#symbolism poems on Hello Poetry

Leah Ashtyn Jun 2015

Untitled

You couldn't feel that my cheeks were wet
When you kissed me goodbye
While I was still asleep,
Because that sadness was the morning rain
On your drive to work,
And you don't notice rain anymore.
I told you not to worry;
Rain is normal.

#metaphor #sad #original #rain #symbolism #mine #symbol

Luna Lynn May 2015

Home

when times become hard
when my spirit is broken
you are my vice
my lifeline
you are my strength
without you i have nothing
there is no where to go
when i'm wandering homeless
you are my home
time spend a part only holds us together
even tighter than before
no matter when you come knocking
i don't think
just answer the door
is there a drive?
a force we cannot see?
there has to be something bring me to you
and sending you back to me
maybe it's in your touch
that in your grasp
i am free

love like this is what they fight for
it's what's written in fiction and poetry
it's what portrayed on stage
a love the whole world wants to see in peril
a love the outsiders will say they've forgot
but they'll remember our names
hands in the air because i plan to stop fighting
and i am more than afraid
but i don't trust another soul in my position
no other woman could love you in my place

you carry me when i cannot walk
i hold you up when you cannot stand
our lives have become woven yards of love
and helpless sifting grains of sand
in all its disastrous wonder
in all of my mother's disappointment
i sacrifice the thoughts and plans
nothing goes as it's supposed to
i have the blueprint fresh on my hands
no one gets it
no one understands
but you and i
yes, you and i
in a world of our own we live
in a world of our own we'll die

i'll step out for awhile
and you may take a stroll in the rain
eventually we will recoil
and search for relief from the pain
reminded we find healing in each other
you take mine
i take yours away
i am nothing without you
you are nothing without me
so why don't we just stay?

a house built to withstand the worst
where else would we go?
do we dare withstand the storm alone?
in me lies your shelter
in you lies my own
intertwined; our souls melt into one

and we are
home[.]

(C) Maxwell 2015

#love #heartbreak #home #pain #relationships #dark #rain #symbolism #metaphoric #symbolic

Evie Brill Paffard May 2015

Translation: The Enemy (Baudelaire)

My youth has been nothing but stormy and savage,
A tempest of thunder and lightning and rain;
Though glimpses of sunlight have lessened the damage
Few ripe fruits now in my garden remain.

My mind has reached its autumnal phase,
With the ***** and the rake I begin my toil
In earthy hollows as deep as graves
To gather anew the rain flooded soil.

And who knows whether my dreams of new flowers
Will find in this earth washed bare like the shore,
The mystic elixir that would give them might?

Alas, alas! Our lives are eaten away by the hours,
And at our hearts the hidden Enemy gnaws
And ***** our blood like a parasite!

#mind #french #symbolism #youth #enemy #translation #baudelaire #ennemi

Evie Brill Paffard May 2015

Translation: La Beauté (Baudelaire)

I am lovely, O mortals! Like a dream carved in stone,
And my breast where poets are bruised to the bone
Formed to inspire each in their quintessence
A love as eternal and silent as essence.

I unite Ledaean pallor with a frozen heart,
I scorn movement for it displaces my art,
A riddling sphinx, on a throne in the sky;
Never do I laugh and never do I cry.

Poets, at the feet of my imperial pose,
Which I seem to adopt from statues grandiose,
Will consume their lives in studious indulgence;

For I have, to enthrall those docile paramours
Pure mirrors to enhance all beauties evermore:
My eyes, my large, wide eyes of eternal effulgence!

#beauty #french #symbolism #la #translation #sphinx #baudelaire #beaut

Evie Brill Paffard Apr 2015

Translation: Green (Verlaine)

Here are berries, leaves, twigs and blossoms fair,
And here, my heart that for you alone beats.
Clasp it in your pale hands and please do not tear,
But see it as a gift, to your pretty eyes sweet.

I come to you covered with dew and sap,
Which the morning’s wind freezes on my forehead.
Bear me, in my fatigue, to lie in your lap,
Dreaming of pleasures to restore me from the dead

On your young ***** let my head rest,
My body still sated with your last kiss;
Let my mind dwindle after such a tempest
And I’ll sleep a little beside you in bliss.

#love #green #symbolism #rimbaud #verlaine

Evie Brill Paffard Apr 2015

Translation: Clair de Lune (Verlaine)

Your soul is a choice, bucolic scene
With charming travellers in a masquerade
Playing the lute and dancing, yet seem
Sad beneath their fanciful charade.

