he didn’t belong?

Who made you judge and jury for speeding cars
Trying to avoid your missile-like whitewash
As they chase setting suns
And see me only as a roadside shadow?

What do you know of windblown highway ditches as nightly shelter,
Or roadside memorials of white-cross remembrances,
All kinds of lives suddenly stopped?

Rather than making all that commotion,
Wouldn’t you be better off listening a little more,
Enjoying the fluttering quiet of those beautiful black-opal wings,
As you swoop in on sign posts and rusted-out abandoned cars?

What’s with your nasty disposition, anyway?
And why aren’t you carrying on like the raven you are,
Instead of the your noisy lessor specie, the crow?

Oh never mind.
Just shove off.
Let me have some peace
While I work through Poe’s take on your gnarly purpose.
Better still, just shut up and listen.”

‘And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted - nevermore!’

“See what I mean…
Maybe this Poe fella is trying to explain
Neither one of us is gonna live forever,
So…”

Copyright © Odin Roark | Year Posted 2014

Details | Rhyme |

When He Breaks You

When He breaks you

It is to re-make you.

 

If given the choice

To give destiny your voice

You would undoubtedly have picked this state

Such is the irony of fate

 

He breaks you now

So you later see the how -

How the pieces of your journey come to be

A slow but eventual solving of this mystery

 

He makes you work work work – then fail

So that you realize your means are of no avail

Without His will -

But feel His mercy fill -

Even through the aches still

 

He punctures your bubble of hope

To teach you the meaning of struggling to cope

To avoid you saying ‘this was all from me’

Which you might say if it always did come so easy

 

He lets you fall

So that when you stand

It’s straight and tall

Your past sorrows

Not letting you drown

Without your ego

Weighing you down

 

Even while the road appears smooth

He lets you trip and trip again

So that you might stumble upon hidden treasures

From the dirt, which you may otherwise not gain

 

In essence,

He knows Best

The perfect Teacher

Who puts the perfect test

-

Truly,

He breaks you

To re-make you…

Better.

Copyright © Aya Salah | Year Posted 2013

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 | Free verse |

In the Life of a Learner

In thee life
You had brought down your enemies,
With the sharp, pointy knife,
That you'd be wonder all the centuries.

In thee life,
You'd be there to learn the way,
Or die trying,
You'll somehow learn a day.

In thee life,
You'll see;
What life has taught you to be, 
A malarkey laddie,
Whose never stop trying.

In thee life,
You're always a learner,
Don't stop and Fyffe,
as it won't help you become a Philosopher. 

Copyright © Jaz Jason | Year Posted 2016

Details | I do not know? |

MLK - 1929 - 1968

MLK...
(January 15, 1929 – April 4, 1968)


they shot you down
all those years ago

but

your dream lives on
and always will

for though much has been
gained since you dreamed
your dream

there is much to fight for
and much more to struggle for

and much, much more
to fight for still

so
your dream resounds in
our hearts and we pledge 
this to you today
for though they shot you down
all those years ago on a memphis day
we shall overcome
this we do believe
deep in our hearts
that
we shall overcome
someday...


(for Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.)

Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses | Year Posted 2013

Details | Couplet |

The Anatomy of a Kural: Maxim 245 of the Thirukkural by Thiruvalluvar

The Anatomy of a Kural: Maxim Number 245 (taken at random) of the Thirukkural, the Tamil Classic on Ethics by Thiruvalluvar 

allal arulaalvaarkku illai valivalangum

mallalmaa naalam kari (K245)

“The teeming earth's vast realm, round which the wild winds blow,
Is witness, men of 'grace' no woeful want shall know.” (Tr. G.W.Pope)

“This great rich earth over which the wind blows, is a witness that sorrow never comes upon the kind-hearted.” (Tr. W.H.Drew and John Lazarus)

“Misfortune the good-natured spares, the wind-tossed
Great cornucopian world bears ever testimony.” (Tr. T. Wignesan) 

allal=privation or affliction

arul=kindliness, benevolence

aalvaar(kku)=to those who manage or exercise; (ukku)=here denotes the dative case ending

illai=negation (no/not)

vali=wind

valangkum=passing round

mallal=abundance

ma=great

naalam=the pendant globe of earth

kari=witness



Now the task here for the poet is to put these senses of the words together in an arrangement of seven metrical feet to comply with the classical Tamil prosodic rules while incorporating certain rhetorical features, such as, initial rhyme (ethukai), alliteration (monai), exceptionally end-rhyme (iyaippu), typical to a particular metre called "venba".

Example of "ethukai": allal/mallal. The rules require that the rhyme must fall on the second syllable, here: "ll" or as pronounced “il”.

Example of "monai": line one = a/a/aa/i/ (according to the rules "a" and "i" (or as pronounced “e”) for the sake of alliteration are phonetic equivalents.

Feet: There are seven metrical feet in each "kural" or couplet or distique, four in the first line and three in the second, though now and then this pattern may be reversed.

The feet are represented by both the short syllable: "-" and the long: "_". This distique (given the lack of adequate diacritical signs on my computer) could be transcribed as follows:

-- --    -_ _ _ - -    --_    ----_

--_ _    _ --    --*

* lines above are short, lines below long.

In order to respect the brevity of these pithy sayings, the author has also to constrict the grammatical structure of the sentence (often a complex sentence with a main and a subordinate clause) by the adroit use of ellipses through omitting case endings or post-positional morphemes, etc., and by the use of substantives to take the place of verbs and by juggling the words in groups through meaningful juxtapositions.

