Metaphor 2
Okay kids, here we go...
"Take the same object or scene and use it to describe one of your parents. In other words, indulge yourself in comparisons."
So now you are wondering what this looks like. The answer from me is "I don't know." Let's figure it out together.
posted by annes @ 6:49 PM
13 Comments:
Woo hoo! First poem on here!
I compared my mom and my harp.
My mom is like my harp, tall and curvy.
My mom is like the strings, tense and strict.
My mom is like the golden pedals, if you move the right ones, the sound that comes out is most beautiful.
My mom is like the base, a firmly grounded foundation.
My mom is like the column, there is more than meets the eye.
My dad is like chipotle during lunch, loud and obnoxious
My dad is like a burrito, there is a lot of meat on him
My dad is like the long line, sociable and humorous
My dad is like the stools, seems to be open, but really is not
(just a start its alrite....and remember go broncos...i was gonna photobucket in a picture of champ right here but i decided i didnt want to get in trouble)
So i wrote my first metaphor poem on a street light (creative, I know)and trying to right about a parent based on that was interesting. So here's what I have:
My Mother is a Gem
My mother is a gem
A light in the distance
Her luminous glow bright and blinding
Each feature a gold piece
Combining to make a gold support
That leads me through the dark
A twinkle in the night
A distant glimmer of hope
When it all seems lost
A mother reminds us that hope still exists
With her protective shine that fights all evil
A platform of brick
She buttresses me
And lifts me up to all I can achieve
Through her six lights she believes in me
And never stops shining all through the night
Polished as a glass case
She leads the way for us blind three
For into this world we come unaware
Stuck in the dark without her guiding light
When lost in the night, one can always count
On the hope that the street lights won’t go out
The beautiful lights lead us home
As a mother guides us in her protective rays
Hey guys, I'm posting my poem because I want to get my work out there for all to read. You wouldn't imagine how hard it is to compare my mom to a guitar, but I think I did it. Enjoy.
Tuning My Parents
Throughout the hidden valley,
Through meadows afar,
Lives my mother Catherine,
She is a guitar.
For her neck is of maple,
She is strict you see,
Perhaps her guitar strings,
Are wound too tightly.
She is the head of the household,
Like the pick she plays us all,
Her rain of terror falls upon us,
From sunset to nightfall.
My mother is three pick-ups,
For Dana, Dad, and me,
She tunes us all up,
E, A, G, D, and B.
My mother is like the chords,
When strummed right she sounds stellar,
But one false move,
And your fates like Old Yeller.
Plug my mother in,
Her personality is electric,
Reverb, Distortion,
The Guymon house seems hectic.
My mother is the amplifier,
Words seem to project,
Her crazy requests,
Make me feel red neck.
My mother’s heart,
Has a black coated finish,
But deep down inside,
Her love does flourish.
But I know she has love,
For when I’m sharp of flat,
She brings me back in tune,
And I love her for that.
Right... so this kinda sounds like I'm hitting on my mom. But don't worry, it's not like that. I just couldn't find any other way to compare her to snow.
Unique
Like the soft flakes of snow
On a cold winters day,
As such is my mom,
Who is a soft, gentle spirit.
Gently warming my heart when I am cold
And left out in the dark,
She comforts and guides me
When I stray from the path.
As snow blankets the ground,
So my mom lays blankets on me
When I lie down to sleep,
And dreams inhabit my mind.
Like snow, which is easily manipulated,
So I find it easy as well
To push the right buttons on my mom,
Without harming her well-being.
And as frost leaves the morning ground
In a crisp layer of crystal shards,
So my mom adds beauty to her surroundings,
In away previously though impossible.
Just as I adore the soft snowflakes
Which envelop the land of Mountains,
So I adore my mom for her impact in my life,
The way she shapes and molds me.
In her own unique way,
She changes the world around her,
As snow changes the frigid mountain landscapes
Of the rugged Colorado winter lands.
