Best Metonymy Poems


Premium Member Life is a Song

Written: January 2nd, 2023, For Ink Empress Contest

Rumi verse" Sing to me in the silence of your heart and I will rise up to hear your triumphant song"
             ________________________________________

Life is a symphonic cynosure
a charming composition
sung in tune noisily in tandem
merriment liberates us
spread the tunes of life
a ready-made ubiquitous syntax
moon voices Jukebox heart
Iron harps croon the days
I used to walk Elvis line in his heyday.

Twilight dream orchestrator
soars on silver wings
across the eerie sea
past raven-singing islets
race the clock
swap hourglass sand
reset to our first trip,
let's foster solid walls.

Life is a bittersweet symphony.
Love, laughter,
and silent dreams
In verses, rhythm begins
Steering us via life's curveballs
a calm ballad may be feasible
dreamlike memory
dusty paths to neon-lit roadways
catching dreams, sailing
weeping as a lone harp
I'm queueing until death
to travel as a country song
via onomatopoeia syntax
a metonymy, twangy melody.

paint hope on breeze
as moonlight amid trees
or pearly umbrella stars
dancing in cosmic black sea
dark orchestra conductor
revive ancient music
until ivory beams last.

Life is a melody to be sung
play it gently as a drumbeat
life serenade in riptide
years notes strum
cosmic tapestry links us to poetry
spirits dance in unison,
life is akin to writing a song,
with our key and tone
each life has a meaning,
we pick the theme and chorus
a song bearing our name
an inclusive rhythm
life's a tune.
© Sotto Poet  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Love of God Am I

I’m love, expressing the Creator’s heart
For God is love, and love is the greatest 
Magnifying miracle-mercy moves 
Toward prayer’s length; upward service strength 
Defying Venus and Aphrodite’s might. 

Wondrous sight is it to cite my marvels
With my grace-light and care, I light and care
Helping well thru my compassionate mercy
My patience is like eternal hope…
Yet in my reign forever; death, I’ll smite.

Verily, I’m God’s most supreme kindness
Causing Christ to carry cross of Calv’ry 
Leaving His throne of glory in Heaven 
To reach down to Adam’s world that’s condemned
Granting salvation… life everlasting.

My precious loss is hatred’s advantage
Yet its grand schemer can never prevail  
For he’s a conquered foe back in Eden. 
Do you share God’s love? Is charity* yours? 
Be not faithless; trust the Lord to have me.

*1Peter 5:14 Greet ye one another with a kiss of charity. Peace be with you all that are in Christ Jesus.

September 11, 2018

Poetic Devices employed in this poem are:
Lines 1.Personification; 2.Metaphor; 3.Alliteration; 
4.Internal rhyme; 5.Truism with Hyperbole; 
6.Homophones; 7.Homographs; 8.Tautology; 
9.Simile; 10.Hyperbaton; 11.Superlative; 
12.Consonance; 13.Paradox; 14.Synecdoche; 
15.Euphony;16.Oxymoron; 17.Metonymy; 
18.Allusion; 19. Rhetorical questions; 20. Litotes.

2nd place, "A LITANY OF POETIC DEVICES" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Line Gauthier; judged on 9/13/2018.

Bad Friday

Friday morning 
I hopped out of the shower, 
popped over to the lavatory counter, 
flopped my most profound sexual characteristic 
down and onto a misplaced curling iron, 
burning the tender center of my-very-being. 
Thankfully 
Ms. Careless had left a glass of iced coke, 
by her torturing implement. 
I quickly and fully submerged my pain, 
into the cooled, amber liquid. 

Friday evening 
I attended my first and last meeting 
of the Brazoria County Poetry league. 
I arrived at the BCPL president’s home 
by invitation, to hear their guest speaker, 
a young, professor of literature, 
from Rice University. 
He spoke at great length about metaphors. 
What a metaphor was. 
How poets used metaphors 
to improve imagery in poetry. 
He gave examples of metaphors, 
and more examples, 
explaining each one in detail. 
It was raining damn metaphors. 

I would have lapsed into a metaphoric coma, 
if I had not discovered my bourbon glass 
to be much too small, requiring me to rise, 
and refill it several times. 

