Most Commented Allegory Poems (898)

I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed.
And on the pedestal these words appear:
"My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!"
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away

I'm not the one, I'm not the only,
Who's been so fooled, was treated thus.
I'm not the one, I'm not the only,
Who's made myself a laughing stock.
I'm not the one, I'm not the only,
Who's been let down - an easy prey to lies.
I'm not the one, I'm not the only
Who's now in trouble - that serves me right.
"Syrup and soothing dope, sure, they can live on hope",
says Ezra Pound, meaning me and many other guys.

There a demon dwells in the shadows
Breathes winter long and tough
Daring a puncher to pack up and quit
Or stick because he hasn't had enough

There a demon casts a long shadow
Each moment a cowboy must choose
Twixt throwing his rope before the darkness
Or face one more wrap and refuse

There a demon hides in that shadow
Waits on a hand not to care
About tying one down needing tending
Or ride on pretending she's not there

There a demon carries his shadow
Until a man becomes what he should
Worth every second he's horseback
Or lost in the dark shadows for good.

Your pendulum swinging
Extreme to the next
"Don't you think I'm awesome, and superior and intelligent and witty?"
Is what you try to say
"Don't you just love having me around?"
Behind closed doors you drink
And lose to the demons of sorrow

If you stuck your head in a bottle
Maybe the alcohol could speak louder
Than the gushing, arse kissing cries you utter
But in front of the crew
Well in front of others you think you're so great
Don't you know that you've been caught?
The sweetness and light act fools no one, least of all your boss
You're gonna have to answer for your sins
Shame you're so mediocre at best.

"I'm sorry, who are you again?"
"Oh, that's right, you're that simp nobody- least that's what I make You think I think".
"And you, lucky you, have been so graced with my presence".
"Such a great thing I am really, and you would be grateful to listen
To all my "stories" of grandeur".
"The many accomplishments I have in my head"
"I have dreamt my way around the world you know"
"I use a pen, I don't erase!"

"I have a voracious and extensive vocabulary"
"You should be like me"
"You should be like me"
"You should think like me"
"If you can't handle me, drop dead".
"I treat people like dirt that I can't agree with, so kiss my arse"
"By now, can't you see I'm lying?"
"Little do I know that my "attitude" will be my downfall, but I don't Care as long as I get to hurt you".
"Do me a favor and knock me off of this pedestal before I go insane".

I hear from some that life has no reason
Telling their lies like they want me to believe
There's no room here for pleasing
And no time to explain what I mean

Burning bright all through the night now
For today I will lead the way
Burning bright it's time to find out
The secrets of the day

I see the days with detection
Of a time that has fallen for me
With the love of perfection
Until then I am humbly down on my knees

I hear that life has a reason
And today I just wanna believe.

If only I could shred all years of my past
And find myself as young as I was wont one time.
Years of endurance teach us that much:
Knowledge, experience aren't gained overnight.
But no matter how precious, dear-bought a gain,
Knowledge, experience compare but in vain
With youthful exploits and bountiful health,
Breathtaking adventures, eccentric escapades.

Oh Youth, the less you're paying heed, the more you will regret.
If young, Old Age, I wouldn't give a damn about what you say.

Death

Synthetic winds have blown away
Material dust, but this one room
Rebukes the constant violet ray
And dustless sheds a dusty gloom.
Wrecked on the outmoded past
Lie North and Hillard, Virgil, Horace,
Shakespeare's bones are quiet at last,
Dead as Yeats or William Morris.
Have not the inmates earned their rest?
A hundred circles traversed they
Complaining of the classic quest
And, each inevitable day,
Illogically trying to place
A ball within an empty space.



Birth

Every loss is now a gain
For every chance must follow reason.
A crystal palace meets the rain
That falls at its appointed season.
No book disturbs the lucid line
For sun-bronzed scholars tune their thought
To Telepathic Station 9
From which they know just what they ought:
The useful sciences; the arts
Of telesalesmanship and Spanish
As registered in Western parts;
Mental cremation that shall banish
Relics, philosophies and colds --
Manana-minded ten-year-olds.



The Phoenix

Worlds have died that they may live,
May plume again their fairest feathers
And in their clearest songs may give
Welcome to all spontaneous weathers.
Bacon's colleague is called Einstein,
Huxley shares Platonic food,
Violet rays are only sunshine
Christened in the modern mood,
In this house if in no other
Past and future may agree,
Each herself, but each the other
In a curious harmony,
Finding both a proper place
In the silken gown's embrace.

It all just comes to a stop.
Smoke blown in to the moisture laden morning air...
Hanging there before my eyes...
It's message not lost to me, but perhaps ignored.
The sun never quite giving the feeling
of a day begun in earnest.
No stirring from brittle branches
moistened and heavy from the morning mist.

But still birdsong falls like rainbow rain
the small lives hidden from view but there.
A persistant primrose refusing to give ground to the season
- still fighting to flower – a droplet of colour in the grey
Are these a message to me?
Did I miss something when I cast my eye over the world?
Perhaps I didn't,
but did I really see?

Is time racing by too fast and heading out in harm’s way?
Burning a candle too fast, do beware what I have to say
How much longer will it last that we always so depend
When we let others decide for us what message does it send?
When all the feelings that we hide are ticking deep inside
Is this only what we pretend or only what we can’t confide?

quiet pond..
heavy is my soul..
o nightfall..