Metaphor Poems - Page 2
21. Seeds Of GrowthA Poem About The Cycle Of Life
Water the seed, and a plant will grow.
Feed the plant, and a tree will grow.
Give a tree room, and it will bloom.
A seed to a plant,
A plant to a tree,
A boy to a man,
A man to a father.
Care for the boy, and the man will grow.
Teach the man, and a father will grow.
I see my boys.
I see my joy.
Care for my boys, and I, the man, will grow.
Teach me, my boys, and your father will grow.
You can't have the tree without the plant.
You can't have the plant without the seed.
I can't be a father without being a man.
I, the man, can't be a father without my boys.
The cycle of life.
The man, the boys, the father.
The seed, the plant, the tree.Latest Shared Story
I had an idea of what being a father was. But, as I had my own children, becoming a father made me reflect and change completely my relationship with my parents and what I conceived as being...
My family is the ocean around us.
My father is the hurricane,
knocking anything and everybody out of his path.
My mother is the sunshine after the storm (my father),
clearing and calming everything else.
My oldest brother is the sand,
kicked and blown away by my dad,
but warmed with care by my mom.
My oldest sister is the breeze in the wind,
cool, quiet, and there when you need her.
My other two brothers are the stingrays,
but also willing to fight anyone who comes along.
I am an old ship at the bottom of the sea,
lost, abandoned, but full of memories.Latest Shared Story
That's the same for me! Except, my younger sister is the storm haha.
Poem About Battle With Bulimia
Crippling waves of anxiety smash against the sides of the boat.
Broken pieces of the sailing structure fall away into the boundless space of the sea.
The current is rough, and I realize I have chosen a destructive path.
I look around at my deck. It is empty and I stand aboard unaided,
which means I must face the tide alone.
Trying to steer the ship into prosperous waters proves to be a task, and
the fatal path has begun to take a grasp on my mind.
My body trembles with unease, and the great force of the waves throw me across the deck.
There is no one to help me and no one to save me.
Do people want to see me fail, or they just not care?
There must be a reason for my loneliness aboard the vessel.
Infected with self-hatred and no idea how to steer my ship away,
I see no choice but to expel my sustenance.
Drooping my head overboard, I look down at the desolateness of the ocean.
The ship has left my control, and it begins to lose restraint.
At this point, I do not care; I do not know how to lead it into calm waters.
I close my eyes and begin to purge
over the side of the boat, and the vessel speeds into the storm.
With one hand, I grip the sides of the boat; I do not want to fall in.
Although it is unsteady, my ship feels safer than the openness of the vast ocean.
With the other, I forcefully retch to abolish the goodness from myself,
hopeful that it will teach me to navigate my boat into buoyant tides.
I should be animated with panic, yet this is nothing new.
The supreme waves begin to rip apart the boat, and I am knocked from my feet,
left cast down on the floor.
I know I want to get up and prevent the destruction, but my stomach throbs,
my watered eyes are blurred, and my mind tells me to stay knocked down.
Disturbingly, the reckless waves and frantic storms have become my reality.
And then I feel the ship begin to descend into the great mouth of the sea.
As the water fills up the deck and the waves smash down onto my person,
I rise from the hard, wooden ground of the deck.
I sprint down the sinking ship, with the edge of the boat in my sight.
And I fall many times along the way.
However, once again I rise with the open water in sight.
Taking a leap of faith, I dive into the sea.
The fresh water feels beautiful on my damaged skin.
As I open my eyes in the ocean, I see no wreckage or sign of the destruction of my boat.
Swimming up the surface, I feel the beaming sun on my body, and I enjoy the warmth and comfort it gives me.
I turn onto my back among the calm waves and shut my eyes,
but I can still see the bright sun above me in the sky.
I have cracked, but I will not be broken.
I do not fear falling because I do not fear living.
The deeper I sink, the higher I rise.
Concrete Poem A Metaphor For Supportive Dad
A majestic figure
Always standing straight
Shielding the children from heat
Watching baby squirrels as they play
Giving bugs and mushrooms a home to live
Smiling as generations of friends lean by its side
An umbrella for the park bunnies when storms come
Even if the sun does not rise tomorrow, it will be there, just like
25. My BoatMetaphor Poem For Unappreciated Love
You were my boat, sleek by design.
I was your jetty, one of a kind.
We were deeply in love and made for each other,
And I promised I'd never harbour another.
We endured many storms, some big, and some small,
And I stood firm for you through them all.
And no matter how fierce those winter winds blew,
I'd withstand the force and keep hold of you.
Your delicate nudge when the weather was fine,
Your smooth polished body, pressing up against mine.
I was the happiest jetty in all of the sea,
And I couldn't believe that you'd chosen me,
But over the years I watched our rope fray,
And I could see you were slowly slipping away.