When Dr. Metaphor finely finished I 
strolled over to where he was smiling, 
and announced that he was 
full of rhetorical trope, 
and didn’t know anything about real poetry, 
and he had stepped on a metonymy 
and it stank the room up. 
And we poets from the sticks 
didn’t need a hot-shot from Houston 
telling us how to write poetry. 
and the president of the BCPL 
grabbed my arm, 
and snatched my glass from my hand, 
and it still had boozes in it. 
And he promenaded me to the door, 
and assured me that I was talent-less, 
and that drinking myself to death 
would be my one and only contribution to poetry. 
He pushed me out of his home, 
onto his front steps, 
slammed the door in my face, 
after suggesting 
I never attend another meeting of the BCPL. 
For a moment, I was stunned, 
then bowing to his authority 
I hurled on his “Welcome” mat. 

And Friday morning 
as I stood in the bathroom 
cradling my tormented body element 
with both hands, 
the Queen of the Bastille entered, 
demanded to know -What my problem was? 
I informed her I had no problem, 
and suggested she drink her damn coke… 
before the ice melted.


My Dad

When we talk, he calls me Gal
and it always warms my heart
Especially when we're on the phone
cuz we're so far apart

I've never told him this
how much it means to me
That no one else has ever
used this warm metonymy

So tenacious all his life
In his ways he's very set
No matter what he does
It's right, on that you can bet

Do what you think is right
To us he's always told
Our decisions were always backed
My father's loyalty is GOLD

I hope he knows I love him
I tell him every time we speak
Don't ever quit calling me Gal
And I'll always kiss your cheek
Form: Quatrain

Frightened By the Polls

Frightened By the Polls

As frightened as a wolverine in a man-made metal trap,
The politician crawled out from under his rock.
Afraid, after his voting record was revealed,
He avoided facing his constituency and their votes.
Never had he seen such scathing, waving, hating arms.
A people’s representative turned belly-up.
One Senator, a rejected self-server, voted out!
His crown fell into the black mire.
Peaceful realms of his mind were jolted.
The plaza of his heart unfettered.
Sorrowfully, for him, self-serving statutes were stifled.
Laughing loudly his bloodthirsty opponents celebrated.
Their fun was short lived.  
They, too, were soon hung out to dry on the pole, at the polls.
Because they failed to honor the value of our forefather’s demands,
Because they had misrepresented their voters again and again,
Because Americans stood tall and took Freedom’s stand,
They voted out self-servers and voted in honest men.
An entirely new era in Washington began.
The continuation of freedoms as our ancestors planned. 
Constitutional guarantees for freedom were revived.
Soon, sunshine shone its smiling face upon ordinary people. 
Society reclaimed her power.
Love, tolerance, respect, and individuality thrived.
God bless America.

Poetic vehicles used: alliteration, assonance, metaphor, parallelism, personification, rhyme, satire, simile, 
synecdoche, and metonymy.  Written for Deborah's contest, but it's the wrong form.  Oops.  Thanks for the lessons, Deb.  SMILES.

© August 19, 2010
Dane Smith-Johnsen
Form: Narrative

Premium Member Your Time Has Come (Prose Poetry)

Your time has come like the rising sun.  Stand up for life created by God’s love as 
the dove descends from above.  He has a plan for you to be one with Him as He 
is with you thus making you brand new.  Your life should be more than just the 
ordinary existence, let Him strengthen you as your soul runs the distance.  Be 
filled with His spirit and let your light shine.  Manifest His joyful glory and 
overcome obstacles in His name while unto Him you render an acclaim.  Move 
ahead and be the lighthouse of strength without relenting; thus ascending from 
the bottomless pit into His eternal light of creation. Experience the fullness of 
your destiny with God in the middle of your future.  Build your foundation in His 
word and spirit.  Empower your soul with His tenacity; He will determine your 
capacity.  Be anointed by His grace and experience the reality of not just a 
dream.  A light lit for living liturgy. He has you covered with His Holy Spirit.  Now 
step out—your time has come!


