Long Life metaphor Poems
Long Life metaphor Poems. Below are the most popular long Life metaphor by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Life metaphor poems by poem length and keyword.
Quick sands of fate cave in
airless darkness invites,
reeds of agonizing marsh slither
hope of escape entangled,
risk paves the life’s walkway
for the destiny to saunter.
Uncalculated steps falter
pace dithers uncontrolled,
the sands and the reeds wait
for the guest to arrive late,
tired of walking a long way
on the life’s walkway.
The survival game begins
in toiling times of journey,
struggling hard to win
treading on the life’s walkway,
until the time comes to join
the ordained farewell party.
Destiny is not an excuse
the walk is one’s own walk,
the walkway lighted or dark
the inner lamp decides,
garden path or marshy trail
the inner vision conceives.
A special space of sanctity
the lamp lighter needs,
and the vision maker seeks
to make the life’s walkway to bliss.
July 16, 2020
Contest : All Yours (Feb 27)
Sponsor : Brian Strand
“A meandering river, I flow through this life, over its many plains, as well as its low valleys and high peaks, learning and loving much along the way.” - by author
Those who know me
should know exactly who I am,
for I show my flaws as well as my strengths
in things I say or do.
I’m the product of my culture and things taught me.
I’m a wife, sister, mother, teacher and true friend,
but there is more to it than that.
I’m a daughter of God; He made me who I am.
Before my birth,
God knew me, and he knows my fate.
A meandering river, I keep on
growing and changing paths.
Ever I’m learning from new experiences.
A seeker of truth and a warrior of words,
toward the inevitable
I flow (knowing both joy and pain) back to my home.
I've been living in the house of cards
That I can almost know your move
Cause I've seen how the cards shuffle
And how the games have been played
I learnt all this while growing up in the house
By age of seven, I could keep a straight face
And bluff while I had my face on
I had no room for being played
I had a heart of aces,
A poker heart, a true art
That's why i was good at games
Cause I knew when to bend the rules
I learnt the game then the players
That I should never up my hand
Cause that would only raise stakes on me
And only make it harder for me to win
I learnt that I can't do it all alone
That's why at every table I sat
I made sure I made a friend
One that always has my back
The PO£T
The green leaf with its yellow edges,
falls ever slowly, dancing towards Earth.
Before me lays a field of changing hues,
where my thoughts go to be relived.
Above me long gray clouds pass under a clear purple sky
and bring a subtle change from light to evening dark,
to remind me, days must end before tomorrows rise.
While I sit quietly watching the green leaf,
it lands in swift moving water, tumbling in the rapids,
beneath blue painted mountains, now covered in white.
There I learned to let go, like the leaf
and allow thoughts from my summers and spring,
to drift away in the endless moving streams of my mind
and not fear the limbs now naked and bare,
in the Autumn of my life.
As I await Winter, with its cold frozen silence,
I've become a green leaf with yellow edges,
falling ever slowly towards Earth.
Under a fiery, golden, melon sun,
lying in sprawling fields of unborn dreams;
images of passing clouds, stories spun,
wishing on stars and gathering moon beams.
In time, outgrew the fields of youthful days,
hungry to search in sapient places,
exploring the turns and twists through life’s maze;
sailing through lochs to open sea spaces.
Scaled castle walls, soaring to turrets high,
in search for the promise of rainbow’s end.
Though storms and regrets, I cannot defy;
walked the path of truth and grace to ascend.
Settled in a chair, gliding with my past,
on my lap a quilt of warm memories;
stitched in chapters of my life; peace at last,
reflecting on my journey’s treasury’s.
~~~~
Date: July 8, 2022
For: It’s All About Three Q’s Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
Theme: “Life”
Quatrain in ABAB, CDCD, EFEF, GHGH rhyme scheme
Syllables verified on howmanysyllables.com
Rhymes verified on rhymezone.com
Grammar checked on Poetry Soup checker
Placed 1st in contest
Color, miracle of light, never ending palette of energy; flood my mind and wash away the gray abyss.
Paint my heart, red and gold;
my life with a million color-scapes.
A life without color, is a monster;
lying in wait to devour everything.
