Moon Metaphor Poems | Examples
These Moon Metaphor poems are examples of Metaphor poems about Moon. These are the best examples of Metaphor Moon poems written by international poets.
In witness to the yellow moon
That waneth not, and none too soon,
The raven white in shades of light
Speaks now to us of land in sight –
Beyond horizons soaring far
He sees the faces of the stars
That hold the faces of the brave –
On willing wing he brings the waves
(The willing waves) to land in sight
And leads the men in silent flight
Who seek in tides the yellow moon
That suffers men their wounds, their wounds –
And what of tides within him moves
Moves deep, much deeper, in us too –
For who but men know best the moon
That waneth not, and none too soon –
silver rays rain down,
becoming one with the snow -
in lovers' embrace.
“What’s it all about, Alfie?”—
Are they hedonistic choices—and the katabatic void they leave?
This cup’s clutter, this timetable of supplejack sighs.
If the moon forgets—will it ever call us back?
Are we meant to have beyond what we bestow?
Or are we required to be seraphim?
We chase glitter, blind to its lamplight and oil.
Alfie, if a fool shows no interest,
Is revenge the clever answer?
And if life belongs only to the strong—
What’s your wager on the sphinx’s ancient rule?
Our aspirations fold like creased napkins—
still clean enough for an evasive guest.
Love? A leftover coat on the wrong hook,
a name spoken softly, reshaped when no one listens.
Hope? A medium-rare object—
warm in the middle, a blush of pink.
Never raw, though.
And relevance? The hum between two clashing chords—
your laughter mocking silence.
“What’s it all about, Alfie?” then…
Perhaps nothing.
Perhaps everything.
Or simply this:
You hesitate—and maybe that’s the answer.
whispers silent pass
shadows rise whispering
memories fade pitch
•
whispered image sway
human desires in mist
sensations whistle
•
evening tide is here
dogs growl in whispers to moon
she washes red roof
•
whispered moments soft
infinity at day’s end
sighs cannot whisper
•
whispers disappears
to abyss from whence it rose
being grains of truth
•
whispering clouds float
shadows dance along brain cells
into new atoms
•
unspeakable words
ancient silence ignite clouds
whispers feed the dogs
•
There’s a Turkish saying —
“If you truly love someone, you love them twice.”
I want you to love me for the first time—
to feel that fearless rush
when our eyes first lock.
I want the scent of my perfume
to linger deep within your soul,
and my eyes to pierce your heart
as you glance at lips
still stained with shades of dusk.
And then,
I want to be loved again.
Love me when the waves kiss the sand.
Love me when each month, for days, I lose my spark.
Love me when the day kisses the moon at night.
Love me, so much that when it gets dark
you can guide me back to the light.
Love me once,
and then another time.
Love me still.
Love me steady.
Love me at will.
Love me always—
in peace,
in quiet.
Love me twice.
The sky is a slow bruise of amethyst and rose,
the sun, a tired king, bleeds gold across the land,
paint the western fronts of the city by the bay
a million dying lamps before the swarthy rise.
I am a cruise ship returning to its harbor,
while another ship sails filled with the day’s spent wind.
My every footstep sounds more like tiny pebbles,
like being dropped on the quiet of the asphalt
the echo of my journey home is astounding
Streetlights and shy fireflies wait to see who’ll glow first,
start their weak pulse, as if unsure the day is done
My thoughts fading like the lamp carried by my mind,
while reviewing the day's encounters like phantoms.
Each house exhales the scent of a tasty dinner,
a warm, domestic breath into the cooling air.
The moon, a pale coin, is tossed into the worn blue,
and the first star is a pinprick of forgiveness.
My own body knows this liturgy of descent,
the knee-jerk turn of the foot, soft exhale, tale’s rest.
I am not just walking up, I am unspooling,
bit of a loose thread of my former self, reeled back,
into the arresting arms of the spool of night.
(inhale)
aim, undetermined ...
what purpose do I serve?
what is poetry’s primal essence?!?
my words only
cover pages that ghost
the spaces of better intention ...
that garland upon
my brow bleeds 'neath the
clawing shadows of
naked branches, thorns twisted and
braided with the lightness of feathers, fine
and pressed with poetic care to
let my red ruin run ...
it drips with the weight of
indifference and careless consideration,
and clots about my feet ...
