Poetic Metaphor Quotes

and don't you know that God is Pooh Bear?

There's this poet named Walter Benton, I really like his stuff. He always uses landscapes as a metaphor for the female body.

'Finally' actually started out as a poem. I always wrote poetry, and pretty soon I figured out that if I could write poems, I could write songs.

I remember her telling me once that rabbits were the gnomes in attendance to the Fairy Queen and that the stars were God's daisy chain. Perfect rot, of course.

Comic strips introduced me to metaphors. They are pure metaphor, so you learn how to tell a story with symbols, which is a very valuable thing to learn. And I learned that from motion pictures, too, and from poetry. Poetry is mainly metaphor. If it doesn't have a metaphor, it doesn't work.

Spring: trees flying up to their birds

I wish you were that birch rising from the clump behind you, and I the gray oak alongside.

The early bees are assaulting and fumbling the flowers: They call it 'easing the Spring.'

The mirror is the mother dew, the book of desiccated twilights, echo become flesh.

POETRY: A sliver of the moon lost in the belly of a golden frog.

Still more labyrinthine buds the rose.

I see the moon like a clipped piece of silver. Like gilded bees the stars cluster round her.

The bluebird carries the sky on his back.

In the world of poetry there are would-be poets, workshop poets, promising poets, lovesick poets, university poets, and a few real poets.

At night, the moon, a pregnant woman, walks cautiously over the slippery heavens.

I sang of leaves, of leaves of gold, and leaves of gold there grew.

The stars are scattered all over the sky like shimmering tears, there must be great pain in the eye from which they trickled.

The moon, like to a silver bow new bent in heaven.

The voice is raised, and that is where poetry begins. And even today, in the prolonged aftermath of modernism, in places where 'open form' or free verse is the orthodoxy, you will find a memory of that raising of the voice in the term 'heightened speech.'

The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas.

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?

I have seen the movement of the sinews of the sky, And the blood coursing in the veins of the moon.