Best Allegoryme Poems


Paper

I am what I meet in
My mirror; a reflection
Of perception, an idea
That’s me. I am a bunch
Of parts, named like 
Constellations of stars
Real enough but labels all
The same. I am me and this;
Fleshy bipedal creature
That snorts and dozes and
Walks and talks and wonders
About, well everything.
I am a legacy of things gone
Before; the result of aeons
Of complex activity, of which
I am ignorant. I am what comes
Before things that will happen
Of which I am ignorant. I am a
Paper boat, riding a stream
Catching glimpses of dreams
That pass me by as I soak it
Up so much that I dissolve
And finally die!
Form:

My Bathroom Mirror

My bathroom mirror amplifies
tired eyes and lines of discontent
a harsh reminder of the unfairness of life
and forces me to stare in the face
the cards I have been dealt but cannot change
I am not vain, but the bathroom mirror
believes that I am, prodding my esteem
with it's taunting illusion of superficial
desires and making me sick with longing
for all the things I do not have

Frowns furrow into my brow
and once carefree features twist
with violent acknowledgement
that I cannot go back and undo the undone
the bathroom mirror plays tricks on us all
waiting for those quiet moments
when we doubt ourselves and resolve
to change who we are entirely

But we would not have got this far
in life without being ourselves
and the bathroom mirror is a terror
that reflects back regret
and long lost dreams
failures and good times lost
the bathroom mirror amplifies
tired eyes and lines of discontent
a harsh reminder of the unfairness of life
and that's why I rarely look at it.
© Lisa Cole  Create an image from this poem.

Mutiny

Sifting through blood & marrow
Excavating remnants of my heart
Trying to piece together
The reason for my treason
Nervously sitting upon the judgment seat
Twiddling my guilt away
Beads of blood mix with perspiration 
As the adversary begins to interrogate
No amount of negotiation 
Can save me from my sins
No amount of apologies 
Can erase the pain I've inflicted
Upon so many innocent souls
Time soon reveals herself my enemy
Laying accusation before the jury
Needless sorrow floods the heart
Regret pierces sun dried skin
Cutting sharper than any blade can cut
Frustration finds itself within the constraints of my mind
Leaving me to wallow in mutiny
Before my wake.
© Skyy Allen  Create an image from this poem.


A Turtle's Throne

Standing in a foreign nation, fragrance from a fresh cremation
Lost and long forgotten by the beasts that roamed my home
Nights are dark and gloomy but the tundra’s so damn roomy 
Here is where I want to be so leave me standing here alone
Here I stand a man with quill in hand is all I own
That, my crown and throne

Walking on the sandy beaches, there I saw the strangest creatures 
Living in a unison together on their own
Then behind the bushy myrtle, hid the cowardly old turtle
“Don’t be hiding there old turtle, don’t be hiding all alone!”
But the turtle stayed behind the bush beneath a stone
This, he calls his throne

Night defeats the sunlights laughter once the mockingbirds cry after
Day has set so I can be the king of lands I roam
Darkness gives me all the cover, more than I could need a lover
Here is where I want to be so leave me here alone
Darkness is my friend so I can call this land my home
Here, I sit on my throne

Moonlight let the turtle scurry athwart on the beach to hurry
Into deep blue seas where he is free to swim atoned
Creatures from the deep blue ocean bow down to their king’s devotion
When the sun arose he then recoiled back in his dome
“Pity you old turtle” I said, “hiding there alone.”
That, you call a throne?

Days long gone that I remember, Spring-time joy in mid-November
Hiding in and oak tree from the creatures of my home
Now my kingdom bows before me no one stares or dares ignore me
Here I stand a king, adore me, lord of all I own
Pity all I own is barren, barren to the bone
At least, I have my throne

Then one starry twilight dreaming, where I stood there pride redeeming
Came along the turtle beaming till he saw my throne
In a flash, his neck retreated in his shell and self conceited
“Don’t be shy and self defeated!” Said I, in stern tone.
“Stick your neck out, coward, or you’ll end up all alone!”
Returning to his throne
Returning to my throne

When I woke in shock and horrid, scaly felt my morphed new forehead 
Overwhelming dread and torrid shook my body to the bone
There I was a transformed turtle hiding there beneath the myrtle
All along I was the turtle standing there alone
Horrified of all the creatures rounding my new home
My shell that I had grown
A self-made, feeble throne
Form: Ballad

Premium Member Hell Bound Train

I am the engineer on a hell bound train
and I finally know it.
Curiosity drives me on to see how
destiny will end it.
Ignored good advice going into the station
but was much too proud to accept it.
Paid full price for the ticket and knew
right then that I had blown it.
Saw the passengers get off, one by one,
some invited me home, no time for it.
Watched the scenery turn to badlands,
good hint, but I said, "screw it!.
Porters and crew got off somewhere
and I was too engrossed to spot it.
I am the engineer on a hell bound train
and I always knew it.
Curiosity drives me on to see how
destiny will end it.
me
Form: Rhyme

Cockroach

Across the white of table bread and yellow plated cheese
Upon the black fictitious grapes, it wheezes its disease
It crawls, its scrawny legs cluttering the revulsion's sight
Look at this nocturnal insect parading pride in pallid light

And so one, then suddenly a thousand more, and still more
From draw I thought secured, from every vessel held in store
The little beasts come dragging a gay appetite to the floor
And with so much resilience, so much flare, some would adore

But I, something in the hygiene of my upbringing, shudders me
With looming tragedy for this, a population depleted I see
By pest and pestilential tolerance, trembles me now with rage
That cockroach could destroy us, and rule the coming age.

