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.
let the yeats be kind
this cabin be
the same as real
though the texture
has a different feel
her fingerprints
upon the door
scuffed heel scar
upon the floor
in walked she
as moonlit shone
her ghost a'rest
upon my own
the lake her eye
oft frozen there
in forests
of her chestnut hair
I cut and peeled
a hazel wand
with berried lure
to fish her pond
I pay my line
into her fear
to catch the last
remaining tear
to bring it home
beside the fire
to dry her pain
with my desire
and when a moth
of star doth sleep
our hearts will rid
all will to weep
the same as real
though the texture
has a different feel
her fingerprints
upon the door
scuffed heel scar
upon the floor
in walked she
as moonlit shone
her ghost a'rest
upon my own
the lake her eye
oft frozen there
in forests
of her chestnut hair
I cut and peeled
a hazel wand
with berried lure
to fish her pond
I pay my line
into her fear
to catch the last
remaining tear
to bring it home
beside the fire
to dry her pain
with my desire
and when a moth
of star doth sleep
our hearts will rid
all will to weep
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Jun 2017
Post Comment
Matisse at my Table
I had Matisse around for lunch
square white linen under a blue sky
I said "I rather fancied Woman with a Hat"
we watched the ants in the cracked bark of the plane tree
"it brought me joy" he said
he left
I thought life should be tangelo
square white linen under a blue sky
I said "I rather fancied Woman with a Hat"
we watched the ants in the cracked bark of the plane tree
"it brought me joy" he said
he left
I thought life should be tangelo
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Jun 2017
About this poem:
colour my life
Cueva Oculta
Shadows painted on my face
Passing clouds over my eyes
Lost my gaze into a cavern
Attentive to my heart’s soft rhythm
Feet stuck to an earthen floor
Aromas of decay and springs
Besides a wet glistening rock
Hands held touching a crevice
Tracing any hint of sensation
Heightened in every senses
Taking that first quiet step
Somewhere inside my soul
(c) Yankee4you 2017
Passing clouds over my eyes
Lost my gaze into a cavern
Attentive to my heart’s soft rhythm
Feet stuck to an earthen floor
Aromas of decay and springs
Besides a wet glistening rock
Hands held touching a crevice
Tracing any hint of sensation
Heightened in every senses
Taking that first quiet step
Somewhere inside my soul
(c) Yankee4you 2017
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Jul 2017
About this poem:
Inside your soul is like being a cave.... Mindfulness.focus
focus
I don't like that word
it doesn't even sound pretty
it's hard to make anything out of it
it sounds like what a cat does
when it's trying to take a shit
contorts faces
and induces
feelings of importance
leads down tunnels
leading to imagined fates
unfocused surrounding
are more conducive to
reflection
and not seeing what is hoped or wanted
unimaginable fates
for all its contradictions and lies
it is still what is there
indescribable
to demand logic
cause and effect
and truth
sense and meaning
and think that what you find
is yourself
is to focus
and all you do
is heal
I don't like that word
it doesn't even sound pretty
it's hard to make anything out of it
it sounds like what a cat does
when it's trying to take a shit
contorts faces
and induces
feelings of importance
leads down tunnels
leading to imagined fates
unfocused surrounding
are more conducive to
reflection
and not seeing what is hoped or wanted
unimaginable fates
for all its contradictions and lies
it is still what is there
indescribable
to demand logic
cause and effect
and truth
sense and meaning
and think that what you find
is yourself
is to focus
and all you do
is heal
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Aug 2017
About this poem:
in a lousy mood
Auguries of Innocence (By William Blake)
To see a world in a grain of sand
And a heaven in a wild flower,
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand,
And eternity in an hour.
A robin redbreast in a cage
Puts all heaven in a rage.
A dove-house fill'd with doves and pigeons
Shudders hell thro' all its regions.
A dog starv'd at his master's gate
Predicts the ruin of the state.
A horse misused upon the road
Calls to heaven for human blood.
Each outcry of the hunted hare
A fibre from the brain does tear.
