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Best Identity Poems

Below are the all-time best Identity poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of identity poems written by PoetrySoup members

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LOST IDENTITY by Chiphazi Banda, Wasekera
LOSS OF IDENTITY by Verma, Satish
Loss of Identity by taylor, R. e.
Secret Identity by BuhainBaello, Cynthia
Loss of Identity by Twistedthought, that
True Identity by saintil, josner
Identity Crisis by Lamoureux, Richard
Mistaken Identity by Aul, George
Stolen identity by hunjeri, njeri
Primal Identity by Dillenbeck, Gerald

View all new Identity Poems

The Best Identity Poems

Details | Identity Poem | |

Like A Girl

Like A Girl 

I play like a girl, I hit like a girl
You say I throw like a girl, 
And, when I run -- I run like a girl!
All that plus more, enjoy this one size fits all

Who and what I want, comes from being strong 
Classy and fabulous, I'm female styling, this song

I've been told, cut to size
A world dark and gray, when life becomes an insult
Take heed when I speak my mind, 
I am tough, outstanding and beautiful

Move ahead and say it twice, I smell nice
A taste of Cool Water and Justice Perfume
I have a non-stop multitask fixation
Like a woman, everything about me is hidden 
Magic and alluring the only joy in sexuality you'll need

I'm empowering this moment!
Endorsing Myself, with a certain sort of mystique
I deliver an independent will, 
     don't underestimate my physique

I am a caregiver, a female who won't give up the fight
I remain firm and believe all women have equal rights
I walk and talk Like A girl 
    wearing heels Breaking the sound of Annabel

I am, Mona's unforgettable smile, 
I stand tall Like Miss Liberty
I am, Betsy Ross, America's #1 designer
I am, Harriet, who escaped slavery 
Like Theresa and Mary, I'm here to make a change
I am, Hilary overwhelmed with determination
I am a leader a Goddess, I burn like Joan
---Cleopatra in the room
I am Calamity Jane's wild side
Emelia's, won't give up heart
I am Anne, with my own secret hidden spot
I am Susan B, I have the right to vote
I am Emily D, who writes deep and pretty

The sound In your eyes aren't listening
You imagine I am weak, not strong enough, brave enough, 
You call me different!
Still, you want my warmth, my love, and attention

I am not less, I am more
I am a woman, I frown, I cry, I hurt and yells at the universe
Nevertheless, I want to make a difference
Like a girl, I smile
A smile never seen or felt before, both defined and undefined
Your heart will ask and implore for more

Like a girl, I drive you wild, looking pretty "You're In Love!"
My Self confidence comes from who I am deep down
Everything I've become follows the makeup on my face
Bare and nude, I am the Madonna flowering the mood

At the end of every day, I have one other thing to say
The Next Time You ask me to cook and clean
Because you think, I belong in the kitchen
You better believe I'm doing it my way
LIKE A GIRL

More great poems below...


Details | Identity Poem | |

Alice Sweet Alice

      ~Alice Sweet Alice~

        *Like Sisters*
   Everyday -- Holding Hands 
Sunday Dress -- Pink Ribbons
         *Alice And I*


How can they say she did not exist?
This Sweet Girl I Named Alice

The way she looks at me
-Her eyes tender green
A body figure I can't describe
Together we played hide and seek
We swung in ways no one could see
This girl with pretty red curls
Who enjoys the sound of pouring rain.

Together we slept under the same breeze 
We carved our names on the same tree
Side by Side it Read Alice & I!
She whispered the day I fell off my bike
Alice Sweet Alice loves the way I look in red!

Every day I face the mirror
Alice puts her left hand on my right
We share the same identical scars,
Under the right and left palm.

The way she held my hand
Healed the scrapes in every fall
Beating from the bullies, she screams!
Again, Alice, whispers--- "Kill Them All!"
No one ever said a word,
When she stood by my side
Alice knew me in ways no one else did
She knew my eyes -When they cried!

Now I can't sleep,
Since, Alice has fallen back into the abyss
Forever conscious in a self-hug
--- this is no dream, it is real!