Mutating from the fission and fusion that left us hopeless, bare
The fallout from divine grace, and this shimmering cold now here
What shall be our harvest, except the wintry white of fear
Nothing saps their resistance now, the cockroach is everywhere

Profile this, in every four thousand species plus, every size and shape
Four common species threatens our mortal dust, O wanton rape
Think you that their triumph shall not call from hell more tragic forms
To chew and shred and intoxicate the procreation of our norms

I hear the scratching of the spindly legs, see sick white chitinous wings
I am filled such foreboding of the plaques this evil brings
And we make boundaries with indifference, call them the species at risk
Forbid their public swatting, stomping, crushing them quick and brisk

O let me see the putrid gut inside, let me hear the crunch of flesh
Let me use the new insecticide to bomb them from behind the mesh
Splatter them where they fester, let us kill this insect by decree
What though some berate us, for we make a dark hole in ecology.
Form: Verse


A Poem For 'E' By Thomas Eric Stanton

She asked me if I had a goal
She asked me if I had
Fantasized
Being the
Hunter
Or
The
Hunted

For 
Four
Years

I had crossed and re crossed the big cats tracks

Across a
Riverbed
Always measuring the pace
Speed
Weight
And
Distance of he and i

She said
He has dismissed you

So far

When
He is hungry enough
He will eat you

For four years
I have been doing what I thought was
a
Dance with
The
Lion

She said
No
He
Was only pissing
On your
Footprints

When I reviewed my films
Of the prints over
The years

His over
Mine

Mine
Over
His

I noticed
That there was a slight
Wet line
Over all the 
Prints

a
Car
On the road
Somewhere
Ahead of you
Recently
There

But now unseen

Laying
Down

a

Thin

Dark

Fresh

Line

Of
Oil

Just ahead of you

And you know that the engine is dying.
Form: Narrative

Lost In Translation ,A Real Story

Awaken by a sudden desire 
I decided to call my sweet american boyfriend 
with a conflicting grammar 
and an incorrigible accent
 I started the  long distance conversation . 
He enquired if I was 'UPSET ' 
I told me that I was not in the 'TOILET 
''Sweetheart I am driving a car 
'I interpreted that he was waging a WAR 
I felt ashamed of my hearing disorder 
'Can I text you in the morning ' 
As he wanted to know 
His TEXT got messed With SE* in my mind 
Can you hear me ? Can you hear me ? 
We wanted to enquire 
We struggled with each other 
Twisting our tongue and combing our ears 
The line was disturbed as we continued the conversation 
Till we realised that everything was lost in
 TRANSLATION 

I tried to make laugh I hope . . .
© Red Fiery  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Narrative

My Hearts Funeral

Let my pen cry unto this paper, and perhaps your shoulder that it may need to be heard once more
All my life I have struggled to fit in, self conscious of the world and its eyes that see it all
I too regret many things, mistakes that changed my life forever
Sitting here weeping my eyes out in anguish I try to stay strong and yet I fall even deeper with every scene

I knew not of love until she came into my life
Little did I know about affection and care led alone a hearts embrace
If only I could go back in time and amend much of the pain that has toppled me now
Will death just come and make my bed, I can't deal with my mesmerizing mind that takes me back

Back to the unchanging past, history buried underneath many smiles and fake laughter
I am to be to my lonesome since the very start
No one can ever help me, amend me of my pain
Unsecured of who I really am, and I weep desperately seeking answers

Let the melody tune my eyes that they may see
Forgotten to the world I shall become, for I have caused enough pain, I am my own enemy
Underneath it all I have a heart of gold
I write in her name always, for she inspires the butterflies that dwell deep in my stomach

Allow me to cry on your shoulder
Let's stand on the edge of the cliff, and after I grow faint in your eyes just push me off
Happily I shall go, leaving nothing behind but my written art, to whom it may appeal
This is your cordial invitation to my hearts funeral

High Horse Riders

Shine on you crazy diamond
Shine in your manipulation

I am here only to reflect your faulty wisdom.
Bend me to your will.

You are the Puppeteer
issuing the restrictions,
the directives,
the orders.

I am the Puppet
whose sole aim is to please.

