Family Extended Metaphor Poems | Examples
These Family Extended Metaphor poems are examples of Extended Metaphor poems about Family. These are the best examples of Extended Metaphor Family poems written by international poets.
do you hear
subtle thunderings there,
the arrow shot of fired jumbo jets,
swinging propellers swelling lumps of cold regrets,
or is it all I wanted, a love none forgets,
home to dispossess layers, claim herds,
entice with foreign words...
winter birds
IN THE IRONY OF FORGIVENESS
The irony of forgiveness,
Is that human nature, doesn't
Demand that its cause
Be given forgetfulness;
Thus, giving anger opportunity
To revive its paining spirit
Of negative recollection;
Versus positive reconciliation:-
To forgive and not forget
Can prove to be oxymoronic;
Inhibiting resurrecting love
From eternally bonding
Family, friends, or lovers:-
The forgiveness we ask of God,
We must also give to one another;
And this forgiveness begins
With the forgiveness of self:-
Past trials and tribulations
Extricated and flushed down,
Let self be now ever bonded
In the onederful oneness onement
That God has bestowed upon thee
With faith’s divine peace and love:-
In the dim-lit alley of the soul's bazaar,
Were jazz and jive spill from ajar,
We tap our feet, snap fingers, under stars,
And speak in verses, raw and without pause.
The city breathes, a living, pulsing beat,
Its heart a drum, its voice a saxophone,
We weave through streets, our words a rhythmic feat,
In its sync with life yet distinctly our own.
We are scribes of midnight's whispered tales,
Our ink, the dreams that dance in smokey air,
Each line is a track on which our spirit sails,
A journey deep, beyond the skin, we dare.
So let us write, with passion as our guide,
Some beat poems, where truths cannot slide.
Then we'll take a carpet ride,
Sail across space standing side by side.
Spit fire and spin honey,
the target-a wealthy man and his money.
She has no other talent that qualifies,
just the sum of what quantifies.
She's got cause and family ties,
under the guise of friendship and lies.
Depending on time to line her pockets,
she waits like a spider to sign the dockets.
The honey it dries,
the old man dies.
It evokes such pain and indifference,
targets of especial sentimental significance".
Long after the coffee pot
Calls the kettle black,
Eventually they will realize
They both serve the same purpose.
Just one begins slow and boils up fast,
While the other brews until it is filled
With the most bitter taste.
The coffee pot serving a roast
Darker than its host.
And the kettle instantly melting away
All of the dryness of the ground beans.
Clocks that Run
Backwards to my day.
I pray first and start off right.
I don’t think I will make it through,
if I do not. It is rough out there.
I fight my way
from sheets to the seat,
of my car.
I fight my way
out the drive,
down the street,
and to the place I live…
work.
I battle and decide changes,
and things that matter,
to no one that cares at all.
I break,
long enough to inhale bad air,
and cigarettes.
No changes
to the moment.
I finish late,
past 5:00
or 6:00
or 7:00
or…
Homeward.
Across the great divide.
The one
that is between me and living.
I go there to sleep and eat.
I think I have family there…
Somewhere?
I come back home
to do as I am told.
I need a new life,
or a new clock.
or both.