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.

You have an ad blocker! We understand, but...

PoetrySoup is a small privately owned website. Our means of support comes from advertising revenue. We want to keep PoetrySoup alive, make it better, and keep it free. Please support us by disabling your ad blocker on PoetrySoup. See how to enable ads while keeping your ad blocker active. Also, did you know you can become a PoetrySoup Lifetime Premium Member and block ads forever...while getting many more great features. Take a look! Thank you!

Metaphor Work Poems | Metaphor Poems About Work

These Metaphor Work poems are examples of Metaphor poems about Work. These are the best examples of Metaphor Work 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 | Free verse |

The Color Missing

The Color Missing
Red, black, and blue are the colors of our work pens. Red is the color of the blood we spill on other people’s mistakes.  Blue is the color of the songs we sing on tax forms or pay stubs- every page has a secret melody. Black is the color of the streets we fear most. Black is the color of our signature of approval. Black is the color of our death.

‘But what about the Green pens?’ I ask. They say ‘the ink is too hard to see.’

Copyright © Jacob Reinhardt | Year Posted 2013

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 | Free verse |


He was clay potato
in raspberry field
exposed, clumsy
between delicate gossip
     He turned his back
     fingers in fissures 
     abyss separating life
     from living
                       Hand with deep furrows 
                       built huge walls
                       rough rock
                       like he was
                Alone in one dream
                slalom, downhill
                white blindness
                held high above his head
                                    as a white feather
                                    against evening sky
                                    a bird from his hands
                                    light brightness
                                    A wish, unfulfilled


September 21, 2017
Copyright © Darren White

Copyright © Darren White | Year Posted 2017

Details | Haiku |


Teamwork could happen.
Challenge to get ahead now.
Expect some to crash.

Copyright © Scott Simmerman | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse |

Generic Minds

generic minds listen to generic music
have generic thoughts that are unknowingly abusive
watch generic things talk about generic things
gee this generic *****is spreading like a disease
better get your flu shot 
thats what they said to me
a suicidal vaccine 
a subliminal killing spree
its contagious and the outrageous
thing about it is that the people are blind in an eye
that they didn't even know they had
it's sickening to watch these clueless civilians 
inside the looking glass
with nightmares of being free
without a key to their mind
for it is trapped in the frequency
in the illusion of time
bathed in our universe
killing all that refuse to see
those that admit to hypocracy
or see the message in hip hop
how cant you see
the message in the lyrics that
bring adolescents to their knees
from bullet wounds conflicting their flesh
contradicting that they're the best
but the songs keep telling them that they dont need no rest
that they dont wanna go home
that they should ride alone
with the gat as their only companion
and so the only path they choose is the one that they're told
until they grow old and hope turns to a window pane
inside a window pane, until all they feel is pain
they realize that the music itself is ashamed
so whats to look up to
when you cant even speak when you cant even walk because you look so bleak
your eyes are sunken from the tv you're infested with the dee zees
now its too late to turn around and live for your conscious
so when youre screaming oh please
close your eyes and bring your mind to life
open your eyes for the first time
and never wonder why
since the answer this entire time
has been inside
and you better find it before you die
you dont want your soul to be in a pool with all the others
a buncha brothers missing their mothers
but only seeing strangers
only feeling the haters
wishing they would have used their minds when they had them
and now its too late,
now it's time for another new born fate to grab them

Copyright © Green Trees | Year Posted 2012

Details | Free verse |

Just Be

Sometimes I admire the littlest things
A simple rock. A blade of grass. 
They need no future goals, no tax exemptions
They don’t need to go anywhere or be anything
They just are. 

Sometimes, especially when I’m reading life insurance policies,
I envy the rocks and the grass
And try to be like them for a moment. 
I sit perfectly still and give myself to the wind-
And it whispers in my ear:
Just be.
And for that moment I don’t need to go anywhere or be anything.
And at the snap of my fingers, 
All the complex widgets and gizmos that make up my life
Fold into paper airplanes and fly off in the wind.

