Best Similitude Poems
I will pedal fast to recover.
To the bookstore! To the library!
Wild for books! The feel, the touch.
Those pages fast or slow, they flip for me.
I dine on every sweet and salty word.
Their covers bid me stop, their hue marquee
cause me to laugh or weep, my mind transferred.
Wild about books! Their brains! Their brawn! I breach
a poet’s ecstasy — a golden speech.
A cemetery stone, my tablet cold.
An epitaph I read — the shards drool.
Those pretty words! I long to finger gold.
Instead reflective glass, the story’s cruel.
Wild about books! Their brains! Their brawn! I breach
a poet’s ecstasy — a golden speech.
The words, similitude of braille, lose face.
The utter joy, the scent of books, the sass.
In this isolation, I lose my place.
The ink of deep blue sky and green fresh grass.
I will pedal fast to recover.
To the bookstore! To the library!
Wild for books! The feel, the touch.
4/27/2020
Wild Poetry Contest
Sponsor is Anthony Slausin
She comes to me when e’er she will,
When starlight sprinkles my windowsill.
When the dew finds rest upon the grass
She taps upon my window glass.
I go outside to be with her,
To share a moment soft and pure,
But she soon glides away down a wooded lane
And I who follow think I follow in vain.
We amble through the night time woods,
Past curled up ferns and dark monk’s hoods,
Past spiders in their silken weavings,
Long past when night surpasses evening.
I follow her deep into the glen
To the reedy edge of a foggy fen
Where cattails sway in a subtle breeze
And glowworms float in airy ease.
She pauses by a drowsy creek
And turns to me as if to speak,
But saying nothing moves farther ahead
And alights on a nearby milkweed bed.
She bids me listen to a joyful tune
The crickets play beneath a full white moon,
The notes flutter, then fall, gentle and sweet
In dappled moonlight at my feet.
We listen in silent similitude
Afraid to disturb the delicate mood,
Yet soon she starts to converse with me
And I am richer for her company.
We talk about many wonderful things –
About robin’s eggs and butterfly wings.
About caterpillars, elves and gnomes
And where she claims to make her home.
We talk about love and the joy it will bring
And how it can make a lonely heart sing.
I then smile at her but she turns away
And I, left speechless, have nothing to say.
And so we share the passing night
And greet the dawn’s creeping light,
But before the night succumbs to day
She once more starts to glide away.
She lingers near the waking brook
Then disappears in a rocky nook.
Looking in I can see her no more –
She has returned to where she was before.
Morning has come too soon it would seem
And she has left me alone to ponder my dream.
A dream? Perhaps, but real I know
For she had deigned to make it so.
I was asleep
when darkness died
Radiant joy lit up my fertile dreams,
the famine tears
all were purity dried
My corona eyes opened wide
within the quiet void
of slumber death similitude
I saw the stellar light of truth
kill that withering abyss of flowering lies
rooted in gross darkness
Cloaked tick-tock whispers tried
to fear alarm rouse me
from my supernova lullaby peace
But the rapid receding
of the corpse cold eclipse nightshade
Gave way to the warmth
of the dawn star of a bright new day
When the terror of darkness died,
the last breath of midnight stopped
Then the glow of infinity,
gloriously,
opened my blessed born-again eyes
Dedicated to my dear friend, Alexis Y,
a most talented poetess.
— Romantic Warrior
LET’S TENDS TO OUR FRIEND CAREN
Caterpillar in chrysalis,
mummified pain,
sleep it off.
Doze o beautiful butterfly,
wings clipped
but for a raging season.
Fair garden waits,
as your friends
tend to pests,
at your behest,
and string pretty things
that will win your smile.
Fly, with your similitude of pattern,
delighting in your fairy garden.
The twinkle of green and periwinkle
dusty stars, grins of slight mischief
in their wiles,
while you sleep, heaven’s child,
while you dream in winsome hues.
