You know I have no idea
What is a cliche or metaphors?
Sorry no idea
I write from the heart
The love of words
I don't need the *******
Write what you think and feel
That's true poetry

strapped by a seat belt .
the road is hot lava .
the car is a boat .
the snow covered lawn is frozen .

What If I was to write you a poem?
Free of metaphores and similes.

What If i was to write you a poem?
Where the truth lay without fear or expectation.

What if I was to write you a poem?
Where every simple word made you feel at home.

What if I was to write you a poem?
That said your heart is safe with me.

If I could write you a poem,
There would be no strings attached.

If I could write you a poem,
You'd know what I was trying to say.

The simple words of that poem would read,
Put simply, I love you, I'm hoping that you stay.

i once dated a boy who found it "adorable" that i know how to change my headlights
     fill my radiator
     change the oil
     and notice every stopsign as i'm halfway through it
he dumped me via text

before that
there was a boy who loved my lack of first person capitalization
     my over-use of metaphores and similies
     the way i personify the night
     and practice preforming poetry in the shower
he took off into the sunset with my journal in his shoulder-sack

and somewhere in between
i stopped asking myself what it means
threw up my hands
     and learned to enjoy the ride

Pardon the way
that I stare!
reading your ink
leaves me weak
leading me strong
and bare
wanting to read yours dear
can't take my finger
off this cell mirror
keyboard cyberg

My words expressing
my hells
my paradise lands
all gone
madness is not an option to claim

courage and patience
are winning clues
understanding
others a must!
Going mis-understood isn't with the great sages reading this;

it's with cold
and timid souls,
knowng neither triumph nor defeat.

Poets across the globe
write much this way
and thrive
Our honorable metaphors
linked
living in interesting times
poetic writers
all tuned in
diverse minds global united we are!

