Most Commented Allegory Poems (898)

If all the sharp stars, fell down from up high, from spaces beyond deep blue skies...
Would you even try, to catch at least one, or stare glaring as each star dies?...
Might you doubt that I, care not for my sight, I'd stare at the sky until you...
View blue's truest blues, through night's true blue hues, bright minds sometime see more than eyes...

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Dark skies display stars, honed by the Sun's rays, sight gone, yet now I can see...
More clear than I ever, I pray that you never, stop shining your light down on me...
At times and on days, in ways brightly blaze, star-points pierce through the night's shades...
And I've felt the pain of your stars from the start, sharp blades fiercely pierce while they play....

I was never
taught
how music's
sold and bought

all I know
is every girl
I ever knew
had lyrics.. but never you

girl you are
a celtic air
a blend of strings
when no-one's there

no need for lines
nor lyrics wrote
a warmth beyond
a thing you'd quote

I see the words
of girls I knew
fade amongst
the morning dew

I hear your strings
at evening's fade
your head sleeps on
my shoulder blade

cool beneath the palms
one bourbon, one scotch, one beer
ripples in the sand

dance me a samba
la fiesta in the rain
swirl of a red dress

from the heights they came
fine gossamer on the wind
seeking exodus

the day was sketched
time added air
with roughened strokes
in spaces

the sea inhaled
sands grew
around memories
bivouacked

a swept stroke emblazoned
on a hidden horizon
counterbalanced
by the edges

mushroom umbrellas bloom
licked by salt
and the rays
of technique

lines and curves
superimposed
over
whiteness

and the shell of us
stretched
by the crab
of ennui

I thought you were made
of grey texture
a thick impasto
dipped in methylate

we meandered on wet canvass
pursued
by deadline

viewed by
strangers
within
and without

hanging
in isolation

our own chiaroscuro

Bell chimes
Cutting invitations
Of serendipity gardens
In mist -- glowing orbs
Your eyes
Kindle golden fire
A quicksand burn
Into Just December
Cradles wood
Doubts threshold
Patina unturns
Knobs ground leaves
Where you’ve gone

Again and again
Knocks taste bitter
In counts of tomorrow
Nicks, grains, grooves, and
Your imperfect landscape
Sing stories
In platitudes unsung

To many spirits dwelling in
The shadows of gloom..
With no vision the people
Perish
Hope rides a firey chariot
And the faint of heart may
Cringe at the sight of those
Mighty horses engulfed in
Clouds divine
The still small voice that
Whispers of worlds yet
Unconquered bathes your
Soul in a sea of pure nectar
The mundane can be your
Task master or a messenger
Speaking to your inner core
'Come up here! Dare to walk
These streets of valor!'
'Fight the fight of life!
For death shall have no
More dominion over you.'

I do not bring the sword that has
Awakened you in fearful nights
But a message of love and hope
And a desire to prosper you
Your heart has sunken to the debths
Of despair, and in your spirit you are
Fallen as the eagle
Your life has been delivered to the
Hangman
Your execution is sure
The taste of life has fled you and the
Salt has lost it's savour
Autumn leaves fall blandly to the ground
And the desire for death is your only solace
But I bring forth things as though they were
Not
I topple nations without investigation
And in due season I shall set you on higher
Ground
Then you too.. shall become my messenger.

The time for fantasy's
Is long spent..
I've been offered a
Smile and a warm
Heart to comfort
Awake me!
Awake!
Fall not asleep
Yet I am so tired
My poetry, oh yes,
I've kissed a dream
Or two
But it is the dream
Of her kiss that taunts
My every sleepless
Night
Some mysterious clock
Of love hidden in
The heavens speaks
To me on a bed
Of unknown
Passion
Yet, I know within the
Gentleness of her
Heart she patiently
Waits to take me
In the sunshine
Of her love
Forgive me that my
Arms cannot reach
the golden rose
Of your heart
I fall to my knees
And plead to you
That somewhere
Between time and
Space, that I may
Be granted to fall
Upon your neck
With kisses of
Eternal love..
Cafe

Love is billed as a blockbuster
A must see for all!
She signs autographs for
A pressing crowd and
Even has a star on
The walk of fame
Camera's flashing the
Media in uproar
She is the talk
Of the town!
Love.. Everyone wants
To speak her name
But she was maligned
In the press
Distained by personal
Opinion
Love is now wearing
A tainted dress
Love kissed your
Hated friend
She was seen walking
In rags to feed the
Hungry
She stood outside your
Cold dark cell and
Smiled at you through
Prison bars
She carried your beaten
Body to the warmth of
Her cozy fire
Her abode is but sticks
And mud
In her eyes you felt
A healing born of
Some nameless star
You tasted her life
In your pain wracked
Body
You saw her fame in
The mercy of her
Tears
You have been make
Whole in the blessing
Of a new hope
You have become a
New creature born
Of some unspeakable
Joy
You clench your trembling
Fists and vow, 'that you too
Shall become a child
Of love.'

Cafe

On the chill of a moonlit night
I was awakened by the
Touch of some unseen
Entity..
Voices taunting me making
Me toss and turn
Shadows on the wall
Were like black
Claw fingers
Then the voices spoke.
" Your mind is nothing more
Than a hieroglyphic symbol."
" A cosmic trick
Of the god's"
'You were born of blood
And dirt wedded to
Bone and sinew"
" You were given a
"Taste of reason which
Shall vanish as a vapor"
You are quite simply..
Astronomically insignificent!"
Your aspirations are nothing
More than a rusty shovel
Leaning against an unmarked
Grave..
Death was mixed in your
Mother's milk from
The beginning..
I screamed out, " Go away!
You have no right to
Speak thus to me!"
But the voices kept
Taunting..
" Look at you! You lie
There on your rotting bed
And pour your imagination
Into unwashed socks.
Your long suit is an
Impossible dream..
You mull around in
Nothing more than worn
Out sandels, and a ragged
T- Shirt that reads, " I
Voted for Lady Godiva!"
The voices departed for an
Hour then returned..
"You are not a cosmological
Constant.. Don't you read?
It was in all the Sunday
Papers!"
I paused for a long moment
Then asked, " Who are you
Voices?'
They whispered, " We are
The voices of doubt..
Was it not you who called
On us in your
Midnight dream?"

Cafe