Long Metaphors Poems
Long Metaphors Poems. Below are the most popular long Metaphors by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Metaphors poems by poem length and keyword.
Not for the contest
No more do I despair
writing for contests with an off the wall theme
Those that want me to create a nightmare
from what was once a beautiful dream.
No more do I care
about Marvel characters who fight and kill
I'd rather spend my time writing silly limericks
for fun and honing a particular poetry skill
than worrying about meter and syllable tricks.
No more do I write
for contests where a sponsor forbids me to choose
how many spaces I indent each middle line
by someone who thinks they're a bard. No, I refuse
to write for a yobo whose rules constrict and confine.
No more contests
do I enter for judges who hold grudges and spite
or who offer friendship placements with a wink.
It's not fair to good poets who get N/A'd as a backbite
I've no more interest in participation with pen and ink
No longer care
to write for judges who give novel length instruction
Yes, rules should be followed, but not to such extreme.
It negates poetic license, serving as a poetic obstruction
making that contest sponsor, head of his or her regime.
No more writing
for those who prohibit adjectives and adverbs be used
or if the sponsor has never written in the specified form.
The power that some feel as a judge can be abused
while preaching about dos and don'ts from a platform.
Oh, spare me
from those who don't know the use of literary devices,
metaphors, proper grammar, and over doing alliteration.
To anyone who wants to enter contests, my advice is...
"Don't take a crown seriously. It will lead to abdication."
No more issues
to deal with sponsors who change their minds midway
through contests because no entries for the theme... bizarre,
and decide, without warning they have the right to say,
"I can do what I want." Who made them the contest czar?"
No blight is this
on judges who sincerely host, giving up their leisure time
to make PS a place where everyone can take an active part.
Those who appreciate good fun in free verse or with rhyme.
I applaud the fair-minded sponsors who have a good heart.
A few weeks ago, I decided to not enter PS contests any longer.
Contest: The Pensive Poet
Sponsor: Constance La France
"While pensive poets painful vigils keep,
Sleepless themselves, to give their readers sleep"
~ Alexander Pope
They call her a "pensive poet",
She sits there lost in thought,
Her wistful silence does show it,
How with worries she's fraught;
When she sits beside that window
With a forgotten drink,
They know she'll soon be in limbo,
Time to think, time to ink;
She sits there writing and writing,
Pages are shortly filled,
With her Muse and words, she's fighting,
Her notions are soon quilled;
Her mind is constantly running,
At night, sleep eludes her,
Metaphors, rhyming and punning,
These are what makes her stir;
She gives voice to her painful past,
Her poems hold her tears,
The silent wisdom she's amassed,
All penned down o'er the years;
Reclusive, she prefers echoes
from the past she's fighting,
She pens of Edenic meadows,
Or grief unexciting;
Pondering over her gone life,
She writes of her deep faith,
Her memories linger through strife,
Her musings like a wraith;
One with Nature, she's always calm,
Writing her cares away,
Inking poetry is her balm,
Keeps her alive each day;
Inscribing her deep impressions,
She sits there in Zen mode,
Her verses are her expressions,
Where her emotion's sowed;
Ruminating in solitude,
She composes her dreams,
She's in "the Pensive Poet" mood,
The "Maiden of Moonbeams".
Ecologically resilient health
and WinWin spiritual fueling economic development
and biologically transforming nature,
Combined with reflection
deflection
inflection of our personal
and economic
and political health v pathology experiences,
Recouple complex metaphors
of green commonsense
inviting a resilient ZeroZenZone case
for health benefits
of planting and harvesting basic humane-divine communion values.
Health allegories and gospel wealth parables
need not autonomously rely on sacred principles
equating blind faith with good faith.
Reassociating non-sectarian positive faith
with active sectarian research for healthy development
of significant positive and negative correlating trends,
appositions and oppositions,
invite regenerative climate healing
especially for remaining secular dominant skeptics,
anti-sectarian nihilists,
LoseSacred and LoseSecular paranoid sociopathologists,
conspiracy theorists,
God is an AngryWhiteWesternMan wounded children
and our fundamentally mistaken keepers,
zealous nature v spirit terrorists,
anti-theological bullies,
healthy climate haters, deniers, fear-mongerers,
self-righteous war marketers and managers and magnates and magnets
Dismissing lists of positive health values
like smiling
and kindness
as weak love tools
for marginalized tender trans- and pangenders
and cooperatively misguided souls
Longing for ecologically resilient health
and WinWin spiritual-economic development
and transformative belonging nature.
