Narrative Image Poems | Examples
These Narrative Image poems are examples of Image poems about Narrative. These are the best examples of Image Narrative poems written by international poets.
What is a man but his last breath
All that he is he thrives to be
A single soul like a lone wolf
Everything we are we choose to be
A life of obstacles we still persuade
That in a breath life can just end
Without notice losing a friend
They come and go as if yesterday end
Here for a moment in time leaving a mark
We know the kindness of heart they show
Even in life brothers could be brothers
Love rules our existence even til death
Making of man, simplest structural molecule
Two things are certain, to live and die
Soul of a spiritual alien being
The persistence to carry on human race
Always trying to show better for ourselves
To establish our existence of mankind
Where would we be without the other lead
In each one their struggle be same
Time knows no age, some cut short
Some from an endless time still wake
What is it that makes a man his friend
But a man be their own friend in trust
Know what makes us is what changes us
That effort we put forth a lasting memory
A picture painting with flaw
Making of mankind, dust covered graves
Time has shewn his face, but free
A date the waiting soul to be.
Upon thy bed he lay barbed to the sky
She wonders if it's time to say goodbye.
His finger folds a curl on her hand
It's if as though both two should understand.
One last look his eyes bid to a view
Her loving face he'll miss by morning dew.
Sleep my love the whispering voice he hears
And finally with eyes closed, life disappears.
What was once to be, what was
A life of dreams and hope's reality
Chaos turned uncontrollably wildly insane
A society of a broken world,A Lost World
A dying generation,a new begins
People out of control,no control
Killings everyday the news channel saids
If not by gun, phones become deadly
The people cry even if their own destruction
The hurt is felt even to the economy
As well as the soul,a lost world unfolds
A society who condemns God just their pleasure
Their needs be not yours but their own
That behind the gun they pull triggers
Who to blame, not the one swinging hatchet
But society,We The People our choice cries
As we point blame to a lost world dying out
We want to do crime but not pay the price
Kids kidnapped and raped,no parental control
Our choice be our own Let Freedom Ring
But without sacrifice what do we gain
If we become a lost world without perception
A Lost world with no future cause we fail to teach
The Masked Singer is an entertainer on stage in masquerade
A baker by day; a singer by night with accolade
The Masked Singer dresses as a male and sometimes female
He is a ***** but with many personalities of a strong male
The masked one bakes bread in the morning
Before dawn donates bread in an orphanage
That's what he does in bright days of living
Sings and dance in the evening passage
The masked male renders songs of praise
To God and to all of humane haste
Once he was awarded in the Hall of Craze
Disguising as a singing pauper on streets of blaze
It's a short-lived life narrated about the masked singer
Who died shortly after a sponsored-play with a ringer
A runaway train in the dark that ran over
His untenable body wringed and flattened headless
Yards away from the rail... a rolling head of the masked singer
"I dedicate this simple poem to a friend representing all other hardworking LGBTQs of the World who offer more than enough of themselves in saving other people's lives."
(Prosebite)
"The Sum of Us"
When the hearing has left
and the eyes cry tears
like fathomless oceans
filling those contained opines
in their empty vessels,
floating around us,
the interior immersed
swims in the meaning
of fast metronome
caught in the breast,
dancing every second
right and left right and left
the blind will see
eventually feeling
each beat unmissed
the essential never die
we are regenerating
all part of the same
the sum of us
all in one name
the sum of us
(LadyLabyrinth / 2023)
Remembering Achill island where:
landscape so barren echoes with loneliness.
Remnants of harsh winter slowly receding,
leaving terrain behind burnt from elements.
Will spring bring a green renaissance?
High on cliffs inquisitive Peregrine Falcon,
sharp-eyed and watching ocean frenzy.
Arrogant bird of prey, with attitude,
indifferent to Achill's weather.
Sojourner birds will return with spring.
Glacial island's intriguing domain.
Atlantic storms forever sculpt prospect,
as bitter winter sun skims land playfully.
Creating elusive shapes and shadows,
like a kaleidoscope of mystery.
