Last Commented Allegory Poems (898)

A crow
black's darkest hue,
jet wings aflame with night,
obsidian and ebony,
lit, here.

Not tonight but tomorrow
when the light turns the peach
tree green and the Earth sprouts
its young leaves looking to repeat
the magical mystery tour of
photosynthetic conversion of light
and moisture into life—
Not tonight but tomorrow
when my body will have shed
its fear of turning old and soft
will I turn my speeding mind
into the tunnels of your psyche
to melt the calcium that constipates
your synapses into a lubricating powder—
Not tonight but tomorrow
when the Universe moves on
beyond the field of action
that is the Earth to me and you
will I discover the interplanetary clues
that signal the roots of my moment to you—
Not tonight but tomorrow
will I throw my feelings into
The streets to stew
in the violence and despair
of our planet—
Not tonight but tomorrow
will the Earth turn green again.

"Oh! Plenty wars, to seek, with eager men to die,
As many weaken hearts, to spread by peace, a lie,
With filled minds of wrath and empty mouths of blood,
With wicked whispers near, as far as weapons flood
The same old wrecked world where tyrants rule and thrive
The everlasting crowd – and o, alas! At last!! Who feels alive?!
The dim over the candle, which spread the lofty dreams
Among those shadows – lost – in such a sprout of beams,
The ripple softly falling, of golden cup’s beheading,
When fiercy swords are drawn, for jewels fall when shedding?..
Or maybe broken bones, for masters, and cruel laws for tyrants,
As well as lots of aces rise to crush such heap of ants,
- If not – why not?! – more stones, to build the shrines for giants
Which never seems to end the poison among plants?!..
Oh, no! Oh, no! Oh, no! There’s no one, left alive,
To tell the story further for ears that strive to listen
Such nonsense of a mirror from which the whispers glisten
Around the edges, death – this blade who guards the hive;
There’s nothing else to raise, for heads that lies beneath
A truth that’s long forgotten, replaced by some gods
Which often show at wars, to spill more blood – such odds! –
Where wrath had sunk already, like ivy changes heath;
Without a fear of dying, there’s one, among the ravens
That lurks around these realms, to mourn, to weep, to yell:
From death, to life, the bard’s awoken spirit, - look!!
Where silence seems to cure, had nothing else to tell!.."
(extract from "The Quotes Garden" 2017-2019)
©Th3Mirr0r

Mix your thoughts
All jumbled up
Life's body grows from seed to dust
From youth to adults we gather are thoughts
Who are we why we here where we going we do not know
On are sole journey
Full of life highs and lows
We battle are thoughts
Are dreams are thoughts
On are journey are independent life

you shook rattled and rolled me when I smelled your sweet perfume
you brought me some happiness and took away my gloom
you entertain me when my thoughts are wrong
when I see you, you tell me to hit that rattle snaking bong
you take me on a trip that I never forget
you put thoughts in my head and that when you said
its time to rap a rhythm off the top of your head
out the words poured with hardly a thought
and that is when I realized exactly what I got
the gift of writing words in a big crazy mess
but after I have tasted you is when I write the best
so out the words poured one after another
the hardest part is just putting the words together
in any form or fashion the words can be put
so when it is all said and done they will go in a book!

Tomorrow
ever full of hope
can never be

for it has no place on earth
yet dwells somewhere
‘twixt dream and expectation

It has no being
to call its own

These sins of mine, persist with time, consisting of bad thoughts...
Then transfer to, actions untrue, just look what I have taught...
I brought truths not, then fought the fight, I ought not fight no more...
I might bring light, laced with pure dark... sick darkness I abhor...

At times it seems, serene in dreams, some dreams can open doors...
Revealing scenes, deep in between, these things should not be seen...
And while it's true, He suffered too, that I might suffer not...
Well I was taught, to be like Him...let me abide with You....

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.


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