klausie little exposed again.' yet but shrinking
Interest i have to pen.' Maybe some trans-formers
Would like to play? Yet I think? poor old Klausie
Will soon, be in the closet to stay.'
Italics, seek to emphasize.
Sacrifice, thy spill.
Seer and prophet, inner eyes.
Oracle, see nil.
Happiness, thy fate is doom.
Engraved on a tomb.
Belladonna, thy full bloom.
Heart of mine? No room...
Wind, carry the sparks of fire.
Cicadas, shriek loud.
Blessed is a dark desire?
Humble thus the proud.
Union of tomorrow?
It's got to start today.
Soil, what is thy sorrow?
Whene'er I blow away.
Castle weighted down with ice?
Well, 'twill stop a siege.
Penury, plight, poison, price.
Light a match, my liege.
Wicker man, thy nick'ring mare.
Fingernails to pare.
Death arises from despair?
Bet I'll see you there.
Hair beneath a river's flow?
Warrior, you slipped.
Gold: the reason all men go!
Quahog, how you quipped!
Tympani, train thy temper.
Tomorrow, tamarisk.
Tale and talent, take the tour.
Time the torrent brisk...
With a fist full of daggers it descends upon its prey
Dropping like a meteor without the light of day
But no rocky harbinger, this bearer of last light
It's gift eternal night borne on the softest wing of flight
Envy, and wonder, consume the pondering breast
Was it oversight or blunder that left us so unblest
Since the point where first we leapt, we long have sought the wing
Yet clumsy sad contrivance is all that we can bring
'sif chitin brought to shiny curve, could match the kite its wing
Still our eyes reach skyward, as if prince had been king
Our reach forever past our grasp… we're left to pine and sing
Oh we can bring the night to those we deem worthy of rest
But soaring on the breath of life is not how we've been blest
But rest assured in this one thing we share with those of wing
Squawk, or screetch, or melody, we too, can laugh and sing
Breathe deep as though it be your last, and fill your soul with song
Then let fly with the breath of life… sing loudly, if not long
It might be a tragedy,
Might be something unethical,
Might be a disaster,
Waiting to happen somehow soon.
It is no bigger than a cyclone,
But it overflows tremendously.
It might not be just a slaughter,
But it might be something physical yet emotional.
There might be a paradise,
There might be a homicide,
There might be a genocide
In the mind of an idiot.
There might be blood on white satin,
It might be chaos within;
Something so cynical,
Yet it looks like a miracle.
This is the breakthrough,
From the surface to the veil underneath.
I wanted to tell you this secret for so long,
You might know it from the very beginning!
Upon our wicked heads–rain down
Your lovesick gift;
Of cloudy birthright,
Enthrall my vile seas–
Make heaven of
This autumn forest;
I wait to rot
Amidst your trees.
On the twenty-first of September, 2025,
I, Helios, god of the Sun,
entered the Sixth House
and found Virgo waiting—
the Virgin, radiant,
her light softer than dawn.
Her beauty was not flesh alone,
but the balm of the wounded soul,
a healer of what is broken.
I said, “Let us celebrate,
for the eclipse belongs to us.”
Virgo smiled, yet whispered,
“What if Luna, your wife, finds us?”
And I replied, “Fear not—
she will only pass by in silence.
For tonight, I dwell in your house.”
I gazed into her eyes
and kissed her with the fire of the Sun.
Yet as my flame longed to consume her,
she wept and said,
“I am a Virgin—
I can only unite in the intercourse of souls.”
And so it was:
in that sacred eclipse,
I entered not her body but her spirit,
and I was made whole for the first time.
Refinement, purity, and sorrow
were written upon my light.
But the shadow moved,
Luna returned to her throne,
and Virgo faded back into silence.
Since then I burn in the sky,
forever longing for the Virgin
who healed me once,
yet can never be mine.
drum crumb
sum gum
hum mum
O my shadow, sail away.
Be thou far from me.
Morning deadly, thou art grey.
Poison, hear my plea.
Torn apart, O tones of time?
Nerves inside us, roil.
Countenance of bitter crime!
Belladonna, boil!
River, in thy deepest cave.
Giant, see thy grave.
