Here is a list of Allegory Poems ordered by Last Edited, 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.
Isolation (a sonnet)
Now touching on this isolation writing
I touch it now I am the daylight fighting.
This winter's day of clouds grey overcast
To wait a week or two just to outlast.
I've found something that I could not say
Favor romance on a dismal day.
Something in my heart becomes uncertain
I wish that I could be a better person.
I think of my soul and its incarnations
I think of drugs debasing kids and nations.
I think about my lost Arcadian dream -
My consciousness just currents down a stream.
I wish that I could find my better half
In this waiting game that is my life.
© lovecanbereal
All rights reserved
I touch it now I am the daylight fighting.
This winter's day of clouds grey overcast
To wait a week or two just to outlast.
I've found something that I could not say
Favor romance on a dismal day.
Something in my heart becomes uncertain
I wish that I could be a better person.
I think of my soul and its incarnations
I think of drugs debasing kids and nations.
I think about my lost Arcadian dream -
My consciousness just currents down a stream.
I wish that I could find my better half
In this waiting game that is my life.
© lovecanbereal
All rights reserved
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Jun 2016
Post Comment
I Dreamed
I saw in my dreams we are lifeless,
And lie with a look so tranquil.
A pair of white, white coffins
Set side by side in peace.
When was it, we uttered: "Let's stop it!"
When was it and what does it mean?
But strangely, my heart is not ailing,
My heart is not down with grief.
Powerless feelings are weird,
Frozen thoughts are so clear,
Your lips are no longer dear,
But retain their eternal bliss.
So it happened: we both are lifeless,
And lie with a look so tranquil.
A pair of white, white coffins
Set side by side in peace.
And lie with a look so tranquil.
A pair of white, white coffins
Set side by side in peace.
When was it, we uttered: "Let's stop it!"
When was it and what does it mean?
But strangely, my heart is not ailing,
My heart is not down with grief.
Powerless feelings are weird,
Frozen thoughts are so clear,
Your lips are no longer dear,
But retain their eternal bliss.
So it happened: we both are lifeless,
And lie with a look so tranquil.
A pair of white, white coffins
Set side by side in peace.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Nov 2010
About this poem:
I just like this Russian poet and enjoy translating his poems.The Arctic Tern
The arctic tern wheels the sky;
All the lonely Summer through;
Sailing on the sleety wind;-
And most accurate his view.
In fields of desolation;
Of white and polar caps,
Seals lie lazy on the rocks,
And whales beneath, perhaps.
Though lonely is the tern;
The world grows ever warmer,
As meridians he turns,
Habitat grows ever smaller.
Yes, lonely is the tern;
Skwarking cranneries on cliffs,
Cruising on the eddies;
Thermals now the tern uplifts.
Looking at the wide blue ocean;
And with that bird's eye view,
He cares not for Man's commotion;
Just his ever-clear purview.
Alas! the graceful tern;
Who lives upon the wing;
Would wish for her return;
To write just one more thing.
Before the tern must face his long migration;-
To Southern parts across an endless sea;-
So she flies in my imagination;-
Safe travels;- seagull - wherever you may be.
© lovecanbereal
All rights reserved
All the lonely Summer through;
Sailing on the sleety wind;-
And most accurate his view.
In fields of desolation;
Of white and polar caps,
Seals lie lazy on the rocks,
And whales beneath, perhaps.
Though lonely is the tern;
The world grows ever warmer,
As meridians he turns,
Habitat grows ever smaller.
Yes, lonely is the tern;
Skwarking cranneries on cliffs,
Cruising on the eddies;
Thermals now the tern uplifts.
Looking at the wide blue ocean;
And with that bird's eye view,
He cares not for Man's commotion;
Just his ever-clear purview.
Alas! the graceful tern;
Who lives upon the wing;
Would wish for her return;
To write just one more thing.
Before the tern must face his long migration;-
To Southern parts across an endless sea;-
So she flies in my imagination;-
Safe travels;- seagull - wherever you may be.
© lovecanbereal
All rights reserved
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Feb 2022
About this poem:
My reply to "seagull"Note: This poem is strictly metaphorical. I've met someone here, already....
The Teenage lcbr
I start the year now nineteen eighty three,
In verse now strictly chronological,
If you want to know the plot just read and see,
In my life story, you will have it all.
I''ll try to tell of my strange destiny;
And hopefully my words will now enthrall;-
Poets must, (at least try), to be honest: -
To this I hope my verse will now attest.
T'was year nine, in school, (a long time back there);
A fourteen year old boy - quite innocent,
In this year of study some demands were,
Placed upon myself, who trusting went,
To the library to read with pleasure,
All things on the shelves, which were sent,
For our instruction (surely were intended);-
The world's wisdom - fully recommended.
