RIC BASTASA Metaphor Poems

a metaphor is easy to make
and so easy to recall

remember the cat's feet like a fog
...

here he is trying to hone a craft,
like, grinding the knife on a stone

thinking of an enemy, its name is boredom
...

the Beatles had it
as the struggle for freedom of the blacks
that blackbird singing in the dark
wanting to be free
...

the little bird
driven by hunger
comes near the place
where you are seating
...

early that morning
the sun shines spreading
itself
warmly upon an island
...

pigeons live inside the ceiling
taking the entrance at the broken side of the gutter

i can hear them coo
...

Our distance is getter farther
like an old weary boat departing from the ruined port of
Neither/Nor
to a journey that will take it
...

the room is
a metaphor for an enclosure
it says
i keep you safe here
...

the little bird
driven by hunger
comes near the place
where you are seated
...

get the broom
and the duster and the
trashcan
...

what are you saying in what
you paint? the wall clock in your head
your left eye is closed
your right eyes stare to the wind
...

the white candle must have a heart
not showing any emotion when we parted
much feeling but there is a pretense for nothing
dismissing what is complicated
...

i pass by the wall
where a picture of
a face is hung,
...

there is no
way of measuring
the joy of
a poem, no kind
...

what is too literal
sometimes without your
knowing them become
so figurative and
...

that emaciated child asking for
food for his younger sister
is but a part of the bigger picture,
beyond this frame is the
...

early afternoon
i undress and walk towards the water

it is a gray moment
...

i am still looking
for a metaphor that best suits me

one that can put a good color to a
...

because of your biased
love for dogs
the cats are not fed
and those with
...

someday i shall
find the
best and fitting
metaphor for you
...

the universe
is neat and ordered
and huge
...

indeed it is wonderful to entertain
that constant idea that beds are made for
sex,
but i must be deluding myself for a long time
...

i throw morsels
of rice
in the golden pond
where
...

he never attends a
kid's party in Lincolnshire

he has no story to share
there
...

when i do not
enter the door of the house
the lady There
goes mad and tells me
...

it is not
between me and the wall

i am not helpless
...

between Sam and
Rey is a dog named Jude
a greyhound
...

the clothes are washed
and hanged
and dried and ironed
and then
...

love is not like the river
that moves on the banks of the mountains
seeking that
convenience of least resistance
...

you shall love me as a metaphor
i fear
that when this metaphor becomes
untangled
...

two little girls
sharing a red lollipop

as the little girl with a
...

i heard you when you said you find it hard to understand
my scribblings on the sand
words seem not to be related to the next word
illogical
...