A skylark wounded in the wing,
A cherubim does cease to sing.
The game-c*ck clipt and arm'd for fight
Does the rising sun affright.
Every wolf's and lion's howl
Raises from hell a human soul.
The wild deer, wand'ring here and there,
Keeps the human soul from care.
The lamb misus'd breeds public strife,
And yet forgives the butcher's knife.
The bat that flits at close of eve
Has left the brain that won't believe.
The owl that calls upon the night
Speaks the unbeliever's fright.
He who shall hurt the little wren
Shall never be belov'd by men.
He who the ox to wrath has mov'd
Shall never be by woman lov'd.
The wanton boy that kills the fly
Shall feel the spider's enmity.
He who torments the chafer's sprite
Weaves a bower in endless night.
The caterpillar on the leaf
Repeats to thee thy mother's grief.
Kill not the moth nor butterfly,
For the last judgement draweth nigh.
He who shall train the horse to war
Shall never pass the polar bar.
The beggar's dog and widow's cat,
Feed them and thou wilt grow fat.
The gnat that sings his summer's song
Poison gets from slander's tongue.
The poison of the snake and newt
Is the sweat of envy's foot.
The poison of the honey bee
Is the artist's jealousy.
The prince's robes and beggar's rags
Are toadstools on the miser's bags.
A truth that's told with bad intent
Beats all the lies you can invent.
It is right it should be so;
Man was made for joy and woe;
And when this we rightly know,
Thro' the world we safely go.
Joy and woe are woven fine,
A clothing for the soul divine.
Under every grief and pine
Runs a joy with silken twine.
The babe is more than swaddling bands;
Throughout all these human lands;
Tools were made and born were hands,
Every farmer understands.
Every tear from every eye
Becomes a babe in eternity;
This is caught by females bright,
And return'd to its own delight.
The bleat, the bark, bellow, and roar,
Are waves that beat on heaven's shore.
The babe that weeps the rod beneath
Writes revenge in realms of death.
The beggar's rags, fluttering in air,
Does to rags the heavens tear.
The soldier, arm'd with sword and gun,
Palsied strikes the summer's sun.
The poor man's farthing is worth more
Than all the gold on Afric's shore.
One mite wrung from the lab'rer's hands
Shall buy and sell the miser's lands;
Or, if protected from on high,
Does that whole nation sell and buy.
He who mocks the infant's faith
Shall be mock'd in age and death.
He who shall teach the child to doubt
The rotting grave shall ne'er get out.
He who respects the infant's faith
Triumphs over hell and death.
The child's toys and the old man's reasons
Are the fruits of the two seasons.
The questioner, who sits so sly,
Shall never know how to reply.
He who replies to words of doubt
Doth put the light of knowledge out.
The strongest poison ever known
Came from Caesar's laurel crown.
Nought can deform the human race
Like to the armour's iron brace.
When gold and gems adorn the plow,
To peaceful arts shall envy bow.
A riddle, or the cricket's cry,
Is to doubt a fit reply.
The emmet's inch and eagle's mile
Make lame philosophy to smile.
He who doubts from what he sees
Will ne'er believe, do what you please.
If the sun and moon should doubt,
They'd immediately go out.
To be in a passion you good may do,
But no good if a passion is in you.
And a heaven in a wild flower,
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand,
And eternity in an hour.
A robin redbreast in a cage
Puts all heaven in a rage.
A dove-house fill'd with doves and pigeons
Shudders hell thro' all its regions.
A dog starv'd at his master's gate
Predicts the ruin of the state.
A horse misused upon the road
Calls to heaven for human blood.
Each outcry of the hunted hare
A fibre from the brain does tear.
A skylark wounded in the wing,
A cherubim does cease to sing.
The game-c*ck clipt and arm'd for fight
Does the rising sun affright.
Every wolf's and lion's howl
Raises from hell a human soul.
The wild deer, wand'ring here and there,
Keeps the human soul from care.
The lamb misus'd breeds public strife,
And yet forgives the butcher's knife.
The bat that flits at close of eve
Has left the brain that won't believe.
