The sad foliage of farewell each year
makes Summer's glory fade away too soon-
and letting go acknowledges the fear
of losing those young verdant leaves of June.
So blessed are Summer scenes that last full term-
complete their fullness by the start of Fall.
But often nature fails to reconfirm
next season's entry includes one and all.
And yes, dear Mom, your Summer went too fast,
without a chance to complete Autumn's scene.
At fifty-five, that Summer was your last;
you left us on September-day fifteen.
I live each season with the thought of you
beneath the leaves of Fall and Winter snow.
But come September, realize it's true;
you rest in peace of your last Summer's glow.
I dwell within a vault of seasoned pine,
Where cedar ribs trace curves of spine,
A cavern arched with honey-colored wood,
The quietest home a creature ever could.
Above my head, a rosette carved in lace,
Filters the daylight into one small space,
A golden circle painted on the floor,
Where giant fingers stretch and start to soar.
Then wakes the giant—sweeping arm and hand,
Striking the chords above this hidden land;
And every wire becomes a brazen beam,
Shaking the rafters of my hollow dream.
The notes crash down like thunder from the sky,
Making the air vibrate, the dust motes fly,
A tidal wave of brass and silver sound,
That pins me softly to the maple ground.
And when they rest their palms against the waist,
The roaring ocean dies in breathless haste;
I curl up warm beneath the bridge’s arc,
A tiny tenant sleeping in the dark.
Indefinite Infinity in space and time aye doth toss,
Itself diffusely, enclosing entirety in the cosmos,
Only to baffle the stupid,spellbound ,eerie puzzle
Of forms and moulds that ever keep up the dazzle
Every little odd thing claims its own due existence ;
All great marks, flags and colours make no sense
And look like just little dunes and pits on the spot
Or if more, are spilled,broken and torn ones a lot;
Every living thing darts across to catch the other,
Feed on,feast on or enslave all that it doth gather
The lava that erupts from within the restless land
The lofty sweeps of storms and winds reprimand
The deviant excess that yields the froth and slag
As futile tertiaries do stem out of the empty brag !
The Rebel
Evening flames falter and die
Suffocated in the night’s cool embrace
A bed of sleepy orange embers
Gradually give way to blue ash
Beneath the hush of silky starlight
A solitary glow persists
Holding against the encroaching dark
Refusing surrender
In daybreak’s velvet breath
Veils of ash, like petals, drift aimlessly away
While the ember defies obliteration
With subtle inner-warmth
In the gall of yesterday’s ruin
It burns for promises never spoken
What remains, quietly transformed
Exhales and ignites something new.
9/17/2026 - For The Rebel Poetry Contest hosted by Unseeking Seeker
They say it is futile to chase the chimera.
That the more you seek it,
the more you feel
you are losing yourself along with it.
Do not listen to them! ...
For this very page you hold
tells you that you have found it!
It is pointless to read it;
you will not understand!
What matters is that now, you too
carry somber signals!
These signals bring you face to face with it.
It matters not whether you contend with it;
you will understand!
Existence is a frail leaf
battered by the storm
Tossed about by winds’ desires
vibrance turned forlorn
Why cling we so to what we know
returns to ash and dust
To make our mark, to light a spark
a candle midst the dark
i remember the day
i saw my belle.
stood before a great glass window
and oh, she was pretty.
young eyes, innocent cheeks,
one little, beautiful heart.
my glass belle,
whole,
smiling right back at me.
carried carefully
everywhere i went.
she's a delicate one, my belle is.
if my belle were simply older,
she would be worn at the edges.
but no -
broken is the little glass doll inside of me.
hurled,
dropped,
hammered.
and now, all that remains are shards.
and yet, i prize every shard.
especially those that make me bleed -
those that will never heal -
i will cherish those for eternity.
