Most Liked Allegory Poems (898)

naked Winter trees
thrashed by freezing wind and rain
now bearing Spring buds

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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bearded, wild
quick tempered be
my natural place
is on the sea

my northern star
her memory
the anchor locker
and the quay

nets to fire
rope to splice
my heart in summer
full of ice

her smile the sun
her form the shore
wrought from toil
her lips are pure

I see her now
amongst the waves
those hazel eyes
the tide betrays

net mending
as the season grows
needle dancing
through the rows

my hands are coarse
sandpaper'd rough
mist kissed skies
are not enough

blonde curtains draped
her smile unfurled
her hair falls over
the globe of my world

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....

If all the sharp stars, fell down from up high, from spaces beyond deep blue skies...
Would you even try, to catch at least one, or stare glaring as each star dies?...
Might you doubt that I, care not for my sight, I'd stare at the sky until you...
View blue's truest blues, through night's true blue hues, bright minds sometime see more than eyes...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dark skies display stars, honed by the Sun's rays, sight gone, yet now I can see...
More clear than I ever, I pray that you never, stop shining your light down on me...
At times and on days, in ways brightly blaze, star-points pierce through the night's shades...
And I've felt the pain of your stars from the start, sharp blades fiercely pierce while they play....

you can ride of the zest
of a smile, girl
if you want to

you can walk on the side
of the earth, girl
like I do

like a bird who can sing
but never will
like a tide that sleeps
but is never still

or a line from from a film
that won't be seen at all

I can see by the way
you sleep, girl
your a broke shoe

and when dawn meets your eyes
I'm up and gone
like morn dew

so go go to the place
where the sea meets the sand
dive into the time
and away from the land

you can turn it round
if you want to, don't you see?

deep past the arrival of eve's night
long after the throng of the city's holiday paraders have gone
he is left far from the crowd, hopelessness his only companion
the avenues mostly still, mostly silent
the homeless panhandler remains in an alley
set against a structure where exhaust vents release warmth from below
he is posed for yet another long night's passing
the only place available to him where a freezing death may not find him
sleep may or may not come for him
half a bottle of wine might offer some comfort, for a short while anyway
as he sips his salvation, he journeys in mind
on a road traveled often, destination never to be found
where his future may lead him, he knows not
it seems that he has always merely tried to last into the following day
with a grimace he muses of tomorrow
when the sun rises next, it will be christmas day
not the best of days for him
truth be told, it could be only the worst
for he knows very well what this will mean
that his usual routine of finding nourishment will not exist
there will be no bakeries tossing out old bread
no eateries filling trash dumpsters with food deemed unfit for customers
only a mere fragment of passers-by from whom to solicit
but most folks crossing his path on this day will be just like him
with little to offer, not even a smile
snapping out from his speculation, he hunkers down upon the grate
trying to escape the bitter cold winds that seem to blow through him
he has found something to concentrate on
this is all that he has
so, we should all take this little tale to bed with us tonight
and recall it tomorrow as we enjoy our great feasts
in the warm comfort of home, with family and friends
for under the fate of circumstance
…every man could be a homeless man

I was mending a hull
'neath the crying gull
when the call
came down the line
my dad had gone
his time had come
and a world of hurt
was mine

left my girl
to anger swirl
told her "needed space"
but I was dust
not even lust
could the hurtin'
I replace

time dragged on
when I was gone
my love
I failed to warn her
about the rendezvous
I shared with you
in a pub
on poet's corner

"I'm the ghost
of every girl you've loved"
your spectre
said to me
I'll haunt your mind
till you go blind
and then
I'll let you be

"and the bird
that nested
in the eve
fed its young
in Byron's sleeve
in the pub
on poet's corner"

so every night
my daily fight
is a scramble
to emerge
strong and well
from the bowels of hell
where dark
and madness merge

where music
from the walls
is bled
by DJ Jazzy
and a girl called Red

"and the bird
that nested in the eve
told me that
I'd never leave
the pub
on poet's corner"