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Victoria Hsu United States (5/23/2005 8:53:00 PM)

Hi, I am currently working on a poetry analysis project. In order to complete it, I have to find a poem. I am looking for a poem that has a good metaphor, like 'Mother to Son, ' by Langston Hughes. Please help me find a good poem. Thank you for you time.

Victoria

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  • Amy Brown (5/28/2005 11:37:00 AM) Post reply Stage

    The Mirror by Silvia Plath has some great metaphors in it, open to many interpritations.

  • elijah Idemudia (5/24/2005 4:56:00 AM) Post reply Stage

    here is A GOOD POEM TO MIND SIEVE:

    When the earth is without shape.


    Rumblings on a dark starless sea
    In the dark mist
    The lit eye of an hidden cove

    Winds with countless arms
    Obseiscanced at the taloned feet
    Part in life and death

    Diamond sparkles flee from an emerging root
    Distinct strands from the ashes
    As an unbending will split all assunder

    And it rained
    The sea swollen, broke
    Brown with life.

    II
    When the wheel is travailed
    Wisdom wrought perforations in the watery mass
    Knowledge kneads desires of the knotty mass

    Seeds of the sands,
    From the pervading waves
    Uneven fingers that vie

    How many lie caught
    In swirling nebular clouds
    Leaves wailing in the winds

    Phantom solitude
    Of ripped branches
    Of surfing roots

    Let that pall recede
    For the searing eye of the soul
    For the rumbling spring breath

    Builders of mountains
    Within lighted fury
    From the grain devine

    Dust that crumble before dust
    III

    How will I raise my voice unto You
    Jewel of the blind night
    That I will stand here and make steel of my tongue
    O eternal praises of your endless Faces

    My heart like green fronds
    Lie pliant to your tread

    Ancient Cave of the winds
    Of the fertile black sea
    Of the immortal fires
    Stony arms

    That Knocked ashes off the dream
    To you my fragile arms are raised
    Soiled from the murk of the mire
    Gory mire of the tender cleavage

    When I closed the door
    With thirsty hands
    Your heart horned by my tears
    Cleaved the wandering soul;

    Weathered sculpture of raw veins,
    And breath fumes from the ruins there of
    Clay and brass of the mystery mess

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