Wow Brian, your poem is amazing. Everyone's poems are neat and funny. Now I shall try to compare my parents to night. That'll be interesting.
A warm gentel breeze,
as if my mother holds me tight.
There to let my spread my wings and fly,
to prepare me for tomorrow.
Both are there to calm the soul,
In peace and love, without any fright.
To lead me onto a better day,
but on my way, they will always follow.
As a beacon of light in the night,
My mother brings hope and joy.
As strict as the cold night wind,
she puts me in my place.
Well, I will probably add some more to it, but that is what I have so far. Any suggestions or comments are welcome.
I have read most all of these poems, and they are really nice! Hannah S., I really liked your poem and how you compared your mom to a stoplight! It was a unique comparison and it turned out really well. Here's my poem about my dad:
A shining smile rises upon his features,
Like the morning star climbing across the sky.
The calmest of teachers,
He can always pacify.
Golden beams of warmth stream from his eyes,
And his hair is streaked with gray wisps of cloud.
He seldom fails to remove the doubt,
He is constant as a sunrise.
My protector and earthly guide
Tinges my skies with deep loving red
And vibrant oranges flit across the space wide
Celebrating all that has been said.
Like a cloak of sunlight
Draped around my shoulders
His love will never grow colder
As he watches me grow out of his sight.
Here is a poem about my dad...
I underlined the metaphors.
Dad
A fort
Strong and steady
Holds danger out
Keeps us in
A map of guidance
For troubles and hardships
A way that’s known
Dad
When I write poems like these, I tend to get really dramatic, so it might seem a bit cheesy. Or you might like it. Note: I changed the format of my Metaphor 1 poem a little, so there are somethings that are added and some that are taken away. Enjoy!
Parents:
My parents’ wings are white gauzy curtains,
sheltering me from the black evils of the world.
My dad’s eyes scan my life, clouding up with
tears in a crisp blue sky.
My mom’s presence surrounds me, the way a gentle breeze does.
Their love for me shines golden, mirroring the gold on the dome of Invalides.
And the Sun.
A cherry smell follows my parents, exuding pleasant aromas,
Love.
Cute boys walk past our window, the same ones as yesterday, and the day before that,
But Daddy is the only boy in my life.
Life can be too much sometimes.
My mom fixes my pain with chocolate, pain au chocolat
My dad, with hugs and words.
Below, dogs walk past small cars and knobby trees.
However old my parents become, they will never be feeble, not as the trees are.
Which grow strong with age, shading the ones they love, digging their roots deeper, soaking everyday until a new one begins.
Sometimes, words need not be spoken.
Silence prevails,
We know that our love knows no words, only silence can explain it.
Thus, the silence is loud,shouting,
But pleasant.
From the inside looking out, I see that in my world,
in my family,
There is a feeling of complete, that everything is
well,
beautiful,
And radiant.
P.S. I need some help with the format. Is it hard to read to anybody? Blogger wouldn't let me make indentions inside the poem, so I couldn't break it up as easily. What do you think?
My mother's fluffy red bathrobe is the color of the sunrise on the rockslide.
In the morning her voice is as jagged and cold as the rocks.
Her coffe warms her momentarily only to give way to a misty rain of frustration.
Her attempts to find her car keys are like trying to find Kyle's humility.
If only she could locate them with a cry of 23!! to which they reply 4!!
As she leaves for work the sun rises fully and everyones smile's are visible.
Our sarcastic comments portray our escape from her foul morning mood.
It's kinda mean. Well oh well. I like it ok
My mom is a vendor, always volunteering for things.
She is the one who gets us places.
The one and only mom.
Differences, and similarities.
Likes and don't likes.
Mom.
Adriana,
Your poem brought vivid images to my mind.
AlexD,
Almost everyone else described their mothers, it is nice that you broke the mold and did your dad.
Laura,
I agree with Adriana. Your poem didn't seem cheesy or dramatic.
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