One single thought
our minds become
One single beat
our hearts sing
a tune

Here at Hello poetry
honorable metaphors
greeted
with likes and loves
heart throbbing poems
linking us all
at once
from Hello Poetry
across the globe
so that we may
linger on
timeless
beyond.
~~~~~~~
By: Karijinbba
revised 01/2020.
Revised 07-20/20.

I am,
just a surragate
the Universe chooses, at random,
to impregnate with
the ideas of time eternal.
This stick of lead, the narrow
birth canal through which these
words must pass
as I, with trembling palms
and sweated brow, force my hands
to shape the words as quickly as I pass them.
But my hands are clumsy things.
This paper is the birthing towel
on which these words breath first life.
And when I step to the mic to
speak these words,
release these words like one million birds
set free from cage
one butterfly break of cocoon,
each one set forth with their own intent
to heal or harm
to love or ****,
I pray these words remember the time
I spent coddling and caressing
chastising and correcting,
shaping them into the
clicks and tones and dips and moans
you will recognize as poetry.
Simple words clothed in similes and metaphores.
But my words
are week.
They hold no power outside of intent
can't hold you captive without your consent.
For when I speak these words
into existence,
I send them off as dandelion seeds into the
wind to land where they may.
For I am merely
a surrogate the Universe chooses, at random,
to impregnate with the ideas of time eternal.
I am merely a poet.
Nothing more
and probably much less.

A simile is like a metaphor.
A metaphor is a similie,
Except if it forgot "like" or "as"

A similie is like checkers,
The rules are simple, easy to follow.
A metaphor is chess,
Complex and intricate.

Think of a simile as the store brand
A metaphor is the name brand
Of anything.

Metaphors are tests for the mind,
They make you visualize
Bear Mountain.

Similies are like little suggestions,
They point you in the right direction,
The Mountain was big like a bear.

Both important,
Both fun!

I like similies
Metaphores are love.

Mistress of the Sun,
I dress words in metaphores.
Tell the Moon I’m home.

amidst the loud noise
& the sweat that drips from heated foreheads
your hands slip from a new friend to a red cup
& for the rest of the night you’ll idly stand
maybe concerned with tomorrows homework
trying to catch a feeling
of the way peoples arms look without weight

you weren’t going to even go out tonight
but your friends said you’d regret it
even though you knew you wouldn’t if you did go
you went anyways, worried this time was different
but now that your here
and they’re playing fetty wap for the second time
this time isn’t different

what is different is the artwork
someones failed attempt at collaging girls *****
tasteful side **** to full exposed kardashian
the only thing unexposed is the exposed brick they covered
ironically and sadistically
you remember frat boys don’t do metaphores

you manage to get your hands on some chips
as your eyes meet some guys across the room
awkwardly and unobviously locking in place
you step away from his line of vision
moving backwards towards kate
who can’t remember your name from film class
so you have to hint at chanelle for input
stumbling to call your name through liquored breathe

lost in thought, but somehow forming sentences to kate
someone nudges your side
Alex
He was the guy across the room
the lighting must have been weird or something
you talk for a bit about middle school
he hugs you uncomfortably
wondering if there was some broken rule
about accepting hugs from people that aren’t your boyfriend

He tells you about his skate board
attempting sarcasm at every turn
his voice burning into the air
soon the conversation swoops to music
he asks about your taste
you say you don’t have any
and you’re arms start to feel weightless too

You say bye to Alex (and to Kate)
Chanelle mouths “where the hell are you going”
before you know it your on line 2
drifting to bloor and younge
writing about a party
that you weren’t even suppose to be at

you're writing about a party that never really happened
but somehow that night still really ****** you off

I'll take my own experience,
Wrap it up and tie it in a bow.
I'll take all the things I've felt,
Make it poetic and put it in a show.
I will build walls around my heart,
Then talk about how roses bloom in the cracks.
And I'll tell them how you kisses me where you punched,
But never tell them I punched back.
I will write monologues about the sky
And how it reminds me of your hair
Or perhaps a sonnet
About how I never really cared.
I'll take my abandonment issues and sob stories
Into the palm of my hand
Then crush it into stardust
And try to be the sea glass in a beach full of sand
But no matter how many
Metaphores or analogies I create
I can make words beautiful
But never my feelings fake.
We are poets stuck in a cycle,
Blooming blossoms that never change.
We are artists making art
Out of the beauty of pain.

Why should I keep writing, when
there is no one to write for.
All that I have written, made me
less attractive, made me hopeless

Chanceless, I feel so stupid, sad
and mistaken, does nobody
not a single girl, think I'm cute enough
to help me out of this sightless hole

Tell me I'm not useless, tell me there is
someone out there, tell me it's you.

I'd write about you, for you, with you, metaphores come automatically
Words arrange themselves when you bring them to me.
It's not necessary to like my writings, just be flattered that I'd do it for you.

Isn't that what really counts, counting the days till I see you
meet you, recognizing, each other, missing piece, long lost feelings
rejoined.

Join me in my journey, escape the nets of fishers, escape the cages of the zoo
escape the reservoirs. Together we could be unique creatures. Loved and hated