Curiosity, (they say), it killed the cat,
(Well, in my case, I'm not entirely sure);-
Inquisitive, I was - and all of that;-
Though something else, I wanted - not censure.
Still in the library, reading, there I sat;-
An interested boy though still wants more;-
It is natural, in our adolescence,
To want the world, and it's experience.
Perfectly, I sat there uncorrupted**,
Young minds, they grow at such a rapid rate;
Teachers pleased? that I am now instructed,
To repeat such things, that I here relate,
And so I was by little now inducted,
As such it was, I tell you now my fate,
At fourteen and a half years of age;
P.N, a friend and I had Mary Jane.
We always want what we have never got,
This is true from man unto the infant,
Our human envy, that's our human lot;-
It seems this way since Adam first there went,
Into that sacred garden, and forgot,
What was at first a laudable intent;-***
Sometimes, it seems, that somethings never change;-
Only time, places, people re-arrange.
Carl Jung once said we have Collective Soul;
In this, I think, he wasn't far from wrong;
And in and age of Sex, Drugs Rock n Roll,
What was in books is now found in a song;
Such aural things do most of us enthrall;-
As teenagers - we must at first belong;-
Indeed before we do at first rebel;
We need our friends, who will do this as well.
P.N, P.N^ - Your'e so intelligent;
Of this I'm sure - (and could you tell me now);
Have you been living off the Government?
(I tell this story, as best as I know how);
The world's against us as an adolescent;
(I was not at that age holier than thou);
One thing I know is I will tell my story;
Not fearing now embarassment, or glory.
Where was I now my much detested Son?
(Though not that I do bear now any grudge);
The war that we were fighting could not be won
Though smoking grass at school was quite a bludge;^^
Now at fifteen years old in year nine;
We try a little worldliness to fudge;
Though truth be told - surely I must be joking;
(We were as green as the grass we were smoking!).
PN's place, 'twas when Spring was now through half;
We'd managed to find our selves a stick of pot,
Of course we'd only smoked it for a laugh;
And between ourselves, we soon had smoked the lot!
Although, (I thought), I might have had enough;
I was inclined to just that bit more scoff;-
For a while, (at first), nothing really happened;
Then all of a sudden the floodgates opened.
Where at this age, more innocent, I was;-
Although (it seems) not innocent enough;
Curious (more so) - and now because;
It seemed the going was now becoming rough;
Senses once dormant - now became aroused;-
To do with sex, and drugs, and all that stuff;
At Sixteen, I found my fist lay, in the Cross,
As they say, a rolling stone has no moss.^^^
© lovecanbereal
All rights reserved
In verse now strictly chronological,
If you want to know the plot just read and see,
In my life story, you will have it all.
I''ll try to tell of my strange destiny;
And hopefully my words will now enthrall;-
Poets must, (at least try), to be honest: -
To this I hope my verse will now attest.
T'was year nine, in school, (a long time back there);
A fourteen year old boy - quite innocent,
In this year of study some demands were,
Placed upon myself, who trusting went,
To the library to read with pleasure,
All things on the shelves, which were sent,
For our instruction (surely were intended);-
The world's wisdom - fully recommended.
Curiosity, (they say), it killed the cat,
(Well, in my case, I'm not entirely sure);-
Inquisitive, I was - and all of that;-
Though something else, I wanted - not censure.
Still in the library, reading, there I sat;-
An interested boy though still wants more;-
It is natural, in our adolescence,
To want the world, and it's experience.
Perfectly, I sat there uncorrupted**,
Young minds, they grow at such a rapid rate;
Teachers pleased? that I am now instructed,
To repeat such things, that I here relate,
And so I was by little now inducted,
As such it was, I tell you now my fate,
At fourteen and a half years of age;
P.N, a friend and I had Mary Jane.
We always want what we have never got,
This is true from man unto the infant,
Our human envy, that's our human lot;-
It seems this way since Adam first there went,
Into that sacred garden, and forgot,
What was at first a laudable intent;-***
Sometimes, it seems, that somethings never change;-
Only time, places, people re-arrange.
Carl Jung once said we have Collective Soul;
In this, I think, he wasn't far from wrong;
And in and age of Sex, Drugs Rock n Roll,
What was in books is now found in a song;
Such aural things do most of us enthrall;-
As teenagers - we must at first belong;-
Indeed before we do at first rebel;
We need our friends, who will do this as well.
P.N, P.N^ - Your'e so intelligent;
Of this I'm sure - (and could you tell me now);
Have you been living off the Government?
