Metaphor. Poems - Poems about Metaphor.

I Plucked The Moon From The Sky

I plucked the moon from the sky last night.
No one else seemed to be using it
So, I thought, “Why not?”

I mistakenly thought it would fit comfortably in my pocket 
But, it bulged, protruded, and made it difficult to sit!

“Stupid moon!
What good are you?” I grumbled.

A TV news anchor rattled on about 
Potential collapsed ecosystems, climate

Last Dance - TSF

Present
Flowers
Before
My hours
Fall in
Darkness
Rightly

You watch
Idly
Come near
With songs;
Sweet drink
Calming
Lightly

Hold back
These parts
From him
Who hides
In wind—
Hunter
Seeking

Close by, 
Black eyes 
Tighten
My heart
Repines,
The beat
Creaking

outcast or saint

 
count grains 

fought  won

_________________


[ single footle 1405 - 22.8.25 : 
sponsor : Brian Strand]

CHOICES

       

I chose to be like the air 
because it allowed me 
Be like the wind, 
And fly! 
I chose to be like water 
because it allowed me 
sea 
And bathe you! 
I chose your love, 
because it allowed me 
Take your fire, 
and burning me, 
Without burning me!

A Pub Halfway to the Heavy Affair

The largest part of this abandoned warehouse

for creative dilemma is still in the ash medium

from you reach.

Though you’ve part of this morning haze that won’t go unrecognized.

Now that we’ve finally managed to right away ahead of our views across the bridge, it seems that elsewhere you’ve made every effort to prove yourself with your wrongly

number codes : haiku

 

activation codes

energy frequencies move

touch surface trace form ~

 

TO BEING IN MIND-BLOWING AWARENESS

TO BEING IN MIND-BLOWING AWARENESS

Rocking and rolling,
Aping hedges in the winds:
Blowing, yet rooted:
Though moving, there’s no progress;
Such mind-blowing awareness:-

Such mockery!
Moving, but going nowhere:
Mind and body stunned:-
In aiding progress, one must
Always seek divine guidance:-

Moving is one thing,
Progressing is another;
With a focused mind, 
Seek our God’s navigation:
Progressing in assurance:-

Fresh Coat of Paint

There will be times that are gloomy
cloud covered in grey
when days are looking dingy
nothings going your way.

Do you rise to the occasion
or fold under the weight
feels like walls are closing in
a psychological state.

Break free from the darkness
and the joy that it taints
better days shall appear
like a fresh coat of paint.

Sunflower Farm : verse

 
a trillion petals magnetise my tender Heart

racing past farm workers in morning dew

Sun embellishes yellow song 

crazed by mesmerising muse

saffron they slap an early chill gold

seeds swallow empty hopes sold

 

We Drink Ambrosia - Fugue

 
we drink ambrosia from goblets within our Hearts
browline meets browline you drink your own 
which dripped into mine hush hush the surfer 
and soldier homed, drinking ambrosia honed
yin-yang becomes yang-yin as frequencies ripple
from nerves slashing nerves when point pulse
point, nails dig nails, light entering wet wounds knuckles balloon, merged muscles sting sing,
bring strands blowing

hern swollen mine eyne

.

                      not all uv thuh world
                            

IN AND OF BOTCHED SOWN UNAWARENESS

IN AND OF BOTCHED SOWN UNAWARENESS

Just unlock your mind,
And let its waves freely flow:
Frothing awareness:-
I thought you needed my help;
Me, loving unaware:

How unfortunate,
My mental awareness botched;
My mind blindsided:
Triumphant love shadowing
Forgiveness being denied:-

We reap what we sow.
To reap love, you must sow it:
Life’s divine wisdom:-
How could I have sown hate?!
Please God, reveal it to me:-

Ready and

Blizzard Is Coming

Blizzard is coming
Hailstorm is drumming
How we longed to be wetter.
We’ve been in a drought 
We prayed the calm out
Now comes turbulent weather.

Batten the hatches            
Prepare the caches               
White rage threatens

Orange

Orange peel. Scent fresh but bitter,
tangible in taste and air. A circle in fruit
that dangles and is turned, twisted from
branch. The challenge to keep the 
peel whole, no break. Sink teeth into
sweet segments of dripping flesh.

Orange rust. A door, a gate. Age in crinkling 
metal, steel ancient with salt and sun and
seasons beating what thought

Epitaph on Sondra Ball

        

                     (Deceased March 17, 2010)
  

           Here lies Sondra Ball whose shadow too long;
  

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