Recollect your joy,
touch the milky white moon,
sleep, sleep,
rest your toil,
leave it all behind.
Weary eyes turn to opalescent skies.
Arise, dear friend, arise
anew.
Beginnings wait for you…
The gang you tend, tender hearted for you,
waits for the embrace of replies,
ever faithful Caren.
6/8/2019
CHERRY BLOSSOMS AFTER MIDNIGHT
his sweet voice, I savor
i shake off the shivers of December
his cordial words warm me
i adjust the heat, grab another blanket
the vibration of his vocal cords
similitude of a lover’s lullaby
the sea so gentle, the silver moon
i’m lulled to sleep by his cherry blossom lips
12/19/2018
A Succinct Treat Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Michelle Faulkner
I sail unaware
into
the ocean currents
of her life:
and
smitten, I
desire to ride
them with her.
Somewhere
along
the ocean
ways, a
seed of love
plants itself in
the soil
of my heart
and takes root
and grows—
only to perish
like
an embryo of
hope
that's aborting itself:
though I love
her still,
she cuts
and lacerates my heart
like a careless
knife.
In spite of
this cruelty and myself,
I look
for encouragement
in her stare.
And
at the outlines
of her
magnificent
form
I marvel:
she is
indeed
a Helen of Troy,
a Venus—
on
whose
loveliness I
so richly gorge!
But never was
a lonelier
man
more wretched
than I
am,
as she cannot
return
my
affections
with equal measure
of feeling
or passion.
I would be gladder
had she been unwedded
to another,
and could more
easily be
within my desirous
and jealous
orbit!
In time, I
never
see her
again;
and love,
or the similitude
of It—
like
some aborted
fetus—
flushes down the
toilet
and dies
with her parting
as well...
My light was dark and cold
til you came in the door,
then time fell through the floor.
To you my soul I've sold,
The price I'll pay, untold.
My heart you'll soon restore.
Til then my hope so true
is our similitude.
As life we mottle through,
I'll share myself with you
in life's short interlude.
Then death we will exude.
For you my only plea,
are you my destiny?
08/31/15
SCARS
Show me one who does not evolve
And I'll show you the grave.
A chemical reaction that comes and goes is love,
so is heartbreaks which turns your fire off;
Causing life scars and memoirs,
inducing painful ecstasy and tremors.
Are scars ugly and imperfect?
Mine's not; they never go away like life's precept
but keep waging like the windstorm.
To mortality, imperfection is a norm,
Today's bruises similitude to tomorrow are mere token.
Scars are not reminders of what's been broken
but rather, of what's been regenerated:
The EVOLUTION of being is created.
Vick Manuel Poetry {VMP}
Copyright© October 27th, 2022.
In my youth I have known none but you,
molded I was of your words,
in your hind I was shielded,
but now Mama you are gone,
to whom shall I know in similitude?
With this hand I passed unto you,
the dust,
this it is, the dust
dust to dust,
but the dust I passed,
will be passed unto me too.
They were in her mind,
She pencilled them in her heart,
They came forth from her,
Asimov’s children,
She bore them,
One after other came forth,
Generation after generation,
They were transformed,
There was a transition,
Artificial intelligence hit the
the crescendo of the technology world,
It has held bound in the corners of the world,
It infiltrated the realms of space,
Agile robots and androids
interface with humans,
Humans are overly
dependent on them,
The laws of robotics
have their shortcomings,
So also robots are flawed beings.
They are no match for humans,
Despite their pitfalls and stumblings.
March 29, 2022.
What a bright does the day
When her lantern lights and laughs
I ruminate your replica
But I’d say you are who you are
Bright as just the day
What a father does the day
For impregnates the night
For his lantern reflects
For a new day to be birthed
For God’s creature to abide
In the morn
At noon
In the evenin
What a mama does the day
For births days in day
For creature to breed and occupy
In the morn
At noon
In the evenin
I ponder your similitude
I’d say you are the good
For you conceive each day
And born the day
When a night sinks the day
And the day rest for the day
And creature goes to rest
Eyes shut,
What next?
