Most Commented Allegory Poems (898)

Well, I read the evening paper
And it scared me near in two,
With its column-long palaver
About the world to do.

Seems there's little wars all over,
And crimes and violence--
And you know I got to thinking
That it surely makes no sense.

Why should neighbor shoot at neighbor
And countries rattle swords?
I'm sure they've all forgotten
That this whole big world's the Lord's.

Why, HE made the sun to warm us,
And the evenings just for rest,
And the mountains filled with grandeur,
And mankind filled with zest.

And HE made a horse to ride on,
And hills to ride him through;
A star-filled night to dream on,
And a wealth of things to do!

Well, I'd just like to tell the generals
And Presidents and such,
That if they'd just cut out the haggling
And get back into touch

With the things that God intended...
Like the beauty of the day,
Or the murmur of the forest
Or the smell of new mown hay.

If they'd just look at all the wonder
Of nature all around,
And perhaps they'd stop all their feudin'
And we'd all have peaceful ground.

Are you happy?
How can you tell?
Does life just flow?
Is everything just swell?

No head full of worries
No heart full of pain
No anguish or sorrow
No frustrated brain
No feathers to ruffle
No temper to flare
But a feeling of lightness
Like gliding on air

...And a pride in your being
The you that you are
Embrace it and cherish it
Now you're the happiness star.

Love and Hate.. Twist of Fate.. 18 years ingratiate
Hey,hey,hey.. It's time to play.. Come outside or come what may

Held away.. Can we say...Don't look back on yesterday

I'm glad it's happening to you
There's nothing better you can do

Cannot stay..Must pray...The world we know is not the way
hey, hey, hey..It's time to say..Pushed aside or pushed away

Held away.. The darker days.. Don't look back on yesterday
Shades of gray..Move aside..Or move away today

Sing a song..Of what went wrong..Now you're here and then you're gone
Brand new day..Is on the way...Fly away today.

This life's been a grand undertaking
On a long and tortuous trail;
Emotions and dreams kept us floating
Like ships breaking waves at full sail.

We've partaken of visual wonders...
Watched the trout rise to harvest a fly-
While mountains-- shaken by thunder-
Flashed neon beneath a lightning framed sky.

We've thrilled at the elk's lusty whistle
Marveled at spots on a fawn;
Then, quick as a shot from a pistol;
These symbols of freedom were gone.

We've rigged a team in dray trappings,
Sowed joy from a buckboard behind,
Motivated by multitudes clapping,
In response to old ballads aligned.

We've sought the fruits of the forest
Those ravaged and gutted by man,
Whose intentions- not always purest,
Embrace his municipal plan.

We've seen sections of lush vegetation
Which loss we may never atone,
Yield to a civilization...
To asphalt, skyscrapers and stone.

Ox wagons, once truly symbolic..
A vestige of migrations West
Wore wheels that proceeded the frolic
Of autos man soon would possess.

Songs written in delicate sonnets
Harmonized in a warm hearted swoon,
Emphasized a pure life on the planet-
While rockets raced up to the moon.

We've seen the invincible humbled
Our century nearly half gone,
From the full bloom of youth we have stumbled
And still time marches on.

Now fanatics die by the legion;
They call this, "Allegiance to God",
Others leap to defend each his region;
It's the righteous who bloody the rod!

It's peculiar the road we've traveled
And no doubt we'll traverse it again
Do not bolt as the world comes unraveled,
But, drive on, for great goodness remains.

There's a race of men who don't fit in
A race that can't stay still;
So they break the hearts of kith and kin
And they roam the world at will.

They range the field, they rove the flood,
And they climb the mountain's crest;
Theirs is the curse of wandering feet
And they don't know how to rest.

If they just went straight up they might go far;
They are strong and brave and true;
But they are always tired of the things that are,
And they want the strange and new.

They say: "Could I find my proper groove.
What a deep mark I would make!"
So they chop and change, and each fresh move
Is only a fresh mistake.

And each forgets as he strips and runs
With a brilliant, fitful pace
It's the steady, quiet, plodding ones
Who win in the lifelong race.

And each forgets that his youth has fled
Forgets that his time is past,
Until he stands one day, with a hope gone dead
In the glare of the truth at last.