Adored, adore me like a cold sundae on a hot sunday.

All of these things that I write
And every word therein
Are more for my self than anyone else
They are advice to my self
Even when they may seem otherwise
Especially when pain is the only reminder that I'm awake
I am talking my way out of the places my mind takes me
The remedy for what ails me
And sometimes, hopelessness having it's way
I know that there are brighter days ahead
For they call to me
Giving me reason to hope at all
Even on the days I am my own worst enemy
But, sometimes one cannot break free of one's cell
Unless every inch of such is explored
For shadows do not always bring demise
More often than not, they bring answers
Sometimes found within the questioning despair
Strength never comes without experience
And victory never comes without a fight
But, even the losses are victories
For I learn more about my self
And what I can endure
What breaks me, and what makes me stronger
Fear does not mean weakness
Failure does not mean defeat
Just as victory does not mean success
It all depends on the lessons that come thereafter
And the intent of each attempt
Because sometimes what I want is not mine to have
Even when it is something everyone desires in their own way
Though mind and heart cannot agree
Sometimes suffering hand in hand
Sometimes content in the joy of desires unobtained
But, always waiting...
Longing...
Dreaming...
Lamenting......
Rejoicing
For, even in wishes ungranted
Dreams yet untrue
Nightmares revisited and unresolved
It is the knowledge of beauty
There are still things in this world worth suffering for
There is still wonder and magic in the midst of chaos
There is still strength in my weakness
Pleasure despite my pain
Smiles in calamity
And the only way to defuse the effects of my depression
Is to study every aspect of emotion
Mainly, those most volitile to my mental destruction
Disarming sadness by personal description
Metaphores and precise actualities
Spoken not by the creative mind
But by the afflictions of my soul
Turning the darkness upon itself
Before I completely turn on my self

This is for you you who love poems
You who love Rhymes
  You who takes the time to read many lines
   You who are dedicated to the written word
    You who look forward to metaphores
     Who give feedback and comments
      Who faithfully follow
       I appreciate your likes
       Some may call you poetry fans
       I prefer to call you friends
       We are united in our love for poetry

I wanna write a letter to you
but I thought it better if I used
my metaphores and told a story for ya
this one starts when I was young
before all that numb stuff
back before love was a cup
full of drugs
back where I grew up
there wasn't much but
a couple of us kids
livin life like we wished
the sunshined all the time
you could catch us out side
from noon till night
ridin bikes, playin play fight
on the same side, bein knights
slaying dragons with our swords
or soldiers out at war
always packing action with
whatever we imagined happend
I remember vividly
impatiently waitin for the gamin
on the end the week
on the ps 1,2,3,
360, pc, or wii, just
livin the dream with my brother
somewhere in the suburbs
in the pool gettin sun burnt
little fools with each other
gettin noodles after supper
time seemed to fly so slow
waitin on the cold
so we could go play in the snow
till we're red in the nose
knowin Christmas coming close
it was simple livin those days
when we were children
at times I miss it kinda wish it
didn't ever end though us back then
wanted to grow up so bad an
reminscin it's the same ****, it's
wishin we were somehwere different
missin out on the beauty of livin
minute to minute that's livin in now
so stuck up in the clouds
come down an look around
what you'll find is pretty awesome
opportunity begins to blossom
everything stops looking so rotten
so often lost in those Glory days
never stop to entertain that hey
maybe today's the golden age
sun still shinin an I'm feelin great

slow down bud there's
so much to do
growin up it'll
come so soon
the futures bright and
the past was great but
for a while let's
live in today

Resonance of words
Sway to-and-fro
In the dead of night
The deep sea welcomes
Swimming oar
Splash metaphores
Fertilizing the white leaf
With bird droppings
The right is a wrong
And left, stone flower
Heaven lives next door
Her eyes a wilderness
Hell is downright here
Blazing a roar
In stillness of poet's pond
Moon reflects
The passion of Truth and Lie
As Morning star waits
To outshine the darkling grace.

How do I put it like it hasn't been before?
How do I say it without it tumbling into a bore?
How do I pronounce, in one word, what has to be heard?
How do I write in ways it will not be forgotten?

Is it metaphores like birds and flying?
Is it with fire of dire rhyming?
Is it rambling about loving or dying
or even such harsh expressions it is lying?

With bodies, with intertwining eyes, if not the rotting of a heart.
I'd try with poems, paintings and precious works of art.

But its purpose remains absent
like a dead language in the present.

For months I've beeen trying to write you.
To fold my emotions together like origami.
I'd make you a boat so that you can escape.

I'd bleed an ocean of ink from my pen.
Tides and waves, velvety rich and blue.
A grand sail of metaphores would carry you through an ocean of my desires, my ideals.

But, I realized that I was lost in translation.
My hands cant craft to catch your beauty.
I've lost myself in paper chains, a strength of love untold.

Your chains hit the bottom a year ago, they sway in stangnant waters.
Chain links made of memories Bob lifelessly in the water.
They stay around a centre point, gently knocking my shrivled skin.
A blank face drowning in the inky sea, I'll stay to an anchor what was.
With time these memories will bury me.