Most Commented Allegory Poems (898)

I met her in the winter
in a bar upon the hill
when the dark
was carved by starlight
and the moon
had paid the bill

I stepped in from the wilderness
from the howling wind and rain
I was weary from my journey's
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
in 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 journey is a lonesome one
thrown far by the devil's hurl
so I bellow out two fires
for the prairie and the girl

Yesterday we met for the first time, no not face to face...His voice like a snake charmer...I was so desperate for just a word to make feel like a desirable woman and oh boy did he have an arcenal...he kept firing them...my body began to get warm and felt like I was on fire...feelings that were dormant for years starting rear their head...my mind was telling me stop ...but now I was so close to edge...sheer joy and fireworks exploded...When it was over..chatter in mind began, how could you be so stupid...all I could tell myself ..it felt so good...then shame began...I was naked and I heard a voice ...call my name and asked.. Where are you..?? What have you done?? I replied Replied I donot know!! Today he called but I didn't answer...I am good for another couple if years. Made my repentance...Now I will focus on my soul once again.

Oh the sight sound and taste of love
It touches us like a dove

There is a reason the dove has wings
It flies into our hands and touches us for a moment
and offers its song to sing

It then flies away as free as it came often leaving much pain
It can overcome us like a thunderous storm
and fill us with things fuzzy and warm

Yet, it also has its illusions which leads us to confusion
Its scars can last a lifetime
Or paint a picture with rose color shades with brushes of empty affections and its imperfections.

See how we chase after a dream of love and hope
Yet, sometimes one can rush too much too fast and feel like a dope

They say anything worthwhile is worth the wait. Yet how long must some wait to seal their fate?

How many can often be so blind they dont see the signs.
Fools tend to push away what may be in front of them for a different flavor they think will do them a favor

There comes that moment in it's time of torment
the fool looks deeper into the pool
And what does he see but his own false perception of self
as he laments upon a stool
Taking sips of consolation in his isolation

Each and every day it seems to be getting harder to fulfill one's desires.
Yet, the question the fool must ask to his task is his intentions true and noble?

If our task is to find the barriers and excuses we create against what we seek are we sometimes afraid to take a peek?

Has some become so bitter and cold and just got so set in their ways feeling cranky and old?

Whatever happened to joys of childhood when there was a time when all that mattered was baseball and icecream

Now all the fool hears are sounds of moaning and groaning of his own doing
along with silent screams and his broken dreams

Today the fool just sits in his rocking chair safe upon the porch watching life pass him by like a summer breeze
as he takes his last wheeze

The illusions of love they play clever tricks as the magician dazzles the audience with beauty and hope
For some let us be mindful of truth and illusion of love before we lose sight of the dove.

to the day the darkness
brings an end
I am the last Irish wolf
the darkness is my friend

they killed me
and they skinned me
as the virgin
snows a'fell

but the tavern's cheers
are qualified
they know
I wait in hell

I am the peerless hunter
as constant as the tide
"Mactyre" they call me
outcast son of the countryside

my eye contains a private death
my claw imprisons hope
I'm the thread of fear a'runneth
through the cord of every rope

I am alpha to the moonlit oaks
to the mountains and the rain
I am balm to all the natural laws
and thus I will remain

to stalk the stars
to kill the clouds
to forage in the lands
to sleep in the belly of time

untouched by human hands

I spent Monday just walking through town.. searching for magical.. timbers of brown

Tuesday's arrival.. flooded my deck.. from the truest of branches.. I fashioned your neck

I spent Wednesday doing nothing at all.. till a bird with your voice.. sung out from a wall

You told me to hurry.. in the words of a song.. you told me that Thursday.. wouldn't be long

Friday's new coat.. hung from my bed..I made every string.. from a hair of your head

I took you to concerts.. I heard your notes fly.. migrating to consciousness.. nesting in sky

Park was the head officer on the border crossing between North and South Korea. He had a problem.

Two weeks ago a woman, let's call her lin, pitched up at the crossing gate with a jute bag of soil attached to the front panniers of her well maintained Honda 50 motorcycle.

The inevitable menagerie of sniffer dogs, hard bitten counter intelligence staff and regular army, checked her story.

Her papers checked out, she had permission to cross.

The soil was.. well.. just that.. soil. No contraband.. no diamonds.. nada.. zip.

Odd? Yes. But illegal? No.


Lin altered her days, but usually twice a week, she made the same journey:

Same bike
Same colour
Same bag of soil
Same papers
Same checkpoint
Same result.

It pissed the men off. Lin was beautiful and smart, and it seemed she had someone on high who was protecting her. The word from Park's superiors was simple:

"Unless you find something illegal, let her pass"

I guess it was tough (the first year) for Park. He was a proud man. A nagging doubt festered in his subconscious..

"What is she up to?"


Then, somewhere north of year three it stopped. No more Lin. No more bags of Earth.

No more reports by Park about the square root of nothing.

Park retired. Life moved on. Except.. not quite.

He tracked her down.
He confronted her.
He explained his retirement.
He wouldn't prosecute.
He just wanted to know.

"What was in the Bag!"

"Soil" said Lin.

"But.. what were you smuggling?" said Park.

Lin took a long look at the frazzled military man... and spoke a single word..

"motorcycles".

as long as I can see, I see nothing
anything there to see
anyway
still, while in the air
I broke down and lost me lotta hair
didn't take it personal, thus emotional
was the game
mean mistreated, or perhaps, calculated?

baby, hills run dry
beneath your velvet sky
outside i queue for gas
in the rain

baby, I don't know
how the tale of us will go
don't walk away
on stepping stones of pain

your smile is a light
on a cold dark night
look and search my face
there's no distain

all I ask for now
is some peace somehow
no need to give me
shelter from the rain

If I could hold
the quill of truth
over the page
of unfolding story

and hold it still
and let the page itself
write the words
of your defining glory

if I could see
the candle
that lights the table
beside your bed

and see that light
in constant fight
against the dousing
tears you shed

but bitter winds
comb the sands
of the fragile breath
that you release

and war minds wait
in the long grass
as foil
against your peace

I would pray
with actions
outside the gate
off all you hold.. most true

and guard from devils
and unworthy men
the very thing
that makes you.. You

I’ve played with glass marbles, they’re black as black gets...
Cracked down their middles....and right through their backs...
Chained to long nights backed with painful cold-sweats...
I’ll bet that these pains are the best I’ve met yet...

Although I do know, though I don’t......will I grow?...
The best of me.....that person I’ve never known...
And while cracks remain, time has maintained what’s stained...
Strained cracks in black glass back and reaps what’s been sown....