The knots that we'd fastened were no longer tight,
But I tried to hold on with all of my might
I couldn't survive without you by my side.
I never gave up, oh how I tried.
Then came an angry, tempestuous storm,
And the minute it passed, you were suddenly gone.
That day you left me was painfully bleak.
I stood there, heartbroken and structurally weak.
I had braved the conditions for so many years.
Now my timber was heavy, sodden with tears,
My pylons gave way, the wood didn't float,
And slowly I drowned still in love with my boat.
26. Autumn MemoriesThings Coming To An End
The rose weeps a tear
For the close of the year.
Leaves whisper the turn
While bonfires burn
Their memories of kinder times.
And swallows yearn for warmer climes.
Spring hopes are flayed
As bitter winds lash
Blacken to ash.
They shiver and weep,
Fearing winter's long sleep.
27. Vibrant ColorsDon't Judge Me
Don't judge my cover; it's not mine.
I was given this to wear for the duration of my time.
Over time it has become creased, ripped, and worn,
A once perfect canvas the day I was born.
Even the corners are rounded and jaded.
The vibrant colors that once were have now faded.
Deep inside there are pages missing.
I wish that one day you would sit and listen.
Turn these pages slowly and rewind time,
For it's down to you to make up your mind.
Gently close me; be careful of my cover.
Then place me back on the shelf for someone new to discover...
28. Snow Globe Sea
Sailing on a plastic boat
in a snow globe sea
Look out into reality
Oh what there might be
Pass the glass and plastic,
Hang a left on happiness.
Turn onto misery lane,
Pass the shop of wind blown kisses.
I'd rather stay in my plastic boat.
Where nothing is real or fake.
But that doesn't matter anyway.
Nothing here is at stake.
Its quiet and peaceful
As the real world screams
Its unharmed and strong
as the real world bleeds.
I'd rather be in my plastic boat.
On my snow globe sea.
Where murder is an unknown word.
And pain is but a theory.
Heartbreak isn't comprehended
Nor is it in reach.
And everyday is based on
So here out on my plastic boat,
I can watch real life unfold.
Shielded by my glass coating
I will stay unharmed.
From the things life can cause.
From what it can do to a perfectly good heart.
It can shred it and hurt it.
Until its pieces, torn apart.
But my little too-blue sea
Only knows of love.
And my little plastic boat
Only that he's above.
But they get along and do not fight.
Or lie or yell out of hatred or spite.
These words are nothings to them, for they are at peace.
So here I stay on my Snow globe sea.Latest Shared Story
This poem made me think about how real life is - how everything that is happening is hurting people and breaking people and there is no safe place.
Garden As A Metaphor To Happiness Poem
People say it is a field,
A lovely field of happiness.
With flowers spread,
Throughout this field.
So clear and blue.
Shining ever so brightly.
Birds chirping as if it was
The first of spring.
Rabbits hopping around
As if they could go on
For forever and eternity.
As the creatures enjoy,
Enjoy this wonderful place,
For it makes everything
Joyful, exciting, and happy.
A dark cloud has come,
Taken up the rays of sunlight.
With one cloud,
Brings many clouds.
Have now died
Have taken their place.
Are no longer clear and blue.
No longer shines with the rays,
The rays from the heavens above,
Instead it rains,
Rains as if it were meant to do so.
Birds no longer chirp as if it was
The first of spring.
Rabbits don't feel the need to hop,
For they won't go on,
For forever and eternity.
People say it's like a field,
A lovely field of happiness.
They don't understand,
For every field of flowers,
There is a single weed,
That one weed eventually spreads,
And takes over the flowers
Replacing them as if,
They have never existed.
For every time,
It is sunny and blue,
There will always be
That one small, dark cloud,
Hovering right near by.
There is no such
Thing as a lovely field of happiness,
Every field has its flaw.
It is a field everyone lives in,
Some point in life.
Once you are in this field,
There is no way of escaping,
There is no way in making it perfect,
For there will always be that one,
That one weed or cloud,
Standing in your way,
Of perfection and happiness
30. Sun And The MoonLove Knows No Distance
Oh, what a sweet love story, the sun and the moon.
The sun lights up the earth, searching for her love,
Only to recede into the soft ocean tides.
Just as her love, the moon, does the same shortly after she's gone,
Drawn by her light.
He shines small beacons up in the night,
That the sun sees and races to dawn,
Only to see that her love is gone.
Oh, what a sweet love story, the sun and the moon.
31. The TreeMetaphor For The Cycle Of Life
Once a tree spoke to me in words of color and grace.
It said to exist it had to persist in its purpose to have its place.
In hues of green it said it had seen many a year and season
With interesting features like other creatures, which added branches of reason.
Diversity flourishing, nature nourishing participants on life's stage.
Constantly changing and rearranging turns the evolutionary page.
Death and birth for mother earth, two sides of the same coin.
