Imagery Image Poems | Examples
These Imagery Image poems are examples of Image poems about Imagery. These are the best examples of Image Imagery poems written by international poets.
I see my face in a fractured mirror,
It reflects shattered images quite deep,
Secrets that the fragments can hardly hide,
A warped and slanted view of what I was,
Reflecting a pale painful pining face.
I try to glue the pieces together,
But that is a battle lost before-hand,
The fracture dealt, too wide and pulled aside,
The sharp sardonic sides still stay stalemate,
Reflecting myself as a ghastly ghost.
Why do you show me this face?
It only brings me to tears
With dark circles about sunken eyes
Now it shows its years.
Why do you show me this face,
This face I knew so well.
With Eyes that cease to sparkle,
Now tears have begun to swell.
Why do you show me this face?
With skin that no longer shines
Worn and lined around the lips,
No laughter lines.
Why do you show me this face?
Why, mirror, must you reflect so bold
For all I see is time’s own trace
where youth once burned like gold.
I see a camera stuck
to my head's cast shadow.
Its photo-bombing
my selfie's inked silhouette!
I twist, step sideways,
swivel and turn,
but I can’t shake it loose from the frame.
The Sun’s intruding,
and colluding,
casting the blame.
The camera can't lie
about why I craved the photo.
Why the shutter
must scatter clutter into the scene,
shot from all angles.
To stall the clean getaway,
To spoil the alibi,
for snatching a snap-shot
from the scene
of the crime.
Twas a portrait, puddles painted.
No face of ours, am I acquainted.
And yet wait still, for quite the visage,
Something new, in someone's image.
It wasn't quite, no frown nor fright.
Though waters spill, from strokes of skill.
Simple paints or mercury,
The subject's hand was cursory.
And so it melted, so it cried.
Lines blurred heavy, and the viewer died.
the staircase stops mid-air
cobwebs choke in dust
down, down critters skitter
down invisible rails
waters swirl
up springs Hope
without a cue card
violins carry it off
Autumn
colors the leaves;
as Nature's brush dapples
inks of cerise, yellow, and gold
on a canvas of green with orange tints;
adorning the tops of the trees.
No season besides Spring,
can compete with
Autumn.
I loved to stargaze on a warm Summer's night,
living in a country village as a boy.
The stars back then appeared amazingly bright,
providing hours of imaginative joy.
A breathtaking, almost spiritual sight,
the kids in cities never got to enjoy.
And to this day, some haven't seen a starry sky,
but I hope that they all will, before they die.
Imagine billions of stars scattered above,
like sparkling diamonds, twinkling in the pitch-black.
Away from the grinding gears of push and shove,
I'd silently listen to Nature's soundtrack.
And observe creation, basking in God's love,
spending hours just staring up, flat on my back.
Feeling connected, as a part of it all,
I'd look up in awe, watching shooting stars fall.
Splendiferous crystals;
Sparkling jewels of light.
Soft, fragile flakes falling,
Silently from the sky.
Spiraling, tumbling, and
Swirling down to the ground,
Scattered by winter winds.
Tender, dark and white meat,
Tangy cranberries and
The best-mashed potatoes
Topped with a thick gravy;
That is so delicious,
The mouth-watering smell
Triggers my appetite.
As a spent sun sets,
ebony shadows
merge with silhouettes;
penciled in the rough
by a charcoal dusk.
A brazen breeze
makes me shudder;
I feel it's cool
breath on my face.
And as wolves
and fireflies,
welcome Night,
the moon
glints like
gold.
Atop fields of sunflowers
dragonflies and a young Fairy
were playing: whiling away the hours,
laughing and being merry.
It is generally believed
that fairies protect sunflowers.
Plans to pick one would be ill-conceived,
young fairies wield great powers.
Scarlet inks, a setting sun,
as ebony fills silhouettes.
And a breeze brings an end to their fun,
gusting strong, as the Sun sets.
Dragonfly and Fairy take wing,
vanishing with the setting sun.
While crickets chirp, the nightingales sing,
and shadows merge into one.
When reality haunts my dreams, night or day,
I dream it away.
Fantasy fuels my imagination;
tempting temptation.
I live within a dream, dreaming that I live:
with naught to forgive.
My mind projects the reflection of a dream,
as a silent scream.
Reason has no say,
and so, slips away
when reality haunts my dreams, night or day.
Symbols of purity
synonymous with love,
swans are monogamous.
Selective pairs dip heads
silently conversing;
swimming in perfect sync,
signifying their bond.
The years have worn my body down:
and soon, I'll breathe my final breath.
Life has left me tired and rundown,
and yet, I'm not afraid of Death:
though, I'll meet my end with a frown.
Lately, time has been running fast:
and my bones are getting fragile.
So many of my friends have passed
I thank God that I'm still agile:
though I don't expect that to last.
Fate has not been overly kind:
yet, overall, life has been good.
With a positive frame of mind;
Life feels real, not Hollywood:
I'll regret leaving it behind.
I will miss humanity's grace
and the unique sound of laughter.
Memories my death will erase,
can't join me in the hereafter:
but till then, they're mine to embrace.
Come October, I feel a nip in the air,
frosting my breath like contrails of smoke;
while gilded leaves start tumbling from the trees.
Overhead, a gaggle of honking geese
are fleeing Winter's approach:
joining the songbirds that have migrated south.
The Fall leaves are painted with bold strokes
of yellow, scarlet, fuchsia, gold, and orange:
inked by Jack Frost,
and sprinkled on the ground like confetti.
Amber and vermilion drip from the trees;
pooling into a crunchy sea
of colorful leaves: that the wind weaves,
into shifting swirls of abstract art.
One of Nature's boldest paintings,
Autumn steals one's breath away, instilling awe;
infusing Summer's death with Winter's birth:
a truly magical transformation to behold.