Most Commented Allegory Poems (898)

Surrounded and alone among faces of stone
See how they dance and play all to each their own.
If you listen carefully you can hear their silent moans and groans.
As they pretend with all noble intent to be a friend after awhile they will leave in the end.
A consistent message they all seem to send enumerating past resentments and requirements in their search for a second chance to have another dance I wonder if they ever considered their part in play. Over time many forget about their original intent and learn to adapt and be content in having a handful of fair weather friends rather than one true who be there through and through.

See how we dance and play thru the dark and brite days
As we account the lines and scars that nobody sees
We know them most intimately but fear to reveal them openly.
Yet they measure who we are much like mountains that slowly erode our youth and replace it with memories of
our journey. Through our path to eternal hope we occasionally find a gentle hand to guide us and help along the way maybe make our day.
The hard part is in time we build an attachment we cannot
seem to let go. Suddenly we fear we lost our way and perceive our guide has left our side. Oh the feeling of betrayal
as we feel lost upon the trail. Yet there is a silent partner who always seems to have our back who never fails. In our darkest hour we soon realize we are not so alone for all the hidden scars lines and tears are recorded and noted.
A day comes when an angel appears to wash away our tears
and sets us upon our path as we learn that all those who we loved and those who loved us all who hurt us and we hurt are merely lessons of love for our higher good.

the question to all my answers fled my heart
i feel at the end but a new day has to start
completion of a quest will i pass the test?
i'm still talking to myself but i don't even hear me
take me and my children from this earth
IM MELTING
the question isn't whether or not to be
try blending righteousness with humility
there's an uneasiness about feeling blesssed
in this world of woes
i pray you what is this dust that makes up dreams
IM MELTING

DISTANT THUNDER ECHOES IN THE NIGHT
UNDER THE STARS COLD SWEAT WARM TEARS
UNDYING PASSION INNOCENCE AND FEAR
NUMB TO THE TOUCH THE TEST IS THE LESSON
EMPTY AS SHADOW DARK IS THE SILENCE
A FLOODGATE OF WORTH OPENED NOW DRIFTS AWAY
APPEASING THE INDIGNENT OUR SOULS BECOME PREY
ENERGY IS BOUNDLESS POSSESION ENSNARES
BECOME MANIFEST FULLY
BOTH DREAMS AND NIGHTMARES

LOST AND FOUND AT LEAST ITS NOT DOWN AND OUT AND
STRAYING OUT OF BOUNDS- I HEAR SOUNDS
WHICH MAKE ME WANDER MORE AND FIND GROUND
IN A WORLD THAT MAKES ME SHOUT AND PULL MY HAIR OUT
NO ONE UNDERSTANDS ME- A SLAVE TO THE GRIND TREE

(chorus) DREAMS ESCAPING ME AND EVERYTHING I'D BE
I FOUND OUT LONG AGO- THAT LIFE DON'T COME FOR FREE
FIND A PLACE BUT DON'T JUST TAKE UP SPACE
I'M NOT WHO I THOUGHT I WOULD BE
LOOKING IN THE REAR VIEW MIRROR IT'S EASY TO SEE

JUDGED AND TRIED IN THIS TRIAL THAT THEY CALL LIFE
IF I CHOOSE TO SUBSIDE I'LL NEVER STAY ALIVE IN MY MIND
THE REST FOLLOW BLINDLY- I'M LEFT WITH A QUANDARY
ESCAPE FROM A MULTITUDE OF PROBLEMS
AND MAKE MYSELF AS DUMB AS THE ONES I'M BERATING

chorus

SOMETHINGS HAPPENING TO ME AND I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO
IT'S JUST ANOTHER DAY
SOMETHINGS HAPPENING TO YOU AND I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO
I GUESS THAT I'LL JUST CHANGE

THIS DANCE


If there were days enough...
I would learn this Dance,
to dance with you.

The flood light .... the sunrise...
like Icarus - we ascend to the heavens,
like Icarus - only to fall to the earth again...
and again.

This is my dream...
our feet shifting the dust,
ancient and coarse,
cold and splintered planks, worn and true...
do they selfishly hide the passion and words from years past?
Or simply crude constructs of oak...and yew.

Another stage to attend Sir Will!
where genius rings true...
and the plagiarist is found and scorned.

Gnostic flames (our path embellished)
illuminate our face,
certain to displace the darkest of shadows...
while leaving enough to hide our scars,
and portend any claim to grace.

