Poetry Blogs (Metaphor)
Two days ago the rain was hard
It wrecked my front yard
Yet no one else gave it regard
Now the rains gone
You’d think then I’d wake up to the sun at dawn
But instead it was nothing all I can do is yawn
Because the sky is empty
What was once plenty
The rainy days I envy
Because when it rained
I may have been pained
But at least I wasn’t drained
Sunday 16th August 2020 1:12 pm
in the room full of camera’s
unexposed photographs turn,
they do not stay still- how they breathe
to blur the printout- this memory,
you could not memorise- make new,
find another clear and clear your
mania from here, your camera,
stop pondering and pausing
for a better shot, searching
for the glare that will not give,
you cannot paste a glowing prism
to stick your...
Tuesday 5th May 2020 9:45 pm
The Side Kick
A purring cat
Sat before a raging fire
The smell of cinnamon buns
Outside the snow falls
Rubbing away ice on a window
Looking out into the whiteness
A smile caught
In the reflected dusk
New buds bursting
From green shoots
The blue sky
Flecked with white clouds
Raindrops dripping from trees
The fresh cool air
Mirrors in the pond...
Thursday 16th April 2020 2:08 pm
Here is a bowl of marbles
I take a marble from the bowl
The same marble I have selected
For the last seventy-two days
I roll it between fingers
Marvelling at its smoothness
The swirl of green and blue
That cuts through its mass
Reminding me of planet earth
It sooths my soul
To contemplate its beauty
Its simplicity and structure
Wednesday 1st April 2020 12:08 pm
My absent comrade
A fickle and inconstant friend,
of whom I rarely see enough.
It’s within you my dreams reside
but without you, I feel rough.
You’re absent when I need you most,
then sneak up on me, unexpected.
Can’t you see, you’re broken and disjointed
when I need you to be connected?
But if we weren’t to meet again
I doubt that I could I cope.
Thursday 13th February 2020 12:12 am
How many times must I rinse off the moon
And unpeel the stars from my skin?
Have someone ask what were you drinking?
How many times must I try clinging to lamp lights?
Try configuring keys into shining beacons?
I cannot see in the dark
Yes, blackouts steal my sight
But when finished,
I wake up feeling feverish
And fear ferments and festers
The night can be sticky
Monday 13th January 2020 2:41 pm
i was cotton yesterday
see, i thought you were my magnet
Sunday 5th January 2020 6:30 am
effective myth, metaphor, & mysticism transcend
semantic efforts to articulate dynamics erupting
dreamlike amidst more trusted, linear conceptions
of reality, imagination, experience, & being
by presenting arrangements so engaging, uncannily
familiar, irreducibly insightful, idealogically slippery,
that the foamsplash suddenness of its crashing
across a previously unnotic...
Thursday 17th October 2019 1:52 pm
in a web
Monday 20th May 2019 3:21 pm
Tractors gaining traction
In and of my life
Never did I ever think
That I would be a tractor's wife.
Implements and attachments
Belts and belts galore
Reapers, tillers, compostors
Who could ask for more?
Aerators and harvesters
Plows; for winter and for spring
Lots and lots and lots of tires
Damn near everything...
That someone would ever want
If they should...
Thursday 18th April 2019 8:54 pm
on it fast
in a wink
Sunday 7th April 2019 3:10 pm
This isn't the last train. But the late train
has no quiet cars. If a baby squalls no conductor
shushes her. You must shush her yourself.
The late train has no dining car. So board
this train now, or pack a picnic, your own
tablecloth, napkins, napkin-rings, silver,
porcelain. The late train has no schedule.
Depends on how many girlfriends the brakeman
wants to vi...
Wednesday 13th March 2019 2:00 am
I am not a Harley Davidson,
but a moped.
I am the opposite of a fox
I am a badger.
I am not the cream at the top of the milk,
I am the last dribble you find when you’re making a cup of tea.
I am most unfortunately, unsexy in my sexual prime.
Not adored, but ignored.
