"Poetry & Rhymes" by William Hancock

Posts tagged “Metaphoric

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“Where Nothing Makes Sense”

"Where Nothing Makes Sense"

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I so wanna know her,

This woman in my dreams,

Dreaming from afar,

Like an illusion it seems.

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I want to reach out and touch her,

Caress her and more,

Feel the warmth of her skin,

As we fall to the floor.

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I want to taste her lips,

Smell her scent,

Just fade away,

Where nothing makes sense.

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In the hush of silence,

Where dreams collide,

This love that’s bound,

In these dreams of mine.

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Like an illusion it seems,

A dream from afar,

A touch never felt,

Dreams lovers,.. . we are.

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by
William Hancock © All Rights Reserved

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[ Image Used:  www.morguefile.com/archive/display/197521 ]

Poem on Image:  placed by; written by  William Hancock © 2016′

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* Inspired by.. .

            Someone very special.. .♥♫♪.  .    .

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“Broken Dreams”

Broken Dreams 1

A sliver of light,

From yonder room,

Comes from a window,

I must assume.

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Specks of dust,

On beams they slide,

Singing in glee,

Of days gone by.

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In shadows corner,

Are wandering souls,

Wooden tables,

And empty bowls.

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Once was night,

Consumed by day,

Vanishing dreams,

Just broken clay.

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Disdain memories,

Like mangled ropes,

Hanging on vines,

Of nowhere’s hopes.

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Endless sunshine,

Knocks the door,

Reflects the sadness,

And so much more.

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by
William Hancock © All Rights Reserved

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[ Image used:  www.morguefile.com/archive/display/170118 ]

Poem on Image:  placed by; written by  William Hancock © 2015′


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the “Parasites”

the "Parasites"

They came with their politics,

Their money, their greed,

Stealing from the poor,

On countries to feed.

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The world, their game board,

And we, the playing pieces,

Just sacrificial pawns,

For the few, the one.

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They hide behind bullshit,

Spread by their sycophants,

Flaunting their privilege,

This class of psychopaths.

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Society their blood vessel,

They latch on and suck,

“The ultimate parasite,”

The people just grunt.

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Taxes and credit,

Bailouts and more,

Kickbacks and bribes,

Economy through the floor.

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Never is enough,

An unsatisfied hunger,

Our democracy’s decayed,

The world to their plunder.

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Hear the war mongers?

They scream for the elite,

“Our parasites are hungry,”

From one and all, shall eat.

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by
William Hancock © All Rights Reserved

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[ Image used:  pixabay.com/en/annual-report-stock-exchange-203761 ]

Poem on Image:  placed by; written by  William Hancock © 2015′


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“Passed”

Passed

It was nice out,

Till the wind came,

And sucked it all away.

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Daylight gone,

No warmth, no sun,

Is this the end of days?

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Humans,.. .

No longer proud,

Hiding in holes like strays.

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Darkness abounds

In distant screams,

Stars have all passed away.

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Humanity lost,

Like rabid dogs,

We’ve all become insane.

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So hungry now,

No plants to eat,

Animals have all decayed.

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A planet dead,

So lifeless now,

Has simply faded away.

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Like nothingness,

Never were here,

Just remnants of our day.

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by
William Hancock © All Rights Reserved

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[ Image used:  pixabay.com/en/desert-clouds-mood-end-time-288352 ]

Poem on Image:  placed by; written by  William Hancock © 2015′


“I Wish, I do.. .”

I’m tip-toeing around,

Your room, I is,

Not making a sound,

Nor heard by whom.

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Creeping up close,

I make a wish,

I want you, I do,

Ah-h-h,.. .

To feel your bliss.

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Round and round,

Like a dancing clown,

How evil I be,

With these thoughts of this.

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I want you, I do,

Every moment the more,

Such beautiful thoughts,

Of you, I adore.

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Oh-h-h,.. .

If only it were,.. .

Just more than a wish.

