Let It Be More Than Metaphors

The Bride’s Bible

Pages draped across a leather binding
Are mixed with ink formed to writing.
Behold a poetic journey of love.
A dressing up of holy verse?
Let it be more than a metaphor.

Bride of desire revealed in book as pure.
Torture if rejected and made for leisure.
Pomegranates, garden tapestry
A melodic temptation
Let it be more than a metaphor.

Banquet table, satisfying cravings beneath.
Clothed in white, surrounded by gold.
Looking on God's flesh.
A bride to be
Let it be more than a metaphor.

In an instant beholding
Searching more than a story
Sharing life in covenant
Marriage eternal
Let it be more than a metaphor.

Comments

Bought

Anthem of heaven incased in this CD on the market. A devotion song reformed to a green collection in his pocket. Culture how it has sought us! Taken our reverence and bought us! Worship sowing designer clothes for the artist. Melodies in bondage begin to simulate the masses. We have the radio to blare the repeat. Give us our fame and retreat This noise of adoration motivates a half hearted beat on the steering wheel. We can no longer own the heart and we can’t preach our message. We are just a copy of a man’s heart once spilled to His maker given over to another to do as he so pleases. We are bought. Owned. I want to work on this one. It seems a little hard to follow. I want it to be concrete and to the point but still lyrical. Any comments or suggestions?

Shy Suicide

Disclaimer: This poem was inspired by someone else's struggle with suicide. Don't worry I am not suicidal. Suicide, why do you hide beneath my white skin? Suicide, why do use my fake smile for your sin? Suicide, why do you keep your cover until the rope is tight, the trigger is pulled, the pills are swallowed, the wrists slit? A black phantom behind my face. A dark word behind my lips. A night in my day. Suicide, why do you ensnare all my companions? They didn’t know. They didn’t see. They didn’t recognize who had overtaken me. You left a message on paper; they read in disbelief. Suicide, you are shy, and yet you have the audacity to kill me.

Glorious Grey

Glorious grey with your thematic expectations and sudden revelations. Many depend on your bland expression, hoping for a hidden salvation. Are you a subtle manipulator or a passive observer? Your color may not be color, making your theme perplexing. Glorious grey don't pollute the clear water. We find you in ash, rain clouds, and cement. Calling you neutral may not be correct.

FairWriter

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