"Neon Reverie in ABAB"
(A Folk-R&B Ode to Silicon Dreams)
[Verse 1]
In circuits’ glow, where neon sets the mood,
We dance like Moore’s, each beat a doubling tune.
Your binary hips sway in photon’s shroud,
A queen of code, with neural tresses crooned.
[Chorus]
Let the transistors hum, let the server drums ignite,
We’re wired to love, in megahertz light.
Your algorithms kiss, a quad-core delight,
A party of progress, spinning into night.
[Verse 2]
No clocks can slow the fire in our veins,
As qubits and GPUs toast to what’s ahead.
Your lips are lines of code, a smooth compile,
We’re rewriting the moon, with cosmic read.
[Chorus]
Let the transistors hum, let the server drums ignite,
We’re wired to love, in megahertz light.
Your algorithms kiss, a quad-core delight,
A party of progress, spinning into night.
[Bridge]
But when the silicon giants tremble,
And quantum storms whisper "This is the end,"
We’ll twist the clouds to velvet,
And daisy-chain our fire through parallel streams again.
[Verse 3]
Now Gordon’s ghost raises a sapphire glass,
To lovers in data, sweating on the floor.
Your fingertips map the stars in my address,
A soul in 3D, forevermore.
[Outro]
So let the dust of atoms kiss our crown,
The future’s a lover, dancing in and out.
With silicon whispers, we’re never alone now—
A hymn of love, where the machine and heart beat as one, hallelujah.
Style Notes:
R&B Soul Infusion: Smooth, sensuous verbs ("hips sway," "algorithms kiss") and synths mimicking a human heartbeat.
Folk Roots: Narratives of legacy ("Gordon’s ghost") and communal joy ("dancing on the floor").
ABAB Flow: Each quatrain tightens like a circuit—confident, rhythmic, with a wink to the "party" energy.
Sexual Metaphors: Tech as a lover ("lips are lines of code," "fingertips map the stars").
Blue-Eyed Soul Twist: Playful, velvety harmonies in the chorus for a retro-synthwave vibe.
In the corner of the sky, the sunset weaves its fiery mantle,
Write, poet, write, traveler among the waves of time,
Stars extinguish and are reborn in the eternal dance of the universe,
Write as if you were a prisoner of fate, with a heart between the bars of longing.
The governor of destiny is gone, pardon is a shattered dream,
Write as if you were on the edge of a cliff, above the abyss of oblivion,
White fingers from effort, breathing heavily, with your soul on its knees,
You have one last word to say, one last cry for liberation.
Like a bird in flight, hovering above the world, seeing everything,
Eyes open to infinity, tell us something to save us,
To take us out of the labyrinth of our own shadow,
Scribe of falling stars, let the ink flow.
The river of eternity's tears, night unfolds its silk mantle,
The sleeping city, each word a leaf carried by the wind,
The moon reflects in the silent lake of memories,
Each verse a bridge to the heart of a fallen angel.
Write, poet, write, in each letter a spark of magic,
The whisper of eternity, maybe in your words we find the answer,
The light that guides us through the darkness,
Time flows like sand in the hourglass of our unfulfilled dreams.
In each line, the pulse of life, an echo of the universe's heart,
We lose and find ourselves in the infinite dance of the cosmos,
Write, poet, write, let us lose ourselves in the melancholic magic,
Your metaphors, an enchanted mirror, envelop us in mystery.
Perhaps we will learn to save ourselves,
Embrace the shadows, dance under the pale light of the moon,
The stars sing their eternal song, night unfolds its wings,
Angel of melancholy, carrying us to the realms of endless dreams.
Form: Alliteration
A little alliteration by a long shot speaks so loud.
Metaphors muddle my mind
And silly similes stymie the sentence.
A terrible trope takes too much of my time
g Tiberius is my tag and title
My nom de plume is a personal platitude personified
Better *****es badger me with their bared bosoms
A curious cacophony controls my cochlea
Demanding drugs and daffodils
Eventually ephemeral earth will evince my effervescence
Freakin' phantom fear will appear
Had enough, Harry?
