Details |
Simile Poem
|
Well hopefully you've read the last "Poetry for Poets", now here's the one I wanted to write, enjoy...
POETRY FOR POETS
(I own this- edition)
Poems
more organic than fertilizer
rooted in the shit of life
manure
Some grow wild
seeking their light
through a gnarled thicket
of images
and symbolism.
Ill watered
or sprayed with chemical defoliants
they strangle themselves,
few
managing to blossom.
Manicured
Poems thoughtfully precisely planted
to achieve optimum yield
banquet
though occasionally
poems require to be forged
beaten into shape
like a horse shoe
with a few holes
accurately placed
ensuring they will be nailed
to their purpose
Pruned
dead words and metaphors
selectively snipped away
stunning display
There are times when it’s best to live with your poetry
Cover yourself with its words until they stretch and become sloppery
For its comfort increases as the stanzas begin to fray
Patched elbows illuminating what you intend to say
And eventually you’ll have a poem to slip into by the fire
To savour with hot chocolate as it ignites your desire
Poems
more organic than fertilizer
flourish when tendered
with love
Copyright © scott thirtyseven | Year Posted 2015
|
Details |
Simile Poem
|
Like drops of paint on a painter’s easel
Resting quietly, patiently among others
To gently decorate the canvas;
Like soft silk folds of a lady’s dress
Pooling out, freshly washed,
With a hint of sweet perfume;
Like a cluster of warm, new colors
Gathered in the glowing sunrise,
Bringing the fragrance of a brand new day;
Like velvety scraps of a doll maker’s cloth
Like the sweet soft blush on children’s cheeks
Like the smile of sunshine welcoming spring
Copyright © Rosy Love | Year Posted 2013
|
Details |
Simile Poem
|
Your love flows through my veins
like the Nile River flows through
the sands of Eygpt.
Love flows through my veins
like rivers that break off into endless streams
and water the gardens of the green stems
of torn covered rose bushes.
In my veins, you flow, as a sparrow
flies through the blue skies in beauty.
You are the blood that flows through my veins
and later settles deep in my heart
and embraces me with a hug of intimace.
Love flows through my veins
like endless notes played by the sweetest composer
along with his private orchestra playing a lovely melody.
Rivers, streams break off and flow into lakes and oceans,
Like my veins that lead to my heart,
you are always there flowing through my veins.
Your love flows through my veins.
Copyright © Chris Boskovski | Year Posted 2013
|
Details |
Simile Poem
|
of love of war
the staff of a prophet, seen
fairness not imagine, sings
shouting out, obscenity
recognized, yet
in search of fame, seeking stance
the moment arises, seek
of voice of power, godsend
renown supremacy, yet
prophet not acknowledged, kept
desire of a great life, sought
skill of voice, articulate
hardly ever, cheek
no longer free, famous self
seldom bite snarls dogma, link
of country of faith, kinship
all that’s true, fair play
desired fame acknowledged, pent
the home front, covetousness
war or peace love or hate, just
yelp puppy love, nice
_________________________|
Penned on September 28, 2014!
Copyright © Verlena S. Walker | Year Posted 2014
|
Details |
Simile Poem
|
My Only Flame
Love, like fire, is all-consuming,
And forever should be blooming.
Endless courtship is not a game.
As we watch each year’s seasons turn,
My torch for you will ever burn.
No regrets giving you my name.
You always will my soul inspire,
Forever be my one desire--
My first and last and only flame.
Originally posted in June 2014
Copyright © Mark J. Halliday | Year Posted 2014
|
Details |
Simile Poem
|
The Color Missing
Red, black, and blue are the colors of our work pens. Red is the color of the blood we spill on other people’s mistakes. Blue is the color of the songs we sing on tax forms or pay stubs- every page has a secret melody. Black is the color of the streets we fear most. Black is the color of our signature of approval. Black is the color of our death.
‘But what about the Green pens?’ I ask. They say ‘the ink is too hard to see.’