Jacob Reinhardt

Copyright © Jacob Reinhardt | Year Posted 2013

Details | Epic |


                  >>1111>>EVIL vs CONSCIOUSNESS<<1111<<


I’m not to blame that my aim’s to hide the TRUTH
I’ll emulate Consciousness tricking the deceived into their Nooses,
I’m what you call evil, our spirits are not the same,
The fact you haven’t claimed the masses is really a shame,
I’m the characteristics they love, your stuff is boring,
I am crafty and like to party, you’re hearty and not fly,
I’m a Sheppard in disguise, I can lie, and you choose to lose,
My name is Lucifer, First in command, in control, and after your soul.


Who are you to step to me? Can’t you see?
You’re shameless, useless, with a cognition deficiency,
You got no wisdom because you’re focused on nothing,
Not even one thing, no productive activity,
I’ve heard what you say, it’s not worthy of worship,
You’re sloppy, you will never stop me, you’re a waste of space,
That deceitful, awful demeanor you call your voice,
I will shut it down, you don’t have a choice!


Ring the Alarm, you should know, on a chart it would show I’m winning,
Sinning people is what keeps this world spinning,
You could’ve removed me right from the start,
But no, A Divine plan is what was planned from your heart,
You were stupid and claim to lose when it comes down to it,
Had the chance to kill me, but because of your ways you blew it,
As for your powers, you forget how to use them,
You built a whole universe but no one knows your anthem,
You call it sin, and so do I, so let’s sum this up,
Come, drink, from my sacred cup?
I speak to other gods and it always impresses,
You’re just a weak Hebrew god, come on you need to confess this!


That’s right, CONSCIOUSNESS is my name, and I’m the best at this game
Which means you’re under my control because you left your claim,
You deceived man to eat the apple so this is ya karma,
And now you need a savior to save ya
I’m Love, Strength, Wisdom and transcendent
You’re the evilest role model while I am wisdom sent,
You’re the underdog demigod, yes, forgotten and gone,
I’m the best, don’t detest, I’ll literally destroy you,
So step aside and fly away, go find a place to dwell,
You’re gone forever now, yes I’m Universal Consciousness right now!

>>1111>>QUINCY MAC<<1111<<

date written: 21.11.2015 

NOTE: I have changed righteousness to CONSCIOUSNESS for valid reasons :) 24.11.2015

Copyright © Quincy Mac | Year Posted 2015

Details | I do not know? |

I Don't Care

I Don't Care...

I don't care,
if you're battered black and blue,

I don't care,
just as long as I can drink and screw.

I don't care,
if you've lost your damn job,

I don't care,
you're just a kernel off the cob.

I don't care,
when I see you begging in the street,

I don't care,
I get to suckle on capitalism's raw teat.

I don't care,
about the elderly, the poor, or the weak,

I don't care,
if the earth will be inherited by the meek.

I don't care,
if the climate is warming, I'm so much cooler,

I don't care,
in my penthouse I'm the boss, the only ruler.

I don't care,
for those rolling for scraps in the muck,

I don't care,

I really don't care, cos' I don't give a f**k

inspired by Bob Geldof's "The Great Song of Indifference"

Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses | Year Posted 2013

Details | Rhyme |


Nail fools when I bang this hammer, construction worker

I use my tool, that's my chick, I love to work her

Ain't putting her on the strip, no prostitution

She's my problem solver, always got a solution

Put haters to sleep, tuck 'em, not in the bed

Love to give head, no sucking, fill the dome with lead

Me and her have intercourse, love to bust

A wonderful relationship, filled with trust

I'm twisted, like an almond, I'm a nut

Loose screws, gonna force me to tighten ya'll up

Crazy, Bang! Now ya' really lost ya' minds

Mess around and squeal, skin you pigs, call that pork-rinds

Demolition, I level fools, leave 'em flatline

Better not slip up, I'll run down on you, like your spine

Haters wanna hate, it's time to segregate

The real from the fake, hope you can relate

Backstabbing fools, smile in your face

That's why I'm handy, the hammer's on my waist

Mess around, make me catch a big case

Gotta' get away, try and make some space

Hopping on planes, to get away from lames

'Bout to change my name, ain't switching my game

Can't trust haters, trying to mess up your life

They're filled with strife, cut 'em off, where's my knife

They done made me mad, go grab my tools

For my craft, time to put work on these fools

Copyright © Arcene Janvier | 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 | Clerihew |

Not, yet

I dreamt myself as poet-frog
And good Fancy` Fairy
Would stoop to pick my verse…
But she didn`t come.