(I tell this story, as best as I know how);
The world's against us as an adolescent;
(I was not at that age holier than thou);
One thing I know is I will tell my story;
Not fearing now embarassment, or glory.
Where was I now my much detested Son?
(Though not that I do bear now any grudge);
The war that we were fighting could not be won
Though smoking grass at school was quite a bludge;^^
Now at fifteen years old in year nine;
We try a little worldliness to fudge;
Though truth be told - surely I must be joking;
(We were as green as the grass we were smoking!).
PN's place, 'twas when Spring was now through half;
We'd managed to find our selves a stick of pot,
Of course we'd only smoked it for a laugh;
And between ourselves, we soon had smoked the lot!
Although, (I thought), I might have had enough;
I was inclined to just that bit more scoff;-
For a while, (at first), nothing really happened;
Then all of a sudden the floodgates opened.
Where at this age, more innocent, I was;-
Although (it seems) not innocent enough;
Curious (more so) - and now because;
It seemed the going was now becoming rough;
Senses once dormant - now became aroused;-
To do with sex, and drugs, and all that stuff;
At Sixteen, I found my fist lay, in the Cross,
As they say, a rolling stone has no moss.^^^
© lovecanbereal
All rights reserved
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Mar 2020
About this poem:
** Not really true, I was only interested in Adult things, and that, for a teenager - arealways, the things, which we can't have!
*** I'm being ironic, I'm an atheist, this just happens to suit my poem, as a "literary
device".
^ P.N - a school friend of mine (initials changed, and identity withheld).
^^ Bludge: "To bludge" is an Australian colloquialism, which means to: - "not try very
hard".
^^^ See my poem "My First Time", to see what happens next, in my life.
Please Note: This poem may be purely allegorical, with the I "first person, descriptor" used as a device to generalize about the kind high school years, which may be familiar to "many". This could be largely "Poetic Licence", however, I have tried my best to explain some aspects of "Adolescent Angst", here.
ps: Thanks for all your reads, lcbr.
Into the Chrysalis
In this soft woven skein; - a chrysalis,
Nests the close-swaddled fabric of her young;-
As life grows ripe with Nature's catalyst,
In a soft downy womb - that's silken-spun;-
Now with the dew of morn is crystal kiss'd,
The young worms glow, as first rays from the Sun,
Bathes each swelling grub in morning light;-
Caterpillar gold, from the depths of night.
© lovecanbereal
All rights reserved
Nests the close-swaddled fabric of her young;-
As life grows ripe with Nature's catalyst,
In a soft downy womb - that's silken-spun;-
Now with the dew of morn is crystal kiss'd,
The young worms glow, as first rays from the Sun,
Bathes each swelling grub in morning light;-
Caterpillar gold, from the depths of night.
© lovecanbereal
All rights reserved
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Oct 2021
About this poem:
Individual potentialNo One Knows
A first blush of pink now heralds new dawn,
With strings of thin white clouds which burn away;
And as refulgent light hints at your form,
Four horses drag hot Sun into the day.*
First blush of pink, and that blush all too brief,
Now night has left upon a whim of blue,
Sky which lights now into stark relief;
And time, it seems, can hold no other hue.
The rising Sun a burning crown of glory,
I see his yellow disk now orb the sky;*
Another day dawns on our human story,
And still there's none who know exactly why.
© lovecanbereal
All rights reserved
With strings of thin white clouds which burn away;
And as refulgent light hints at your form,
Four horses drag hot Sun into the day.*
First blush of pink, and that blush all too brief,
Now night has left upon a whim of blue,
Sky which lights now into stark relief;
And time, it seems, can hold no other hue.
The rising Sun a burning crown of glory,
I see his yellow disk now orb the sky;*
Another day dawns on our human story,
And still there's none who know exactly why.
© lovecanbereal
All rights reserved
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: May 2019
About this poem:
* As per the Greek myth of Helios.A Sufic Poem
When we see beyond
Good and Evil
We want the Good.
When we see beyond
Time and Place
Beyond Place and Time
Beyond Time and Space.
Thoughts are faster than light
In all of the Galaxies
Interconnected.
Golden beach sand
Constantly washing
Back and forth
Under this Sun
And under the starlight
In the night
It's swirling in the
Thousand eddies
Of the tides.
Lives interconnected
In the Invisible World.
Intuition
Incredible chance
And the strangeness
Of our Being.
Our long journey
From mineral
To plant
To animal
To Man.
And beyond even this
To the Galaxies
And the Stars.
To forgive the Ignorant
And Cruel
Their Sins.
To forgive
The Idiocy
Of their
Unawareness.
Echoes of light
Echoes of psyche
Echoes of the night
In these "Echoes
Of Eternity".
