Metaphor Poems | Examples of Metaphor Poetry

It is the world of Shiva and Shaitan It is the world of Krishna and Kant Devi on Nandi holding Demon and Son Devotees, Deities, Ash, Claps and Fun Fragile girl carrying child in her arm's Not mother but a sister’s virgin palms To Die for him but not a bruise to touch Just Bottom pinching nothing too much Anguish in her arms...

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In the chambers where thoughts are supposed to roam free, Foreign voices echo, not belonging to me. Words planted like flags on conquered territory, Thoughts that flower in soil not my own. I speak in tongues my ancestors never knew, See through lenses ground by hands I never touched. My dreams are shaped by stories I did not choose, Yet they...

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flowers that have flourished in winter made beautiful in the frost, from the same chilling breeze they have grown lost. one flower stands out in its sunny meadow, the other still frozen in a field, envying the other flowers that get to grow along in that meadow, waiting to be revealed. every once in a while the pollen of the flower...

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Mountains made of waves tore the flesh from Mother Earth — flayed and flooding. The mud grieves beneath her, clogged with stagnant saline. She used to breathe — rivers ran wild and free, forests stood tall and proud. For she was once lush — verdant skin stretched over a trembling core, veins of sapphire seas pulsing with breath. But we carved into her with teeth...

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Why the weight of life? Why not just the lightness, even If unsustainable?...

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removing the transparent veil countless truths secrets revealed from you!...

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Once, the world was stitched in crayons; lemon yellows, ocean blues, skies that never ended and trees that could talk if you listened hard enough. I used to run with arms outstretched, believing wind could lift me, believing in magic found in cereal boxes, closets, the curve of a shadow. But now, the rollercoaster creaks where it used to roar. Books I once clutched to my chest gather dust on shelves too high to...

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See the thrashing The panic Hear the cries The screams Know their drowning With no help Instinct engages I dive in head first The thrashing calms Panic subsides Less crying Screams change to whispers Support gives purpose I hold on tight Promising not to let go Now cast aside Once they can swim again Alone in the expanse Realizing their support Kept me afloat I feel myself begin to sink Slipping beneath...

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thoughts rested ego falls from tree of life Self shines as God’s light in cave of heart...

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HIS AND HISTORY'S TALES There is his story, and there's also history; bloody lies, skewed truths:...

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Their win, has its wind Slap-blowing in our faces: A musky-trump wind, Blowing, blasting bigotry, Slapping justice in the face:- ...

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The kind ones, the mean ones, the big ones, the lean ones- Some try, some don't, and some cry, but some don't. Actions and reactions, what are they but events, cycling o'er and o'er? We laugh, we cry, we live, we die; cycling o'er and o'er. The poor ones, the rich ones, the happy ones, the sad ones, "Why does money even matter?" Cycling o'er and o'er. History repeats,...

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full moon pours moonlight: of love silver platinum...!...

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Ohh prodigious tree, So how it feels now? To be surrounded by the serenity of charm The birds are finally gone, it's with you, your warm! Ohh prodigious cloud, So how it feels now? To shed off the burden, and sleep with the void The water without you is devoid But atleast, now you aren't paranoid! Ohh prodigious...

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It was the chicken piccata— zested to confession, plated like a bribe— they'd barely had a taste. Your favorite patron pulled a face, asked who cooked it, then quietly slid the plate into the trash. God, you’d have howled, ugly-laughed into your wine, called it an injustice of capers, made a chart demonstrating the salt-to-spite ratio. I reached for my phone— reflex, tongue licking spit from a lip. Then...

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