Love Metaphor Poems

O' moment 
of mist-glazed melancholia ~
I'm shrinking in paper-cut smokes
of shrivelling sunsets, 
amidst the seizures of silence, there I surf ~ 
in swollen skulls of...

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                        ...

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He may not be new to Peruvians or New York, but he is like a brand-new shiny penny to us. His casual manner serves as...

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     sublimate
      with love
     your nights
     with whispers
...

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Contest : The Prismatic Self
Sponsor : Daniel Henry Rodgers
Date submitted : 19/5/25

—————- 

“Contests around track, contests for followers,
for best tasting wine, most exquisite 
architectural design...

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this vast and silent space,
?this tiny dot we call our home,?
we, who breathe and dream here,?
are but specks of dust among too many others.

some stars...

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i flicker
when spoken of

glow
in the breath
you shouldn’t have wasted
on apologies

ash settles like snow
on the bones of yesterday
still warm
if you press hard enough
to blister

i eat
whatever dares...

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Urgent is the will,
The self is as still as the night;
Apathy controlling;
Urgency calling, 
The will remains imprisoned;
And apathy, keyless;
Urgency calling,
Apathy, shedding useless tears;
Fear controlling action:-

Genesis...

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It is prophesied that
                 “Wisdom dwells
   ...

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The White Hole

You are the massive white hole 
at the center of my soul
ever giving never exhasted
you fulfill all the needs 
I never knew I...

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I lost a child
She was climbing trees
One blink
And my eyes open
To writing leftover love poems
Stolen from years I can't remember 
And no one cares to...

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The other woman lives inside of you;
I can see her silhouette in your eyes.
Her tendons twist through yours, interwoven,
down through your fingertips, I see her...

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Let’s imitate we share it
The plan to make ends meet
Negotiating fairly
Things we don’t really need
But let’s get rid of “we”
For someone’s lofty goals
Aren’t relevant to...

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An ominous trail
in their dark ashes—
each ellipsis
hid a treacherous bend.
I feel the camper’s
hollow rattle
between cracked ribs
that won’t quite mend.

Not their youth,
but mine—
still burning
in oil-smoke haze
too...

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There are loves that happen one day, 
And they are good ... 
others who live a year 
And they are better ... 
There are others...

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