The rage inside, burns.
It took place the day she left!
Burning curtains 
Empty mirrors
This Girl Named Alice spoke of darkness,
then disappeared 

When I hear the sound of pouring rain
I stare at the shadows on the wall
Nothing feels the same,
I allow myself to soak in a darkness where it began.

My hair of red is not the same
These cuts are all that remain
The only clue in which Alice, was here!
Holding on to stainless blade, I sleep

ALICE SWEET ALICE! 
Please call my name!
Why do they whisper?
Why are they saying she never held a breath?
I know she is real, she's exist
Why else would I let her cut my wrist?

This Sweet Girl 
"I YELL FOR ALICE!"
Finally, visits again ---
But, who is to believe?
For everyone says 
Alice lives inside my head.

By:)

Details | Identity Poem | |

WALLPAPER

WALLPAPER

---------------------
Paper Thin
Cut down to any size,
Crumble, crop me wrong 
Pull the insulation from my heart.
Never will I be "A Paper Doll!"
Thank you for calling me a "Friend!"
Thank you for wasting  my "time!"
Enjoy the WALLPAPER display
---------------------

Layers and layers of lifeless brick
KEEPS EVERYTHING OUT! 
Emotional poster boards of doubt 
Envious fiberglass green never seen
Yuletide Carols warped around my energy
Merry and full of acrylic sh!t-
Hand full of putty maintains the makeup on my face
Arts and crafts display my inner fancy grace
Heavy installed Sheetrock so easily replaced

Tough paint chips away silently through the night
Rigid boards transform into fragile crystal light
The greatest illusion blinding reality 
Smooth Tiger Skin, texture of orange simple peel  
Beautiful mud swirl, L'Oreal.
Gypsum soft enough you want to touch

Dark walls of a thousand words
A plasterboard of discordant grey notes
Blots and clots of ink, enslave my skin  
Colorless drywall, resilient to your charms  

Printed designs of cleverly decorated lipstick 
Morbid shadows underneath the ceiling veil
A double coat of Pacific Waterproof Blue-
Printing bags from -- YESTERDAY!

Plastered wounds of cement dry and roughens along the edge
A human-made barrier, not even God comes in.

by;PD

Details | Identity Poem | |

Midnight Poet

Whisper's of October  

Whispers in this soup bowl
20 minutes after its muse explodes,
Daylight remains nothing more than a dream 
Avoiding the howling sound in mid-September's stream
Writing about a ginger light,
  found in the depths of everything
Taking from the sitting twilight, numb, tranquilized 
Exposing and expressing the emotions found inside
An attic lost in the Ancient sky  ---awaits 

A poetic hand is formed ---reaching out
In the hiss of darkness, 
Listen-in,  the echoes of October are calling
A halo, that reconciles a mysterious monarch moon
A mono grip in which summons a deep voice
  of sweet serenity
Poets posting poems along the midnight page
Each poet can write a poem and mimic free fallen verses,
One might  call it a creative craving curse,
Webmaster's whose words speak for themselves
Voiceless-
They feel, and spills the will of idolized ink,
Blind-handed, splitting day from night

Warm whispers, needing no food to consume
Migraines of ink, feeding the soul
Burning Pages, overused pens
They've forgotten the pretty flowers
Living like lions, who never comes out of their dens
Murmuring and devouring, the enigmas of the unknown 
Eyes behind a sieve, close tighter than before, 
They hide-
A globe created from every sky-scrape wall
Wanting to belong, a trick -or- treat*er in disguise 
No friends, everything is pretend
These poets can’t be described, can't be trusted
They are the best, at what they do
For all you know this poet might be me, 
This poet might be you

By: PD

Details | Identity Poem | |

Illusory Disguise

My reflection is vague, perception unclear.
My mind is like a shattered mirror 
That devises a veneer fashioned of my fears. 

I'm seized inside this illusory disguise 
That's only feeding me a mouth full of lies.
Oh, how I hunger to be recognized…

Actuality stays hidden behind the scenes:
What my eyes perceive is make believe.
Trickeries are fitted in deceiving sleeves.
I'm incapable of comprehending the genuine me.