All carouse in a minor key
Of victorious love and opportunity,
They seem not to believe in their delight
And their song mingles with the moonlight,

In the still moonlight, beautiful and blue,
Birds in the trees dream and sigh by
Elegant fountains among marble statues,
And the cascades in their ecstasy cry.

Translation of one of Verlaine's most famous poems and the inspiration for one of Debussey's celebrated piano suites.

#piano #symbolism #moonlight #lune #de #verlaine #debussey #clair

Cate Apr 2015

Untitled

Part one:
I wake up. Everything's still kinda quiet. Except the highway. I've slept next to a high way since as long a I can remember. Has everyone? How far do you have to be to escape the endless trickle of passengers and their escorts tumbling down the great divide of one way or the other, compressing and condensing the magnitude and grandeur of the space between them? I like it that way. Always wondering who's face has crossed across your conscious space, that has drifted to the back of your brain. How alike are they to the innumerable faces you pass in the midst of all manner of journeys. Yours is as irrelevant to them as theirs is to you and yet for a split second, you both simultaneously glance over at the precise moment and you know, there's gotta be something more than this.

Part one of a series I'm doing on human connectivity to our environment and surroundings

#metaphor #of #thought #symbolism #prose #stream #consciousness #provoking

Evie Brill Paffard Apr 2015

Translation: Serenade (Verlaine)

As the voice of a dead man might sing
From the depths of his tomb,
For you, Mistress, my tuneless voice rings
False in my heart’s catacomb.

Open your soul and hear the knell
Of my mandolin strings:
This song I wrote, for you, which tells
Of cruel and childish things.

I will sing of your eyes, onyx and gold,
Purged of every shadow,
Then the Lethe of your breast, the cold
Styx of your hair’s dark flow.

As the voice of a dead man might sing
From the depths of his tomb,
For you, Mistress, my tuneless voice rings
False in my heart’s catacomb.

Then I will praise, above all
Flesh that heaven did bless
Whose opulent perfumes recall
Nights long and sleepless.

Finally, I will speak of the kiss
Of your sweet red lip,
Oh, how my martyrdom is bliss,
– My angel! – My Whip!

Open your soul and hear the knell
Of my mandolin strings:
This song I wrote, for you, which tells
Of cruel and childish things.

A translation of Paul Verlaine's Sérénade from his collection 'Poèmes saturniens'.

#song #serenade #symbolism #translation #verlaine #mandolin #saturniens #poemes

Amanda Fletcher Apr 2015

Furniture

People say I’m loud,
I just wish my voice would carry with the wind and
into the ears of everybody who’s not asking to hear
what I’m talking about.
You didn’t invite yourself,
I invited you to hear me out.

You won’t hear me,
you’ll hear my object of choice
held high with two hands, to the sky, to the spray of your tear
gas in my eyes,
but be not blinded in sight as you are deaf to the ear,
loud and clear
you see my poison spilled on the mattress my body was mutilated on,
shoving out through my sweaty hands,
drip, drip, dripping onto the streets you defend with
your devices of destruction.

My words weight is less than a million dollars,
less than a tuition,
less than my fore father’s current colleagues
who are counting down days from suits to polo shoes,
making face on the last of their public legacy,
they don’t want a face like me writing slogans on their cities about ignorance and inconsistency.

I guess I’m not loud enough,
it takes more than volume to raise
The roof the roof the roof is on fire.
Save the pen, the paper, your voices and chairs,
your mattress and umbrellas that protect us
from your outrage at my outrageous voice
Silenced by a shield. Silenced by batons.
Silenced by political power without political people,
incorrect intentions, raging with rovers 100 feet above my head
exploding like an overfilled balloon.

You can beat my words down
but you can’t burn my furniture,
bigger than you, bolder than you, screaming louder
through a mouth it doesn’t even possess,
looking on the face of a choir, a whole choir,
asking to cure our disease.
I will hold my symbols of faith, ****, and freedom in my right hand
and swear to tell the truth,
the whole truth and nothing but the truth
until our protest has made a difference,
until my metal chairs have molded your thoughts
into signatures on a page of on a page of social justice.
It just is, bigger than you, bolder than you, louder than me,
Don’t test me, Test my furniture.
It will always be heard.

People say I'm loud.
I just wish my voice would carry into the ears
or everybody not asking to hear what I am talking about.
Well, I'm not talking,
My object speaks pretty loud.

Written under pen name Jason Red

Meant to be read aloud

#symbolism #slam #protest