Symbolism Poems | Examples of Symbolism Poetry

Gargoyle

Gargoyle

Eyes of stone are watching 
High above the ground 
Protecting from the evil
That lingers all around

Why must you old grotesque one
Dwell there all alone
What immortal sin did you commit
That put you on that throne

Somehow I feel a sorrow 
I do not understand
For your are just a creation
Of a sculptures hand

Still something about you moves me
Should

One

ONE

Be you
Imitate no one 
Imposters never wear the crown

Fight your own battles
Mercenaries serve no masters
Swing your own sword

Find your own way
Surrender the compass to no one
Draw your own map

Write your own legacy
No one can tell your story
Live and die on your own terms

Be you

Held, Anchored I Drown

Verse 1
For some time, have I floated—mildly adrift.
One killick holds me—not too deep, not too swift.
Though life threw waves, to force me down—this slightly rusted metal had held me.
I thought I would be safe… until other anchor bound.
In the anchor—turned weight; the drowning became fate.
I fight the surface, the struggle, the search.
The air—thick with sadness;

Admit One

When I dare to go deep inside

I get scared at what I might find

It’s not that I loathe myself

But I fear that if I expose myself

Nothing will ever be the same

 

When I go to that sacred space

Where no soul has ever dared to peer

A place where I long retired the key

I fear that once

An Angel's Song

I met a beautiful song today

The melody was outstanding

The lyrics were commanding

I was compelled to pay attention

I was drawn to this musical connection

So that I began to hum

 

I encountered an awesome rendition

The arrangement was unbelievable

The composition was unachievable

Except by an angel’s finger

Except by a moment that lingered

So that my feet were carried along

 

Today

Black Moon

Rare and invisible,
the black moon hovers,
stalking, surreptitious,
shepherding secrets in its shadow, 
covert and clandestine,
seemingly insidious.
And yet...
it exemplifies
effervescence,
energy,
effectiveness,
fulfilling the unfulfilled,
turning points and tuning in to
potential,
possibilities,
prospects
and promise.

Carpe diem.

On the Cutting Stone

Some days I fly like an eagle,
some days I waddle like a duck—
today I’m fried chicken
crispy, cold, out of luck.
 
Some days I run with wild horses,
some days I hunt with the wolfpack—
today I’m a belly-up snake
on asphalt cracked and black.
 
Oh, how I swam with dolphins,
struck like white sharks through foam—
today I’m gutted salmon,
smoked

This moment

Perched on the brink of a spring 
We are sharing a handful of
Brown nuts 

Just a few hours ago 
The uniformed forces 
Detained our friend 
What was his crime?

He had voiced dissent 
Against corruption 

We are uncertain 
Whether he is still alive or not 

This moment is exquisite 
We and this hill
   __________

20

Blizzard Is Coming

Blizzard is coming
Hailstorm is drumming
How we longed to be wetter.
We’ve been in a drought 
We prayed the calm out
Now comes turbulent weather.

Batten the hatches            
Prepare the caches               
White rage threatens

Cashmere Nights

We cuddle close in cashmere sheets,?
Trading secrets, life’s sweet feats.?
You bring the funds, I bring the charm,?
Together, babe, we do no harm. 

Before you, nights were quiet, gray,?
Now love and warmth have come to stay.?
We count the dollars, laugh, and sigh… ?
It’s your kiss that changed my life, and why

The moon's quiet sorrw

They, without a trace of shame,
painted their hearts with the crimson blood of their lovers’ lips.
And I… my only share was the cold blue of the moon,
spilled carelessly,
like a tear severed from the sky,
upon my cheeks.

Those drops sank into the ridges of my heart,
painting my eyes with a lifeless gleam,
and the moon’s quiet sorrow wound

Normalcy

A return to Normalcy
As night comes, all are at ease 
We return to slumber 
In the electric comfort 
Of artificiality that is our lives 
We revel in the false sense of our own 
Modern conveniences
We forget the thin veil between 
Our electric life, truth of nature’s brutality
Of our existence, we believe we are
Immune to the

SOUTHERN CROSSES I

Electric Line's sway, 
spider webs of industry 
along a rocky lane under 
a hot southern sun, cicada…
cry high, into the crystal blue sky 
We are a ghost nation 
of Man’s hypocrisy
crossing shadows under a hard
noonday sky.

The empty road under the leaning 
Electric crosses of civilization 
Shadows fall, carving silhouettes into
Upon hitting noonday ground 
Humanity lost

empty spaces

Ghosts that haunt empty spaces
Like objects in cabinets 
that drift on window pains 
As light out places the things 
left in the corners of 
attics and In-between 
the walls and hidden faces, 
memories like objects 
that linger as bookmarks 
to someone's history, 
yellowing pages, 
trinkets and toys, 
old books and broken vases 
sit like old

WHITE CARS

White Cars Haunt 
My dreams awake in wasteful
Flights fantastic blight
Each headlight flares 
Restless into the outer fields of memory 
The oppressive, hot, humid twilight
Passing out of my sight
They haunt my wakening eyes
Along the way, hollow roads of soul
Down endless maps of history 
The endless engines thumm
An echo old still lasts, sitting 
White cars are empty

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