Copyright © Jacob Reinhardt | Year Posted 2013
|
Details |
Simile Poem
|
A solitary piece the diamond
precious rare gem most treasured
by those lucky enough to hold
Once in possession it is rarely out of grasp
Like the gemstone the mother
requires very specific conditions
in holding fast her (family/) childrens love
Treasured forever in her heart
she will go out of her way
to preen and protect them
holding them dear to her
deep within her maternal safe – the heart
closely guarded by the mind
Her infatuation of all treasures to her
are totally understandable
especially when you think to the complexity
of structure and process taken in creation
Just as from the ‘unbreakable’ in ancient greek
this allotrope of carbon
with strength of bonding between atoms
is representative of that strong love
between mum and child
The maternal being could be compared
to the superlative physical qualities of the stone
Even the characteristic luster
of this gem so prevalent from its ability
to disperse light and colour
compared to the many strengths
roles and qualities of the mother
seen by the many she deals with daily
A most high pressured job
versus the high pressured temperature
within the Earths mantle
that forms the delightful rock it gives birth to
Infants delight and ignite the forbearer
just as the jewel would dazzle the room
a mother’s love encaptures the magical luster
of those she’s birthed and nothing
stands inbetween this richest of cargo’s
Copyright © Anna-Marie Docherty | Year Posted 2013
|
Details |
Simile Poem
|
Have You Ever Wished upon a Star?
And Did Your Wish Come True?
I Think I've Wished for Many Things,
But this Is My Wish for You.
I'd like to See You Happy,
After All That You've Been Through,
And I'd like to See That Smile...
The One That Belongs to You.
You Came to Me Some Time Back,
With Emotional Confusion and Fear.
I Told You There Were Answers,
But You'd Find Them in the Mirror.
I Believe the Day Has Finally Come,
That the Dark Days You Had Are Ending...
For this I Wished upon a Star,
And I'm Glad Your Life Is Mending.
Now You're Standing on the Brink,
Of Your Happy ever after.
I Wish the Very Best for You
And Most of All..Lots of Joy and Laughter.
Copyright © Connie Moore | Year Posted 2013
|
Details |
Simile Poem
|
I’m a simple man
In a simple world
Living a simple life
Loving a simple girl
Simplicity such
A wonderful thing
Got a simple heart
That wants to sing
So every day
When I get up
I simply turn on
That simple stuff
It’s the simple things
In life for me
Because simple things
Are always free
I love to mingle
I’m kind and gentle
Have a heart of gold
That likes to giggle
Have a simple smile
Like a crocodile
And I dress so smart
With simple style
So every day
When I get up
I simply turn on
That simple stuff
It’s the simple things
In life for me
The simple things
Just set you free
I have a simple home
With simple style
A simple garden
Flowers worthwhile
Simplicity is such
A beautiful thing
Have a simple heart
That wants to sing
I’m a simple man
With a simple heart
Love a simple wife
Cause she’s simply smart
Live in a simple town
In a simple way
With our simple kids
That are simply great
So every day
when we get up
We simply turn on
That simple stuff
It’s the simple things
In life for us
Those simple things
You can simply trust
© Copyright K.C.Leake
15th November 2015
All Rights Reserved
Copyright © kevin leake | Year Posted 2015
|
Details |
Simile Poem
|
I miss you,
like the sky misses the stars.
like the streets when there are no cars.
like a government that has no laws,
like music, when it is on pause.
I miss you,
like the desert misses the rain
like an addict without cocaine,
like a kiss that misses lips
like actors without their scripts.
Copyright © Sharon De Fazio | Year Posted 2016
|
Details |
Simile Poem
|
There once was a picture that wormed itself into my reverie
On a gray, cloudy morning, whilst it was raining and cold.
In this one picture were four slices of toast and five beverages.
Three glasses held tea the color of honey, and two were raspberry tinted.
Somehow it was important to me that the toast was suspended
In the air above the table by two glasses, like bookends.
For a moment I wondered who had achieved this strange feat, and why;
But then my thoughts turned to how my life was like that toast,
Suspended in air by forces counteracting gravity,
And any moment a passerby might jar the table, destroying the illusion
Of serenity and stability. I've seen people's lives change as quickly.
For the most part, everything seems to go well for them,
Then there is a turning point, after which nothing seems to be right.
Anything can trigger it; the loss of a child or job,
A spouse, or the home in which they have always lived.
Moreover, there is no reasoning to whom it happens;
Just like a careless passerby might bump a table,
And four slices of toast fall to the table, or the ground.
(Poem is written in Prose form)
Copyright © Isaiah Zerbst | Year Posted 2015
|
Details |
Simile Poem
|
She proudly presents her perfect buffet
In shrouded deceit to all she invites.
Botanical sweets are put on display;
delectable airs of nature’s despite.
Stunningly dressed in leafy attire
with beauty to lure a wanderer’s bite,
her delicate fronds of sticky desire
are sure to provide a gastric delight.
Her guests soon arrive; each place is reserved,
so gracious a host, she welcomes them in.
