Family Metaphor Poems
These Family Metaphor poems are examples of Metaphor poems about Family. These are the best examples of Metaphor Family poems written by international poets.
don't blame the kid
baby birds are one wide mouth for what their parents spit
Categories:
metaphor, animal, baby, bird, family,
It’s 25° C clear
but she’s gone.
The outlines of her shadow, hoping
that they’ll have a chance of putting them into use
in the fashion world.
She wears a black, backless dress
with a plunging front.
The soft contours of her breasts are revealed
through the mirrors on the walls.
On the front page a gazette
her cat walk
rushing down to the battle.
Here, you’re making the neighbours squirm.
Here, you’re making their claymores shriek their hatred.
That’s why your body sags against the bar in fatigue.
You’re trying to remember your voice.
Remember, your phone rings again.
It’s a voice you’ve heard,
that incandescent panic spread through the hall.
They’re marrying her.
They’re scarifying her for their day’s events.
You’ve made me interested in how she’s thinking
& you can’t control this with your beard.
Your gaffe is all there.
You gaze with gratitude.
Categories:
metaphor, adventure, age, allegory, allusion,
I’ve sold winter coldness to those who’re huge in their chests oncorners of these abandoned streets, where bars aren’t happy with myfootprints in front of every door. Where I hit myself at close range. Where I pay a price to win no game. However, she’s worked all her lifeto bring up all her children within this magical world of theatre & music.She’s convinced that these children won’t fail to understand & accept opera& early rehearsals. I'm bedridden waiting. Welcome to a pigheaded house. Welcometo your fate that befalls many emigrants you plant like beets beside the beetleto see new growth. Welcome to where you don’t fancy a beer before bier afterthe funeral. Something is bedraggled from the hedgerow & that’s your ex’sspecial brand. However, the twigs are dry & brittle, & cracked beneaththeir feet from the beginning. Her children are looking for more spaciouspremises after that premeditated murder in a blighted area where I prescribe hera daily diet chart.
Categories:
metaphor, anxiety, art, caregiving, character,
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 strong. Orange
rust of a family home, a flake for each child
who flies the nest. Rusted crisped wings. Upon
closer inspection the rust appears golden.
Not amber nor red,
neither start nor stop.
A forever-in-motion colour.
Categories:
metaphor, color,
Saracen princess,
Blackened corridors bathed in honey hold you in high esteem as you dance in flickers, eyes raising the death toll every time you envision your body against your next casualty. It pleases me greatly.
Could you cross into that other world with me? Our souls have traversed the morning sky, searching for the cure to this hallucination, masking horripilation with lust and ambition. It would please me greatly.
I am the son of the soldier who was the grandson of a soldier who was the great-grandson of a chief. My mother tells me my grandmother believes she's a queen. It pleases me greatly.
I will bring you every world. The corridors of my heart flicker, masking the morning sky with visions of blackened soldiers, horror hollowed by a honeyed queen. You please me greatly.
Categories:
desire, family, metaphor, military,
Your smiles frozen over,
and you stand tall above the water
like an iceberg, so tall and elegant
in your presentation.
But surface-level trickery
can’t fool or satiate
my scuba diver
curiosity.
I see through your
poorly constructed ruse.
I prep my gear,
dive deep into your ocean,
and discover that underneath
the surface-level beauty lies dormant
a bummock of cuts and bruises.
The true nature of things,
the true nature of you.
A life packed full of solutionless problems,
scribbled out like math equations
written on a chalkboard
by a genius mathematician
who can’t ever prove his theories
or get anything to work.
Nobody understands him
because he can’t even understand
the things going on
in his own head.
Now,
enough of the comparisons.
Let’s get back to the subject.
You’re chronically ill.
Your condition is worsening.
You present yourself in a positive light
while, under the surface, you're
withering.
I worry for the day
when all of your problems
become too much
for you to bear,
and you slip away
like an avalanche
in the Arctic,
never to be
seen again.
Categories:
metaphor, 10th grade, 11th grade,
The case of lynching vs suicide
A black man
Hangs
Lifeless
Silent
Eerie
The only sound
Is the wind thrashing around
As it surrounds
The black man
Screaming loud
Trying to get the man to make a sound
The wind howled
In pain
In agony
Watching as the whole town
Laughing like he was some kind of clown
The police never showed
In the report they'll label it as a suicide
For them case closed
Why they were part of the show
They think they'll clean up the mess tomorrow
And because they had all the power
They had the upper hand in this matter
They also had control so it didn't matter if they were murderers
Especially if their victims were black
No one would care if they were attacked
Except the black community
And the worst part is they couldn't have a funeral
Because they didn't just kill him, after they also burned his body
Even in death he had no autonomy
They stole the right to say goodbye from the family
And just like his body
They burned his story
Categories:
metaphor, political, prejudice, race, racism,
Where do all the apologies go
The ones unheard, unspoken of
Do they haunt the houses they can't move on from
Do they move through the walls
Waiting for the calls
Of the broken ones
Or do they accept they are forever trapped behind these doors
Waiting to be revealed
Waiting to be accepted
Wanting to restore
A love that had been buried behind these walls
Apologies are supposed to be loud
To echo a love that is proud
The house was empty
In the silence it carried
Filled with a family
That acted like strangers
What once was a house of love
Was now a house full of secrets
Embedded within the houses structure
Not even destruction
Could unearth the the truth
Hidden for so long
So what happens to all of the apologies?
And will they ever leave?