The owl that calls upon the night
Speaks the unbeliever's fright.
He who shall hurt the little wren
Shall never be belov'd by men.
He who the ox to wrath has mov'd
Shall never be by woman lov'd.
The wanton boy that kills the fly
Shall feel the spider's enmity.
He who torments the chafer's sprite
Weaves a bower in endless night.
The caterpillar on the leaf
Repeats to thee thy mother's grief.
Kill not the moth nor butterfly,
For the last judgement draweth nigh.
He who shall train the horse to war
Shall never pass the polar bar.
The beggar's dog and widow's cat,
Feed them and thou wilt grow fat.
The gnat that sings his summer's song
Poison gets from slander's tongue.
The poison of the snake and newt
Is the sweat of envy's foot.
The poison of the honey bee
Is the artist's jealousy.
The prince's robes and beggar's rags
Are toadstools on the miser's bags.
A truth that's told with bad intent
Beats all the lies you can invent.
It is right it should be so;
Man was made for joy and woe;
And when this we rightly know,
Thro' the world we safely go.
Joy and woe are woven fine,
A clothing for the soul divine.
Under every grief and pine
Runs a joy with silken twine.
The babe is more than swaddling bands;
Throughout all these human lands;
Tools were made and born were hands,
Every farmer understands.
Every tear from every eye
Becomes a babe in eternity;
This is caught by females bright,
And return'd to its own delight.
The bleat, the bark, bellow, and roar,
Are waves that beat on heaven's shore.
The babe that weeps the rod beneath
Writes revenge in realms of death.
The beggar's rags, fluttering in air,
Does to rags the heavens tear.
The soldier, arm'd with sword and gun,
Palsied strikes the summer's sun.
The poor man's farthing is worth more
Than all the gold on Afric's shore.
One mite wrung from the lab'rer's hands
Shall buy and sell the miser's lands;
Or, if protected from on high,
Does that whole nation sell and buy.
He who mocks the infant's faith
Shall be mock'd in age and death.
He who shall teach the child to doubt
The rotting grave shall ne'er get out.
He who respects the infant's faith
Triumphs over hell and death.
The child's toys and the old man's reasons
Are the fruits of the two seasons.
The questioner, who sits so sly,
Shall never know how to reply.
He who replies to words of doubt
Doth put the light of knowledge out.
The strongest poison ever known
Came from Caesar's laurel crown.
Nought can deform the human race
Like to the armour's iron brace.
When gold and gems adorn the plow,
To peaceful arts shall envy bow.
A riddle, or the cricket's cry,
Is to doubt a fit reply.
The emmet's inch and eagle's mile
Make lame philosophy to smile.
He who doubts from what he sees
Will ne'er believe, do what you please.
If the sun and moon should doubt,
They'd immediately go out.
To be in a passion you good may do,
But no good if a passion is in you.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Nov 2017
About this poem:
This poem has always caught my attention, especially the first verse.It certainly makes you think about life and its consequeces.
Auguries of Innocence is a poem from one of William Blake's notebooks now known as The Pickering Manuscript.[ It is assumed to have been written in 1803, but was not published until 1863 in the companion volume to Alexander Gilchrist's biography of William Blake. The poem contains a series of paradoxes which speak of innocence juxtaposed with evil and corruption. The poem is 132 lines and has been published with and without breaks that divide the poem into stanzas. An augury is a sign or omen
The many faces
The many faces from many places
What do they say?
The lines and wrinkles their eyes seem to twinkle
They are always so far away
The things they say of themselves
are they their own self perception
or hidden thoughts of deception?