The unknowing pests, soon to be served,
are placed in their seats and dinner begins.
She lays out her table in perfect disguise;
her sweet hospitality comes to an end.
She then serves a dish of outwitted flies;
a delectable treat made of dinnertime friends.
Copyright © Mark Massey | Year Posted 2016
|
Details |
Simile Poem
|
Being bipolar
is like a rose born missing
some of its petals,--
its color is more vibrant
than all the other roses'!
It may never be
part of a "perfect" bouquet,--
but its rich pigment
can be a precious paint for
Da Vinci's "Mona Lisa."
Alas, it may not
attract the most "honeybees"
in the wilds of life,--
but its scent can be distilled
to make the finest perfumes.
Being bipolar
is like a rose born missing
some of its petals,--
its bouquet is more fragrant
than all the other roses'!
Copyright © Ngoc Nguyen | Year Posted 2014
|
Details |
Simile Poem
|
As you open the door...
you are momentarily transported
back to an innocent child like state.
Your concentration wavers
as your senses react like a 4th of July
firework display.
Large, colorful posters cover the walls
surrounding you...
offering tasty descriptions of many of the items.
All the while the scents of chocolate, fruit,
along with a variable feast of
confectionery delights are taken in
with every breath.
You look around...it's almost your turn.
You must decide...but it can not be taken lightly,
or simply blurted out in a moment of desperation.
The moment has arrived as you step up to the counter.
As eye contact is made,
your mind gives second thoughts to your selection.
Taking a deep breath, you calm yourself...
you can do this you tell yourself,
as the words start to form.
" I'll have a scoop of chocolate chip mint...a scoop of fudge nut brownie,
and a scoop of strawberry cheesecake in a
chocolate waffle cone dish...topped with a modest swirl of whip cream
and hot caramel drizzle, crowned with one perfectly positioned cherry."
Your mouth waters as you take possession of your masterpiece.
As you turn, you look proudly at the others in line,
letting them see your perfectly proportioned glacial reward.
As you grab your spoon, you waste no time leaving,
changing back into an adult, climb back in your car
to feast privately...like a hungry mouse hiding...
eating the last piece of cheese.
P.R.Deremer
Copyright © Pam Deremer | Year Posted 2015
|
Details |
Simile Poem
|
Butterflies Are Free…
(For Karma Nurisha Wa Kupenda)
I touched a butterfly;
It flew away
Free:
Soaring
Into the gentle breeze.
Through the prism of my tears,
Rainbows caressed the skies:
I miss you
And cherish
The cocooned years.
Copyright © millard lowe | Year Posted 2016
|
Details |
Simile Poem
|
I Am The River…
I am the river;
poured out
of God’s
celestial pitcher:
a full river;
swollen with His tears.
I am the river;
my banks hold
the flow
of a nation:
denied, crucified, died,
resurrected and sanctified.
I am the river;
my tributaries flow
wide and deep—
outward, inward, upward,
downward and back
to the source.
I am the river;
The flowing essence
Of a mother’s womb—come
Wade in my history
And let the wetness of ourstory
bathe away all your delusions.
I am the river;
the river
of your birth:
come and swim in me.
Copyright © millard lowe | Year Posted 2016
|
Details |
Simile Poem
|
Tired of talking too much
I wish to rest my rhymes.
Now is time to give ears
To your titanic tale of tears.
The heart that was under constraint
Needs to be unburdened.
My grief-stricken lap waits for
Your grieving grievances.
You, the only speaker and I, a patient listener,
Numb but nod at your each nuance.
Let my heart beat for last
To eternalise our momentary meeting,
I with my muteness
And you with your long-awaited lyrics.
Dew drops fall from your dark eyes
Moistening your rose petaled lips
That sometimes part in a smile.
I, a tragedian of your tale,
A respondent to your reactions
With a heavy heart wipe my wet eyelashes.
Like a pair of love birds
We look lovingly at each other,
Pine over the pains of the past
And fear of the fruitless future.
Little choice we are left with
But to flow like two rivers
Yearning to meet but to end in the ocean,
Our destination, mingling together.
Copyright © Jagdish Pal | Year Posted 2016
|
Details |
Simile Poem
|
TO A POETIC TIME LAPSE
As the sharp rays
of sunlight slowly sliced
through the tarrying tinted clouds,
I wiped away the web
of darkness of night;
broke off a piece of time
and used it to scrape away
the corrosion of agony
from the heart of my mind...
and resuscitated my eroded faith.