Comments:  A prose poem is written in prose form.  It does not have line breaks 
or varying topography as a regular poem. During the mid-nineteenth century, 
Charles Baudelaire published Petis poemes en prose.  Oscar Wilde, T.S Eliot 
and others have written in this genre.   The genre started in France and is now 
worldwide.  The use of concrete language and figurative speech such as 
imagery, rhymes, personification, contrast, simile, metaphor, alliteration, 
metonymy, synecdoche, abstraction and the like should be incorporated based 
on the desire of the poet. The piece may focus on language, a story, or 
something similar based on the choice of the poet.


Rising Above the Fray

i read indulgence mid scripted words

breaking all the rules and then some,

what be greater than gutting & swallowing

uttermost concentration of language

critically consummated or otherwise,

communing within written ideologies

something profoundly reverent or

perhaps deliberate liberating nonsense,

nonetheless commonsensical compunction to 

the discerning foresightedness of poets

& enduring escape artists 'tween psyche's

hallucinations & declarations

about analytically anomalous analgesics

and mellisonant melancholy metonymy,

rising above the fray of brutally alliterated

annotations fragmenting & fracturing dimensions,

steel blades sharpening anthologies' imperfect isms

inferring resoluteness 'tween deductive reasoning,

willing exposure imparting quintessential bollocks

literally grasping mercilessly melded metaphors

courageous enough to virtually be aptly bled,

plunged  beneath swords' inky touchstones
© Paloma P   Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member A Dude's Dilemma

They were to meet in middle of the mall
He clearly misunderstood... his downfall
If there had been some writing on the wall
This fight might not have happened at all

Unsure of what to wear or where to look
It's important to give more than he took
He seemed caught like a fish on a hook
His life story could be a comic book

He remembered everything that he could
Wanting to make amends for this, he would
Deep in his heart of hearts he knew he should
Would giving her the moon do any good?

Not his best day, if you know what I mean
Not a first mistake or last to be seen
Clearly, he committed to coming clean
He secretly wished to be somewhere serene


August 22, 2018


Litany of Poetic Devices
By Line Gauthier

1. Consonance; 
2. Oxymoron; 
3. Truism;
4. Internal Rhyme;
5. Homophones; 
6. Idiom;
7. Simile; 
8. Metaphor; 
9. Tautology;
10. Hyperbaton; 
11. Metonymy; 
12. Rhetoric Question; 
13. Innuendo; 
14. Aphorism; 
15. Alliteration; 
16. Euphony
Form: Rhyme

Absconding Muse

My muse blew a fuse
Without excuse fealty did recuse
In jilting fashion without compassion 
Tendered passion did stingily ration
Lofty discourse from pen did divorce
With no remorse absconded every resource
My inspiration turned to perspiration
Hopeless itinerant somewhat penitent
The bartered lexicon I did recon
A vagrant shill seeking to rill
The run-off spill pages to fill
A pilfered title would move engine from idle
An embezzled theme would ideas stream
A trite rhyme would be sublime
A pawned metaphor to open the door
A brokered simile; a borrowed metonymy 
Would re-collect the literary dialect
Now shorn from mind so forlorn

Premium Member Revive

1.  Always aspiring to authentic answers
2.  Belief begins, only to end
3.  Calls the crow, 'never, to'
4.  Drifting like October leaves
5.  Falling upwards, death is alive
6.  Gargling, bleating, cawing birth
7.  Haul the young into the hall
8.  Jaded cribs reluctantly nurse
9.  Lemon-sour hope gently sweetened
10. May's pastel caress heals yesterday's recall
11. Once, seasons ... now regrown faith
12. Promises to breach, ideas to rebuild
13. Returning the world not unreal, the
14. White Witch of Amherst guiding through
15. Young hearts revive again.