It is said a tree is known by its fruit
A flower known by its scent
Though there are many flowers
that appear to us as beautiful
and cute
Not everything one sees is not
with true intent
How often we want to believe
but we often are deceived
There is but one truth we all hold
so dear
We are sometimes full of doubt and fear
Trust must be earned
and love must be learned
its all we have to avoid getting burned
Yet, do consider that all our life's lessons
and human intercessions
brings us nearer to understanding the God we dance to
Regrets of the past and fear of the future only
tend to lead us to the road of depression
We are all searching for ourselves through the reflection
of others
We are by nature sisters and brothers
Only fools choose to bring harm
by the misuse of their charm
The many faces pretty and sad
Some happy and some perhaps mad
Beyond the masks we wear lies the truth
somewhere
Yet, to be honest nobody is that much
greater or less than another
we all have our burdens to share
some unfortunately may not even care
If we find but one true friend to walk
with us to the end
we can say we have a great treasure
hence embrace them with pleasure
but, learn to set them free
for they will love you for all eternity
What do they say?
The lines and wrinkles their eyes seem to twinkle
They are always so far away
The things they say of themselves
are they their own self perception
or hidden thoughts of deception?
It is said a tree is known by its fruit
A flower known by its scent
Though there are many flowers
that appear to us as beautiful
and cute
Not everything one sees is not
with true intent
How often we want to believe
but we often are deceived
There is but one truth we all hold
so dear
We are sometimes full of doubt and fear
Trust must be earned
and love must be learned
its all we have to avoid getting burned
Yet, do consider that all our life's lessons
and human intercessions
brings us nearer to understanding the God we dance to
Regrets of the past and fear of the future only
tend to lead us to the road of depression
We are all searching for ourselves through the reflection
of others
We are by nature sisters and brothers
Only fools choose to bring harm
by the misuse of their charm
The many faces pretty and sad
Some happy and some perhaps mad
Beyond the masks we wear lies the truth
somewhere
Yet, to be honest nobody is that much
greater or less than another
we all have our burdens to share
some unfortunately may not even care
If we find but one true friend to walk
with us to the end
we can say we have a great treasure
hence embrace them with pleasure
but, learn to set them free
for they will love you for all eternity
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Aug 2018
Post Comment
IF I WAS A TREE
If I was a tree,
I'd stand mighty and tall,
I would turn brilliant colors,
In the cool chill of Fall,
I would always reach out,
Drawing strength from God's Earth,
Adding one ring upon another,
From the year of my birth,
My foliage in full bloom,
Would shade you from the burn,
My intricately woven branches,
Protect you when rains return,
If I could but speak,
Rings of tales I could tell,
About the many dreams of mankind,
Pennies tossed in Life's wishing well.
I'd stand mighty and tall,
I would turn brilliant colors,
In the cool chill of Fall,
I would always reach out,
Drawing strength from God's Earth,
Adding one ring upon another,
From the year of my birth,
My foliage in full bloom,
Would shade you from the burn,
My intricately woven branches,
Protect you when rains return,
If I could but speak,
Rings of tales I could tell,
About the many dreams of mankind,
Pennies tossed in Life's wishing well.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Aug 2018
About this poem:
All too often I have a moment of clarity concerning the truth that things aren't always what they seem.
No ideal answer
There is no ideal answer to life's
dilemmas or its demise
No ultimate thought or idea
or eloquent word to enlighten
our eyes
All there are but perceptions and often projections
Just individual interjections hoping somehow we can pause
for reflection
We can ask how and why the innocent must suffer the price
of the guilty's vice
We wonder why that at a time life gives us much then it starts to take away
To ponder our best and darkest moments
the choice of which we value the most
As we chase the wind of wisdom
from coast to coast
Ah but can we hear the songs
between the noise of screams and languish
The songs of beauty and love
that touches us like a dove?
Can we hear the silent cries and solemn sighs
As we wipe away the tears from our eyes?
Have we forgotten or discarded our innocence
and closed the door to recompense?
Is there still a time and chance to
forgiveness and healing
or are we just empty shells without feeling?
So many faces from so many places
They offer their stories and put on their masks
See how they cry for love but still afraid to ask
We can wait forever for that ultimate thought or feeling
We can hope for that magical
word that will send us through the
ceiling
We can search the four corners of the earth for that pretty smile and fiery eyes of desire and put on the miles between
We can hold out for that ideal partner in disguise thinking they are going to be the one to open our hearts and minds to make us wise
Yet, nobody or nothing outside of ourselves can give what we already have hidden within
Our list of accolades and certified achievements
Our fancy vocations or golden investments
They mean little when we are sick
or in bereavement
Things and people of this world shall pass
Yet, everything and everyone that made an impact in our lives great or small that is what matters to us all
Can anyone hear the call of love and healing or has everyone become deaf to the noise of their groaning?
