Best Comparison Poems
If we were a beach
then you would be the sand, diamond warmth,
and I the shingle underfoot.
If we were a pen
then I would be invisible ink,
and you a permanent marker, fluorescent.
If we were wine
you would be the vineyard, the grape, the wine list itself;
I a bottle unopened, left corked.
If we were a theatre
I am the playbill of a show cancelled and unseen;
you, the stage in spotlight: golden, applauded.
I the tile and you the whole mosaic
for us as a Roman floor;
I a shattered pane and you the handle
with us in the shape of a door.
As clothing – you a shiny button, me a thread to be snipped.
As hair – you a photographed trend, I a ponytail clipped.
If we were a couple,
Then you would be blind.
If our love was a tape,
I’d forever record, pause and rewind.
If we were a cake
you would be the fingertip licked icing
and I a batter filled lump.
If we were a body
then you would be the heart
and I the blood you pump.
A distant voice is like a fading colour
a muted version of reality
I'm hiding from the noise, always under cover
in fear of losing gravity.
A solitary flower laden with dew
the scent hangs heavy in the air
I scan the landscape exploring the view
my eyes straining from the suns glare.
I am that solitary flower who is forever losing its colour
telling myself it will be alright
as I once again take my cover
and settle down for yet another lonely night.
The Chosen
People say not being the chosen one is the worst.
But what if it isn’t?
What if you’re chosen—
but for all the wrong reasons?
Yes, I was chosen,
just to be a measuring tool—
something to compare,
against unfinished things,
just to feel better about yourself.
Like a trophy,
kept in plain sight,
on a neatly managed shelf.
Only ever looked at
from a distance—
always just a glance,
never long enough to notice.
Perhaps if they had,
they would have seen the rust.
Yes, I was chosen—
as the permanent wrong choice,
the one that reminds you
of what you could have had.
Like a roll of dice—
“if only I had thrown it differently,
if only I got another number…”
If only.
I was always the what if.
I was chosen—
but only to blame,
like how you blame the corner
when you stub your toe.
Never atleast a deserving blame.
There’s a difference
between being chosen
and being wanted.
What’s the point of being chosen
if all you hear
is the echo
of the one who wasn’t?
Who is truly chosen?
And how do you even define it?
What’s the point of being chosen
if wanting never follows?
I can’t understand the ambition
Of people who love to go fishin’.
Outsmarting your dinner
Might say you’re a winner,
But what when you fail in that mission?
I saw a gorge, a remote vision from distant, far far away from the surface, how sharp, how precipitous, how deep!
A singular, unsurpassed, cavernous cleft;
a crevice among two gigantic hills, how intense and steep!
The rocky walls of the mountains though withering,
canopying the remote sight from the brink of the rugged cliffs.
The highland though barren, is pampering the rivulet flowing,
emerald- azure, though erosive from shrink!
Its ages disposition, the geologic uplift and abrasion,
elevates the surface to fabricate its tapestry inch by inch!
The diverse, vivacious habitats in its bosom, in seclusion, are dozing,
in remote lowland, far from the tainted world in miff!
The robust gorge, all of a sudden, for its persistent profoundity,
a rare attribute in mortals, became my cause of envy!
Was pondering " where is that Gorge like once perceived devotion, allegiance from human inclination has gone? "
Nowhere the professed deluded ones, stands near its awe-inspiring abiding supremacy, the Gorge, the mighty!
Alas! The demons have taken away humanity's infallible dedication for substantiality and profoundity,
only to be as hollow as floating cotton balls, with no eye, no reverence for sublimity!
The Gorge is the apostle of Almighty's emblem of constant flow of unfathomed steadfast solemnity, beyond earthly folly!
Aeons ago, God's supreme contour, silhouette against the brilliant encompassing sky,
The persistent Gorge, determines to flow distant, diligently, from the lavish absurdity, from the sheer mortals idiocy!
Human devotion, so fragile, so freckle, so self-centric,
wish have an inch depth of the perpetual, perennial Gorge, the mighty!
Neither, any earthly disposition, can comprehend,
nor approach the grand Gorge, in reflections, so fickle, so tiny;
as insignificant as their fleshly existence,
in the face of the abiding Gorge,
the exalted composition of the Almighty!
I still wrestle with human afflictions,
when I see others suffering,
groping in the dark of invasion –
where the rich and powerful
become richer, tutors of domination,
over these poor people, my own people.
In a globalized and interdependent world,
the growing technology and culture
speak the same to civilization;
the unknown depths of man’s soul
get neglected in life’s situations.
Our moral compass eclipses
by emerging values of the world;
family ties and faithfulness,
seem to die out now in truth.
I remember the “bar mitzvah”
for Jewish culture and religion
strictness in their formation
for a son or daughter of obligation.
Torah for them – a sacred revelation,
a holy book about God’s laws;
his commandments in various modes,
a guide, indeed, a school for the souls.
Similar to Christian life and religion
a holy bible shared and read across cultures;
but with media invasion in all dimensions
God’s word has now less attraction to some
especially to young people of this generation.
Though I may think the world has changed,
it has become like a free market, a confusion;
with hardly any blueprint of principles –
that carry mankind to be God’s disciples.
Stone pillars erected against the gales,
Silenced in buried secrets deep.
Hurled discourse from crested toppled waves,
Endless tattle tossed in a heap.
