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.

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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.

Reach

Dear Reality, I must be honest. You’ve been hard on me. You’ve tossed me back and forth. Made me feel helpless. Everyone said I have to accept you, but you’re toxic sometimes. I know we’ve been friends for a long time. I’m willing to work with you, but you need to compromise as well. You need to stop taking up my entire day. You need to be understanding when I have to speak with Imagination and Dream. Don’t crowd around me. Don’t pull me away from them. They are my friends too. I’m sorry, Reality. I know how difficult this is for you. I know you want my attention 24/7. You just can’t have it. Your Friend, Tamara

Definition

Beautiful, as she meandered into the profile picture of her dreams. Hair meticulously styled, angle right, and artificial light to highlight that which is dark. I thought, certainly she was someone to befriend, yet she wanted nothing to do with me. She loved to sin. I found a woman with a double chin, bags under her eyes, walking around the block, taking it all in. I thought her time had come and gone, nothing more to my life could she add. Wishing she’d be a mere acquaintance, I left after our small conversation, not recognizing she was the definition of a friend.

FairWriter

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