A new day is birthed in land of the lord
For just a day is life in world
O! Creator
On my knee I pose
This is my morning
Innocent of the day
Energy is no doubted
On the ladder of needs
What a sweet is life
When a goal is acquired
I am a bird
Powerless to flutter
High above the ladder
With weary wings
I am a horse
Having marathons to run, not jog
Yet lesson legs
O! Reviver
Comes to my means
Strengthens my wings
Strengthens my legs
Against my noon
For in the noon
Muscle dwindle
For a run on the ladder of goal
Makes my an eagle
Revives my feathers
Want to fly beyond the ladder
Makes me Achillie Tang
Want to have a smooth swim
In this sea if life
Makes me an air, unseen
Want to dance in this lively life
Without a halt
With less effort
Against my evening
For in evening
Weary and crackled bone
As leaves kissed by the sun
And no more run to run
But my labour I shall reap
As famer reaps the crop
And I await the day to sink
And when the day sink
And closed are my eyes
Though darkness
A new day is birthed in a land of white
Where dwellers dress in white
And I shall honoured
With angels ballad
Achillie Tang is a fish.
So much to solicit, but with substance excluded,
she mimics intimacy, but leaves one secluded.
Flatteries slip off her tongue like honey's sultry sweetness.
"Come to this incensed bed for pleasure's soft caress."
Like a crafty serpent's spiel, her lips slither stellar speech.
Secure your spirit, flesh, and soul; she'll sample some of each.
With silken negligees, she'll sustain a slave's stronghold,
stealing one's strength like the lust for shiny gold.
One's best possession is sequestered, that of self, a sword within,
squandered to a showy stranger, a satanic mannequin.
Leaving spouse and offspring grieving, an egregious price to pay,
some have spurned their own cisterns to search for soggy clay.
Listen closely, my son, with stern discretion be wise.
For she will lead you in similitude as Eden's sad demise.
12-8-2020
References: Proverbs 5 & Proverbs 7
"Flee sexual immorality. Every sin that a man does is outside the body, but he who commits sexual immorality sins against his own body." 1 Corinthians 6:18
Who is he that can show light its dwelling place?
Or carve destiny in to the hands of man or stud it in the sky?
Who is he that makes Earths foundation tear and shake?
And instructs the morning birds to sing their lullabies?
Who is he whose words cut through soul and rock palely?
Whose eyes behold day and night in similitude?
Who adorns the brightest light as a garment faithfully?
Who replaces the pugnacious sun with the placid moon?
Who is he that can burn a flame or drown a sea?
Whose semblance causes trembling to tremble?
Or who knows the beginning and end of infinity?
It is the same who knows, loves and created all.
Analogy of Life
Faults of
life, might be,
for
opting some analogy;
Humans earn or
inscribe poem,
or write an ode and earn,
with or lacking a logic,
and similitude;
But all manifest in
void and
life becomes a finding,
humans, the modules
and our analogy –
become elements
to instigate the poison
to irrationalize the self.
The desecration of purity,
Omen of the desolation of paradise,
Established by iniquity,
Sanction for death to arise,
Dethronement of the first,
Coronation of the pseudo morning star,
Genesis of the thirst,
Enslaved to a depraved master.
In tumult and toil,
Unending strife in strive,
To gain the yield of the soil,
Death alone brings reprieve,
Upon man and his progeny,
A curse of eternal servitude,
To the perverter of destiny,
Powerless despite divine similitude.
Gabriel’s Annunciation,
Fulfilment of messianic prophesy,
Virgin birth by divine conception,
In an age of great apostasy,
Reestablishment of son ship,
Reordination into priesthood,
Reinstatement of kingship,
Redemption hung on a cross of wood.