Are lessons learned when the tree is burned? In front of the hearth they join
To warm their feet in its radiant heat it protects and it shelters,
And mother earth's womb feeds its seeds to once again shade when summer swelters.
Poem Comparing Love To A Thunderstorm
I hate the way you remind me of a thunderstorm
The way the violent wind, rain, and lightning shake me...
You shake me
And yet I find myself unable to resist stepping out into the madness
Not having the power to run for cover
The lightning that flashes across the sky, lighting up the clouds
That's your smile, your laugh
The way it lights me up
The thunder that calms me
Draws me to you
The way everything about you is dark
The same peaceful dark in the fury of a storm
The warm rain that pours from the sky
Washes over me like a kiss
A kiss that shuts my body down
Unable to think, breathe, feel anything but you
A kiss that shuts me down like a power outage
The thousands of rain drops soak me
They remind me of a thousand thoughts that drown me
I think I could fall for you, maybe I could love you, I know I adore you...
When the lights come back on in the morning,
I look for you...
I find traces of you, here and there...
But in the moment
I think you tricked me into believing that you were something that would last
I miss the serenity that you gave me
The calm in your arms
It was so much like the calm before a storm
Oh, and did it ever storm.
33. The Pencil CaseInspired By A Friend
The eraser erased my bad habits
While the pencil drew in new ones
The glue stick glued on a whole new face
As the scissors cut away my background and past
The ball point pen then made the changes permanent
While the colored pencils shaded in my body
The calculator changed my way of thinking
As the sharpener grazed over my rough edges
Finally, the ruler
I had to measure up to your standards
Now me and you
We walk, talk and think the same
Two moving as one
I don't even know who I've become
What I was before
You've changed me more than you'll ever knowLatest Shared Story
Dear Beatrice, the friendship you have with the person who inspired you to write this poem should really be treasured because this poem is one of a kind for me. You know what? It really...
In a sea of salt waters
Endevours are enclosed
As insobriety washes away
My lifes secrets are exposed
Loss all around me is fully evident
As my soul begins to scream
Not knowing where I am headed
But definitely knowing where I have been
Hurt keeps rolling in not knowing what is in store
Bandaging the broken pieces
That slowly washes upon shore
The water no longer blue
But instead a sea of red
Thinking about forever closing my eyes
And floating away on this drifting bed
To remember would be to much
To surrender leaves me no possibilities
Because the water is my life that is slowly drowning me
35. The RoseYou're Beautiful As Yourself
The sun went away
The sky went black
Up came the wind
I fell on my back
It started to rain
I began to sink
Then I lifted my head
And took a drink
I perked myself up
And said "please don't cry"
And wiped off my petals
Until they were dry
The clouds soon parted
And out came the sun
The beauty in me
Has only begun.
36. The Well
You were to be my well
But there was little to drink
How am I to slake my thirst
When you taunt me like an oasis
You were to be my armor
Yet I still was hurt by our own
How am I to survive
When your shield is translucent
You were to be my walls
But you were made of straw
How am I to reside
When you shelter is temporary
You were to be my farmer
But you eclipsed my sun
How am I to thrive in obscurity
When your fertilizer burns my soul
You were to be my concrete
But you were made of mud
How am I to stand on my own
When it is support which you lack
You were to be my bones
But there was no enrichment within
How am I to walk with vitality
When it is dust you became
You were to be my well
But there is little to drink
I will never be able to slake my thirst
For you will always be an oasis
37. The Wind And I
She spoke to me
like she was my mother
soft, ever so gentle
when she met me at midnight
the moonlight shone
like never before, we bonded
and shared our deepest secrets
but then all of a sudden
things changed between us
she took it all away
with one blow, roaring violently
she took my past, my present
and made uncertain my future
never again will I trust her
the wind that shattered the windows of my dreams
39. A ButterflyPoem About Being Comforted By Grandma's Spirit
A caterpillar walks in beauty
through the sunshine and the rain,
leaving sweet memories
to ease away the pain.
In time her image changes,
and yet her soul remains the same,
returning to the heavens
from that in which she came.
A butterfly of beauty,
dancing upon the reef,
softly whispers to me,
comforts me in grief.
Do not cry for me.
Together we are one.
My love for you shines brighter
than the ever glowing sun.
Her beauty, the brightest colors,
gentle touch of love,
fluttering wings casting light,
shining through the clouds above.
A caterpillar walked in beauty;
a gentle soul was she.
Alas, she is now a butterfly.
Yet she'll always be Grandma to me.
40. Love Is
Love is a burning candle
It's not always easy to handle
It burns, but it's still beautiful
And it makes celebrations oh so meaningful
It's a sunset
Burning with romance
That makes you want to dance...
Latest Shared Story
This poem touched me in a great way. The people could have well been my teacher of teachers this night. I fell better for knowing the one I love is more near to my heart this night then ever...
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