Today I will open
dusty luggage of creativity
and pull out wrinkled war worn words:
etch ebony emotions of long lived life
onto refined pulp of trees;
weave soul stirring songs;
mould scented flowers
of peace and love; justice...
feel the breath of God
warming my serene sweet soul
while feathering the nest
of my pregnant poetic mind.
Copyright © millard lowe | Year Posted 2015
|
Details |
Simile Poem
|
sijo
Ideas spin round like maple seeds seeking a spot to sprout.
Our minds are the pond where these tadpoles of thought mature over time.
Polliwogs become frogs; ideas turn into poems.
written 8 May 2016
Have you ever noticed the physical similarity between a maple seed and a tadpole?
Copyright © Reason A. Poteet | Year Posted 2016
|
Details |
Simile Poem
|
The horizon cuts straight, long, hard
silently declining less than a degree
like toys across a cartoon’s one frame stillness
a small yacht rocks like a child’s boat
a helicopter putters, a small jet silently
bellies over the sea thundering suddenly
against a graded blue sky
children flying a kite
a plummeting twisting tied bird in its death throes
falling from the warm seemingly red-speckled blue
broken only by a smudge of grey cloud
curling white-tipped waves swirl against rocks
a lonely Zen-meditative crab in their shade
the sand, ridged, striated, pockmarked
small holes left as bubbling miniature blowholes
fine lines webbed around
sand rippled like the sea, waved and cleansed
a poetic transgression? – Neptune’s impost?
the soap-sud foam his in-coming joyful jouissance
the thin receding water a pin-spot bridal veil
and a bridal train, its white scalloped lace edge
pleating, folding, hiding under the next wave
in rippling curving line-patterns
Copyright © Susan Baquie | Year Posted 2016
|
Details |
Simile Poem
|
IN THE FAMINE OF JUSTICE
Besieged with wrenching pangs of hunger,
bloating a belly of despair, I painfully called out
to my mother—justice—cold just-
ice.
With a Mona Lisa smile and covered eyes,
she revealed her prune-like sagging breast,
the closed the door of the pantry of mercy,
and walked away, leaving my lingering
hungry—
There is not a day I do not trace the trail
she left behind—not a morsel can I find.
The tongue of the freedom bell
no longer speaks. My ears grow weary;
worthless words echo mere memories.
But be beholding my children.
Be not dismayed; for hope unborn
is not dead; nor is its audacious spirit.
Justice may have walked gently into the night,
searching—Tomorrow,
the perfect storm of resurrection shall fill her sails,
balance her scales, and rip the blindfold from her eyes;
and she shall awake from the ravaging nightmare
of injustice and rain down liberating righteousness.
Copyright © millard lowe | Year Posted 2015
|
Details |
Simile Poem
|
The owl's feathers were like ash
They circled inward
Like a void
Pierced by the suns within
Copyright © Henri Dahooter | Year Posted 2017
|
Details |
Simile Poem
|
With you in my life
my beautiful wife
My feelings are deep and true
I will forever belong to you
Your voice is music to my ears
Or a poem by William Shakespeare
I felt like fireworks burst at our first kiss
Oh, my sweetheart ... hugs from your husband Chris
03.09.2017
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
Copyright © Sunshine Smile | Year Posted 2017
|
Details |
Simile Poem
|
"What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow out of this stony rubbish?"
- T.S. Eliot, The Waste Land.
Who tries to grow out of this cold.
Unfolding wings from nothing,
nurtured with meager protection,
nourished with watery milk.
Whose fingers try to burrow
the dry clay, the impenetrable rock.
Who wants to excavate what turned
to stone?
In preservation conservation hides,
in self protection arms as withered
branches wrap around what turned
to stone, knowing that deep inside
one little ember glows, still glows.
There one small drop of water
remains, once a pool in polished
rounded slab of stone, rubble,
remaining consciousness
This is what grows,
this is one seed of hope, one
tiny root, one drop of water, one
cinder of warmth, one knowing once
belonged to a field of glacier. While
only cold remains in once warm
heart that blindly searches,
searches.
***
March 25, 2017
Copyright © Darren White
Copyright © Darren White | Year Posted 2017
|
Details |
Simile Poem
|
Cute as an angel
Heavenly - Oh, gosh
One of a kind
Chubby hands, love the hair
Only one little bite
Lovely magical moments
Amazing pleasure
Tasty - but a little sticky
Enchanting chocolate face
17.09.2017
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
Copyright © Sunshine Smile | Year Posted 2017
|