He's failed, he's failed, he's missed his chance
He has done just things by half,
Life's just been a jolly good joke on him ,
And now's the time to laugh.

Ha! Ha! He is one of the Legion lost;
He was never meant to win;
He's a rolling stone, and it's bred in the bone
He's a man who won't fit in.

The Western trails bore longhorn
Over oceans of grass plain
And cowboys rode like captains
Through waves of sun and rain

4-inch brims and rowelled spurs
Along with chaps and latigo
Matching leather on face and saddle
Of a seasoned, working pro

Some say the era of the cowboy
Is but a faded dream at best
But that independent spirit
Remains the heartbeat of the West

Miles removed from concrete jungles
On open vistas kissed by sun
Modern cowboys ride the range
Just like those days the West was won

So word and song is raised in honor
To everyone who bears the flame
Who stokes the fire of admiration
For a life no one will tame.

Nights of mysteries and feelings,
Nights of dreams and plays, and vice,
Nights of musings and misgivings,
Nights of skies overcast with stars.
Nights of colds and chills, and quivers,
Nights of pleasure, grace and love,
Nights of treasures beyond measure
Of the verse made one by one.
Nights of darkness, pierced with candles,
Flames that flicker in the night.
Nights of sadness, thoughts of people
Friends and lovers that have died.
Nights we pass in tranquil leisure,
Nights we pass in raging lust,
Nights that give us heavenly pleasure,
Nights that last in toil and fast.

Night, my friend, please hearken to wish,
Just give me peace of mind and sound sleep.

It looks like half the real estate
In all of Arizona
Have slipped the surly bonds of earth
And blown into the sky

Like some dark angry entourage
Was working overtime
To stir the lifeless desert soil
And laugh as it blows by

The wind is tearing blossoms
From the swaying apple tree
And after several hours
Of it's wailing, haunted voice

"My soul is angry and brittle
While I wait for rain or calm
But a higher call than my own mind
Will make that final choice".

The windmill groans with longing
As it strains against the brake
While that pushing, pressing wind insists
That it must bend and turn

Like people who believe they're right
And blow and push and shove
Until your calm has blown away
And you pray that peace returns

Contentious wind... that blow hard kind
That rakes your quiet mind
Until your nerves are frayed and raw
And tensions mount inside

Lord... let me be a quiet breeze
That gently blows through lives
To cool, soothe a fevered brow
Let me ease their rocky ride

And if the breeze must push at times
When folks have missed your mark
Then- let it hold the scent of rain
That soothes like Gilead's balm

So words don't sting like driven dirt
And love is always there
The wind of your Holy Spirit
Returning peace and calm.

He wore his best gray Bailey
Though it was a bit battered
His Saturday night denim shirt
The sleeves just slightly tattered.

His jeans were tucked in knee highs
The boots hand made and tooled
He wore his spurs to this event
'Cause town folks think it's cool.

He swaggered to the microphone
And tipped his hat with flair
He announced to the crowd loudly
"This one's about Mary, so fair".

"Now, she was my true love"
"As refreshing as a western morn",
"I could love no other girl
"Pretty as any that was ever born".

"But in the end it could never work"
"Our love was forever damned"
"I'm a cowman, you see, my friends",
"And she always had that little lamb".

The crowd roars it's appreciation
And he bows low at the waist
"I've got more!" he bellows
Not one to leave the spotlight in haste.

For the next hour he recites
Tales of guns, horses and fights
And makes the sponsors reconsider
The idea of the open mike.

He left the stage to much fanfare
And reveled in the new found fame
Certain that all that attended that night
Would remember his family name.

He got in his pickup to take his leave
Knowing he had made an impression
The ladies were surely swooning
And the men battling depression.

"I'll be back", he vowed quietly
"I'm on a historic mission"
"The legend needs to stay alive
"And I tell of the cowboy tradition".

To some men women are like a book.
Their covers to be looked at,
and if found attractive
picked up and opened.

If easy reading, with little depth, browsed,
and then put back on the shelf with all the others.

If not, it will remain closed,
it’s full meaning beyond
their patience, comprehension and understanding.

A blessed few will get past
the cover,
open, and delve into the contents.
Read the chosen words for their real meaning,
and savor the feelings that they evoke

In time it may become their favorite book,
to be read and reread
until time closes their eyes
for ever.