Here is a list of Allegory Poems. 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.
Ghosts
Each man is haunted by his own ghosts.
Some have more, some less than others do.
By no means should these ghosts be a judge of the man
But by how that man faces his ghosts,
Be they past or present.
Each ghost a man faces gives him a strength he never had.
Until he learns to let his ghosts teach him;
For, until he can do that; he is not a man:
He is merely a shadow of what he could be.
Some have more, some less than others do.
By no means should these ghosts be a judge of the man
But by how that man faces his ghosts,
Be they past or present.
Each ghost a man faces gives him a strength he never had.
Until he learns to let his ghosts teach him;
For, until he can do that; he is not a man:
He is merely a shadow of what he could be.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Jan 2013
About this poem:
~~ Knew a lot of soldiers who were very broken from the things they saw and did in the line of duty... also for the many people ive spoken with over the decades who could not face their own ghosts and continued to hide until it killed them ~~**** the font on this is deliberately set low to shade into the background to set ambience for the writing****
Consciousness, the divine wine
Because you know..
We have declared you
gods..
Because great pain has
been born of understanding
you must die the death of
knowledge
But you shall be healed
of life by He who has power
over the sting of death
Only by faith can you ever see
the tree of life
My angel carries the sword not
in vain..
He will protect you in your hour
of trial
Or cut you to pieces if you fail
the test..
Consciousness is born of mercy
It is a gift and the lowly beast
of the field knows not of your
great status-
We have declared you
gods..
Because great pain has
been born of understanding
you must die the death of
knowledge
But you shall be healed
of life by He who has power
over the sting of death
Only by faith can you ever see
the tree of life
My angel carries the sword not
in vain..
He will protect you in your hour
of trial
Or cut you to pieces if you fail
the test..
Consciousness is born of mercy
It is a gift and the lowly beast
of the field knows not of your
great status-
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Jan 2013
Post CommentEden drank our inheritance
A soulful kiss is but the illusion of
a serpent gone mad..
He denied us the kiss that comes
without knowledge because the
kiss of knowledge is frought with
the birth pangs of guilt..
We wanted the kiss of endless
burning suns, but we received the
lips of alien fire..
A flaming two- edged sword merely
spoke of a future time when passion
would be a childlike innocence where
we would bend our knees in the warm
red earth and smile the dream of a
thousand eternities.. Surely Eden has
a future-
a serpent gone mad..
He denied us the kiss that comes
without knowledge because the
kiss of knowledge is frought with
the birth pangs of guilt..
We wanted the kiss of endless
burning suns, but we received the
lips of alien fire..
A flaming two- edged sword merely
spoke of a future time when passion
would be a childlike innocence where
we would bend our knees in the warm
red earth and smile the dream of a
thousand eternities.. Surely Eden has
a future-
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Jan 2013
Post Comment
Velvet Hand
Tumbled Angel,
fragile vessel
of blood and bone.
The good daughter
of earth made flesh.
I lean into the wind
believe on stronger wings,
and still bright pinions
bear the weight of flying
on broken air.
As the crescent moon
swings low over Venus,
roosters sing the dawn;
the storm's moist kiss
of caged desire
in their desert-dry beaks.
I'll drink the wine
of starry eyed fools
who seek pretty answers
in unexpected places.
Where age will not dim
the slender awe of youth
and I awaken in the morning
to the beauty of my being,
patterned by
the velvet hand of God.
fragile vessel
of blood and bone.
The good daughter
of earth made flesh.
I lean into the wind
believe on stronger wings,
and still bright pinions
bear the weight of flying
on broken air.
As the crescent moon
swings low over Venus,
roosters sing the dawn;
the storm's moist kiss
of caged desire
in their desert-dry beaks.
I'll drink the wine
of starry eyed fools
who seek pretty answers
in unexpected places.
Where age will not dim
the slender awe of youth
and I awaken in the morning
to the beauty of my being,
patterned by
the velvet hand of God.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Jan 2013
About this poem:
There is something of me in everything I write. Strong is best, getting strong is the goal...