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William Hancock © All Rights Reserved

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[ Image used:  www.morguefile.com/archive/display/928973 ]

Poem on Image:  placed by; written by  William Hancock © 2015′


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“Hammer & Nail”

Hammer & Nail

If I were a hammer,
And you were my nail,
I’d nail you all over the place.

I’d pound you right here,
I’d pound you over there,
My hammer would never lay waste.

A pounding I’d go,
My nail would sure know,
One pound is all it would take.

I’d hold you so near,
With my hammer right here,
Know my handle will never break.

My aim would be true,
When this hammer hit you,
I would hear a For Goodness Sake!

Right into the wood,
So smoothly you would,
One swing is all I would make.

You’d never be bent,
Your purpose well spent,
You, my nail, would slam in straight.

God, a pounding I’d go,
If you were my nail,
This world yes truly would shake!

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William Hancock © All Rights Reserved

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[ Image used:  www.morguefile.com/archive/display/566486 ]

Poem on Image: placed by; written by  William Hancock © 2014′


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“Not Even A Sigh”

''Not Even A Sigh''

Living in the trenches,
Where people just stare.
Life’s dangling branches,
Have all become bare.

No leaves, or fruits,
Showing for its troubles.
A trunk, some roots,
As its life crumbles.

People walking by,
All look the other way.
Not even a why,
It’s just another day.

Living in the trenches,
I see people begging.
What horrible wretches,
I hear the rich bragging.

Down deep, a hole,
I hear them all screaming.
So dark, and cold,
Wishing I were dreaming.

The tree is no more,
All decayed and withered.
Rotten to the core,
As life has wintered.

Still people walk by,
Just look the other way.
Not even a sigh,
It’s just another day.. .

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William Hancock © All Rights Reserved

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[ Image used:  www.morguefile.com/archive/display/37021 ]

Poem on Image: placed by; written by  William Hancock © 2014′


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“The Darkness”

''The Darkness''

As the day passed, and the sun went down,
Waiting for all the stars to shine;
How quiet it was as night arrived,
The only sound was mine.. .

A growing mist,
A tree, it twists,
An aching wrist,
As I clench my fist.

A glowing eye,
It’s telling lies,
No reason why,
As I pass it by.

A groaning man,
He raised his hands,
Preaching of land,
And some dirty sand.

Where’s the stars, that should have shined,
Where is the moon this night?
All I see is darkness around,
Nothing here seems right.. .

A withered dock,
Some broken blocks,
A half sunk yacht,
Sits on a rock.

A feathered clown,
Is feeding hounds,
He spies the town,
With a mean ol’ frown.

Approaching cold,
And screaming souls,
A sound so old,
As the stories told.

What is all this, this strangeness I see,
Where are the cars on the street?
Is this a dream or something worse,
Evil from in Hell’s deep.. .

I close my eyes,.. . and.. .

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William Hancock © All Rights Reserved

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[ Image used:  www.morguefile.com/archive/display/744691 ]

Poem on Image:  placed by; written by  William Hancock © 2014′


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“Dead Asleep”

Dead Asleep - ©

As I lay here, on my bed,
Wide awake, but yet asleep.

On the floor,
An apple core,
An open door,
There is no more.

All alone, within my room,
A window sill, a door it creaks.
Am I dreaming, I’m awake,
Just lying here, a top my sheets?

There screams a crow,
Along a shore,
No one knows,
Why no more.

A lonely trail,
A line of trees,
A lizards tail,
And winter breeze.

A single bike,
An empty town,
A moonlit night,
Nowhere a sound.

In the distance, rings a bell,
Pulling me, from in my sleep.
A rippling creek, a river bank,
A mountain top, a flock of sheep.

In my head,
There it’s said,
With this thread,
Your soul I’ll shed.

A feather falls, a candles’ lit,
A blinding light, A soothing heat.
There again, a voice it says,
Make no mistake, it’s what you reap.

The road you took, the life you led,
Your mine to take, while your asleep.

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William Hancock © All Rights Reserved

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[ Image used:  www.morguefile.com/archive/display/849842 ]

Poem on Image:  placed by; written by  William Hancock © 2013′