By Anne Currin

More great poems below...


Details | Identity Poem | |

To Bloom in Red Flame

Underneath all the layers
Of tradition
Of religion 
Of philosophy
Of reason and understanding
I smolder
In passion's pleasure bed of red
Paroxysms of pleasure
Emanate from my core
Searing the shroud
Flames of fantasy's feast burn
Yearning I yearn and lie in wait
In my ambuscade 
with the relish to ravish ravaging 
every fiber 

Conceived in the throes of passion
My conception is my perception of life
Woven into my being
I’m prisoner to pleasure monomania
Obsession of desire hysteria
My cacoethes:  gratification gratified
Thus, I scintillate sparks
Riding on my satin flares
They captivate your stare

You see me
Feeling the heat of sultry flame
You want to play scorch torch game
So your reach out to touch
Mere kindling in my blazing wake
You quake as I slake your florid fantasy awake
Convulsing in temptation’s torment
You combust to lust
Consummating till consumed
Eliciting my passion flower bloom
In opulent oriental room
You swoon
Exertion exhausted
Gratification’s glory gained
Having tasted my reign
Revived your leave
Yet…
My image I’ve seared
On your flesh and mind
Branded, you’ll find
Your way back to me
Slave to my passion's decree
You’ll come to me

And I retreat
Enshrouded once more
In virgin layers
Of tradition
Of religion
Of philosophy
of reason and understanding
Biding my time
when sensuality sublime
calls me
to bloom in her red flame

Eileen

Details | Identity Poem | |

Out of Control


I spin, faster and faster… losing control, I am a propeller rising. Once, you were my mystery to solve – my challenge, my highest vista to climb. You lifted me to your private skies. Spread out before me on red-winged flights, eradicated stars came back to life, painted iridescent by your own two hands. What could only be crayoned by inferior men. All aglow, the universe circled my head - round and round till the dizziness came, infatuation only to blame. I spin…slower, rhythmic, scraping. I am a pinwheel on softest breeze. memories come…memories go. With a crystal crown of constellations, you adorned my flowing hair – locks spun golden, locks I loosened for you. I became a glowing body for you to orbit, a fiery flood of sunlight traveling, Venus gifted in violet dusk, auroras of ribbon braided… I spin…slanting, lower, on tip-toes. I am a ballerina with an audience of one. I watched you watch me in light of all things. I wanted to be center of your universe… rings of Saturn encircled you and I. Mercury’s fire blazed through what was us. Blue-silver splattered moons orbited our sleep. I kissed the moon rock I named after you. I kissed you and only you until dawn slipped between the warmth of our linen sheets. I caught you in my arms time after time, clouds dappled with your eyes floated by… doting, they released scintillating showers upon a wilting flower. When it was time for you to catch me, you were gone…taking with you part of me. I fell hard…back to earth, stained crimson, star-struck. Forever is a long time to chase shooting stars through echoing space. I trusted you, trusted only you, trusted you with me. I rusted, no protection from your harsh elements. We all come back to reality of a spinning earth… we rise or fall, move or hide, heed the call or lie. We come to the self-sharpened point of swim or die. Time rushes by… I sat next to you, held your hand, feeling like my own miraculous sky, regaining my identity… while you read Hemingway, a man’s man you’d say. I spoke of the poem I wrote for you another day. “Yeah, yeah…Aha”, you whispered…my words dismissed, a foreign language never understood. Space and time altered our skies; below, your lies became our demise. Our footprints disappeared before my eyes. In my own miraculous sky, I have slowed my pace, aware of my mistakes, my fear, my grace. I embrace beauty, peace, tears I've cried, the ride… Dawn came early this new day, I drove away, weaved around a pothole, almost crashed. The gravel road rattled my faith. I started to spin again…disoriented, I faltered, but I never turned back. I wonder if I avoided my own catastrophe, saved face, or a little of both… I remember how I asked you about the meaning of love. You turned away, reading Williams that day, madness and genius you’d say, I planted my feet, met your eyes, then marched away. Head held high, you dimmed under a starlit sky. I searched myself and found the brightest star… it led me home. Now, I brush my fingers lightly across a constellation on high… Pegasus, I think. Only to realize, it’s reflection mottles in a rippling puddle below... beauty awakened by my grounded feet. Rhonda Johnson-Saunders, 4/11/15