Have we lost the faith and just plain given up or are we just waiting for whatever we find by potluck?
What's the use in complaining that one cannot find the love they seek
Maybe it will come if we spend more time and energy giving love to the low and meek
dilemmas or its demise
No ultimate thought or idea
or eloquent word to enlighten
our eyes
All there are but perceptions and often projections
Just individual interjections hoping somehow we can pause
for reflection
We can ask how and why the innocent must suffer the price
of the guilty's vice
We wonder why that at a time life gives us much then it starts to take away
To ponder our best and darkest moments
the choice of which we value the most
As we chase the wind of wisdom
from coast to coast
Ah but can we hear the songs
between the noise of screams and languish
The songs of beauty and love
that touches us like a dove?
Can we hear the silent cries and solemn sighs
As we wipe away the tears from our eyes?
Have we forgotten or discarded our innocence
and closed the door to recompense?
Is there still a time and chance to
forgiveness and healing
or are we just empty shells without feeling?
So many faces from so many places
They offer their stories and put on their masks
See how they cry for love but still afraid to ask
We can wait forever for that ultimate thought or feeling
We can hope for that magical
word that will send us through the
ceiling
We can search the four corners of the earth for that pretty smile and fiery eyes of desire and put on the miles between
We can hold out for that ideal partner in disguise thinking they are going to be the one to open our hearts and minds to make us wise
Yet, nobody or nothing outside of ourselves can give what we already have hidden within
Our list of accolades and certified achievements
Our fancy vocations or golden investments
They mean little when we are sick
or in bereavement
Things and people of this world shall pass
Yet, everything and everyone that made an impact in our lives great or small that is what matters to us all
Can anyone hear the call of love and healing or has everyone become deaf to the noise of their groaning?
Have we lost the faith and just plain given up or are we just waiting for whatever we find by potluck?
What's the use in complaining that one cannot find the love they seek
Maybe it will come if we spend more time and energy giving love to the low and meek
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Apr 2019
Post Commenton strawberry hill
all was as before on strawberry hill.. spiders gamboled in spoiled air.. a feathered note from the grass troubled a horse.. and the city looked up at those walking down
all was as before on strawberry hill.. brothers made sweets in their father's shop.. and at the median of a work day.. figures opened doors to buy milk and bread
all was as before on strawberry hill.. sounds of play rose and fell..
settling behind weathered walls.. forever bivouaced in happiness
all was as before on strawberry hill.. lovers met under clocks and archways.. steeples punctured slate grey skies.. and arias were sung in the minds of dreamers
all was as before on strawberry hill.. boats ebbed and flowed from a visible moon.. a mechanical sound waxed and waned.. as a songbird exited.. and listened
all was as before on strawberry hill.. pale light folded over the ancient roads anew.. the curve of the earth found a mooring in feet.. and a woman made of prayer, smiled
all was as before on strawberry hill.. save bracken was cleared from the boreen of thought.. and you wore new the ring my labours bought
all was as before on strawberry hill.. brothers made sweets in their father's shop.. and at the median of a work day.. figures opened doors to buy milk and bread
all was as before on strawberry hill.. sounds of play rose and fell..
settling behind weathered walls.. forever bivouaced in happiness
all was as before on strawberry hill.. lovers met under clocks and archways.. steeples punctured slate grey skies.. and arias were sung in the minds of dreamers
all was as before on strawberry hill.. boats ebbed and flowed from a visible moon.. a mechanical sound waxed and waned.. as a songbird exited.. and listened
all was as before on strawberry hill.. pale light folded over the ancient roads anew.. the curve of the earth found a mooring in feet.. and a woman made of prayer, smiled
all was as before on strawberry hill.. save bracken was cleared from the boreen of thought.. and you wore new the ring my labours bought
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Apr 2019
About this poem:
For VanessaThe pain of love
When the pain of love is just too much
that eventually one needs a crutch
to hold together the pieces
of a fragmented heart
When nothing seems to matter
As that last desperate effort
to salvage what is left
We are still in bereft
When you get nothing but rejection by the object of your affection
Who is to blame when the results are always the same?
