# data[].attributes.body
Earth felt the wound; and Nature from her seat,
Sighing, through all her works, gave signs of woe.

John Milton

# data[].attributes.body
A family is like a circle.
The connection never ends,
and even if at times it breaks,
in time it always mends

Nicole M. O'Neil

# data[].attributes.body
What happens to a dream deferred?

Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore—
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over—
like a syrupy sweet?

Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.

Or does it explode?

# data[].attributes.headline
(Metaphor)This is not a small voice-mancera

# data[].attributes.subject
(Metaphor)This is not a small voice-mancera

# data[].attributes.body
This is not a small voice
you hear               this is a large
voice coming out of these cities.
This is the voice of LaTanya.
Kadesha. Shaniqua. This
is the voice of Antoine.
Darryl. Shaquille.
Running over waters
navigating the hallways
of our schools spilling out
on the corners of our cities and
no epitaphs spill out of their river mouths.

This is not a small love
you hear               this is a large
love, a passion for kissing learning
on its face.
This is a love that crowns the feet with hands
that nourishes, conceives, feels the water sails
mends the children,
folds them inside our history where they
toast more than the flesh
where they suck the bones of the alphabet
and spit out closed vowels.
This is a love colored with iron and lace.
This is a love initialed Black Genius.

This is not a small voice
you hear.

# data[].attributes.body
In a Garden
by Elizabeth Jennings
When the gardener has gone this garden
Looks wistful and seems waiting an event.

It is so spruce, a metaphor of Eden
And even more so since the gardener went,

Quietly godlike, but of course, he had
Not made me promise anything and I
Had no one tempting me to make the bad
Choice.
Yet I still felt lost and wonder why.

Even the beech tree from next door which shares
Its shadow with me, seemed a kind of threat.

Everything was too neat, and someone cares

In the wrong way.
I need not have stood long
Mocked by the smell of a mown lawn, and yet
I did.
Sickness for Eden was so strong.

# data[].attributes.body
A Red, Red Rose
BY ROBERT BURNS
O my Luve is like a red, red rose
That’s newly sprung in June;
O my Luve is like the melody
That’s sweetly played in tune.

So fair art thou, my bonnie lass,
So deep in luve am I;
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
Till a’ the seas gang dry.

Till a’ the seas gang dry, my dear,
And the rocks melt wi’ the sun;
I will love thee still, my dear,
While the sands o’ life shall run.

And fare thee weel, my only luve!
And fare thee weel awhile!
And I will come again, my luve,
Though it were ten thousand mile.

# data[].attributes.body
"Winter"
You beneath a midnight sky
With tears of crystal
Falling from your eyes

Dressed in a cape of glistening white
With your haunting beauty all aglow
In the pale moonlight

So still and so silent
You lie at my feet
The only sound is the sound
This spellbound heart beats

Gone is your rage of yesterday
When you threw the world
Into a state of disarray

When you with your breath
Blew a kiss of death
Tearing the leaves
From those beautiful trees
Killing your rival
Autumn

So weep my beauty weep
Your insincere tears
Now that you find
Yourself all alone
And wait for Spring
To melt a heart
Cold and hard as stone.

# data[].attributes.body
Pretty little bottles of perfume

Stood at attention on the dresser.

"Which one of us will she choose today?"

And they each took turns being the guesser.

"She'll choose me," the first one said,

"Because I smell like roses."

"Not likely today," the second bottle said.

"You'll stink up everyone's noses."

"She'll choose me," the third bottle said.

"She loves how I smell like sandalwood."

The second bottle replied again,

"She won't choose you. I know I never would."

The woman came in, looked at her perfumes,

Sniffed bottle two and choosed her.

Bottle two cried, "Yes! She chose me, the best;

I guess you other two are the losers!"

# data[].attributes.body
I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud

BY WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

I wandered lonely as a cloud

That floats on high o'er vales and hills,

When all at once I saw a crowd,

A host, of golden daffodils;

Beside the lake, beneath the trees,

Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine

And twinkle on the milky way,

They stretched in never-ending line

Along the margin of a bay:

Ten thousand saw I at a glance,

Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they

Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:

A poet could not but be gay,

In such a jocund company:

I gazed—and gazed—but little thought

What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie

In vacant or in pensive mood,

They flash upon that inward eye

Which is the bliss of solitude;

And then my heart with pleasure fills,

And dances with the daffodils.

