Most Liked Allegory Poems (898)

As I lay here alone,
in the silence of darkness’
digital age, sans the ticking
of the clock to mark
the passage of time,
I am engulfed by
thoughts of you.

It was only yesterday
(or was it the day before?)
that you came into my life
unexpectedly.
Within the protection
of my sheltering walls,
I heard you, stirring.

Now, there is no movement
under the covers of darkness
as outside my window
winter’s cold and whiteness
blanket the ground, deep,
and muffle all sounds
except winter’s wind.

Yet, I remember well
arising from a fitful sleep
moving about the house
in search of sound’s origin.
Downstairs still adorned
with tree and lights
I ventured with eyes
and heart wide open.

Not finding that which stirred
sound-waves of awareness,
I boldly passed through
the portal to the next floor
down into the basement
where darkness carries
its own weight.

Turning to the left,
a shelved item seen
on the floor, out of place.
Though perplexed, I turned
to the right, opening
yet another door until
I reached you, waiting.

There you were
fluttering your wings
time and time again
trying to get outside
pressing the glass
with your body, dark
with iridescent sparkle.

As soon as I realized
your distress, wide
did I open the door to
winter’s whiteness and
called upon you to leave –
to return to the comfort
zone of your nature.

Trying first to calm your fears
usher you to and out
the outside door,
then, attempting to capture you
without causing injury or harm,
lovingly, clumsily,
I struggled with each task.

Closing each door behind
I moved carefully
to direct your flight
but drove you into a corner
filled with a box
of yesterday’s memories.
Cowering, you rested there.

Piled on the box were rolls
of paper for the walls
that were keeping you inside.
One-by-one, I removed, thoughtfully,
until you were completely
exposed in your handsome
beauty and vulnerability.

Now, with hand confident
in the knowing
did I brush you forward
out of the corner
into the room of light
toward the brightness
of the new day.

At first, disoriented
then having to choose
between warmth
and freedom
you did hesitate, lingering
on the hanger of an item, cleaned
ready for another day's wear.

Finally, after another
moment’s pause, you rose
spread your wings
and headed straight
to the open door
back into the whiteness
and cold of freedom.

So, here I am
once again alone
in the muffled silence
of this new season
thinking of you
and our encounter
and how close we came.

there was a glow yes ann a glow
and I could still see

I could see you
see your eyes
smile
your smile

walking hope
facing up

leading up nothingness

flip the coin
watch it spin
wait for the fall
and start again
heads you win
tails you mend
roll the dice make your bet
up the anty start to sweat
winners take all
losers go home
flip the coin wait for it to fall
run to see
which way its called
sometimes on the edge
keeps you on the wall

SURELY SHE WAS A TAILOR BORN
ALTERING ME WITH HR ALLURING NATURE
AND SILKEN THREAD COAXED THROUGH THE EYE OF A NEEDLE
EACH STICH RICH IN REWARDS AND GRANDEUR
EVERY INCH SEWN BY A HAND WITH INSTINCTUAL CARE
AND WOVEN WHEN THE WOMAN WILLED IT SO

I STOOD BEFORE HER AS SHE MEASURED MY FRAME
PRECISION WAS OF PRIMARY CONCERN
AS HER AMBER EYES SCANNED THE CANVAS OF THIS MAN
THE WAY AN ARTIST FALLS UPON A SCENE HE FEELS COMPELLED TO REPLICATE
BE IT A LANDSCAPE, A LAKE OR THE LOVELINESS OF LUCERNE
I WAS TO BECOME HER MASTERPIECE SIGNED BY A MASTER
PREPARED WITH PRISTINE PROBABILITIES
WHILE SHE SHE BRUSHED MY TORSO WITH HER CHEEK
HEMMING MY HERRINGBONE WHILE HEIGHTENING MY HOPES
A PIN PLACED PROPERLY WHERE CLOTH KISSED LEATHER
A REMINDER OF WHERE TO LAY HER THREAD
AS THOUGHTS OF SECOND NATURE FILLED MY HEAD
FOR SURELY SHE WAS A TAILOR BORN

BUT ALL TOO OFT A MODEL REBELS AGAINST THE STITCH
AND POINTS THE PIN TO PROVIDENCE
A FATE THAT PROHIBITS PRECISION
AND DULLS THE NEEDLE WITH WHICH SHE SEWS
WHILE THE CLOTH SHE CLAIMED WAS CASHMERE FRAYED
AN UNRECOGNIZABLE REMNANT OF RUIN
AND SILKEN FABRIC BECOMES GABARDINE
WHILE TWILLL LAYS BATTERED AND TORN
FOR SURELY SHE WAS A TAILOR TO MOURN
(C)2011....free cee

Suddenly thrusted to
The Edge of Nowhere.
The entrance to beyond.
The exit of what once was.
The Threshold of Destiny.