Sidewalk cracked and needing pave.
Savior, time to save.
Armies of forgotten gone!
Tend thy fiercest rage!
Blackout, blossom! O my swan!
Broken, O my cage!
Automaton, mad machine!
Envy turned them green!
Roundabout run red! I deen?
Just what have I seen?
Moon above, thy fullest.
Lunatic, thy fringe.
Fill the brazen bull? Best!
Murder, on the binge!
Great queens, from thy black abyss!
Give the end a kiss!
Such a night! What lurked in this?
Serpent, time to hiss!
Hope, accrue? What do we do?
Magnetize the flue!
Stick together just like glue!
Make the whole world new...
A SERENITY OF PRELUDE REALITY
(A Haiku Of Hope’s Coming)
Hate trying to climb,
Naturing winds of peace blowing;
Love breezing hate down:-
HATE’S MONGERING GRIEF
(A Couplet Quintet)
Hate attempting to destroy love,
Has yet to realize loves permanency:-
While Hell’s fires have their longevity,
They’re no match for the waters of love:-
Remember, Pontius did not wash hands with love,
As did Jesus with the washing of his brother’s feet:-
Buoyed and/or swimming in waters of love,
Will always surpass burning in the fires of hell:-
In every experience in the life we live,
Where love resides, hate cannot abide:-
IN ECHOED MEAN SORROWS TO HER
(A Tanka Duet)
Peace rang the doorbell:
“Sorry, you’re at the wrong door.”
“We only do wars:-”
At the next door, she heard:
“Sorry, we’ve no vacancies.”
Moving on, peace heard,
“Your sorry butt got some nerves!”
“Get the hell away!”
In sorrow, Peace keeps belling;
Hoping one day, its God’s door:-
When you learn that your heroes are demons
And nothing lives up to its promise
And that all this time, you were only dreaming
And there never was such a thing as ‘honest’
Disappointment
Deflation
It’s a saddening situation
So screw up the compass
Fire the brand
Keep setting the course for sturdy land
But don’t look to me for navigation,
Ye sailors of the drowning heart
When that whale of your loss outwits you
And you’re hobbled and crippled, not a leg to stand on
May your friends be there when it suddenly hits you
There's at least one post you can abandon
(Called life)
Disappointment
Deflation
It’s a maddening situation
So screw up the compass
Fire the brand
Keep setting the course for sturdy land
But don’t look to me for navigation,
Ye sailors of the drowning heart
When the sails of clarity cease to guide you
Or protect you from the swirls of Sirens,
There’s this stubborn and strange little fire inside you
With the patience of saints and the pride of lions
Set your moral compass
And fire the brand
Keep setting the course for sturdier land
But don’t look at me for navigation,
Ye sailors of the drowning heart
Five days late…
His birthday almost forgot-
but not quite…
The hurt lingered deep.
A small package arrived
addressed to him--
Special
from Dad.
Inside: a watch.
A big boy gift,
for sure.
Gold and bright,
crystal light,
backstamped RollX--
a boy’s treasure,
for sure
Too large for his wrist.
No matter.
He would grow tall,
just like his Dad.
The watch was perfect,
just like it was,
Worn each day with pride--
a symbol
of genuine love and dedication…
How priceless
he was in Dad’s eyes…
Proof.
Scratches
and a flaking finish
didn’t matter.
Neither did
the crack across the face,
or the fact
that it always read
a bit after two.
A good polish--
and it was
good as new.
Like the day
he got it.
Five days late.
glossy black feather,
lost in the human shadow
ibis fades from sight.
It's been a while since I've prayed for someone I don't know
A siren brought the mind afoot to somewhere I should go
'sif wakening vestigial impulse buried long ago
Sunk deep beneath incline that's keeping me from what's below
But something in our makeup made up by a stronger hand
Is there if we but care for care and follow it's command
For even when we scraped our knuckles 'cross a barren land
We somehow knew alone alone is not how we were planned
Specific Types of Allegory Poems
Definition | What is Allegory in Poetry?
Poems Related to Allegory
figuration, parable, emblem, myth, symbol, story, tale, moral, fable, symbolism, apologue, symbolization, typification,