To illustrate this device, see how he uses the negative particle "illai" placed further away from the noun "allal" which it qualifies; or see how he separates the epithet: "valivalangkum" from the "noun" it qualifies in the next line while interposing yet another two epithets in between. The last word, the seventh is almost always only made up of two short syllables.

Thiruvalluvar has had to cope with all these poetical and prosodic devices and literary embellishments, such as, the use of imagery, metaphor or simile, and even ambiguity, all through 1330 couplets, arranged according to thematic chapters of ten distiques apiece. This exercise in itself is a veritable achievement, not to mention the overall philosophic treatment of his thesis which is the admonishment of a way of life for a people in all the aspects of the domestic, amorous, social and political spheres of their existence.

Little wonder then why the Thirukkural has enjoyed the highest place of praise and pride in the hearts of an entire Tamil population which can boast of having engendered a totally unrelated/isolated family of languages in South India (including Brahui in present-day Pakistan) with a continuous corpus of literary masterpieces lasting over at least two-thousand three hundred years.  

  © T. Wignesan - Paris, 2017

Copyright © T Wignesan | Year Posted 2017

Details | Sonnet |

The Cutting-Room Floor

Something beautiful must be torn away
In order to see the beauty within
Lest my perception be led far astray
I dim the lights, distort my vision,
Assuring the audience all will be okay.
Unleashing an exhibition of lewd
Visuals, lurid deformities displayed,
Stitched in the fabric of something so crude.
The truth is that I’m not comfortable now,
Not ever, and I need to remove the pieces
That are superfluous to my empowerment
and the lessons that each word teaches
As I rip out the heart from the palette
The tongue is bestowed new florid pleasures.

Copyright © Samuel Lee | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |

In Between

There’s a moment when, crossing between two streetlamps, a double shadow appears,
arching from your fears, a body projected through years onto cracked concrete. 
So, stopping, you watch it split in separate directions, no fixed perfections, 
all later corrections point from now dividing as forces pull one into two, 
coloured red or blue at different ends of the spectrum, matter is best left some space,
life isn’t a race in the traditional sense, but against the perception of yourself.
Worrying is bad for your health, because as much as television may scream in your ear, 
grinding each individual gear, you need not wealth, 
but a hand to pick you up and dust you off when you fall,
no problem at all, giving pats on the back, setting the wheels back on the track,
in motion again you walk on from staring at your shadow, standing won’t help you grow.
And I know it says not to walk towards the light, but this time it’s alright, 
because looking back won’t help either. As a fighter, neither Rocky nor Rambo, 
you face the night ahead, spit to clear your mouth of lead, and strut on son, 
because you are only born once, and you only die once, 
but it’s what you do between the two that makes you awesome.

Copyright © Dan Keir | Year Posted 2012

Details | I do not know? |

Found

I read, I read,
The start of a seed
Begins to need
Water.

I see, I see,
Much larger than me
It soon will be
After.

I talk, I talk,
Beginning to walk
Down the mock
Pattern.

They say, they say,
I’m starting to stray,

Seen what’s not,
Fought what’s been,

Piecing together,
Matters forever,

I hear, I hear,
It’s nothing near
What began to rear
Faster.

I think, I think,
Beginning to drink
Of the fish in the pink
Cover.

I dream, I dream,
Of what is not seen 
And what has not been
Discovered.

Copyright © Mary White | Year Posted 2015

Details | Imagism |

Examination Room

Examination room
Is theater  of anxiety
Where examiner has
Surgeon’s knife ready
To cut the brain open
And expose quantity
Of foolishness hiding
Otherwise unknown

Copyright © Solomon Ochwo-Oburu | Year Posted 2017

Details | Rhyme |

The Fighting man- rewrite

He goes out armoured
In knowledge, brains and mind
He goes off to the war of no blood
Fought with the steady word

Infantry his words,
Artillery his wits,
His sarcasm bayonets,
his bombast cannon blasts

Diplomatic innuendoes
Philosophical crescendos
Are not mere statements
But victory bringing elements

He faints not and fights on
For himself, family and nation
The fighting man strives on
For his ideals, God and axioms

Who knows
He might just be victorious
In such importance
As to be more than that of guns and bombs

Copyright © Theophilus Ekpa | Year Posted 2016

Details | Haiku |

He came in Class

He came in class
hole in dress, bone in mouth
learners hid faces

Copyright © Solomon Ochwo-Oburu | Year Posted 2017

Details | Free verse |

Humans are not Apes

Humans are not Apes
to ape himself or others
In every human there lies
golden mine of ideas
tropical rain-forests of possibilities
deep sea treasure pearls of knowledge
Cumulonimbus clouds of wisdom
Through capacity to reason
by creative thinking
and power of imagination
unique, unknown things
can be conceived and hatched
new things that tell old ones
to sit under the shade to rest
as they create center-stage
for the visitors to ascend
to become new directors of life

Good governance is a nursery bed
oppression is a better seed-bed
human mind is a flowing river
dam it but it will create a new path
waves of creative thinking
storms of imaginative abilities
are like cough in the sick chest
they like love between the sexes
no one can dam them permanently

Copyright © Solomon Ochwo-Oburu | Year Posted 2017

Details | Epic |

Dressed fools

Dressed fools

Education with out common sense
Is equal  to calamity 

Education with out 
Love is equal to wars 

Education with out 
Spiritual knowledge 
Is equal to  ignorance

Eduction with out morals  values
 is equal to too many  
dressed fools 

Copyright © richard nnoli | Year Posted 2016