My palette, likes to dance, among the tulips and poppies; nature’s canvas, provides the music.
Pirouetting brush, taps out scenes on a canvas;
a one-dimensional adventure, to peruse for years;
a snapshot of a moment in time.
My spirit rides the flow of pigment across the canvas; skating on the flow,
I am at one with hues birthed by light.
Meditating upon them, I come to see the beauty
in the world and in myself;
a palette of colors, am I.
All life, dances in reds, greens, yellows and blues;
their blending, gives birth to hues, pastel to bold;
life is light in inter-play, with everything.
Look around and brand the colors upon your heart,
memory and soul; tattoos of joy and sadness,
blend to build a canvas that is viewed by all.
Your colors; valued by others or hated,
determine your destiny.
When you re-paint your life, do not fear the colors;
revel in them. Your imagery will live on, eternally.
In his heart a man plans his course but
the Lord determines his steps.
Proverbs 16:9
~~~~~~~
In our youth, you would agree,
We are emerging creeks,
Babbling with delight, as we journey wild and free;
Moving with the flow of life, our true nature we do seek,
A path to fulfill our apogee, our peak.
As time moves forward, a river we become,
Swiftly moving through the wilderness of life,
We tackle storms our plans could not perceive, and we succumb;
Accepting the times, we live with abject strife,
Through the rapids of disparity and rife.
Channeling our path, we follow without fear,
Widening our vision, carving out our legacy,
Deepening the riverbed, repenting souls can clear.
At the estuary of life, the river meets the sea of equity;
Looking out on the horizon, we shall meet our destiny.
Date: Feb. 4, 2022
For: Quintain (English) Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Emile Pinet
Checked on Rhyme Zone
I see a beautiful monarch butterfly
Gliding up in the backdrop of sky
Widespread wings caressed softly
By the sun and kissed by the wind
Arresting beauty of the universe
In the fleeting geometric pattern
Suspends me in numb awe
I see the complexity of life dialectics
Moving smoothly from one life form
To the other through reincarnation
Of one being passing through stages
So extremely distinct and separate
So uniquely uniform and wholesome
In one passionate attempt to reach
The perfection of lightness of being
Expressed in the pattern of wings
A tiny egg at the edge of a leaf
Of an orange milkweed hatches
Into a hungry caterpillar that is
Focused on eating and storing
Energy of leaves sun, and wind
Like solar panels equipped with
Tesla batteries absorbing sunrays
And converting them into energy
Of life then hanging itself on a branch
Upside down like crucified Peter
Slowly transforming into green
Magical shell that guards miracle
Of inexplicable transmutation
Happening inside steadfast cocoon
Where a caterpillar’s sleepy form
Mysteriously being transformed
Into a totally new living being
With one primary genetic ring
Holding the secret of life
Around which magical wings
Painted in arresting ornaments
Striking colors of stripes and rings
Butterfly emerges one morning
Out of the shell that she was confined
And flies into the blue open skies
Does it remember any of her past stages
Or each time she starts from the scratch
And sees this world in arresting awe
Over and over again as if she
Has never seen it before
Just like we do every time we are born?
Peaked out and everything was covered
White—some things totally invisible—visioning
Helpless immobility burdens, once always conquered:-
Background sunlight caste dull-white shadows
Across whiten, once pale green grass groundings;
Where excited dogs have left frozen scented footprints.
Wow, who would have imagined that warm yesterday
Was, as if fall had challenged winter to show her cold face?
Well, weary winter just burst out in all her agonizing beauty!
And now, here we sit in an even more distancing atmosphere
With its own chilling pandemic overtones of melting running water
Wetting wishful dreams frozen into no-show-snow, slippery tomorrow!
To live is to be:
Responsible contestant,
revolutionary conscious,
propositional contester...
Not living is:
Not to propose alternatives,
do not perform possible
media changes and
times of the ends...
cannot live :
Just staying in comfort,
practicing half-truths,
looking only for the middle ground...
Do not accept any
Status Quo passively, and not
be content just to sight life... and
not live it fully...
Aux poésie tous...
Allons enfánt de la vie...
Poètes aux armes...
Let's fight...!