Here is a list of Allegory Poems ordered by Most Commented, posted by members. Read poetry, post your own poems or comments. Poems on these pages are copyrighted © by the authors who entered them. Click here to post a poem.
online today!No One Knows
A first blush of pink now heralds new dawn,
With strings of thin white clouds which burn away;
And as refulgent light hints at your form,
Four horses drag hot Sun into the day.*
First blush of pink, and that blush all too brief,
Now night has left upon a whim of blue,
Sky which lights now into stark relief;
And time, it seems, can hold no other hue.
The rising Sun a burning crown of glory,
I see his yellow disk now orb the sky;*
Another day dawns on our human story,
And still there's none who know exactly why.
© lovecanbereal
All rights reserved
With strings of thin white clouds which burn away;
And as refulgent light hints at your form,
Four horses drag hot Sun into the day.*
First blush of pink, and that blush all too brief,
Now night has left upon a whim of blue,
Sky which lights now into stark relief;
And time, it seems, can hold no other hue.
The rising Sun a burning crown of glory,
I see his yellow disk now orb the sky;*
Another day dawns on our human story,
And still there's none who know exactly why.
© lovecanbereal
All rights reserved
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: May 2019
About this poem:
* As per the Greek myth of Helios.
wandering anger
I met her in the winter.. in a bar upon the hill.. when the dark was carved from starlight.. and the moon had paid the bill
I came in from the wilderness.. from the howling wind and rain.. I was weary from my journeys.. around other people's pain
"You are bearded broad and ugly".. said the prairie girl in fright.. not one for moralising.. we shared our bones that night
I told her of my story.. from the famine ships I came.. from a world of madness hunger.. where I killed men.. to my shame
corruption took our homelands.. our humanity and our dead.. I hated a world that priced our lives.. in the currency of bread
I left her at the dawning.. as a coyote fought the moon.. one night was our forever.. she'd be over me by noon
my road ís a lonesome one.. thrown far by a devil's hurl.. so I bellow out a fire.. for the prairie and the girl
I came in from the wilderness.. from the howling wind and rain.. I was weary from my journeys.. around other people's pain
"You are bearded broad and ugly".. said the prairie girl in fright.. not one for moralising.. we shared our bones that night
I told her of my story.. from the famine ships I came.. from a world of madness hunger.. where I killed men.. to my shame
corruption took our homelands.. our humanity and our dead.. I hated a world that priced our lives.. in the currency of bread
I left her at the dawning.. as a coyote fought the moon.. one night was our forever.. she'd be over me by noon
my road ís a lonesome one.. thrown far by a devil's hurl.. so I bellow out a fire.. for the prairie and the girl
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Mar 2019
Post CommentDante: nature is the art of God
(or the unwitting brilliance of someone who didn't know it)
you never walked.. 'twas more the curve of the earth.. found a mooring.. in the shape of your foot
you never sang..' twas more a distillation of vibrated yearning.. and what emerged.. saluted a starved ear
you never smiled.. 'twas more the agents of joy constructing.. permanent dwellings.. beneath your eyes
you never painted.. ' twas more you sketched what joy displaced.. and a magic kissed your brush
you never sought numerical truth.. 'twas more the starling cloud of value, settling.. on the branch of your logic
you never carved out a career.. 'twas more the align of the heart.. synced with restless thought
you never swam the spring tide
'twas more the sea inhaled.. and the normal laws of physics.. let you pass
you never walked.. 'twas more the curve of the earth.. found a mooring.. in the shape of your foot
you never sang..' twas more a distillation of vibrated yearning.. and what emerged.. saluted a starved ear
you never smiled.. 'twas more the agents of joy constructing.. permanent dwellings.. beneath your eyes
you never painted.. ' twas more you sketched what joy displaced.. and a magic kissed your brush
you never sought numerical truth.. 'twas more the starling cloud of value, settling.. on the branch of your logic
you never carved out a career.. 'twas more the align of the heart.. synced with restless thought
you never swam the spring tide
'twas more the sea inhaled.. and the normal laws of physics.. let you pass
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Apr 2019
Post Comment
Tainted - for NZ
Calculating but totally Ignorant
Unaware to the most basics of facts
Three colour-blind men failed to see
The very colours that made them white
For black is the absence
And white the presence of all
They came, ripping apart our very hearts,
One quiet Friday afternoon
As our brothers and sisters
Young and old their faith rejoiced
Grateful of blessings big or small
Of a working week just gone past
From a race supreme he reckons;
yet unbeknownst to him or them lot
Ignorance and limited vision alone
Ignites each and every narcissistic act;
an outlook to just a very demented few!
My anger streams in this one sad fact
Why carry out this brutal act
In a land so pure in verdant lush
A peaceful home to a people of big hearts
Skin painted by the hands of Father Time
Created He them as brown as their land;
Then turned their hearts as bright, as warm;
As beautiful as the rays of the morning sun!