Give me my reward
like the mouse and his cheese.

and I will run through the maze you have laid out before me
and relent to your forceful tugging on my joints.

Dangle your golden carrot in front of my face
and let us share in our delusion
that this exercise meant something
to either one of us.

Or we could just dismount
and call it a day.
Form:

Follow the Leader

I am the thing humans want most
Changing hands, this way and that 
Dirty, stale, but this wasn't always so
I was born clean, perfect and neatly stacked 
Issued from a cloning machine, brothers-in-arms 
Cut from the mechanical womb, separated 
Dispensed to all of you reading this 
you have all known me, grasped me with 
your oily skin, all of you guilty of
using me in varieties of ways, sometimes 
I make you sick, so you turn as green 
as my outer-self, I am as old as 
the faces that are etched onto me
Washington, Lincoln, Hamilton, Jackson 
and Franklin all smile up, as you
dispense with you affairs. I am the 
universal drug of humanity. The tool 
that proceeded fire, the invention of 
all doomed societies. But I am 
simply the usher, showing you to 
you seat. The grand-show is what
I simple lead you too, your Paper 
Guide. Follow me along the river of 
greed, as we all follow the Ferry-Man 
along the River Styx. You think little of 
ME, and yet I bring you  all of your 
desires. Sit down and enjoy yourself
with me, your friend, Money.

Eternity, Watching

open       
spaces
made me brighten with possibility;
always I'd climb toward a further view;
the fence, the apple tree,
the garage and even a church belfry 
or two

I'd read comic-books,
magazines and short-stories;
 ripened fruit of a higher tree;
 raising me up from these low
places where I still wait and see...

as if a writers voice is heard 
from some great place beyond,
voicing a worldly view from up above
these places inside I never knew...

later, weary with looking someone other than,
janus-faced without but within, 
I'd write poems reaching past
my little life of 
constant yearning

burning with voyeuristic words 
watching as stars
loving the breech of night
wishing they were too,
looking from a further place
that sees from a deeper, from a farther
immaterial view; where nothing means anything,
out of sight,
beyond this gravity we're always falling to...

Sonnet 31

Compare me to that blue and morbid moon,
That misses day that joy shines light upon...
Although I glow at night, I loom to soon,
Casting a shadow unto sacred swan.

Thou shall remind me that thine air is grey,
Dire as doors like dust the soul escapes.
Thy sun to me is heaven's son and day,
And I the darkness...darkest fruit of grapes.

Behind me are the stars that lure a dream,
To thee to tell a tale while thou art sleep.
Then shall I rise as roses to redeem,
My world where wind has watched me wine and weep.

Thus beloved I shall be and thou shall know,
My mid-night hours and that I'm blessed to glow.
me
Form: Sonnet

Fin

They've allotted me three kings...

All with equal amounts of endearment
Offered to me on a baited line
With trembling sticky fingers.
It is all but impossible for me to write of 
The fortitude's of each of them.
Or of how they slithered about 
Simultaneously through the whetted night
Committing treachery against my mother,
Every one of them, obliviously.  
Of how they stretched and skewed
The sentiments of my chambers,
My bellows. 
Beseeching me,

Come swallow...
Drink in the nectars,
The sans pareil of sweet. 
Come thrush...
With quick and jaunty flight.
Beating in the night with hots
Of red and white.
Come quick albatross...
Fast to my body 
With your obliterating bite.
Waning away,
Your five fingered blight.
me
Form:

Drop Dead Georgous

this girl came out drop dead georgous
long brunette hair all of her forces
she knows the power of the bedroom eyes
she cant help but use them while telling her lies

the picture of confidence with a disarming smile
a beauty so radiant and a soul of bile
alluring this siren with a silent screem
look at me, look at me, and i'll make you dream

she was'nt white trash or a low life either
but she knew what she wanted and nothing would keep her
she had the right lawers they were'nt supersticous
all that they needed was somone not so pretentious

let me loose, let me loose, this very day
first i want a drink and then i want to play
where are all my sisters, where are all my friends
where can i go party and start all over again

this was the very thing to give this demon a boost
they wittnessed all her crimes and then they set her loose
what standard were they setting for the red, white and blue
they never thought to what it would mean to me or you

the blind folded greecian holding the ballenced scales
will have to find a new home for justice here has failed
the symble or what she stood for, now so terribly marred
by twelve empty souls whos souls are now scared

the judge who would lash out and tried to make her sting
tide up by the law, he could'nt do a thing
when just before the verdict he weilded so much power
but by the end of the day, he had used up his hour

in the midst of all this tragity i did see one good thing
 i saw all the races marching for the sake of caylee
there was no division of races all the mothers stood together
but there was a few love struck guys like there was for sara palin

and now we have this casualty a misscarriage of justice
nothing we can do about it. it's the law that protects us
when the founding fathers wrote the constitution
they never thought a jury would come to this conclusion
me
Form: Ode

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