These impressions stay with me,
when returning to my concrete existence.
Instead of screeching soaring seabirds:
the endless roar of traffic.
Closing my eyes I remember.
Let me tell you a story
of a brave Pakistani female activist,
Malala Yousafzai.
She stands defiant and unabashed,
with a pragmatist approach to women's rights.
Wrapped in self-confidence;
truth bears witness to her strength.
A woman who needs no man to think for her,
she approaches life
with her head held high and eyes wide open.
And yet, she often wanders
through a minefield of traditions
rigged to explode without warning.
She defines who she is,
not by how others perceive her;
but by how she perceives herself.
Her heart confronts the harsh light of reality
and directs her soul to seek more from life.
Although her dreams aren't ignored,
they're often dimmed to see past their hopeful sheen.
Fear is a cunning emotion,
using deceit as a means to an end.
Demeaning words get strung together
like a barbwire necklace;
and their intent leaves little doubt.
And yet, She stands defiant; for feelings of equality
are firmly anchored in her heart,
and it will take more than a bullet to dislodge them.
I OPENED A DOOR
AND FOUND MYSELF ATOP
A MOUNTAIN PEAK.
A THOUSAND FEET
ABOVE THE CLOUDS.
OXYGEN WAS EXTREMELY THIN.
ONE MIGHT SAY RARE.
ONE MIGHT EVEN HALLUCINATE
UNDER SUCH CONDITIONS.
MY ENTIRE SURROUNDINGS
WERE COVERED WITH SNOW.
EXCEPT FOR A SIX FOOT
CIRCLE OF LUSH GREEN GRASS.
IN THE CENTER APPEARS TO BE
A PARTIALLY BURIED ROCK.
THE SUN WAS DIRECTLY
OVER THIS ROCK.
WAS THIS A PHENOMENON.
HOW COULD THIS
BE EXPLAINED.
IT'S DIFFICULT TO SAY
IF THIS WAS A ROCK
OR A BOULDER.
ALL I SEE
IS WHAT IS SHOWING.
A CLOSER LOOK AT
THIS BURIED ROCK
MAYBE BOULDER
I CAN SEE AN
INSCRIPTION.
TO KNOW ALL
IS TO BE ALL
TO BE ALL
IS TO BE
IMMORTAL
I'M NOT SURE
HOW MANY TIMES
I READY IT.
HOW EVER
IT MADE ME THINK.
I THOUGHT ABOUT IT.
I BROKE IT DOWN
MULTIPLE WAYS.
ONE WORD AT A TIME.
THE ENTIRE VERSE AS ONE.
I HAD NO CHOICE
EXCEPT TO WONDER.
AND MY MIND DID WANDER.
HOW MANY LIFE TIMES
WOULD IT TAKE
TO KNOW
ALL THERE IS TO KNOW?
HOW MANY BEINGS
WOULD I HAVE TO BE
TO BE ALL THERE IS
TO BE?
IF TO BE IMMORTAL
IS TO HAVE NO END.
WHERE DOES
IMMORALITY BEGIN?
Michael E. Harris
02282021
Blue Dress
The dolphins of Monrovia,
came to dinner one day.
The dress,
all blue...
you understand.
It was held beneath the sea,
not under a tree,
silly bee,
but there was a band.
It played all night,
all the ladies so bright,
in marked uniforms,
not all the colors
you might suppose,
but blue and green and gold.
The blue sea,
the fine color of "her" dress...
the queen of the underground ball.
The sky, a sapphire, crushed to powder,
lost and mirrored in her eyes.
Green, kelp that covered her shoulders,
and kept her warm at night.
Gold, the coins of money,
sailors paid...
to keep their souls,
while others stayed.
The court watched as the dancers whirled,
the Sea King he was drown...
but no one knew until they
filleted his body,
and gathered the net.
The Queen cried,
blue tears...
to match her dress.
Blue Dress Contest
Oh, old photograph that hangs
On the factory cafeteria wall,
Everyday enticing me to enter
Your era your environment
Minds to breach
To Reach into your inner feelings.