Safe in each other's arms lies our compass
a gifted direction of serenity in the evening
when your smile is a flesh tone canvas
that points to the stress that is leaving
our sanctuary in twilight is a calming delight
where we cast all of the day's troubles aside
welcome the soft grandness of love's gentle light
to this cause our hearts will always abide
no walls to build where emotions can hide
in this realm of purity, our safe haven
to these quiet moments our contentment is tied
so, this refuge of love is never shaken
we share the tenderness of our compassion
to lie still and silent in our love's armor
we are one another's home and companion
where our heart is a safe and welcomed harbor
Almost a child herself, how will she cope?
Until now everything had labels, expiry dates,
do’s and don’ts, helpful hints, arrow pointing ‘UP’.
But this one was delivered not even marked ‘FRAGILE’.
What will she do? She’ll have to start by giving it a name.
Fire in the belly, fire in the eyes
Fire as protection or a smoke disguise
Fire laden rhetoric, incendiary lies
Fire filled with warmth, fire follows drought
We'll keep rubbing sticks together till the last one burns out
We have played with fire ever since we stole it from the gods
We're bound to keep on playing cause we like to play the odds
Someone will get burned
Some will just burn out
There isn't any wonder cause the scars'll leave no doubt
Fire raging wild, keep it from a child
No way to make it stay controlled
No way to keep it mild
It has raged throughout the ages it has never been snuffed
From the lips or from the pages til we say we've had enough
Amidst the rocks on the edge of the land
Casting its light, a faithful friend stands.
Low in the shadows of the crests and troughs
Lies hidden danger when seas are rough.
But this lighthouse spreads it's loyal beam
To alert captains to what can't be seen...
A metaphor for a friend like you
Who generously lights up those around her too
Who shares her light of joy and love;
The darkest shadows you rise above.
Thank you for reaching out your hand
Like the faithful guardian sheds its light from the land.
A POND’S-EYE MORNING VIEW
Right of the center
of the cosmic stage,
the rising sun disrobes
its horizon and announces
the arrival of another bright day.
Wading towards a pond,
a family of cute ducks,
Stretch and wiggle
their yawning wings.
The chloroplast bodies
of fueling algae around the pond,
capture the shining rays of the sun;
energizing the multi-life community:-
In the pond’s park of lily pads
and varied shapes of rocks,
aroused young frogs hopscotch
from one landing to another
Barking and running the pond’s banks,
a swaggering beagle chases a thirsty squirrel
back up the trunk of its tall sage resident-tree:-
Up on the street atop the pond’s hill,
car horns blast as rushing drivers
pass by—chatting on cell phones—
using front windshield mirrors,
getting their faces ready for the day:-
Thus, our morning view,
as my dog and I continue
our ramble around the pond :-
Not long ago,I used to write
about myself,the life I lived
life was dark, the soul was white
I'd be the best,I so believed
Played with words,called it art
sharp they were,truth they said
to the ears sweet, feelings they hurt
to the highest bidder,price they paid
Peak of Everest, challenge I took
Each at a time, I took steps
lower the grounds,up the hook
higher grounds, I slid the depths
Now in vain, with no touch I reach
Hear no sound, a muted world
A throat of silence, lacking peach
chained to earth, in dreams I'm furled
buried dark, daysky
shorn hair from Etain
pedestal opens
now walking eggshells
none will see her fall
welcome midnight
her profile's dab
with missing light —
phantasmic yolk.
foggy pane
more a face
watches glass;
half there
oval
pitch
AHOY!
It’s not a foregone conclusion,
but a stinging reality: Even porcupines
master love, without making pain
a subsidiary organism:-
Though the pain of love's waves
may froth ashore, waves will recede
and froth will eventually dissipate
with healing evaporation: Leaving a sea
of memories floating on the ocean of life:-
Thoughtfully watered, always keep in mind,
you’re the captain of your soul, and
the blown wind in its sail:- And remember,
though docked and anchored, you can still
set sails for tomorrow—getting ready today:-
Ahoy, Matey! Be in winds of sailing grace:-
Metaphor Categories
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Definition | What is Metaphor in Poetry?
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Related Poetry Forms
symbol, image, analogy, similitude, emblem, personification, allegory, hope, metonymy, trope,