I ponder hard, the pavement
cold witness there, the maddened moon -
it's visage smiles from the
surface of my weeping veins, puddled ...
such impeccable beauty
there in the coagulating remnants
of my mortality ...
and though it's a lie - just the
mirrored image of the
heavenly beauty that daubs
the great expanse,
it is enough ...
sufficient grace to squeeze
the last languorous
gasp from these tired, grateful lungs ...
LIFE, I love you with my being ...
your breathtaking elegance
and your exquisite pain,
and I am naught but blessed to
have simply ...
breathed.
(exhale)
The ruins of constellations......!
The Moon gets an alien-eclipsed...
Galaxies turn their faces away....
The Sun lost its gravity...
The space forgets to unfold...
There once was the fabric of love...
There now is but a shattered cosmos....!!
Crushed trust... ruined hope... a heat full of pain
A dull face, a tired body, and a broken person.....!!
~ moonlit caps shimmer,
crests spilling silver doubloons ...
Neptune's coffers, full ~
.
we've always said we go together
a perfect match
you've always been my sun
i've always been your moon
the sun is bright
it shines so big the whole world can see
important in everyone's lives
the moon is bright too, in another way
a calmer way
a gentler glow
the perfect balance of each other
but the thing with the sun is
you get scorched if you're with her for too long
and she shines brighter than anything
with both her warming expression
and her fiery rage
the thing with the moon is
she's softer, subtler
still shining bright, just not as intense
her glow radiates peace
but her sorrows wash over her like the tides
the sun and the moon
so similar, yet so different
they're both important
in the sky at their own times
individually is perfect
but together would be too much
maybe that's how we are
perfect on our own,
but not together
The darkness you have is a beautiful sight.
That part of you should be cherished.
I know you're hurt, your heart's been wronged
And I know you're doing your best to stay strong
There's a storm in your eyes and peace in your smile.
There's always some light after the darkest nights.
The brighter the sun, the darker the shadows
But those shadows show that we're living too.
You're terrified by the dark things that sleep in you.
But remember, darkness is essential too.
Too much light can make us blind
Have you ever thought of that, my friend?
Let's be like the moon and rebuild ourselves.
Every time life makes us fade.
We can't have today again.
We don't know about tomorrow.
We can fix mistakes
We can always begin again.
Let's heal together after every wound.
Nothing lasts forever, you know.
Happiness will knock on your door.
Chase the person that should be chased.
That person should be your best self.
Lights meander through the night,
like loose rings in space
shining stars dancing
comets, asteroids, party,
in the most phenomenal display...
Alone, silvery, gentle solitude,
the moon in dramatic subtlety
simply steals the show...!
THE CANVASSING SKY
A shooting star fell,
Shot down into a black hole;
Gibbous moon watching:-
moon - ‘fore you wink those cornflow’r ‘byes
please sing her blues - hues sewn with sighs
to splice your beams, my dreams made hers
and ghost those twilight-twined messieurs …
(your pleas to please … my passioned purrs).
Copyright © 2025 Gregory Richard Barden
( photographic art created by yours truly - filtered at Prisma )
will it up
grill it up
fill it up to brimming
swill to still those silly cells
drowned in what they’re swimming
press ‘em up
mess ‘em up
dress ‘em up with practice
a hoarder in its order
and thorned as any cactus
mock it up
talk it up
chalk it up to neurons
firing with mis-wiring
the receptors that they were on
hike 'em up
strike 'em up
spike 'em up your coursings
joy's in that sweet poison
tho it's life that you're divorcing
burn it up
churn it up
turn it up to 'leven
bursting drums, but first it comes
and lies to you like heaven
smoke 'em up
toke 'em up
choke 'em up a-breathing
red, the mud, as thin as blood
to leave your angels seething
tighten up
whiten up
lighten up and torch it
melt the moon into the spoon
and soon you'll swoon to scorch it
wind it down
bind it down
grind it down to fill you
you won't miss
amidst your bliss
the sweetest kiss ... to kill you …
her sweetest kiss ... will kill.
Copyright © 2023 Gregory Richard Barden
( photographic art created copyright-free by the poet with GALA AI software )