Family Metaphor Poems | Examples
These Family Metaphor poems are examples of Metaphor poems about Family. These are the best examples of Metaphor Family poems written by international poets.
do you hear
subtle thunderings there,
the arrow shot of fired jumbo jets,
swinging propellers swelling lumps of cold regrets,
or is it all I wanted, a love none forgets,
home to dispossess layers, claim herds,
entice with foreign words...
winter birds
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:-
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.
In the dim-lit alley of the soul's bazaar,
Were jazz and jive spill from ajar,
We tap our feet, snap fingers, under stars,
And speak in verses, raw and without pause.
The city breathes, a living, pulsing beat,
Its heart a drum, its voice a saxophone,
We weave through streets, our words a rhythmic feat,
In its sync with life yet distinctly our own.
We are scribes of midnight's whispered tales,
Our ink, the dreams that dance in smokey air,
Each line is a track on which our spirit sails,
A journey deep, beyond the skin, we dare.
So let us write, with passion as our guide,
Some beat poems, where truths cannot slide.
Then we'll take a carpet ride,
Sail across space standing side by side.
May the child of the woman whom is named yellow flower
Always brighten your life when you are in your darkest hour,
As well as shine like a rainbow after every rainy shower.
Spit fire and spin honey,
the target-a wealthy man and his money.
She has no other talent that qualifies,
just the sum of what quantifies.
She's got cause and family ties,
under the guise of friendship and lies.
Depending on time to line her pockets,
she waits like a spider to sign the dockets.
The honey it dries,
the old man dies.
It evokes such pain and indifference,
targets of especial sentimental significance".
Like branches of a rooted, sturdy tree,
a family survives-
each limb entwined.
January 17, 2023
Contest: Quote This
Sponsor: Rick Parise
Long after the coffee pot
Calls the kettle black,
Eventually they will realize
They both serve the same purpose.
Just one begins slow and boils up fast,
While the other brews until it is filled
With the most bitter taste.
The coffee pot serving a roast
Darker than its host.
And the kettle instantly melting away
All of the dryness of the ground beans.
HUNGER
I have no boundaries…
I have an unusual equanimity;
The equality I possess is extraordinary.
The world over, I have no chosen pity;
Like death, I practice an unusual democracy.
Matters not to me who and where you may be;
I’m there in every city, state, or distant country.
There will always be a place for the likes of me;
I’ve survived in the best and poorest family.
I’m as old as time—still here ticking too;
Hey, get to do what you need to do.
The apple does not fall far from the tree
But because of its shape, it can roll away
A rotting sour apple will deposit its seed,
Producing its own kind, indeed, someday.
A tree from its parentage bearing in kind,
Just like the apple from which it sprung
[Unlike orange or grapefruit having a rind]
With peeling, stem, and seeds in a core,
It cannot change its genus or its species
Like all other apples it came from before.
Written September 4, 2022
As the waves slow creep ashore
drawn by the lunar tug
approach the castle’s gate
crabs skitter in the moonlit surf
soggy French fries, extra salt
seagulls lean into stiff winds
a sea turtle teases the tide
a distant light cautions all
as cool mist muffles a horn
castle’s will crumble, flags fall
history slowly recede
into endless lunar tides
the castles will rise again
new flags wave in shifting winds
as the waves slow creep away
John G. Lawless
©10/7/2021
Brother, you and I
Are orphans together
In the family of God
Held ever bounded closely together
Sister, you and I
Are orphans together
Together we in spirituals liberties
bounded as one big family
Humanity, you and I
Are awesome together
blinds by our mercies grace
Humanity, calming down
awaiting Jesus returning to this dismal sinful space
With brother and sister in hands
United we stand
With eagles wings around our heads
We're awaiting the coming of?
Jesus grace, His joyous face
When He once again walks this space
Hallelujah!!
9/21/21
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2021©
I am a brick house
I'm a brick house
Could be a shapely woman or a house
Leveled in courses stacked one on top of each other
A dwelling consisting of mortar, wood, and rock
A residential dwelling space
Made to inhabit man and his family
I am a brick house
5/19/21
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2021©
Mask Poetry Type
A spider plant* with many offshoots --
The mother firmly holds onto her little girl's hand at the nursery.
*Chlorophytum comosum
We’re the crew of the spaceship boring - on a one year mission.
The situation's literally life or death - this isn’t science-fiction.
The crew is an actual family - ideal for such a quest,
but none of us volunteered for this - it’s more like house arrest.
We seek out no adventures, we avoid interaction if we can.
We boldly go absolutely nowhere - isolation is the plan.
Wander into our orbit - we’ll scan you with our sensors.
Our station's sealed to aliens and we don't let any enter.
Our voyage is just symbolic we're not in outer space,
the commission is simple self-sacrifice and it happens at turtle pace.
If you need me I'll be me in my capsule, safe in my virtual void,
sequestered for the greater good and shelved like an unwanted toy.