Copyright © Ovidiu Bocsa | Year Posted 2012

Details | Free verse |

About The Work


   Basking in the glory of yesterday can throw shade 
                      on the duties of today.
       Create a new fabric,be renewed,be refined
                          Be replenished
                      Old accomplishments 
                      need be tucked away 
              In the safekeeping of darkness.

          We meditate too long,on memories gone.
                    Basking in yesterday's glory

                          Yesterday's pain
                      is like a mother mourning 
                   A dead child while ignoring the 
                             Ones still living.

                Its seems wiser to visit the past.
            Returning to the future with relevance
                       Restoring lost arts.
                            "Old Technics "
                        Still require new thread.

                    Cloth left in the light too long will
              Give into withering,fading and shredding.
              Be about the work that now needs doing.

Copyright © Vicki Acquah | Year Posted 2015

Details | I do not know? |

The Petty Posh-WahZee - Liberation and Ostentation

The Petty Posh-Wahzee - Liberation & Ostentation

The Not-So Distant Past:

The fallen fighters for freedom, are unable to turn in their graves,
their battered, fragmented bones, mixed with a handful of torn rags,
are all that remain, a mute reminder of their selfless valiant sacrifice.

They endured brutal Apartheid harassment, detentions without trial,
torture in the cells, and mental anguish when loved ones disappeared,
they left their homeland, to continue the struggle against racial bigotry,
while countless others fought the scourge of white-minority rule at home.

Nelson Mandela and many, many others, spent their lives imprisoned,
on islands of stone, and on islands of the cruellest torture, yet they stood,
never bowing, never scraping, they stood, firm for ideals for which they were prepared to die,

and many, many comrades did die, at the hands of the callous oppressor,
and many, many comrades perished in distant lands, torn from their homes,
while the struggle continued, for decades, soaked in blood, in tears, in pain.

The Present:

19 years have passed, since freedom was secured at the highest of prices,
delivering unto us, this present, a gift of emancipation from servitude,

a freedom to walk this land, head held high, no longer second-class citizens,
in the land of our ancestors, whose voices we hear and need to heed today.

I do not care much for fashion, Lewis-Fit-On and Sleeves unSt.-Moron,
yet the ostentation that I witness baffles even my unsophisticated palate,

our ancestors' plaintive whispers are being dismissed, left unheeded, as
we browse the aisles for more and more, always for more and yet more.

Asphyxiated by the excess of the Petty Posh-Wahzee, we find ourselves,
perched precariously on the edge, of a dissolution of all that is humane,

babies go hungry, wives are battered, our elders left in hospitals for hours,
I cringe as I scribble these words, perhaps too sanctimonious and preachy,

yet I know, deep in the marrow of my brittle bones, I know, I know, I know,
this tree of freedom planted by the nameless daughters and sons of Africa,

needs to be shielded, nurtured, protected from our very own baser impulses,
so that the precious tree of freedom, may bear the fruit that may feed us all,

for if not, then we are doomed, to tip over, and into the yawning abyss, we shall fall.

Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses | Year Posted 2013

Details | Lyric |

I Can't Say It Without You

I was your never ending composer
We spent many a nights, and many an hour together
But now you’re lost inside
And I can’t find my way, again.

( chorus )
Cause I can’t say it without you		
It hurts to be without the feeling		
Never knowing when it will return		
But I know that you would stay with me	
If you came back, again some day		
But till then I’ll wait till you appear.	

I really miss the way you make me feel
People said we were meant to be together
Why’d you leave me so unexpectedly
I hope you come back soon.

