Most Liked Allegory Poems (898)

We’re estranged from each other, live on separate isles in the ocean of life,
We're destined to live on our own with waters enclasping the isles.
We’re drifting farther apart, by God's will we have lost our ties.
The watery plain lies between,in the ocean of life we’re enisled.

Death

Synthetic winds have blown away
Material dust, but this one room
Rebukes the constant violet ray
And dustless sheds a dusty gloom.
Wrecked on the outmoded past
Lie North and Hillard, Virgil, Horace,
Shakespeare's bones are quiet at last,
Dead as Yeats or William Morris.
Have not the inmates earned their rest?
A hundred circles traversed they
Complaining of the classic quest
And, each inevitable day,
Illogically trying to place
A ball within an empty space.



Birth

Every loss is now a gain
For every chance must follow reason.
A crystal palace meets the rain
That falls at its appointed season.
No book disturbs the lucid line
For sun-bronzed scholars tune their thought
To Telepathic Station 9
From which they know just what they ought:
The useful sciences; the arts
Of telesalesmanship and Spanish
As registered in Western parts;
Mental cremation that shall banish
Relics, philosophies and colds --
Manana-minded ten-year-olds.



The Phoenix

Worlds have died that they may live,
May plume again their fairest feathers
And in their clearest songs may give
Welcome to all spontaneous weathers.
Bacon's colleague is called Einstein,
Huxley shares Platonic food,
Violet rays are only sunshine
Christened in the modern mood,
In this house if in no other
Past and future may agree,
Each herself, but each the other
In a curious harmony,
Finding both a proper place
In the silken gown's embrace.

There's nothing forged by mortal man
Can measure full the gain,
When God swings wide ol' Heaven's Gate
And sorts a day of rain.

No vessel on a sun-baked ranch
No dog dish, gauge or pail
Can hold the flow and endless worth
A soaker can unveil.

You'd barter with the Devil sure
If rain against soul was bet,
Because on both knees you've prayed for months
With not an answer yet.

More natural than breathing air
See, every drop's a gift,
All creatures livin' feel the charge
When clouds begin to shift.

And thunderheads show in the west
The breeze turns damp-not burned
Your soul might be the Devil's toy
But for now the sky has turned.

As lightning flashes, thunder screams
Most cattle bunch to hide
The horses race the barbed wire south,
They feel it deep inside.

Anticipation, same as you
Heaven's gate blows back,
A gully washer's on it's way
The drought's now under attack.

So fill them up to overflowing
Each gauge, and pail and dish,
The Devil may have gained a soul
But cowboy, you got your wish.

SO WE WERE SHARING AN APARTMENT NEAR WASHINGTON SQUARE

AND NEXT DOOR WAS A VAST FLOOR OF DIRT

MY LOVER WHISPERED WITH A BREEZE "I WILL PLANT MY SEEDLINGS RIGHT HERE"

SHE DECIDED TO SELL HER AS BUDS OF COLORS GALORE

AND SUDDENLY PEOPLE BEGAN BUYING MORE AND MORE

IF A FLOWER WAS WILTED SHE KNEW IT'S NEED

JUST HOW TO WATER, JUST HOW TO FEED

AND SURE ENOUGH PEOPLE BEGAN COMING JUST TO BUY HER GARDEN'S DELIGHT

THEY ALL SAW IT AS BEAUTIFUL AND THEY WERE RIGHT

SHE REVELLED IN EVERY FLOWER SHE EVER HEALED

THEN THE GOD-DAMNED GARDEN GREW SO MUCH WE HAD TO RENT US A FIELD

EVENTUALLY SHE GREW BORED OF BEING RICH

SO SHE SET AFIRE THAT FIELD, THE b*tch

NO MORE BLOSSOMS, NO BUDS NO EMERALD GREEN LEAVES

BUT THIS IS A STORY ONLY A FOOL BELIEVES

IT WAS ALL METAPHORICAL AND SOME MAY HAVE KNOWN

EACH CUSTMER WAS ANOTHER FLOWER SHE'D GROWN

AND THE GARDEN WAS WORTH AS MUCH AS PURE GOLD

THAT GARDEN WAS THE CORNER OF BROADWAY AND TENTH WHEREUPON SHE SOLD
(C) 2011....~free cee!~
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Unmarked and dug in Time Itself, lost graves of long ago
In high-up hidden valleys where hush and lupine grow;
In slowly sculpted lowlands where nameless rivers flow.

Each took a hand and played a game he thought he knew about
The cave man and the native, the pioneer and scout;
The miner and the cowboy who sought the country out.

While even weather tooks its toll, an ace in Nature's paw
Some fell beneath the weight of years and more to fang or claw;
Misfortune, perhaps, mishap or mistake- all fatal cards to draw.

Denied a graven headstone and robbed of all he planned
Each long forgotten nameless one devoured by the land;
Lost betting more on fickle fate than any poker hand.

Or was he maybe winning, each tombless taken dead
Unbound by any fences, resting free instead;
With Nature fetching flowers and mountains at his head?

The Cowboy Way or the Tin-horn Trail
Is a choice confronts us all;
And there aren't that many can start down one
Then answer the other's call.