SHE SAT ON HER BED, HE IN THE DEN
SHE WITH A BOOK, HE WITH A PEN
SHE WAS READING ABOUT LETHAL DRUGS AND THEIR USE
WHILE HE SAT WRITING A SINCERE YET FAR-FETCHED EXCUSE

SHE CAME DOWN AND SET THE TABLE
WHILE HE DID WHATEVER HE WAS ABLE
BOTH HAD SOMETHING TO SAY THAT WAS REAL
BUT FIRST THEY WOULD EACH SHARE A MEAL

A YOUNG ROASTED LAMB, PEAS AND CARROTS
AND THEN BOTH BEGAN TO SPEAK OF THEIR HABITS
HER'S WERE BENIGN BUT HIS WAS OF GREAT CONCERN
AND BOTH PARTNERS HAD A LOT TO LEARN

SHE HAD A PROBLEM WHICH HAPPENED TO BE HIM
AND HOW THEIR FUTURE SEEMED FAR TOO DIM
THEY USED SOME MONEY TO DRESS THE LADY WITH CHARM
SOME FOR RENT, FOOD AND THE REST TO SHOOT UP HIS ARM

UNFORTUNATELY THERE WOULD BE NO COMPROMISE
FOR SHE WAS INTELLIGENT, HE NOT QUITE AS WISE
SHE DEMANDED AN END TO HIS DRUG ABUSE
AND STOP USING THAT WHICH SHE DEEMED REFUSE

FOR TRASH IT WAS TO A LADY SO SWEET
BUT HE SO ACRID AND INDISCREET
SO BOTH CLIMBED THE STAIRS AND INTO THEIR ROOM
SHE TO PACK HER BAGS AND HE TO RESUME HIS DOOM


DIVERGENT NEEDS WOULD KEEP THEM APART
SHE SO SOFT AND HE WITH HIS HARDENED HEART
SHE PACKED HER BAGS AS HE USED THE BATHROOM BUT NOT AS A JOHN
THEN HE AROSE FROM THE TILE AND TURNED THE KNOB ONLY TO FIND HER GONE

IT HURTS TO RECOLLECT THIS SORDID STORY
AND UNFORTUNATELY IT WAS NO ALLEGORY
IF THE TRUTH BE TOLD IT WAS AGONY
FOR SHE WAS LOVELY SHE AND I WAS A DESPERATE ME
(C) 2011...~free cee!~
author's note....it is acceptable for James Taylor to rhyme Boston with frostin' because in song it sounds okay. However, when someone, no names mentioned, uses the word "oughter" and jams it into a poem to rhyme with "daughter" that person should take at least one year of Analytical Poetry (i took two) or abandon poetry for prose.....does anyone remember the word "order?" This is only my opinion and you can take it from whence it came. ~f.C.!~

Come with me, I invite you
On a ride with no brochure,
A fair piece from the asphalt
Where good men still live the lure.

Of rangeland devoid of fences
Grass rollin' towards the sky,
At day's dusk you might call out,
"Do we have to say goodbye?"

Come with me, and I'll saddle
My own horse for you to ride,
The hours you work with this colt
Just might touch you deep inside.

The hollow saved for secrets
In the heart of every man,
'Cause one long day spent horseback
Feels like sitting in God's hand.

Come with me, we'll go ridin'
And to you I'll swear a vow;
You'll join the men who cowboy
That chose not to follow plow.

Through prairie sod to change it
From open range to furrowed crop,
Past the marrow of their bones
Hear them whisper, "Wish they'd stop".

Come with me, daylight's burnin'
This is not my final ride,
I'll show you country ageless
As the ocean's endless tide.

Then while we're sharin' sunset
With our horses heads down low,
'Bout then you're gonna ask me,
"Do I really have to go?"

Love and Hate, Twist of fate
15 years ingratiate
Hey it's time to play
Come outside or come what may.

I'm glad it's happening to you
There's nothing better you can do

Cannot stay, cannot pray
The world we know is not the way
It's time to say
Pushed aside or pushed away.

Held away the darker days
Don't look back on yesterday
Shades of gray
Move aside, or move away today.

Sing a song of what went wrong
Now you're here and then you've gone
Brand new day is on the way
Fly away today.

Will a road less traveled lead to a land lesser known?
Or will it be discovered as a path to Paris or Rome?
Will a grassy knoll be a knoll less blown?
Or will it too have scars of erosion shown?
Will a horse less ridden want to be left alone?
Or would the horse prefer it's splendor be shown?

Will a candle stay lit beside a walls airy slit?
Or will the candle lose grip of it's coveted wick?
Will a falling tree be heard within a forest thick?
Or will it's collapse be as any other falling stick?
Will a ship get lost in a seas' waves angry and slick?
Or will the sea show mercy with it's vanishing trick?

So many questions upon which one could delve,
Answers as diverse as the questions themselves.

rewritten in 50-word rhyme


Bold feathers reflecting sunbeams red
in flight’s pattern to elude
small, winged force of nature did
swoop, outsized, generations to protect, obtrude
diving hard into vulnerability, unseen but surely felt
to distract from its future’s cradled heart
dark, small, unrelenting, each blow it dealt
until regal red-tailed intruder did depart.