Details | Identity Poem | |

Insanity or Death

Insanity or Death

Life begins with insanity~~
~Your soul is kicking and screaming, 

Ready to exit with the touch of human hands.
Insanity rides on a gallant stallion ready to pant.
Hides in the mind, mourning its captive soul. 
Ready to breach over holding its breath.
Projecting in and out without a guide.
Bites away at the feast, enchants for freedom.  
From the lips……….....
Taking length against a world of dilemmas, 
Contrasting to a never happy end.
The epidermis cover every wall of insanity.

To live, to eat, and to suffocate it determination without air.
Dramatically hallucination against its will of no wells.
Until it realizes it can drink without water.

No further needs a slumber.
The mind-bends and unfolds to ordinary jolts, 
When left to human consummation.
Insincerely bidding and cutting to die in the sleep.
Is how it pleads!

Graves where dreams have no meaning.
Caves where goodness can be redeemed.
A temple of misguided fortune.
All respect lost to this infection,
The patients’ weight distracted from an antidote.

The madness begins too finds admiration-
That makes catastrophe go on and on.
The psychosis of the mind and mockeries of them will never be gone
Dictating in everything wrong,
Layers of cramped bricks, level the isolation.

Death drags its feet off into this infinite helix world.
A source of light breeding out of darkness.

"Sanity is no friend of mine!"
Insanity is earth herself, 

Where there is life, there is a reason, 
Where there is reason, there is madness,
Where there is madness, there you are,   
Feeling nothing………………...
Lost in darkness................ 

~Your soul is kicking and screaming
Life ends with death~~

by:pd

Details | Identity Poem | |

The Secret

The Secret
Somewhere someplace not far away a couple lied together.
No talk about the future no talk about forever.
They had lovers of their own their lovers were not there.
It's best if kept a secret the love that they would share.

Lost in loves great passion covered in each others sweat.
They're going to have a baby but they don't know it yet.
In nine months the baby born a secret softly cries.
So much still for him to learn of life conceived in lies.

Often he just played alone it seemed it was his way.
Then one day the secret was sent outside to play. 
He grew strong like others did he gave it all his best.
Without one clue he never knew the truth beat in his chest.

Overwhelmed again and again the sadness he can't shake.
The devil whispered in his ear “You are a mistake”.
Still he tried through tears he cried to somehow rise above.
Getting lost time and again in his search for love.

When the walls came crashing down his whole world fell apart.
Welcome to the world of secrets and to your broken heart.
Shattered like a piece of glass his dreams fell to the ground.
Somewhere up near heaven even angels heard the sound.

Tears poured from his heart and soul through both day and night.
Searching for some healing in words that he would write.
Broken in so many ways all he meant for good.
Forever somehow secret where some misunderstood.

Now he walks in shadows seeking shelter from the rain.
Don't you dare look in his eyes you'll get lost inside his pain.
Like the secret long ago he spends his time alone.
It seems being by himself is now his comfort zone.

Asking nothing from no one wanting only just to give.
The only dream he still dreams is live and just let live.
A million miles on his heart and tears that he still cries.
So it is for secrets and those conceived in lies.
Edwin C Hofert

Details | Identity Poem | |

Healing

I'm torn up, shaken and shattered
My mind's broken, torn and tattered
Too much thinking, not enough drinking
My strength is gone, my courage shrinking

A life without love, a life without care
A life without breath, a life without air
A life clouded, troubled, and blurred
A life listened, glistened, not heard

Too much pressure, too much stress
Need more time for me, but I only get less
Needing it to be over, needing it to end
Don't need an intervention, just need a friend

Breathe deep, breathe slow, take it all in
Show me a smile, let the healing begin