To focus upon you all standing
At your work benches and machines,
To probe your entrenched way of life,
Minds to breach
While wearing military expressions
Inanimated frozen within your time.
Where an image extracted without pain
Yet all gathered without a single smile.
Slaves to the mystical magical device
An invention for in time one does dwell,
Minds to breach
Waiting for the hooded photographer.
© Harry J Horsman 2019
"A photograph (1949) - my father's story, a gloomy image"
A young man, who already has a heavy luggage
The backpack he has been carrying since birth
a gloomy image ...
The struggle to be present in life
He pushes his hair away from his eyes
where he walks in an unknown city
Everyone knows it's pretty tough to be young
It's about growing up ... fast
Dare to go out into the world,
naked and vulnerable -
a gloomy image ...
He had to help his mother, stepfather
and half siblings - a financial support
Wish I could read his thoughts
Dig a little deeper into the human mind
The meaning behind your pain
Humiliation and never accepted
This is not a sunshine story
a gloomy image ...
Although the photograph is yellowed and faded
His thoughts means an irreplaceable role for some
12.09.2019
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
Writing Challenge 2, September 2019 - The Photograph
Sponsor, Dear Heart - Wiishkobi Ode
3rd place in the contest
I pray to gain great so the pains will leave my lane, drain
I seek light, that is brightness so I will leave the night darkness
I pray for protection so my days on Earth will not be put into dislocation
because we are all humans and that we need protection in different occasion
Oh Lord, you are the father of all us
The beginning and the end
The Lord of Lord
And the king of king
When we call upon your name you make wonders;
Wonders that can't be counted different times, numbers
May your name be glorified
Forgive us our sin
because we have sin against you in distinct ways
Father I come to you as your child
Because we are your children and that you never failed your children
Lord I seek wisdom, knowledge and understanding;
Understanding that it is not easliy explainable
We are learners, I am learner
We all have different way to go
Lord, be our guardian
Lead us to the right path
So that we will not loose ourselves in different part
It is said there will be strategy
Make our own into good one, comedy
Non for the tragedy.
The early morning breeze from the atmosphere;
Is like a freeze that need to be measured even though it is not wind
The birds of the air sweet melodies sound aloud
So early In the morn
Making me feel splendid when I yawn
I peep through the window seeing the sky so bright
Then I have the thought that my day will be light
starting from the Genesis of the day to night
I love the smell of the flowers
And the sweet honey from bees
Along side with the dancing boughs of all trees
I love the waving ocean upon the sand
And also in love with the seashells when I placed them on my hand;
Either on water or land
All things on Earth including animal and humans are of great
Having hundred percent rate
Either length, width, height or weight
Harvard asked, if I still have it!
A strange question due to my
Weird inquiry, from requirements
To attainments, life so entertaining
When you "been living"
Any how, giving myself a pat-
on the shoulder for such a-great-work,
From running away to chasing my dreams!
The parallel worlds, what can we do with out the other?
We all know the world is round
But it has rules: contours outlining my trajectories,
as I search for the ruler
From the equator to the atmospheres,
And gravity pulls me down...!
Like woman falling in love,
The law of attraction and I'm behind bars:
Magnetism and I'm strong as iron,
Hard love: so I plant roses
lawnmowers cutting my fine grasses
Now my land looks like deserts
Oh man, sand all over the show like
Ants...hahaha! kids laughing again:
O why don't you fly Peter pan?
Mankind... a free man
Dwelling in a place: "we call it freedom"
That's what I want you to be!
Free as free "So I kneel"
life so hard:...
Created from the finest marble,
Sculpted by our dreams:
The great statue of liberty,
Designed by architects
And built by the people,
White turned into grey
The over due time as-
Our dreams fade away,
Fights: wars of man...
But we all strong: The concrete floor!
Doors open for the next architects
Sculptors, and builders,
The children offered an education
So they grow up to be better people!
Seldom: for their self to dwell in,
Building a place called kingdom.