But at least I've got a sense of humour!
Thursday 10th January 2019 5:53 pm
The idea for this poem was to have Metaphor itself tied to a chair and tortured with bad writing. I have a feeling the bad writing comes through, but the meta-metaphor and overall conceit for the poem may be lost. But I guess writing is, in a sense, experimental, even if it isn't falsifiable. So, whatever, here is the poem.
Every rendition begins with shackles,
Friday 12th October 2018 12:07 pm
You can say that I'm a little out of touch
I fell down but I can't climb back up
None of my friends give a fuck
I guess I'm shit out of luck.
If I'm not feeling blue I dont feel much
I know they'll tell me to suck it up
Moving on is just hard as fuck
I'm tired of being down on my luck.
Its like holding in the clutch
I press the gas but just rev up
Going nowhere fast my motor is fucked
Wednesday 8th August 2018 1:24 pm
we all look for something to ease the pain
whether its being hungry with greed,
or taking a needle to the vein
we all got something we feel we need,
so we don't drive ourselves insane
praying one day my mind is freed
but when it thunders, it's gonna rain
just remember with the rain, there comes a growing seed
so just hold on till then - you can maintain
just slow down, get outta that ...
Sunday 11th March 2018 2:21 am
I came across with a dead rose.
How impure and crooked it seemed.
Deteriorated without the life it once had.
I kept walking with it, holding it with my right hand.
How sad it was to see a rose like that.
Where once it was bright red,
now it’s only a brown looking thing with nothing left.
I kept walking with the dead rose,
a sad rose with no thorns.
Until the path ended i...
Sunday 28th January 2018 4:20 am
Hope is like
A bird that
Perches in the soul.
Yearning for adventure.
Saturday 6th January 2018 6:36 pm
i am nothing.
i could never compare
according to you.
i could never compare
to autism and down syndrome jokes
according to you.
my love for you
the fact that you're my best friend
the things you've help...
Sunday 19th November 2017 1:18 am
I might make you laugh, but I might also make you cry,
I might give you answers or make you question why.
I can look so serious or sound really quite absurd
I am divine unseen pen pictures designed to be heard.
I will make comparisons to shine a light inside your heart
I’ll begin our stories with with an epilogue or end them near their start.
My language can be quite colourful, yes I have be...
Friday 22nd September 2017 7:37 am
You are certainly not a metaphor,
But you may be sort of like a simile.
You are my rudder and sails on a turbulent sea.
You are like a force that guides and propels me.
Tuesday 19th September 2017 7:04 am
My hands are patterned by ambitions,
these lines on my skin are wishes,
palms marked like the sky after a shooting star
and shining when they interlace with your fingers,
your skin's wrinkles and crinkles.
The crevices of our skin do not match or meet
the way coloured paths on a map synchronise and intercross,
We are separate pieces of meat
Monday 31st July 2017 2:40 pm
In the creases of a crumpled T-shirt,
the darkening orbit of an orange pasta stain,
the unhinged playfulness of bright and living eyes…
the golden curls like mazes of cornfields – no way out –
The type you just want to twist around your finger –
I noticed you.
In the unrestrained laughter,
I would recall each word that tumbled from your lips
And hang on them, swing from them,
Tuesday 16th May 2017 1:35 pm
We are not a metaphor.
Although, we have met before
I was a shy girl with bright blue eyes and you were a brown haired boy who played guitar on the bus
We grew up and grew together, inseparable
Unaware of what to call what we were, what we had
This was back when childhood was innocent and we still weren't sure how to kiss
Lips, mouths, necks, hands
We figured t...
Tuesday 18th April 2017 9:27 pm
Your skin like the yellow brick road,
and what is it that creates that rush of blush?
I’d love to shovel out your flesh or drill through your cheeks
to reach those autumn leaves,
that grow behind the golden weeds,
the red leaves that were never green.
No, never new, they never grew,
they stayed and they remained:
Dying, but never dead,
thriving, behind your face of ...