Tim Smith
08/21/2014



Details | Identity Poem | |

I THINK THEREFORE I AM

I THINK THEREFORE I AM "An ounce of hypocrisy is worth a pound of ambition" --Michael Korda Liberty... This everyone's want-- stretching an autonomy to unbuckle self-discovery I got mites and bugs living in my head-- infesting my mind. They... daring a chance to worm my guts and electrify my peace. They adulterate seeking ways to emerge from claws of doubts to grains of trust. My veil of grace they bite and bite devouring me 'til I set to pursue my act. Should I repulse... then spread my wings to fly? or should I be a little puppet-- controlled, slave to strings attached to me? or I'd rather choose a mask-- my gamble to earn sympathy or popularity; my weapon sheltering my luck; my fall or my win? Cogito ergo sum. I think, therefore I am. The mites and bugs in my skull blown from shocks infused by my firing drive. My cavalry of Modesty, brave to rise face the furnace of battlegrounds. Insincerity. Malingering. Pretension are artillaries luring hypocrisy but love, honesty and bravery: the bombs I defy to conquer the trades. If God is with me, who can be against me? Standing like a Molave rooted evergreen, ever strong. My face bulletproof to those who I believe wrong. A standing soldier ready to offer her life to fraud and tyranny. I refuse to be fed on standing lies. The harpoons of verity, I battling dart, raining towards the barbaric boxes as they... They are my lioness roar, my freedom and my soar piercing the pumping heart of those who eat innocence, I... dauntless! _________________________________________________ ** I think therefore I am is said by Rene Descartes Romans 8:31-- If God is with us, who can be against us? O. E. Guillermo 10:43 pm, April 18, 2015

Details | Identity Poem | |

A Crown of Thorns

1
Insanity has its own wellspring and demise.
There is no better place to hide than between coils
of convoluted grey-white matter which can't recoil.
Mind has no leering lips to scorn or show surprise 
as ungoverned, the ancient demon-dancers rise.
The traitorous bits, which cut with Brutus’ red fang,
have no regard for the womb from which they sprang.
They seek dominion; they care not for your cries.
Crazed, their freedom paid for on the rack, how they sang
of anything, of windigos’, and warriors winged 
of fresh flesh beneath a gibbous moon's harangue, 
where those in sanity beneath their blankets cringed.
Night terrors sweat the sheets of the weak, as fear sprang,
a ripened, musky-scent arose from those unhinged.
2
A ripened, musky-scent arose from those unhinged
cloaked in mirrored, morose, magic; the mind a foil,
the heart, the soul, the sunny days, caste down, embroiled; 
destined to languish convulsed in the depth of coil.
Brightness, so dimmed, is lost within a rancid soil,
left to meet horned demons all but unarmed, alone, 
no company except the mirrored self-entombed,
no bliss state, no ripening sweetness to uncoil
a compost heap of bitter memories, atone ...
atone, little mother, well-used wife, wander now,
seeking ever seeking, yet finding no one home,
insanity wakened, waits, patiently endows ... 
empty days and nights, the infrequent sound of om,
cuddling the traitorous bits, shooing brighter dreams roused.
3
Cuddling the traitorous bits, shooing brighter dreams roused,
the teeth of dogged night rise-up, they breed turmoil.
Deep within the sleeping mind of men, sorrows roil.
Abandonment, disloyalty, hatred espoused,
all shriek to the traitor, the night arouses. 
Niggardly night, loath to lose ground within the dome
of blanched white, gray matter, within this skull of bone,
delights in the sorrowful detail night houses.
Insanity licks raw the salted wound entombed, owned.
"What could we be?" the ego cries to he or she.
"What would we be?" the windigo screams but, “alone.”
On, on, they chatter in the carapace, they breed, 
spreading dark matter, for they've no chaperone,
no friend to stay the brutal cousins, so mislead. 