After awhile you question your own credibility as you fall into a state of deniability and instability
Who or what do we call upon to reach for that hand of hope
When you feel like a dope!!
We ask for the universe to bring us the life and promises it stated
Yet after awhile when they never come true is it time to give it up
as life and love fades out of view?
Has life and love become so complacent and jaded where there is nothing left but mistrust
and scars of hate have been gold plated?
Are we a generation of all talk and no action forming individual factions?
Has love been written or blotted out of our hearts and minds that it's just lost in the mist of our youthful times?
If love can be so joyful and plentiful and a dream for the few
At what price did they pay to receive it to make their lives anew?
Is there something I am missing
Is there something I am not seeing or understanding?
Or are there others who may share this point of view?
Why does loving anyone have to be so complex and complicated
to the point we become so exasperated
Isn't it to bring healing and offer warm fuzzy feelings?
Is it not to offer comfort and joys
to feel like happy little girls and boys?
Apparently, if we are not feeling it then it must be something else that is stealing it.
We can write many thoughts and ideas of how it should be
Yet, are we genuinely offering it to those in the quality we can imagine it so eloquently?
Are we just so set in our ways that nothing will interphase?
Is it not our nature to love and be loved? Even the Gods we dance to seek to be loved and adored in the hope they will not leave us or forsake us just because they may be tired or bored.
Can anyone offer a solution to the confusion or will they laugh and just add to the pollution?
Help us to believe once again that love is like a summer breeze
Help us to believe that love is the warmth after a winter snow
As the fire blazes it's mysterious glow.
Help us to believe the gentle river flow and the songbirds sing a song we all know.
Help us to believe that life is worth living no matter where we go.
that eventually one needs a crutch
to hold together the pieces
of a fragmented heart
When nothing seems to matter
As that last desperate effort
to salvage what is left
We are still in bereft
When you get nothing but rejection by the object of your affection
Who is to blame when the results are always the same?
After awhile you question your own credibility as you fall into a state of deniability and instability
Who or what do we call upon to reach for that hand of hope
When you feel like a dope!!
We ask for the universe to bring us the life and promises it stated
Yet after awhile when they never come true is it time to give it up
as life and love fades out of view?
Has life and love become so complacent and jaded where there is nothing left but mistrust
and scars of hate have been gold plated?
Are we a generation of all talk and no action forming individual factions?
Has love been written or blotted out of our hearts and minds that it's just lost in the mist of our youthful times?
If love can be so joyful and plentiful and a dream for the few
At what price did they pay to receive it to make their lives anew?
Is there something I am missing
Is there something I am not seeing or understanding?
Or are there others who may share this point of view?
Why does loving anyone have to be so complex and complicated
to the point we become so exasperated
Isn't it to bring healing and offer warm fuzzy feelings?
Is it not to offer comfort and joys
to feel like happy little girls and boys?
Apparently, if we are not feeling it then it must be something else that is stealing it.
We can write many thoughts and ideas of how it should be
Yet, are we genuinely offering it to those in the quality we can imagine it so eloquently?
Are we just so set in our ways that nothing will interphase?
Is it not our nature to love and be loved? Even the Gods we dance to seek to be loved and adored in the hope they will not leave us or forsake us just because they may be tired or bored.
Can anyone offer a solution to the confusion or will they laugh and just add to the pollution?
Help us to believe once again that love is like a summer breeze
Help us to believe that love is the warmth after a winter snow
As the fire blazes it's mysterious glow.
Help us to believe the gentle river flow and the songbirds sing a song we all know.
Help us to believe that life is worth living no matter where we go.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Apr 2019
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