Categories:
metaphor, betrayal, color, community, home,
IN THE IRONY OF FORGIVENESS
The irony of forgiveness,
Is that human nature, doesn't
Demand that its cause
Be given forgetfulness;
Thus, giving anger opportunity
To revive its paining spirit
Of negative recollection;
Versus positive reconciliation:-
To forgive and not forget
Can prove to be oxymoronic;
Inhibiting resurrecting love
From eternally bonding
Family, friends, or lovers:-
The forgiveness we ask of God,
We must also give to one another;
And this forgiveness begins
With the forgiveness of self:-
Past trials and tribulations
Extricated and flushed down,
Let self be now ever bonded
In the onederful oneness onement
That God has bestowed upon thee
With faith’s divine peace and love:-
Categories:
allegory, analogy, extended metaphor,
Wealth, a siren's charm, alluring and bright
A pillow's softness, a thimble's gentle might
It provides for earthly needs, a feast to behold
Yet, in its depths, a darkness unfolds
Oh, wealth! Where is thy dominion?
Poverty's cold grasp awaits, a dismal throne
A worm on a hook, luring the unsuspecting prey
Into a realm of excess, where virtues fade away
With dastardly cunning, it deletes the lines
Of custom and tradition, leaving only decline
A game of chance, where flies buzz, sensing decay
A babe in arms, fed poison, as the future slips away
Oh, wealth! Where is thy wand?
Unfolding minds like Sodom's gates, ajar to sin
Multiplying desires, like an untamed, raging sea
Disorienting hearts, like shifting sands, lost and free
You deceived the prodigal son, with promises so grand
A mansion's luxury, a selfish, wandering hand
Despising family ties, and the love that once was true
A leader's arrogance, forsaking the greater good, anew
Categories:
metaphor, allusion, hyperbole, imagery, irony,
There was a girl named Clemency
who walked with me to college every morning.
Neither shy nor outspoken.
Her face was always concealed by a mask.
I have never seen her smile,
only heard her muffled voice,
soft and distant like a whisper,
lost in silence and sorrow.
She ran faster than the wind,
her footsteps echoing strength.
She could have been an athlete,
but she said, “A little fame is not enough."
One day, I asked about her mask.
She paused, between breath and thought,
her voice trembled, like a fallen leaf,
she removed the mask, and all I heard was, “Elder brother.”
I never saw Clemency again.
They said she had moved far away,
where no one would question the mask on her face.
Left in my letterbox was an old bottle of acid and a whip.
Categories:
metaphor, abuse, brother, depression, endurance,
She whispered to me, "I hope you suffer well."
God heard her words, and he smiled,
for if suffering is what she wanted for me,
her hopes would soon be smothered in hell.
To give my best to those I loved,
It meant walking away to save a life,
when an evil person who wore a mask,
threatened to me to take their lives.
This very thing it happened to me,
no one knew or could they see,
their lives would be threatened If I told,
about the evil things that I saw unfold.
I made a choice and told it all,
a mask wearer amongst them still walks,
I'm happy to say I will never regret,
In an eight by ten room is where it rots.
The day will soon come when I've gone,
the mask wearers mask will slip with smiles,
but it'll be too late for I will tell,
though I'll never hope for all to "suffer well."
Evilness can hide inside those we know,
they hide it well with lies they tell,
they claim their the victim by tears they show,
whilst scheming with a devil who sleeps in a cell.
Categories:
metaphor, child, courage, death, evil,
Time longer than rope
Chokes hearts dangling
In the reality of struggle:-
Grieving mothers and widows
Veil their grief in sagging bosoms
As they wail in excruciating silence:-
Fragments of men, void of hope,
View and count communal graves
Swelling with dirt burying the dead:-
(Buried are “The Wretched Of The Earth”)
In the neap tides of sorrows,
Mourners wade the airy blood
Of the children of Pilate’s hands:-
In the stale winds of time, “woe is me”
Cries the forsaken land–lamenting scriptures—
Echoing Freneau: “They saw their country’s woe:-”
Stacked like molded bread slices,
Decaying bodies release spores
Of death to weary-eyed mourners:-
Like an aching bosom’s colloidal tears,
Life sags on, and Sisyphus-like children
Sit under the warrior ghost of lingering hope:
(Indeed, “At this wake…none keep vigil…None:-”)*
*A line from the poem, RECESSION, by Wole Soyinka
Categories:
metaphor, allegory, anxiety, death, extended
A mother's energy
cannot be created or destroyed,
only transformed or transferred;
always there in full,
meeting the challenges presented
to her at that time.
From her prenatal care-
then long nights without sleep;
attending to her family
at home those days past birth-
she balances those other chores
which also must be met.
She handles whatever comes
through all the changing stages
of her children's growth;
energy is transformed
meeting new challenges transferred-
from birth to adulthood.
Then in those years beyond,
often as a Grandma-
a strong mother's energy
continues on and on;
it cannot be created or destroyed-
only transformed or transferred.
Categories:
metaphor, strength, women,
I was born in the sunshine of your house.
I remember the soft fold of your smile,
As you read me bedtime stories,
Sprouting in my memory,
The fall of your heavy dark hair,
Like velvet,
As you bent to kiss me good night.
And, just as clearly, I remember the darkness, emptiness, that fell
Over us;
The empty space that was you.
Broken fences and runaway tears
We couldn't hold in,
Crashing anger and grief.
Alike in our sadness and our looks,
I longed to break through the barbed wire of our hearts,
But couldn't.
I go now
Where I can see:
The flowers blooming;
Trees, thick as wool woven in a loom;
Clouds blowing free,
Behind black boundaries.
Where I can see me
And not just your shadow.
I go now
Not because I don't love you
But because I know
I can't love if I can't breathe.
Categories:
metaphor, addiction, change, depression, emotions,