4
No friend to stay the brutal cousins so mislead,
so in darkness, fear and hatred spread on fertile soil.
Yet, self-hatred shields its sharpened claws, as day uncoils
filling the breach with bright creations, dark concedes, 
and dims the room while manic laughter recedes.
A sunrise bows through prism-glass and colors swell
a lighter laughter comes, newborn to dwell.
Hands that once drew only blood, now tune bent reeds                        
of green, blades of springtime grass within the dell;
where larks sing and long lost lovers dare to reunite, 
no mention made of darkness or the depth of hell,
for sanity has cast a lighter stage this night.                       
Daybreak suspends the demon-dance upon the fell,
now, fairies prance in pastures high, and verse delights.
5 
Now, fairies prance in meadows high, and verse delights
her fancy takes a softer turn at his behest,
with buttercups, in a Fairy Ring, they coalesce,
and shine the golden glow beneath a chin of white.
With the talent of a troubadour, love does strum
upon desire's strings the raging beast is culled
as coy love songs and  sweet lullabies emerge from
the hidden depths of mind where sanity is mulled.
With the talent of a troubadour love does strum
upon strings of desire the fearful beasts are culled 
as coy love songs and sweet lullabies emerge from
the stygian depth where her frail sanity is mulled.
How long will harmony dance to love's blissful hum
Will dark's whine wake, disturb, insanity so lulled? 
6 
Will dark's whine wake, disturb, insanity so lulled? 
A scent of jasmine fills the air with swarming gnats.
Her covered ears belay the sound of feral cats
yet, huddled in his sheltering arms, her pain is dulled.
Dulled, but not waylaid, raging, she becomes unglued
She starts to rock, to whimper, and then, cry out- loud
begging for the dev'lish tide to leave, as he vowed,
renting strands of flaxen hair from her small skull.
Torn, he watches as she fades within a shroud,
a witless waif, bedeviled by the harvest moon.
He had to leave; he could not stay beneath this cloud
ever waiting for this, her omnipresent doom.
His love had its limits and yet, he was not proud,
Oh, he could not stay and watch her be consumed.

7

Oh no, he could not stay and watch her be consumed,
to have his pleasant memories of ardor's bloom
be marred by images of her so poorly groomed. 
No, never would he stay to see her be consumed.
One morn he left, his sum was not what she'd presumed. 
And, she sat in the rocker by the door unfazed,
her bowed lips o'er cast and her eyes o'er glazed, 
alive, but not, her nascent sanity entombed.
Death had come, death of the mind, his metal now assayed
he ran from old memories, as each thought enticed.
Their first tryst 'neath jasmine vines vanished in a haze.
Was love's reward, a sweet repast, mania's disguise?
Would true love have held the course where sanity betrayed,
insanity has its own wellspring, and demise.

First Published Five Poetry Magazine 2014



Details | Identity Poem | |

MIRROR OF THE OTHER SELF


( Repost )

Somehow, her eyes expand with the disobedient sky
and there, she senses urchins filling water on the lake
her feet and thighs slide up changing hues,
with receding incarnations of the moon.

She bends down gazing at images on the lake
as limbs turn into seaweeds, a mermaid in pain
changing hues in the crystal white of sky…
and the moon with slices of split mirrors burn
on wiggles of unscented tresses in water.

She dips her hands to catch the sleek tail in a plunge
knowing not a word to describe the reflection on the lake,
and witness the need to flow randomly in its
entrance through the expanse of one silver sky…
trying to recover glimpses reflected in the water.

Without point of reference to unknown images,
she vaguely remembers how transparently liquid 
the changing hues of the moon become watery
like a  hint of coagulated  blood on a mermaid’s lake...
and the laughter of the sky drips into imaginings.

.......................................
* Written for a fantasy contest that was discontinued; 
its theme required entrants to describe one's mirrored
image of the self. Few comments ranged from " Nice, but I
didn't get it" to " You seemed to have overused the word
"water?" In hindsight, I asked myself," what
were you thinking? This is sloppy!"



Jerry T Curtis' This Poem S***s Contest 






Details | Identity Poem | |

THIS, MY INK'S DESIRE



Alphabets gather as words unravel
the passing and returning of moans;
lines of phrases inflame the arteries 
of beauty, angst, love woven 
by imagination's pining.
Sound of words… taste of vowels… 
touch of verses enter the soul, as if to dive
into the very basin of layered expressions.
On a fresh scroll baring my bones and raw mood,
I enter a daring challenge
with a theme that reels my senses
as poetry makes the eyes hungry.