Friday 31st March 2017 3:47 pm
This poem is an original piece using established names. The names of all characters are taken from the Aztec religion, and all of the characters act in sympathy with their attributed and established forms. The exception is the titular actor: Acamapichtli. While Acamapichtli was the first ruler of the Aztecs, in this poem, he is not the same person, but only carries the same name.
Friday 20th January 2017 10:21 am
I am nauseating from the coal biscuit bites of a hundred ashen hearts
I can't suck in the smell of death now, as I once sucked your damp petals
I shoo away some white rats into the black gutter everyday
I am failing today, failing miserably in my success of finding
the teenage girl's dawn in an old man's bench
I usually flicker out before bed time in my neighborhood, and
I escape as the las...
Tuesday 6th December 2016 4:00 am
Have you seen her eyes?
Like searching grass stains
Reaching, reaching up the bark
Of her rough touch, rough hands.
Legs like hay, the hairs like needles,
Could lose thoughts in them, do you understand?
Oh, have you seen her eyes?!
Like dancing lily pads,
I once tried to catch them in the lake.
Silly mistake, oh big mistake
Because she can be a swamp,
Her pull like...
Thursday 10th November 2016 5:27 pm
A smooth sea never made a skillful sailor.
Stay calm, or you're headed straight for failure.
Confidence is key when you're at the helm.
Be sure to find peace in this realm.
Monday 22nd August 2016 10:00 pm
I’m pretty sure there were tulips in her eyes,
I shouted “Fire! Fire!”,
She took off her sunglasses,
She saw sunrise.
Now I know it, there was a darling rose in her blush,
A honey dew in her stare
But they told me “beware, beware!”
“Have you not been warned of ‘primrose way’?”
Now I felt it, there were dandelions on her lips…
Make a wish, make a wish!
Thursday 4th August 2016 12:32 pm
In a town called Tumbleweed
sound is deadened
so that every conversation
crawls like a gentle breeze
through cotton wool.
Beggars are kings,
Suzie is a victim.
The streets of Tumbleweed
host sinners, saints and surrogates
sneering into bibles
left to them
by agnostic pa...
Wednesday 6th April 2016 12:00 am
I'm going to give this context by starting off reading my old match and pof profile. This is genuinely real.
It's always hard to know what to say on these things so I'm just going to fill my profile with exaggeration and nonsense.
I would describe myself as a cross between Brad Pitts character in fight club and a sensitive fireman who likes kittens. Overall I'm pretty awesome. Kind, in...
Sunday 27th March 2016 4:18 pm
Lips: like cliché cartoon roses.
But open up my mouth,
Those lilies will - snap. - You. - Up.
Thorn in your side.
I think we used to fly with the bats,
The doves always ended up on our dinner table,
I told you it was chicken.
You choked me with Amen,
You squeezed me with your hand for grace,
For grace, from grace I fell
Down from the heaven...
Tuesday 22nd March 2016 3:05 pm
On your royal blue wings
lies a small yellow river
of golden sunshine
Your eyes open up
and see the whole world
for all of its beauty
Next to you
you see a tall flower
and you move towards it
You can only go so far
before your roots hold you still
and cause you to fall
As your roots are pulled up
you are pushed down...
Friday 13th March 2015 2:44 am
Inside her closet are the remains of a broken umbrella with the materials in cinders.
Her skin cloak is draped over a spindley coat stand,
most people name it a spine,
most people's are strong,
They carry the puppet as if a master holding strings...
But sometimes autum's trees fall down
because nature is flawed.
Sometimes a stem ca...
Thursday 9th October 2014 8:19 pm
Another attempt at my paternal tongue.
Un altro tentativo di mia lingua paterna.
And though I beam with pride as I'm learning.
E anche se mi fascio con orgoglio, come sto imparando.
I'm aware that translated, the metre is wrong.
Sono consapevole del fatto che tradotto, lo strumento è sbagliato.
But this language pulsates to my yearning.
Ma questo linguaggio puls...
Monday 8th April 2013 11:31 pm