Best Allegoryday Poems


Premium Member The Traveler and the Rose

A strange blue rose - alone
midst an array of clustered flowers -
a few of them her friends -
the shy violets, lovely white lilies, and bold marigolds.
In the gracious garden spot the traveler singled her out -
his gaze resting admiringly upon her.
Each day as he passed that spot,
she was the one he sought. . . 

And day by day the traveler came around,
speaking through the fence softly in sweet sounds
that wafted her way with the wind.
Persistent wasp, in guise of a honeybee,
he tried so hard to wear that flower down. . . 
till unexpectedly, he strode right through the gate,
and blissfully ignorant of a rose's care,
plucked her up, swept her high up into the air,
and uprooted that blue rose from her safe soil.

But he did not a gardener make.
Knowing nothing of roses,
he knew very little of any flower he pursued.
Moreover, one mere blue rose cannot long compete
with the other bright fanciful flowers
which, along that traveler's path, he was sure to meet.

Those soft whispered words
that caressed her blossomed cheek
soon ceased.
And the water to her soul (if a rose has a soul,
he did not care to know), stopped its flow. 
Scars he left -
new thorns on her stem that grew outward
from his cruel cut, 
but she'd go on. . . . 

Long time replanted now in solid refuge ground,
the strange blue rose
has gained self-understanding,
that one thing for himself (she imagines)
which the traveler she so briefly knew
has never found.

Premium Member The Cozzie Switch

My golden dog,
two days after his death
I can still smell his fur
in my nose,
in my brain.
After frantic efforts,
we shared his last breath.
I watch the life leave
his eye.
His name was Cosmos and
I think there is a switch
on the spirally DNA
that's turned on more
for some than most.
Those that have it must beware
that it can take them
to their deaths.
Those that love them must be aware
that it can take them
to their death.
Cozzie's mother knew,
it is typical of the breed
to have the switch turned on.
She always held back a little perhaps
knowing where her genes
could take her.
I always sensed a certain sadness
as her doofus son bounced around
trying to please her,
please me,
please everyone!
Lick,licks, licks,
a thousand licks,
even for the cats he shared
a household with.
I think that his mother knew
where it would all end,
out on a walking trail
on a beautiful day,
doing what Cozzie love best,
pulling us all down the trail,
determined always to be first,
dutifully stopping at stop signs,
ready to take off
when given the "O.K".
There came a time in every walk,
that I didn't take seriously enough, 
when he would say, "enough!",
and lay panting in the weeds,
embarrassed to be seen, 
and we would wait,
until he was ready
to resume the lead,
apologetically wagging his tail,
for the momentary delay.
This was a normal day and 
I trusted nature to set the boundaries
never suspecting that Cozzie's switch
was turned too high,
pushing him beyond endurance,
just to please.
The day came when his big body
collapsed in the weeds,
and he could not get up,
panting for his life,
and apologized to the end,
for his inability to please.
If only we could hold back those
with the Cozzie switch
and make them understand
that half a big heart
is enough.

On Father's Day

On Father’s Day I too want to give you a gift My Son
To Manas
who is a young Power Engineer


On Father’s Day I too want to give you a gift My Son
A legacy of determinations and desires
Of living in Happiness in every situation of life.
The highest goals of life can only be achieved 
By those who believe in converting every struggle
A stair to rise up more in life.

Problems and difficulties of life my son
Are blessings of God to put you on stride.
Failures too are meant to make your efforts
More shining and meaningful for your life.

If you want to rise-up high in the sky
You will have to dive deep in your life,
If you want to touch the lofty heights
Never forget the ground
From where you got your first light.

Producing light and giving it to others, 
Is not an ordinary work of life, My son,
With this feeling, if you comply your works
The glory of doing something for a noble cause
Would give you the wealth of Happiness throughout your Life.


Ravindra K Kapoor
Kanpur India  19th June 2011


Premium Member A Rainy Day In November

It’s a rainy day in November
The sun I can’t remember
It’s dark when I rise
    And to no surprise
        It’s dark when the work day ends.

It was a rainy day in November
The year I can’t remember
She packed her stuff
    And left in a huff
        As our marriage came to an end.

All my days are rainy Novembers
No more fire in the embers
Twelve months a year
    My sky never clears
        Happiness, I can only pretend.

It’s a rainy day in November
I wrote a letter that I’ll never send her
I did her wrong
    Now I sing this song
        With a refrain that never ends.

It’s a rainy day in November…
© Joe Flach  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Lyric

Rawsome

Rawsome
It is indestructible and Rawsome,
Something Raw, Pure and Awesome,
Build it, misuse it, try to destroy it from within,
Before today Rawsome had never been,
When you combine it’s elements into a single alloy,
It’s Rawsome attributes can bring on tears of joy,
When the hard work of the day is done,
Some beers and Rawsome friends drinking in the Sun,
The day that my oldest son was born,
Was a Rawsome day I will remember forever more,
Another Rawsome day in my life,
Was the day I met my Rawsome Wife.
© Ross Levan  Create an image from this poem.
day
Form:

Tally Ho

Another day in paradise; where all the ladies sing;
With their honey tasting ruby lips; and their garments that do cling.
    And Jimmy sings of unknown soldiers; to the timed and the weak;
    And Edgar speaks his darkest lines; on a mountain of Twin Peaks.
A tiny little field mouse; gathers scattered crumbs;
Then takes it to its nesting place; where mothers never done.
     And the blue jay takes his shinny things; the ones he likes the best;
     And it turns to watch the night come round; as the sun sets in the west.
As we live here in our cavern’s where fires the only light;
It casts its shadow on the wall; and we deem that to be right.
    No one ever climbs the ladder; that could take them to the sun;
    Where the clarity of light it brings; could be a freedom when we’re done.
And in the master chambers; on a bed with satin sheets;
The lady with her chains and whips; will help you feel complete.
    Living in the darkness; where the only light is fire;
    Burns away our better parts; that will turn into a mire.
And it’s another day in paradise; and the summer does its thing;
And such a lovely day it is; when you hear the song birds sing
Form: Rhyme


Light Stands Out

It comes as day eclipses   						 
like faded sheets of grey                        				             
moment to moment to black  					               
even here light shines through  						  
The smallest step crickets stop their orchestra                                                               
silent and still they resume     						    
It comes as day eclipses						 
like purple strands still grasping for life  					    
tic-tock tic tock to ebony  					               
even here light shine through    						 
Fears and lore written here reading by fire 	                                                                    
It comes as day eclipses                                                                                                   
It goes as day transits  					                 
like pulling back a hue less veil                 					 
time after time till bright                                     				    
A loud step birds flushed a new song                                                                                
singing also alight they rest                                                                                             
It goes as day transits                                           				 
like purple strands still grasping for life    				               
meter by meter to light                                                                                                 
even here darkness resides                                                                                     
Written here psalms and comfort reading by water 				    
It goes as day transits
© John Beam  Create an image from this poem.

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