This is the Dance,
when steps and twists and turns,
left us both to chance,
and we knew the Light never to leave...
while the wax and wick....contorts, spits and burns.



GMS75
~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Posted: January 2nd, 6:00 PM CST

Oh, my love..
I know your heart has wearied
In the heat of the day
So many sorrows have
Filled your heart with
Dismay
And you think, 'how many
Sunsets must set upon
My dreams of joy..
I cry, as perhaps many
Hearts do
About a lost dream of
Love
That time has forgotten
We have strayed so far
From the essence of
Bliss
We were captured by
The violence of mind
And the thoughts of
An inferior self
We burn our lives away
And grow old under
A merciless sun
We have tasted life
But we do not know
From whence
It came
We spit hatred upon
Our misfortune
We bless the hour when
Our stomach's are
Full
But as surely as this old
Earth keeps on turning
Our mortal bodies shall
Return to the dust
And shall we not give an
Account with how we dealt
With our love and hate?
The beast of the field and
The bug in the dirt will
Not reap
the whirlwind
But we.. are the crown
Of creation
Should we not attend
To the needs of our
Soul?
Cafe

American poet

A bumper sticker reads: Don’t believe everything you Think. Gradually we come to know who and what holds the cards in this game... First of all, she does. A woman’s intuition, belief and persistence is why humankind moves along the course it does. Society evolves from tribes, electricity from torches, community from hierarchy, and Love from proliferation. All the Arts combined, invention and marvels, pages through history attribute to her determined wish.

Quiet reminders appear every day. Her world does not hang in precarious balance. Everything tangible forms a collective, whether gravel in a pile, or brows above the eyes. With tolerance shown for insults from behind, pardon throws a rope to those mired in their own quicksand. Time and motion press the sails, that together we embark and attest all these:

She thrives on newness, the freshness arises ahead the sun each day. It’s certainly not about what’s settled for, neither any justice waiting year upon year, waiting for the ideal script. New brooms sweep clean, then also must she; dispenses with regrets and clutter long past. It’s about to-do's in the now of today, whether alone or together a couple. Invest in her and she shall double the return. No rocket science, but resounds within hope and romance. Afforded sanctuary regardless of social status.

The Sovereign Seal on the scroll reveals that You are loved prior to any one like myself having said; before disbelief had set in. So too with succinct melodies accompanying streams of consciousness. They combine to proclaim the instant new miracles come to be. It is true that your voice effervesces with music, so beautiful to say. And why not include that ancient orb of benevolence, that slow rolling silvery moon. Patrols the neighborhood this side of the stars, and not some distant nebulae. That vast overstretch, apex to horizon, ever yours gathered forth in a sampling.

Any man can spot the silhouette of a woman a mile and a half away. And because hers is cast from things lovely and bright, his gets thereby shaken. His will translate to items at hand, hers the adorn of Creation. Indomitable mystique inherent the feminine entity. Most of that he thinks he knows account less than a stitch and hem. It is the here and now of my own perplex, speak into the vacuum, weak at the knees, while she remains fixed on her tapestry, continues looping the fibers, continues while softly singing.

So now when you say there is much more to her than meets the eye, you can say it with a bit more conviction.

The man is sick as a result of the Sun.
The table is split as a result of the Sun.
The man and the table are results of sunlight.
I have, as a result, drunk water.
The woman has not touched the significance of the water.
I do not know anything.

The geometry of an eyeball, when the room darkens?
The face had a tear on it, the woman said.
A rip or a wetness?
The face was torn apart.
I felt as if there was a huge pressure in my face.
Like my face was too big for my skin and it was trying to bust out.
That was the pressure.

You didn’t have a geometry in your eyeball.
The sick man sat on the split table, eating sunlight.
The relationship between the man and the table, is what?
The face had a scar on it, a tear.
The woman cried when she thought about geometry.

The Sun understood the significance of the water, when it dried.
My face laughed, geometry.
The relationship between the man and the table was: geometry.
Everything, everything was geometry.

I wear truth's true hat, fits so well
got million ones, not one will I sell

shall wear green sleeves
even if they morph into leaves

strike a path remove dread
be true to it dear, it is a lovely head

I wear truth's hat in gratitude
never part with this blissful quietude

or will the storm of heavily laden hate
swish it off... my true mate...?

as truth be my witness
I shall be true in truth's steady earnestness