Unaware to the most basics of facts
Three colour-blind men failed to see
The very colours that made them white
For black is the absence
And white the presence of all
They came, ripping apart our very hearts,
One quiet Friday afternoon
As our brothers and sisters
Young and old their faith rejoiced
Grateful of blessings big or small
Of a working week just gone past
From a race supreme he reckons;
yet unbeknownst to him or them lot
Ignorance and limited vision alone
Ignites each and every narcissistic act;
an outlook to just a very demented few!
My anger streams in this one sad fact
Why carry out this brutal act
In a land so pure in verdant lush
A peaceful home to a people of big hearts
Skin painted by the hands of Father Time
Created He them as brown as their land;
Then turned their hearts as bright, as warm;
As beautiful as the rays of the morning sun!
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Mar 2019
About this poem:
White Supremacy?……in a land like NZ? It is so very wrong, so cruel, so deplorable. How sad it is for those who lost their lives, all 49 of them and their grieving families. My heart is broken but though mine aches; it is nothing compared to those who lost love ones. I am still shaken; and I've cried a lot today and people might not understand why because I have no one that I know that was gravely affected by this massacre.But I m affected and I wish there was someone I could talk to that really understands; someone who shares the love, the passion for that land and it's people. But I am alone in my thoughts, it's sad and lonely at the same time. Some feels more than others and that I can understand.
NZ is still my home; and it is her pure, down to earth, beautiful, friendly and giving nature (applicable to both the land and the people) and this one horrible act of a senseless, self-centred misfit has forever tainted what has always been the purest, cleanest and green profile of NZ.
I keep saying but no one is listening; rebuild the family unit...parents are too busy working and we are breeding spineless, self-absorbed, feeling so privileged children who have no life-skills so much so that when life storms come their way they simply cannot cope. They either cry and give up or they take to the gun and kill the rest of us all because most parents these days are afraid to discipline (not chastise) their children. It is such a pity that some parents do everything for their kids mistaking it as love.
“I wrote this not just to express my own thoughts but those of the many migrants who were attacked in a senseless way. They're migrants but as our NZ Prime Minister said; “they are us” and NZ was their home!
I realize poems can be read, interpreted differently from the writer’s point of view…so before anyone judges me, let me say: I'm a Christian and believe in just one Supreme Authority ergo: I don’t believe in White Supremacy but mentioned it here as a reaction to an article that came out that day.
I spend 70% at least of my time working to come -up with ideas/strategies to connect cultural groups where we are. I have to be colour blind; yes a different type of colour – blindness- the type that is aware white is the presence of all colours and history tells us we all, regardless of colour, contributed to the building of our modern societies. To me, skin colour is just that; a colour, a covering…much like the many colours of clothing we choose to cover us each day!
If there is anything I will condemn; it will be the act of terrorism; not the people, not skin colour ,not even religion. Just the demented minds of a few.
We look at NZ as our quiet little backyard, where there is no place for senseless acts such as this one. I know Terrorism is a devil that lurks around us as old as old can be. But it hasn’t been and never will be nurtured in NZ and we therefore are not as desensitized as the rest of the world.
From you to me and me to you...
From me to you,
Something borrowed,
From me to you ,
Something new and old,
From me to you,
Something used,
From me to you,
Something broken,
From you to me,
Something lost and forgotten,
From you to me,
Something stolen and gone,
From you to me,
Something fake nothing real,
From you to me,
Something taken for granted.
What is left for me?
From you to me,
Everything I had, No longer with me...
From me to you,
I gave all that you need,
Every penny ,socks and dreams,
Plenty of love,passion and kiss,
What is there left to give?
My life,breath and good wish,
Are all there's left you see,
Not my soul coz it belongs to HIM, my God,
Take it now and leave ...
I have only one doubt about you...
Did you ever once loved me???
Something borrowed,
From me to you ,
Something new and old,
From me to you,
Something used,
From me to you,
Something broken,
From you to me,
Something lost and forgotten,
From you to me,
Something stolen and gone,
From you to me,
Something fake nothing real,
From you to me,
Something taken for granted.
What is left for me?
From you to me,
Everything I had, No longer with me...
From me to you,
I gave all that you need,
Every penny ,socks and dreams,
Plenty of love,passion and kiss,
What is there left to give?
My life,breath and good wish,
Are all there's left you see,
Not my soul coz it belongs to HIM, my God,
Take it now and leave ...
I have only one doubt about you...
Did you ever once loved me???
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Nov 2012
Post Comment
Direct depo$it
$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$
Heaven
OR
Hell
$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$
Banking hours:
Open til you die
After that no refunds
Heaven
OR
Hell
$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$
Banking hours:
Open til you die
After that no refunds
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Feb 2013
Post Comment
Unbeknownst to him
Sitting here on the ledge of a hill looking down at the valley
and up again the winding roads thinking how it could have been.
In complete stillness I sit here watching all the birds ralley
fate they told me comes in threes which remains to be seen.