( Chorus )

It’s been two months since I’ve written you
All I’ve got to show is crumpled bits of paper
The passion and creativity is now gone
So come back home so I can work it out.	

Copyright © John Paluszek | Year Posted 2013

Details | Haiku |

The Boss - Maybe Tomorrow

With the boss pulling and the workers pushing, with the Square Wheels on the wagon and the round wheels in it:

The boss views the path.
Roll forward faster better.
Maybe tomorrow...

Copyright © Scott Simmerman | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse |

The Sculptor

I feel Him chip away at my flesh.
The vibrations shake to my bones.
Pieces that were once part of me now fall helplessly to the floor.

Every scrape of the chisel,
Every pound of the hammer,
Every piece that is broken from me stings with immense pain.

Why doesn't He stop?
Why is The Sculptor so cruel?
Doesn't He realize that each swing He takes is a nightmare to me?

I would be better off as stone that was never touched,
I would be more content without the suffering that comes apon me,
But I wouldn't be a work of art.

Each chip of the chisel is intended to remove a piece that shouldn't be there.
Each pound of the hammer is meant to force the hideous fragments far from me.
Each move The Sculptor makes, takes me closer to His plan for me.

I must trust, knowing that He never takes off too much.
I must be ready, knowing that He never leaves His work incomplete.
I must be thankful, knowing that I am being made beautiful in His eyes.

The acute pain is only a short part of His plan.
The lasting anguish fades in its own time.
Though heart, and soul, and body all grieve, the permanent state will be that of finished work.

I may not know the reason for each strike,
I may not know the fault with each sundered chunk,
And I may never know.

I know the sting of the chisel now,
I know The Sculptor has a plan,
My part is to trust that He will not work forever ... but that He will be done.

Copyright © Bradley Musgrave | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |

It's Just Time

It's just time to get things done. Like moving all those old clutter from that place to another. It's just time I think to rise above and not be stuck in the mire. It's just time to put it to rest even for another day that would be best. It wouldn't be so bad if we were not all the time sad. However, it's that time to get things done. while leaving it sure to some other one.

Copyright © Marilyn Williams | Year Posted 2016

Details | Haiku |

If bosses would listen

With the wagon rolling forward on Square Wheels and a cargo of round rubber tires, the wagon pushers need change.

Are Bosses unaware?
Square Wheels are always thumping.
Listen. Small improvements here.

Copyright © Scott Simmerman | Year Posted 2014

Details | Quintain (English) |

Puzzle Me Not

When I awake to winter skies of gray
And poetry that would defy my mind,
I'm not tempted its phrases to display
In hope some gem of wisdom I might find
For such a task I'm truly disinclined.

Nor do I bother with  careless poet
Who has not pride to edit chosen word.
Neither he nor spell check seems to know it,
Same sound, another spelling is preferred.
The one he's used is just a bit absurd.

To be sure there are poets in our band,
Who turn a phrase in a peculiar way,
Well worth the time it takes to understand,
So richly clever they deserve a stay.
You'll find them in our pages here today.

I love poems with soft and easy flow,
Not writings that assault my intellect.
Spot of wisdom or bit of "in the know"
And a new metaphor just for effect,
Is enough for most readers, I suspect.

Copyright © Joyce Johnson | Year Posted 2012

Details | Bio |

Why I write

I write because my father died
For there are feelings I no longer can hide

I write to swallow tears when they let me down
To overcome fears that ever caused me fright

I write to forget past plight
So that I can sleep during long winter night
So I can believe I could touch the sky
Even if I’m too short to reach so high

I write to comprehend what I am
To explore what floats in the air
To understand why roses are red
To express my deep affection to Her

I write because I dare
To share joys and sorrows
No matter if they care

Copyright © Lukasz Walterowicz | Year Posted 2013

Details | Haiku |

Square Wheels on the wagon, Round Wheels IN it

The landscape. No blame.
Should have been designed downhill.
Thumping could be fixed.