Those trails are different as night and day
Unlike as mirage and lake;
One of them is stable and clearly real
The other a shifty fake.

"That Quicksilver Kid from Queens" he claimed
"Is glib as a feller can get";
So the Kid's new name was bogus too,
So maybe he's nameless yet.

See, he couldn't ride, and he couldn't cull,
And he never rolled a smoke;
He couldn't cuss, and he couldn't cook,
And he thought our work a joke.

'Course this tin-horned triple-threat was last
To roll out every dawn
But the first one back to camp each night-
Or to have somebody on.

Now, no one knew where Kid came from
Nor ever really cared;
But we knew durn well his tin-horn tales
It was no place we had fared.

He kept that kilt of his hid away
Kind of like his real name;
And to ask a man about things like that,
Just isn't the Western way.

But sly, sorta snide, near sneers dished out
Was making it hard to grin;
And this taking himself a new name each day
- That was wearing mighty thin.

Our crew was a tolerant bunch
And a bit short-handed then;
So we tried to put up with the tin-horn's dance,
'Cause we had a herd to pen.

Then there came a night with glowing clouds
And a breeze that boded storms;
The herd was shifting, restless, ripe,
In the gloam just roiling forms.

The Quicksilver Kid was sent that night
To help us sing them 'round;
And a greater mistake ain't never been made
Since the Lord sent Satan down.

Kid snuck his kilt and pipes along;
-First notes of his lullaby
Launched lightning, horses, herd and crew
From froze to flyin' by.

Remuda just vanished before our eyes
There were cattle climbing trees;
Most of our crew is religious now
-Dropped Cookie right onto his knees.

While crew was gatherin' 'round the Boss
With a lynching 'bout to begun
Kid kept a playin' out there alone
-Smartest thing he'd ever done.

Boss calmed us all with a plan he had
Before the Kid come back;
An old idea, one tried and true,
Send a piper pipe 'em back.

We never did see that Kid again
We lost him when the sky turned pale;
Some say he's out there pipin' still,
But we reckon that's tin-horn tale.

As the end come near.
And the land not pure.
Man has destroyed the Earth.
With no Cure.
All living Creature.
And all living thing.
Are force to live the life we gave them.
We destroyed the land,
And polluted the air.
And continue to do so.
Cause we do not Care.
When will we learn.
When will we stop.
Destroying this world and all that its got.
Maybe someday.
Before the end.
Man will realize, the earth is our friend.
And stop the polluting, And stop killing things.
And then if he listens...
He can hear the world Sing...

I see a change a comin' in the weather
I sense a change comin' over me
Will I fall and break to pieces
Or will I soar flying so free

I close my eyes but for a moment
Kaleidoscope colors nothings the same
Here I go into the unknown
I'm not scared and I feel no pain

As I make my way
As I make my way

So amazing are all the wonders
And all the beauty i'd never seen before
I never realized I was lost
Until I opened up thr door

I wish this journey could last forever
There's so much more I wanna see
But everything that I have learned
Will always be a part of me

Every morning for several years I wake up to reality which strikes with a pain.
Unbearable.
I have no man to protect me, so I invented the guardian.
I draw an image of him in my mind and shield my pain with it.
He comforts me, he makes me feel safe, he cares for me, he loves me. Pain goes, he brings life into me.
I am ready to get up and face the day.

The days are so long.
It is not true that time is running: it is crawling from one court decree to another, and there are so many mornings behind and ahead with a pain to strike.
I go through the day talking in my mind to this invented guardian, the only friend I have.
I can't afford the real friends, their lives are not prepared for the trouble I live in.
Their questions about my child only place a salt on my wound, their pity does not comfort, it pushes me into solitude.

Another day coming to an end.
Time to go sleep is a tough time too.
My mind controls my emotions when it is fully awake, but when it is just awaking or relaxed going to sleep, the control fails and I feel it all.
Immediately I draw the image of my guardian to shield the pain. He embraces me and caress me to sleep,
I feel safe in his arms.
I always sleep good.

If not for him I would not survive so long.
He keeps me alive for a number of years.

I tried to meet people but the image of my guardian dominates, it is strong and powerful, no ordinary person can compete with it.

And there is a real man, whose image I took.
I have never told him who is he for me.
He lives his life and has a very little space for me in it.
When I see him in person I feel that the line between the dreams and reality fades.
He looks at me like he knows more than he wants to say.
When I talk to him I look in his eye and I wonder what runs through his mind at times when he is waking up or falling asleep.
Does he know?

The winds are just excuses
Worn and broken fuses
Tearing eyes
Without surprise
And none of them have uses.

The snows are just disguises,
Covering growth that man despises.
Blowing skies
To shelter lies
And hide another crisis.

The suns are happy cheery notes
Weather on which we'd cast out votes
Gloom, it dies
With human sighs,
Plastic castles enclosed by motes.

The rains are just relief
The shedding of our grief
Failure tries
A human cries
When verity shows disbelief.

The hails are just a screaming
The rain and snow are teaming
A god he sees
A wise man agrees
Most things are only seeming.