Or do you just ejaculate jocularity?
O K - I'll specially spare you the shroud of St. Sebastien
And say Adios, amigo; ta ta to you, see ya, Zebra; good-by, sweety-pie
So long saintly Samuel, take care, Virginia Dare
And that's the way it is, my miz
Amen and au-revoire.
First sky says, Toth faced the reptiles
Just go back and read the tiles
Forever written laid before your eye
The story goes on for miles
Forward to the time of the snake
This is when the story becomes fake
See eye becomes quicker than hand
Now then thee earth really did shake
Ushering the coming of a lamb
This was the time of the Ram
The establishing of the law
A dividing between you and Sam
Now jumping to the time of the fish
The next step in answering your wish
Love each other as you love yourself
Soon they will arise in dish
Heard from the cry of the guns
Entered we have the time of the one
Whosoever can hear me and see me will
Hit the game winning home run grand slam
Wait, my love, but do you truly believe what you see now?
Are you carried along my river, and am I the one you seek?
Sit beneath the sun that burns like a living flame, submerged deep in the pond of my dreams,
Swaying in the air like leaves carried by the wind, truth or dare, on the altar of fantasy.
Do you see the emerald sea, counting the hearts woven in the silk of time?
There, where you and I remember ecstasy in the pure and naked essence of our being?
Be my sweet forbidden fruit, and I the tongue that delicately explores your mystery,
Trembling in silent bites, devouring the quiver of your hidden desire.
The warmth and salty sweat entwine in a kiss as sweet as honey,
In my arms like a sanctuary, heavenly tremors absorb my burning bliss.
Imagine storms coming to life, dripping with sap and boundless passion,
Tasting your fullness, tickling your breasts like a velvet breeze.
Light as a feather, two keys uncover the labyrinth of a rose twisted in eternity,
Imagining ourselves as forever new lovers, slippery in the immeasurable sweetness of desire.
Thus, our thoughts flow like a river of liquid gold, a smooth stream of infinite sensations,
In a world where desire intertwines with reality in a cosmic dance,
Giving birth to a universe of metaphors and memories floating in eternity,
Where love and fantasy find their place under the enchanted light of an eternal sun.
"Yes, my dear
I'd sacrifice my light for you
There's nothing in this world
I wouldn't do for you
In the blink of an eye
I'd rip the most distant of stars
Out of the sky for you
I'd sacrifice my light for you
Should yours ever dim out
Cross my heart and hope to die
I'd go a step further...
I'd sacrifice my life for you
I'd be your beacon of light
If you're lost in darkness
I'd give you my wings
If you're unable to take flight
I'd be the river of happiness
That flows through your heart
When you're beset
By a drought of sadness"
A parent's promise to his child...
Verses of Metaphors 3- RHYME OR FREE VERSE ONLY Cash Prize Poetry Contest
Theme Chosen: Sacrifice Your Light For Me
Sponsored by: Lu Loo (Winner: 1st Place)
Date written and posted: 04/28/2019
I can’t believe you’re not in the world anymore.
It’s like someone turned off all the lights
And the world went home.
The party, prematurely cut off—
Your face contours etched into my biology.
I feel you in every empty space,
Every pregnant pause.
You are the words I’ve forgotten,
The car keys I lost.
You are the second before I wake up,
My fevered dream.
You’re in every atom, every breath—
But damn, I still can’t feel you.
I want to melt and fade into you.
The silence is a violence
I challenge with poetry.
I throw metaphors
Into the void,
Hoping the void will answer back
In your voice.
Death is not the answer—
But the truth.
Grief is a runaway train
Ploughing through fields of wildflowers
Where we sat once,
Almost touching.
I still wait for your hand in the dark.
And I never got to say goodbye.
And the lights never came back on.
Some Kind of Mystery - Nette Onclaud 1-14-26
As a ten year old I dreamt of a huge room with a stone fireplace. Three weeks later I walked into that room. From that time to toady, I still have experiences like this one.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Mysterious Dream Room
Through gauzy metaphors in tangled dreams
I see a room - a river rock fireplace
An unknown place - a fire unlit
Silvery cobwebs hide definition
As crisp details hide, yet smile
Room with no name - no place on a map
Clutching the arms of reality
In the sunlight I stand in my dream room.