Copyright © Scott Simmerman | Year Posted 2014

Details | Epic |

Back with Poetry Vengeance

Back with poetry vengeance,
Don’t fear this, Transcendence 
Or from the Abyss?
Elohim’s Prince,
Or a Demonic Word Smith with written myths? 
These flames destroy man’s deceitful tactics and machines,
Once seen……. 
Story Rhymes dreamt and told, 
To the seekers of old,
Forging letters, letter by letter into molded gold,
From a strong mind design, Atomically Solid,
Religiously polished daily, 
Wise knowledge instead of gossip’s absolute threshold,
Installed to the hard drive, 
And filed to the archive,
Thriving components loaded,
Aimed, locked on and spoken,
For the wisest wise who maximize and utilize their guide,
Allies of another kind, 
Side by side,
Third eye activated inside,
The mind can be like a hive,
This is nice, a system working as a whole, 
Best way to achieve is knowing your role,
Conscious of being consciously aware,
Unfolding outcomes can either scare or bring knowledge from elsewhere,
If you believe in a Christian god…….. say your prayers, 
Despair will bring fear and nightmares may appear,
Into a common collective actuality, 
But if you’re self-aware and can’t be compared,
To anyone! This is the one hearing with what’s between his ears?
Yes given thanks to an unknown source throughout the years,
Led by curiosity, imagination bringing interesting concepts, 
Feeding mechanics of belief into thoughts,
Knowing leaves its challenger beneath your footstool, lower levels,
It fought a nice round but now the fight is over,
With devils within the brain motor, many just see a blur,
Learning to learn is the beginning, it wouldn’t hurt to get your synapses going,
Conditioned to mundane laymen ways shown to us with after effects,
That is what’s showing me we need to continuously question a lot of things, 
The root problem, bringing what comes next, 
Smooth moves moving my movements detect different subjects,
An investment, wisdom sets the example of a shield giving you some safety,
These get in between the conditioned and free thought minded psyches,
We all need to be aware of the thief, that strikes and leaves undetected,
Knowledge of the tree, forbidden and hidden,
Using a psychological tool of deceit and now your purpose is infected,
Wreck this because it’s suspicious activity on your viewing screen,
In between the lines define the lives we are living,
Beamed in or out of your physical eye’s, 
Our mind seeks to know why which one is wiser,
The thought processor flies high to visualize like an eagle in the sky,
Can see everything at height with the clouds, and above, 
Also there’s loud stuff, I’ve had enough, 
Why do people love society’s unstable ways?
That sway the connection of consciousness, lately at a higher rate,
Distaste for this foul way of life, I hate it! And I’m not down with conspiracies!!!
Is what I see ALL IN MY HEAD?!!!! Or does it exist, covered with ignorant bliss in this system?
Creating an illustration, to most are confusing, not using ya third eye,
Aware of this vision of another kind, 
Stoking the flame into rewind, fast instead of slow,
We flow and find wise knowledge,
Sweet like chocolate fulfilling its cravers craving,
Stating what I see with figurative writing,
Typing and finding narratives that need saving,
Paving the surface of my pathway,
Upon a strong foundation, “work in progress”,
To myself I pray and stay focused every day. 

Quincy Mac
Date Written: 8.8.2016

Copyright © Quincy Mac | Year Posted 2016

Details | Tail-rhyme |

Paradise Women

The one for whom literati’s at quiet, 
Mysterious, invisible could only imagine at sight, 
Enchant beauty captivate hundred hearts, 
Naïve glimpse can bewilder this world site, 
The best Eden abode where thee dwell, 
Essence with flipped pain might be well, 
Beginning to end, hoped this to befell, 
Cause intruder thoughts can’t be Quell, 
The worth of whom is pre-written, 
Won’t thou catch thee, with desultory walk in, 
Endow of her to follow Almighty Will, 
Synoptic praise of  her is not hidden, 
Will wed to a paradise women, 
Blue eyes, fluffy cheeks and intact human, 
Of which there be the distinct one, 
Assumed to be with her, not an omen, 
Ideate, if she put on silk attire, 
Cosmos world burn to fire, 
Enriched with pure affection and sublime beauty, 
Of before worthless the charm of Hawaii pier.