for A Litany of Poetry Devices contest

1. alliteration 2. internal rhyme 3. allusion 4. simile 5. oxymoron 6. onomatopoeia 7. homphone 8. personification 9. metaphor 10. assonance 11. ellipsis 12. antithesis 13. litote 14. metonymy 15. synecdoche 

also written in ABC form.
Form: ABC

Keep Right On Writing

1   Would you say that you’d like to write better?
2   Keep writing whether book or love letter.
3   Great writers don’t quit, they write quite a lot.
4   If tempted to stop they simply did not
5   The best of the best, I’d even dare say,
6   Wrote not a few that they just threw away.
7   When eyes of blank pages stare up at you
8   “Quitting makes perfect,” has never been true-
9   ly the more that you practice you’ll find
10 forsooth erelong you shall broaden your mind.
11 The pen is a sword of limitless might;
12 If something is wrong, words can make it write.
13 Words are like arrows that target the soul.
14 They twang, zip, then thump when shot with control;
15 Untrained words injure and never strike true.
16 So religiously write, routinely review
17 For words are the lamp, through darkness lighting.
18 So always, forever just keep right on writing.

8.28.18
Contest: A Litany of Poetic Devices
Sponsors Line Gauthier
Literary Devices by line:
1.  rhetorical question
2.  internal rhyme
3. consonance (t)
4. inversion
5. parallelism (and superlative)
6. litote
7. personification
8. antithesis
9. enjambment
10. archaism
11. metonymy and metaphor
12. pun (homonym)
13. simile 
14. onomatopoeia 
15. dissonance (via harsh consonants and uneven vowels)
16. alliteration
17. hyperbaton and metaphor 
18. pleonasm
© Jesse Rowe  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Couplet

Disenchanted Muse

My muse did her fealty recuse
My honor she did stealthily reconnoiter
My discourse was grounds for divorce
Finding my writing no longer enlightening
My blithe parlance no longer my mistress did entrance
With my prose she did forthrightly dispose
Each short she did subsequently abort
Each regaling verse did prudently disburse
Each perforated line truncated with lackluster shine
Each conjured sentence only increased my penance
Each glamorous byline she did smugly decline  
Each dilated phrase with a bridling border did encase  
Each gilded stanza a burnished extravaganza yielding no artful bonanza
Each tethered word coagulated into a stolid curd
Each bloated quote sunk my creative float deeper in the moat 
Each lofty rhyme labeled too smarmy and sublime
My metric time no longer struck a concordant chime
Each literary device neatly spliced would not even a novice entice 
Each repetitive, stagnant metaphor made my verse a bore
Each strained, tortured simile engendered no empathy
Each supplanted metonymy a shock wave lobotomy

Premium Member Returning To the Astral Nest

1.	The story started in sunshine on the sea shore
2.	in reminiscent ambience like the French Riviera
3.	where the colors of sunset were painting horizon.
4.	When twilight merged with descending darkness of dusk
5.	I saw your flashing figure, a fleeting deer, on the beach,
6.	hair on air making charming lace on your face 
7.	blushing in serene grace in setting sun’s hued embrace.
8.	The lasting picture I made into dream, I knew it could break.
9.	That’s how my heart weaved love, and you …  amorous tapestry
10.	your sweet arms laid on an ardent pathway for me.
11.	I saw it wind toward you as you paced in the wind,
12.	a scene I’d seen in the mist of dream … I hadn’t missed.
13.	The reverie came true when I slowly strode near you,
14.	you let me hold your hands supple, how alluring they were
15.	my mind felt … your love wasn’t the farthest one
16.	for you were keen to lend your hand usher it in
17.	from the waxing waves with the whispering wind
18.	that broke the deafening silence between you and me
19.	for we heard melody of romance in the air, in the heart
20.	repeated again and again like the breaking waves,
21.	the crests crowned by pearls pristine of the dancing sea.
22.	In my own heart I could feel that you became only mine
23.	so … together we could fly in the limpid sky of longing life.
24.	At sundown hour like birds to the astral nest we’d return. 

September 13, 2018

Poetic devices used in lines : 1. Alliteration, 2. Allusion, 3. Ambiguity, 4. Antithesis (also Alliteration), 5. Apposition (also Alliteration),  6. Assonance (also Consonance and Enjambment), 7. Consonance, 8. Dissonance (also Metaphor), 9. Ellipsis (also Enjambment), 10. Euphony (also Enjambment), 11. Homograph, 12. Homophone (also Ellipsis), 13. Internal Rhyme, 14. Inversion (also Enjambment), 15, Litote (also Ellipsis), 16. Metonymy (also Internal Rhyme), 17. Onomatopoeia (also Alliteration and Personification), 18. Oxymoron, 19. Parallelism (also Enjambment), 20. Tautology (also Simile), 21. Personification, 22. Pleonasm, 23. Metaphor (also Ellipsis and Alliteration), 24. Simile.