© lovecanbereal
All rights reserved
Good and Evil
We want the Good.
When we see beyond
Time and Place
Beyond Place and Time
Beyond Time and Space.
Thoughts are faster than light
In all of the Galaxies
Interconnected.
Golden beach sand
Constantly washing
Back and forth
Under this Sun
And under the starlight
In the night
It's swirling in the
Thousand eddies
Of the tides.
Lives interconnected
In the Invisible World.
Intuition
Incredible chance
And the strangeness
Of our Being.
Our long journey
From mineral
To plant
To animal
To Man.
And beyond even this
To the Galaxies
And the Stars.
To forgive the Ignorant
And Cruel
Their Sins.
To forgive
The Idiocy
Of their
Unawareness.
Echoes of light
Echoes of psyche
Echoes of the night
In these "Echoes
Of Eternity".
© lovecanbereal
All rights reserved
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Mar 2017
Post CommentEach Mind
Each Mind a separate Universe
As Galaxies unfold.
Where Time emitted
From it's source
Does Destiny now hold.
We all have Sins, Pain, and Pleasure;-
Most are yet untold.
Things we don't yet understand
May yet be revealed.
Time this wrinkled
Star of Gravity.
Are we alone; -
Who knows?
© lovecanbereal
All rights reserved
As Galaxies unfold.
Where Time emitted
From it's source
Does Destiny now hold.
We all have Sins, Pain, and Pleasure;-
Most are yet untold.
Things we don't yet understand
May yet be revealed.
Time this wrinkled
Star of Gravity.
Are we alone; -
Who knows?
© lovecanbereal
All rights reserved
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Mar 2017
Post CommentWhat Can I Say?
I've given myself to many women,
Although I am not cheap.
My heart is hard, from life common,
(Although I still can weep).
I'm damaged from my childhood,
(That black emotional sin).
Every day I stay alive,
Is a day I win.
And I don't fully know myself,
(But then again - who does?)
I'm scared sometimes to show my heart,
(Wounded from a lack of love).
I spend most days writing here,
In silent introspection.
I know one day, I'll heal myself,
And find a new direction.
Maybe it's my nature,
And maybe it's my curse;-
To see the beauty,
In most women;-
For better,
Or for worse.
© lovecanbereal
All rights reserved
Although I am not cheap.
My heart is hard, from life common,
(Although I still can weep).
I'm damaged from my childhood,
(That black emotional sin).
Every day I stay alive,
Is a day I win.
And I don't fully know myself,
(But then again - who does?)
I'm scared sometimes to show my heart,
(Wounded from a lack of love).
I spend most days writing here,
In silent introspection.
I know one day, I'll heal myself,
And find a new direction.
Maybe it's my nature,
And maybe it's my curse;-
To see the beauty,
In most women;-
For better,
Or for worse.
© lovecanbereal
All rights reserved
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Aug 2017
About this poem:
I felt very lonely this evening, so I just thought that I would write this...One Day
One day I'll put my poems in proper order -
Until then, you must now bear with me.
Making sense of my life's general disorder
And to write on until I become free.
The stories that I paint with my words were
At one time true - as you will come to see.
Bit by bit, by means of each digression -
Compose the whole (in full) my life's confession.
The World these days is not in proper shape -
The basic fact there are too many people.
Too many souls for destiny to rape
As we gather like timid mice beneath the steeple.
The wine is spill'd from life's fermenting grape
To blast the Godhead with this heady tipple
Which lays us to ruin, and from whence -
We call this our life's experience.
And these experiences I now gather -
Each is a little vignette of its own.
Read them all (or none) if you'd rather -
It's something that I never will disown.
I'm proud of my verse - I am the father
Of all I write and gather like a gown
About me as a blanket - woven stars
Poetry's not a prison - rhymes not bars.
© lovecanbereal
All rights reserved
Until then, you must now bear with me.
Making sense of my life's general disorder
And to write on until I become free.
The stories that I paint with my words were
At one time true - as you will come to see.
Bit by bit, by means of each digression -
Compose the whole (in full) my life's confession.
The World these days is not in proper shape -
The basic fact there are too many people.
Too many souls for destiny to rape
As we gather like timid mice beneath the steeple.
The wine is spill'd from life's fermenting grape
To blast the Godhead with this heady tipple
Which lays us to ruin, and from whence -
We call this our life's experience.
And these experiences I now gather -
Each is a little vignette of its own.
Read them all (or none) if you'd rather -
It's something that I never will disown.
I'm proud of my verse - I am the father
Of all I write and gather like a gown
About me as a blanket - woven stars
Poetry's not a prison - rhymes not bars.
© lovecanbereal
All rights reserved
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Oct 2016
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