M. Shahid H. Chouhdry

Copyright © M. Shahid H. Chouhdry | Year Posted 2013

Details | Lyric |

Hardened Souls

Written October 5, 2015

Souls hardened by the stones from an eternity
of grinding salt in the wounds of this machine
Eyes fixed like a lion hunting for its sub-Saharan prey
Yet glazed
Scanning the tin rooftops and glass coffins that imprison
Wondering if repetition will ever give way

Copyright © Brandon Carter | Year Posted 2016

Details | Haiku |

ER Doc

Clock punched, bloody scrubs,
"Leave your work AT work", they say ...
But I wear it home.

Copyright © Gregory R Barden | Year Posted 2016

Details | Cowboy |

Walk your line

Walk your Line 

A word to the blind:
From the day your first mount and ride
Till the moment you die
Walk your line
Walk proud and high
Through each and every wreck your stride unwinds
Walk your whole heart
spine upright
till it breaks if you like
But drink the whole pint down
and with an appetite for burning in the stirrups
See if you can swallow the time. 

Walk, right away from your childhood dreaming
lay it beneath your feet in caliche
And when you're yearning most to tie on a tourniquet 
Telling yourself you deserve it
stay in line, as you're not entitled to anything. 
Never more a burden then when asking for money
and worthless for thinking of quitting
cuz there's nothing in the world worth half it's weight 
unless for it you're bleeding. 

Your life's only worth your life's work
the grinding gears in your temple, spinning
Always on time, you can count on it 
strides lengthening
but despite it all you'll walk well beyond all you thought
you'd get
When you first agreed to begin
When for what you signed on for you've nearly forgot
Some crockpot reason to pursue a living 
in what to most is only a vacant lot
You'll have to walk to the empty spot on the map
just past where your mom and dad had given up. 

And then keep walking
Bypassing your own bragging rights stopped dead in their tracks
and all parts plastic inside you have snapped in half
In fact, you'll soon be worn so far past the point of no return 
to think you were actually born on its welcome doormat.

Everything is past the big fancy hat
walk, before your feet get frozen, stuck to the bar 
for something more than can be bought no matter who you are
To be the one who takes it this far
and to become the soul of the man
as if you've finally landed – working for the homeland
Riding for the brand, cuz you were given a single chance
And walk for the credit of at least one loop correctly cast
and for the wisdom of knowing if and when to turn em back
or hang on for dear life like you've dallied your own hand. 

And stick by the very skin of your big toenail, as you pitch in the norther winds
just trying to send you clear to rock bottom
and only then, they might not prevail.

So go on out, the time is now
Walk high and proud, and take a breath in town
then keep being the nail, always driving deeper down
never quit walking the sacred ground you're standing on now

If you think you love that gal.

Copyright © Trey Pearson | Year Posted 2016

Details | I do not know? |

No Fariy Tales Allowed

Wire the letter
Enter the weather
Make a script
Be nice

Copyright © Jimmi Canada | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |

Metaphoric Maze

Metaphoric Maze
Still damp from the wash of a waking dream I realize the pain from the past and how much 
its lied
Although not by force I was led to believe in the dimmest of truths thus kept awash in grief 
All of the many things now remade as they truly were splendid things simple hidden treasure
Grasping at the meaning from the other side of the murky metaphor is finally a thing not so 
It has always been worth the while even as the seconds have become long yet timeless years
My epic life a work of art the masters of fate around me still hard at work in bliss and 
As I look down on the tableau from where I’ve become the high road, I can see it very 
clearly now
It has never been the easy path filled with twist, turns, danger, and despair but so worth it all
Erected by cause and effect as a monument for later travelers to ponder as they reach for 
the summit  
Yes as feeble as it may seem the wizened ones were so right, the journey is its own reward

Copyright © Edward Ford | Year Posted 2010

Details | Rhyme |

Staged Recovery

The cleansing heat of the midday sun
Warms my soul
The ladder proffered down to escape my hole
I sit, we sit, they sit
The aches take their toll

Copyright © The Red Rain | Year Posted 2013

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