# data[].attributes.body
A sister is someone who loves you from the heart.
No matter how much you argue, you cannot be drawn apart.
She is a joy that cannot be taken away.
Once she enters your life, she is there to stay.

A friend who helps you through difficult times,
Her comforting words are worth much more than dimes.
A partner who fills your life with laughs and smiles,
These memories last for miles and miles.

When she is by your side, the world is filled with life.
When she is not around, your days are full of strife.
A sister is a blessing who fills your heart with love.
She flies with you in life with the beauty of a dove.

A companion to whom you can express your feelings,
She doesn't let you get bored at family dealings.
Whether you are having your ups or downs,
She always helps you with a smile and never frowns.

With a sister, you cannot have a grudge.
She is as sweet as chocolate and as smooth as fudge.
Having a sister is not just a trend.
It is knowing you can always turn to her, your best friend.

Source: https://www.familyfriendpoems.com/poem/why-i-love-my-sister

# data[].attributes.body
When someone dies, the clothes are so sad. They have outlived
their usefulness and cannot get warm and full.
You talk to the clothes and explain that he is not coming back

as when he showed up immaculately dressed in slacks and plaid jacket
and had that beautiful smile on and you’d talk.
You’d go to get something and come back and he’d be gone.

You explain death to the clothes like that dream.
You tell them how much you miss the spouse
and how much you miss the pet with its little winter sweater.

You tell the worn raincoat that if you talk about it,
you will finally let grief out. The ancients etched the words
for battle and victory onto their shields and then they went out

and fought to the last breath. Words have that kind of power
you remind the clothes that remain in the drawer, arms stubbornly
folded across the chest, or slung across the backs of chairs,

or hanging inside the dark closet. Do with us what you will,
they faintly sigh, as you close the door on them.
He is gone and no one can tell us where.

# data[].attributes.body
“Hope” is the thing with feathers - (314)
BY EMILY DICKINSON
“Hope” is the thing with feathers -
That perches in the soul -
And sings the tune without the words -
And never stops - at all -

And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard -
And sore must be the storm -
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm -

I’ve heard it in the chillest land -
And on the strangest Sea -
Yet - never - in Extremity,
It asked a crumb - of me.

# data[].attributes.body
Light by Anonymous

She shines her bright eyes to light up place in dark nights.
She dances around the room and enters our eyes,
To scare away the darkness in no time.
She runs into opaque objects, leaving a shadow

To travel is her passion, making her visible before she passes on.
She breathes on shiny and smooth objects, gleaming away with a smile.
She is seen in different sources working.

She makes us inclined to be optimist.
Light hops around the room no matter what.
In the morning she greets us through the rays of the sun.
She nudges the darkness to comfort us.
And in the night she calms the darkness with her presence.

# data[].attributes.body
It's Spring by John Faster

It's spring
And the garden is changing its clothes,
Putting away
Its dark winter suits
Its dull scarves
And drab brown overcoats

# data[].attributes.body
Winter by Olivia Kooker

If winter were a person, she would be a girl with frosty hair.
Winter would wear snow pants, snow boots, gloves, a hat, and scarf.
Winter would smell like hot chocolate and peanut butter and Hershey Kiss cookies baking in the oven.
Winter would spend the day eating cookies and drinking hot cocoa by a lake.
Winter would spend the night by sitting in the snow waiting for morning so children could come out to play.

# data[].attributes.body
Her blue dress is a silk train is a river
is water seeps into the cobblestone streets of my sleep, is still raining
is monsoon brocade, is winter stars stitched into puddles
is good-bye in a flooded, antique room, is good-bye in a room of crystal bowls
and crystal cups, is the ring-ting-ring of water dripping from the mouths
of crystal bowls and crystal cups, is the Mississippi River is a hallway, is leaks
like tears from windowsills of a drowned house, is windows open to waterfalls
is a bed is a small boat is a ship, is a current come to carry me in its arms
through the streets, is me floating in her dress through the streets
is only the moon sees me floating through the streets, is me in a blue dress
out to sea, is my mother is a moon out to sea