For now the sun shines and is keeping away the rain
my heart still bleeds but its lessens day by day the pain.
Soon its time to leave the hill to cross again the waters
to find the one I promised of my coming every three quarters.
He lives between the rugged land and sea
and unbeknown to him he is the one I want to be.
and up again the winding roads thinking how it could have been.
In complete stillness I sit here watching all the birds ralley
fate they told me comes in threes which remains to be seen.
For now the sun shines and is keeping away the rain
my heart still bleeds but its lessens day by day the pain.
Soon its time to leave the hill to cross again the waters
to find the one I promised of my coming every three quarters.
He lives between the rugged land and sea
and unbeknown to him he is the one I want to be.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: May 2013
About this poem:
I guess everyone has a dream of finding the 'one'A fire called desire
Ever present..
Ever the day dream of
an insatiable craving
The heart weary and
wrenched from the
pain of want
The mind consumed with
impossible fantasys
The torments of a thousand
sleepless nights
Trying to take heaven
by storm
Suffering hell within
and without
Groveling in the dirt
like starving zombies
Mindless wanderers in
the earth
Cursed children grasping
for the wind
Drifting forever in a fire
called..Desire
Ever the day dream of
an insatiable craving
The heart weary and
wrenched from the
pain of want
The mind consumed with
impossible fantasys
The torments of a thousand
sleepless nights
Trying to take heaven
by storm
Suffering hell within
and without
Groveling in the dirt
like starving zombies
Mindless wanderers in
the earth
Cursed children grasping
for the wind
Drifting forever in a fire
called..Desire
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Apr 2013
About this poem:
I was hungry for a pizza and allthe stores were closed. Lol.
tilting at windmills
well I might take off for Washington
wanna get my feelings heard
I might crowd some lazy senator
just for them to hear my words
it may take some time for pigs to fly
except when in the bath
'cause they're in no mood for coming clean
or a truthful word to pass
you might say that I'm ridiculous
to think that someone cares
I suppose I gotsta spring a trap
so's I can catch 'em unawares
I imagine I should dress myself
in shoes and socks that match
so as to fit inside their head
as my plotting I unhatch
I will tease them with some banking scheme
just to make their ears prick up
and once I have their full attention
they'll be drinkin' from my cup
all the piles of money that they'd make
should they only come aboard
with eyes aglaze and mouths watering
interest had surely soared
that of a deer caught in the headlights
...would be my only guess
of how they looked when I changed my tune
to the plight of homelessness
for my concern that I came to share
were tales of folks without a roof
as soon as they became aware
they started acting all aloof
we can never count on anything
when dealing with they who have the moon
for all those people have gone crazy
...crazy as a loon
never knowing certain circumstance
can steal your piece of pie
unaware but for the grace of God
homelessness are you and I
wanna get my feelings heard
I might crowd some lazy senator
just for them to hear my words
it may take some time for pigs to fly
except when in the bath
'cause they're in no mood for coming clean
or a truthful word to pass
you might say that I'm ridiculous
to think that someone cares
I suppose I gotsta spring a trap
so's I can catch 'em unawares
I imagine I should dress myself
in shoes and socks that match
so as to fit inside their head
as my plotting I unhatch
I will tease them with some banking scheme
just to make their ears prick up
and once I have their full attention
they'll be drinkin' from my cup
all the piles of money that they'd make
should they only come aboard
with eyes aglaze and mouths watering
interest had surely soared
that of a deer caught in the headlights
...would be my only guess
of how they looked when I changed my tune
to the plight of homelessness
for my concern that I came to share
were tales of folks without a roof
as soon as they became aware
they started acting all aloof
we can never count on anything
when dealing with they who have the moon
for all those people have gone crazy
...crazy as a loon
never knowing certain circumstance
can steal your piece of pie
unaware but for the grace of God
homelessness are you and I
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Jul 2014
About this poem:
what's in it for me?Truth
Like the gentle clouds that float above head
Memories, times that seem to have stood still
A book with the end I not yet have read
Just holding me against my fragile will
The warmth of the comfort of knowing you
Holds me close when the chill tries to enter
No lies no suspicions for we know true
Yet summer goes away and comes winter
Can I stay warm with only memories
A cover made from the clouds up above
Or is it time to let go and fly free
To close this door and turn my back on love
A tattered rag can let the sunlight in
But want stow warmth upon me in the end
---- IMAGE REMOVED because photobucket.com no longer allows embedded images ----
Memories, times that seem to have stood still
A book with the end I not yet have read
Just holding me against my fragile will
The warmth of the comfort of knowing you
Holds me close when the chill tries to enter
No lies no suspicions for we know true
Yet summer goes away and comes winter
Can I stay warm with only memories
A cover made from the clouds up above
Or is it time to let go and fly free
To close this door and turn my back on love
A tattered rag can let the sunlight in
But want stow warmth upon me in the end
---- IMAGE REMOVED because photobucket.com no longer allows embedded images ----
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Sep 2013
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