Three Swans
Purple hue on the horizon
Clouds waltz by like a slow song
Purple river flowing by the meadow
And the river is winding and long
Birds fly up in the sky with purple wings
I see kites so high with purple strings
Toy soldiers marching fast as they bring
A chariot with a king who wears a purple robe and a purple ring
They cross a bridge over a purple lake
Where three swans swim with their heads bowed low to cry
Lest they fear the king be too late
For the queen is ill and if she sould die
But wait
the sun was shinning brightly through my window pane
And all of a sudden that is when a loud knock at the door came
There was a voice that was dark and deep with a terrible cough
And so for now the story will have to end as I put the book down
And take my sunglasses off
Clouds waltz by like a slow song
Purple river flowing by the meadow
And the river is winding and long
Birds fly up in the sky with purple wings
I see kites so high with purple strings
Toy soldiers marching fast as they bring
A chariot with a king who wears a purple robe and a purple ring
They cross a bridge over a purple lake
Where three swans swim with their heads bowed low to cry
Lest they fear the king be too late
For the queen is ill and if she sould die
But wait
the sun was shinning brightly through my window pane
And all of a sudden that is when a loud knock at the door came
There was a voice that was dark and deep with a terrible cough
And so for now the story will have to end as I put the book down
And take my sunglasses off
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Jan 2013
Post CommentThe lion never sleeps
Cuddle by your warm fireplace
within your walled cities says
the mighty lion
Build you vinyards lavish with
the fruit of the ground
Watch your children play in the
warm breeze of life's summer
Regale your minds with the threadbare
wisdom of times gone by
Let the starry night sky be your
blanket of love
Yet listen for the sound of the hunter
in the black stillness of night
If you catch his scent it may be
to late
If the watchman slumbers he will
breach your walls on the wings
of hell
Take heed and watch for the hour
for.. the Lion never sleeps**
within your walled cities says
the mighty lion
Build you vinyards lavish with
the fruit of the ground
Watch your children play in the
warm breeze of life's summer
Regale your minds with the threadbare
wisdom of times gone by
Let the starry night sky be your
blanket of love
Yet listen for the sound of the hunter
in the black stillness of night
If you catch his scent it may be
to late
If the watchman slumbers he will
breach your walls on the wings
of hell
Take heed and watch for the hour
for.. the Lion never sleeps**
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Dec 2012
Post Comment
An Impermanent Affair
This bag of bones
This flesh & blood
Concept birthed a picket fence
Hear the sound
Sight the found
O’er a rainbow by way of ground
Where did it come from?
Where did it go?
From a place the lost do moan
Find me a miracle
Find me a brain
Better yet, release ‘em down the drain
This flesh & blood
Concept birthed a picket fence
Hear the sound
Sight the found
O’er a rainbow by way of ground
Where did it come from?
Where did it go?
From a place the lost do moan
Find me a miracle
Find me a brain
Better yet, release ‘em down the drain
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Dec 2012
Post CommentI Lower My Head
I lower my head
As if I were
A Queen with
Chin on the stone
I lower my head
And he raises his
Brush
With a sweeping motion
He
Drags his instrument from
Scalp to ends
And this motion
Un-ends me
Head over heels
As if I were
A Queen with
Chin on the stone
I lower my head
And he raises his
Brush
With a sweeping motion
He
Drags his instrument from
Scalp to ends
And this motion
Un-ends me
Head over heels
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Dec 2012
About this poem:
my hair dresser, he is amazingParental discretion advised*
MERRY CHRISTMAS!!
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Dec 2012
About this poem:
How long will christmas be legal?Harsh
The icy wind stripped her skin to bone and crops of goose bumps dotted her bare arms and legs. She guarded her skirt from filling with air and exposing her most private of places. She pulled her blouse closed at her neck, and while doing so, felt her sharp hard nipples beneath the cotton cloth brush the inside of her wrist..
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Dec 2012
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