# data[].attributes.headline
poem i liked but doesn't have metaphor or simile:

# data[].attributes.subject
poem i liked but doesn't have metaphor or simile:

# data[].attributes.body
War of the Worlds
by John Tiong Chunghoo
worlds
worlds
worlds
so many worlds

and in each world
yet so many worlds
and in each world
war..war...war
down to the tiniest creation
each foreign world
floats and sinks in its own world
a world of nature
a world of war
ever ready to
guard us against
foreign worlds
world
world
world
yet each to his own world
at least for now

# data[].attributes.body
i am trying to remember you
and let you go
at
the same time
-the mourn

# data[].attributes.body
"Your teeth are like stars;

They come out at night.

They come back at dawn

When they're ready to bite."
By-Denise Rogers

# data[].attributes.body
Mighty Oak

Stand tall, oh mighty oak, for all the world to see.
Your strength and undying beauty forever amazes me.
Though storm clouds hover above you,
Your branches span the sky
In search of the radiant sunlight you
Count on to survive.
When the winds are high and restless and
You lose a limb or two,
It only makes you stronger.
We could learn so much from you.
Though generations have come and gone
And brought about such change,
Quietly you've watched them all,
Yet still remained the same.
I only pray God gives to me
The strength he's given you
To face each day with hope,
Whether skies are black or blue.
Life on earth is truly a gift.
Every moment we must treasure.
It's the simple things we take for granted
That become our ultimate pleasures.

# data[].attributes.body
Hold fast to dreams

For if dreams die

Life is a broken-winged bird

That cannot fly.

Hold fast to dreams

For when dreams go

Life is a barren field

Frozen with snow.
langston hughes

# data[].attributes.body
Snail

BY LANGSTON HUGHES

Little snail,

Dreaming you go.

Weather and rose

Is all you know.

Weather and rose

Is all you see,

Drinking

The dewdrop’s

Mystery.

# data[].attributes.body
I am silver and exact. I have no preconceptions.
Whatever I see I swallow immediately
Just as it is, unmisted by love or dislike.
I am not cruel, only truthful ‚
The eye of a little god, four-cornered.

Sylvia Plath

# data[].attributes.body
Silence by Babette Deutsch

Silence with you is like the faint delicious
Smile of a child asleep, in dreams unguessed.
Only the hinted wonder of its dreaming,
The soft, slow-breathing miracle of rest.
Silence with you is like a kind departure
From iron clangor and the engulfing crowd
Into a wide and greenly barren meadow,
Under the bloom of some blue-bosomed cloud;
Or like one held upon the sands at evening,
When the drawn tide rolls out, and the mixed light
Of sea and sky enshrouds the far, wind-bellowed
Sails that move darkly on the edge of night.

# data[].attributes.body
Just Like by Katherine Ayala

Just like a glass
my heart is broken
Just like a star
you light up my life
Just like a rose
that blooms it's beauty
Just like the rain
that never stops crying
Just like another human being
you let go of me
Just like others
you broke my heart
Just like clouds
you are soft
Just like bullets
that you shot into my heart

# data[].attributes.body
After Great Pain, a Formal Feeling Comes by Emily Dickinson

After a great pain, a formal feeling comes
The Nerves sit ceremonious, like Tombs
The stiff Heart questions was it He, that bore,
and Yesterday, or Centuries before?

# data[].attributes.body
Dreams by Langston Hughes

Hold fast to dreams
For if dreams die
Life is a broken-winged bird
Hold fast to dreams
For when dreams go
Life is a barren field
Frozen with snow

# data[].attributes.body
Metaphor Poem/Song

The Rose Sung by Bette Midler

Some say love, it is a river that drowns the tender reed.
Some say love, it is a razor that leaves your soul to bleed.
Some say love, it is a hunger, an endless aching need.
I say love, it is a flower, and You its only seed.

It's the heart, afraid of breaking, that never learns to dance.
It's the dream, afraid of waking, that never takes a chance.
It's the one who won't be taken, who cannot seem to give.
And the soul, afraid of dyin', that never learns to live.

When the night has been too lonely,
and the road has been too long,
And you think that love is only for the lucky and the strong,
Just remember in the winter far beneath the bitter snows,
Lies the seed, that with the sun's love, in the spring becomes
The Rose.