The lifetime of a mayfly is a
single day leading to eternity,
while a single day for a man
may be lost and ever forgotten
Within seven days mayfly
colonies die, while for
months and years a man
lives silencing own breath
Within a single week flowers
in a vase bloom to rot, while
throughout decades a man is
stuck in a rot unskilled
The speed of time is a virtue to
flowers and flies, while the speed
of time kills a fading man with
regrets and disparaged sighs
SIMILE OF LIFE
Life like a stir case
Climbing it with pains which thou face
Life like education
After thorough three time scrutiny thou due for promotion
Life like the shell of a tortoise
Rough in nature same with human worries
Life like mathematics
Only with formula that solution can be found to it
Life like a journey
Which guarantee no honey
Life like a fast rolling fan
Which cast failures among man
Life like a whailing crowd
That exault successful mind
From one step to the other
So the life in you grows older
From one segment to the other
Achievements and failures fights in counter
From one class to the other
Life tries to please man or rather conquer
From one desire to the other
Man work out plans for the day and thereafter
From one individual to the other
Life place different mission and Agender
From one person to the other
Life set mirror and admirer
From one struggle to the other
Life bring it end closer
Life dawns like sunrise
Soft pinks and blues against the black from which it came
Sudden burst of light stretching fingers and toes
Receiving blankets of fluffy white
Soft breezes, from Mother Earth, kiss the cheeks of a new day.
Spread your wings and announce our new life!
Rustle the name through the leaves, over fields and hills
Blow strong over the oceans
Grow tall from sapling to a mighty oak
Early morning of our life is for bountiful energy and *****
Splashing and running, carrying treasures to unknown banks
Frolicking from tree to tree chasing the cottonwood seeds
Then approached the noon of our lives
A time to pause; to partake of nourishment for our soul
Lying in fields of bluebonnets and pink poppies
Nestled in beds of paint brush and purple clover
Revel in your time for it is short!
The hours roll by, to a cool afternoon breeze.
Blow softly for the afternoon is mellow
The lake lays still; no ripples in its tranquility.
Comfort years of life taking an afternoon siesta
Bask in the sun; remember the morning.
Early hours well spent exploring.
Places where you once played buccaneer,
Shrubs that just this morning hid fortresses
Each picturesque against a landscape of Kentucky Blue
Too soon Dusk arrives on a charcoal gray charger
Thundering its arrival in the swirl of gluttonous clouds
Chasing you, you seek shelter under the weeping willows
Water rushes in a swirl of memories
Rippling creeks to still waters
The hills no longer beckon
They no longer hold the fascination of an earlier time.
Darkness blankets the earth
Your sit and watch the light show in the sky.
The sun no longer shines; the moon now lights the sky
You reminisce
It was a good day, your life!
From the sunrise to your sunset.
We are like Mark and C,
Words are tactile in our place,
A space where silence doesn't roar.
Eros has his home in here,
The world speak highly of our lore.
We took time to unwind,
We're the introverted kinds.
Mutualism is the word I'd use,
To describe the state of our minds.
We are similar than it seems.
If I compare your charm with moon’s ray?
Stars will wage war by saying they are more temperate;
Snakes may take me to the task,
I may have to run hiding whole day.
Flowers may boycott their fragrance to me,
Garden will be a piece of art work on paper.
I may struggle to find my way, with so much resistance
Fear if my own soul if leave for better imaginations.
To stuck a fair deal with love and beauty
I may need to compromise with other duties.
Before the wrath of time falls heavy on me
I need to decide a better way for this fantasy.
Nothing waits too long in this temporary world
Wasting time may jeopardize my other options
I rest this matter by leaving it alone
You are truly beautiful with no comparison.
Thumping with a life, blood flowing through veins
Beauty composes the view, weather vanes
Brown, red, yellow, orange are all present
Dormancy floods tree seeming heaven sent
But death nears as time bears its dreary end
The limbs are all crooked and surely bend
Beds are filled with leaves old and decrepit
With rain falling cold, causing me to sit
Old, the feeling of the spot before me
Ancient is the sure timeless century
Seeping the sap oozes from open sores
Hitting me deep within my heart and core
Life of the tree surely lives just for us
Holding strong even through massive digress
Russell Sivey
“Shall I compare thee to summer’s day?”
Asked Shakespeare,
But did not stay for an answer!
Thiruvalluvar compared timely help
To human hands hastening
To right a slipping dress.
Bharati compared fear to death.
Linguists compare languages
Critics compare literatures and theories.
Philosophers do have their comparisons.
Chomsky claims his grammar to be
An analogue of the native speaker’s mind.
Management gurus compare systems
To eliminate silos effect.
Teachers relate their ideas to life
By means of comparison.
Christ’s parables, Aesop’s fables, Panchatantra tales—
Are all comparisons, implicit or explicit.
All this is possible because
Comparison is a mental faculty.
And the instances cited are all healthy comparisons
And so far so good.
But when someone rich compares themselves
To the richer, then there is trouble.
It is unhealthy and is bound to
Breed jealousy or frustration;
Would engender a rat-race syndrome;
Robs one of the joy of living.
But, unfortunately, our educational environment
And the corporate ethos seem to put
A premium on rat-races.
Even a system like yoga,
Which seeks to foster detachment,
Or a spontaneous and leisurely
Activity like poetry writing
Is not spared nowadays:
Pray, what is a Yoga competition
Or a Poetry contest, if not a glorified rat race?!
— Ram, R. V.
What can I compare you to?
A sunset across the lake,
An eagle soaring to incredible heights,
A majestic snow capped mountain
Comparison is not limited if you can imagine,
Everything beautiful combined together
Everything good condensed to one entity
Every feeling magnified to the highest intensity
Whom can I compare you to?
Certainly not to any ordinary person
Certainly not to any one person
Certainly not to any human being
Who are you?
The light that shines in the dark
The essence of life itself
My Lord, my Savior, my Everything