Premium Member Plenty of Room In Le Fut For Soccer

Plenty of room in « Le Foot »* for Soccer
     For Doug Vinson at PoetrySoup.com
                          I
Not long ago King Pelé
   Set “le foot” in America
Today his peoples’ muted “Olé”!
   Rue the day at Maracana

Now from coast to conniving coast
   Your Can-Can gals kick “le balon”*
No Wall in between the goal-posts
   To win at summit many a “galon”*

Alright! Keep your cherished football
   Iced-hoc-key bounced balls in basket
But let echo corked-leather on “saule”*
   Crikey! "le cri-cri"* of “le cricket”

                              II
Tremble at the hakka-cry of the All Blacks
   Cringe before Aussie toughs at Springbok élan
And let them romp with the Six-Nation packs
   Over your greens with fifteen Argentinian

Call out to the run-machine Little Master*
   And let his blade flash home-runs tout azimut
Over heads of fielders spectators and trainer
   And let your millions throb and catapult 
                                                            
Your new knights sans armour in world arena
   And gasp at fresh records topple centuries*
On pitch and turf in Tests across suburbia
   And join the world in friendly rivalries.

*"Le Foot"or "Le Fut": French for football/soccer.
*"le balon": French for ball.
*"le(s) galon(s)": French for "stripes" as in "to win one's stripes in battle" (gagné ses galons au combat) .
*"le saule": French for the willow tree. "Willow" is metonymy for the cricket bat as the latter is made from the tree.
*"le cri-cri": familiar French for "le grillon", the insect cricket.
*"Little Master", sobriquet of Sachin Tendulkar, the retired legendary Indian test-cricketer, the counterpart of the Brazilian Pelé in soccer. See my poem: "The Little Master: Sachin Tendulkar", my most-read ever poem.
*"centuries": batting records in cricket run into a few centuries, mostly in five-day international test-matches.
(c) T. Wignesan - Paris, 2017
© T Wignesan  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Quatrain

Twenty Poetic Devices of My Woe

My heart is an ebon swallowed night where nobody ever goes,       
raging in a recondite rift like ripples resounding in rueful repose.         
Should I release my woe with unfathomable thoughts of grief?	  
I may become as strong as a tiger or just a lonely picture motif.       
Last week I walked a weak and coarse course of my lowest low,
wishing to borrow a new 'morrow devoid of comfortless sorrow.               
I attest I'm depressed dreading everyday, I honestly confess.	           
Does every grey cloud have a silver lining or shadows of distress? 	
O, hear my plea! I’m drowning in dream of disdain and insanity!              
This minute is not minute; I’m in a dark reverie of a flowing reverie.          
The soothing days of assuage which used to be my saving grace		
reminds me of how I’m living dead in deafening silence of misplace.       
I asked for a helping hand where all warm hands would be on deck.		
Perpetually forsaken, if you know what mean, just a dolour wreck. 		
Exhaustion was pressing upon and overpowering poor inferior me,	
my heart has skipped a beat divided between joy and intense misery.		
For I am but a solidary woman, methinks; I shall never be cured.	 	
I must learn to live with this agony, or die an early death obscured. 
I’m stuck in a prison pen on constant guard with solitude’s disease,
craving the day when I find appeased atonement that bestows ease…  

In order I used these poetic devices:
1.) Metaphor  2.) Alliteration  3.) Rhetorical Question  4.) Simile  
5.) Homophone  6.) Internal Rhyme  7.) Assonance  8.) Aphorism  
9.) Dissonance  10.) Homograph  11.) Euphony  12.) Oxymoron  
13.) Synecdoche  14.) Innuendo  15.) Ambiguity  16.) Personification  
17.) Archaism  18.) Antithesis 19.) Metonymy  20.) Ellipsis


A Litany of Poetic Devices Poetry Contest
Line Gauthier
September 9, 2018
Form: Couplet

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