Yes…feel me, temper my insanity, 
hold my fleshed  passion as I connect
with an audience to share how a night
devours monsters at the seams.
And yet, this refrain loses as the final poll
excludes my name. Why so? My lenses 
run up and down the fourth time; my breath
skips : but the multitude of acclaim
from my readers inhabit my soul,
allowing me to shower my ink 
with deeper hues as my inner congas 
beat for another round of adventure;
this time more assured that by nourishing
my own desire to regard the heart's compass
first and foremost is what matters..

as always.


     ...............  
Jerry T Curtis' Contest
12/30/2014








Details | Identity Poem | |

ADDICTION

I am a poetry addict
I keep inkwells scattered about
to collect my random thoughts
I hoard pens and pieces of paper
hide them in every crevice
I need to hear the sound of words
clip-clopping across the page 

Do not try to save me from myself
I understand me better
when I can describe a tear as it forms
in the corner of my eye and meanders
down the planes of my face to drip
onto a piece of cake poised on a fork

I am unstable
I must be to untangle the letters
tripping over themselves in my mind
and form expressive words
I count meters and syllables in my sleep

I wander off     though I never leave
I am just dreaming of the poetry found
in an empty swing swaying without wind
Stage an intervention for me and I will write 
you a poem about the power of selfless love

Poetry is    
Yesterday's sorrow
Tomorrow's beauty
Today's life in its many disguises

For which of these is there a remedy?



Details | Identity Poem | |

My Name is Scheherazade

I do not want to die
Like each virgin you bed
When you have ravished her
It's off with pretty head

I do not want to die
But…Oh to be with you!
The supreme ruler, KING
So handsome, yet so cruel

You wanted your revenge
On woman who betrayed
The one who broke YOUR heart
So you must have them slayed

But what am I to do
When brought before the throne?
When you have had your fill
You’ll bow to oath you’ve sworn

And here I am tonight
The Vizier's flesh and blood
My beauty may not save
So knowledge I impart

A story sweet I weave
As in peace you recline
On cushions of damask
In scented room divine

You’re lost in what I say
Your interest...at its height
And there I stop the tale
To be spared on this night

You ask to lie with me
Demurely, I refuse
I promise you delights
When I'm no longer Muse

And so you let me leave
The richness of your bed 
Wanting to know the end
My tale plays in your head

Each night I leave undone
The story on my lips
And wantonly you beg
While grasping shapely hips

One thousand nights have passed
I stand before you now
With no tale left to give
Will love suffice somehow?

You come and touch my cheek
I look up in your eyes
"I've come to love you now
You are my love, my prize."

And so my life is spared
You whisper, "Sweetest Dove!"
My stories all forgot
You've fallen for my love

You tell me through the night
Your own love story fine
And now I let you taste
My flowing luscious wine

No virgin girl…now Queen
My love has set you free
And now Arabian nights
Are filled with ecstasy!

Eileen Manassian

Details | Identity Poem | |

The Simple Pen

            The Simple Pen

I am but a simple man with pen in hand
To cut open a slice of universe with verse
And with the ink
Let it bleed not red
It flows instead with mortal colors
Over a life well spent
What is left over
We drink this in a cup
Pour more to fill it up
But little at a time
Too much reality can cloud your mind
Said the simple man with bleeding pen

Entered in Tyshawn Knight's - "Advice for New Writers: Words of Wisdom in Verse" Poetry Contest on 6/02/15 
  

 

Details | Identity Poem | |

Blindfolded

Into the mirror, blindfolded, Denying the sight of my sins. Upon my flesh lies are molded, Into the mirror, blindfolded. From my mind to heart is scolded, Suffocate the light, darkness wins Into the mirror, blindfolded, Denying the sight of my sins.
For Contest: New Triolet Date: 09-26-2014

Details | Identity Poem | |

Insistant Fires

A collaboration with Dan Kearley
Thanks for writing with me! : )

Feelings that we sometimes feel, 
can be bound in ties that bind. 
Flaming heart felt insistent fires, 
kept hidden that no one else can find. 

As you look at yourself in the mirror, 
are you pleased with who it is you see? 
Is this the person you had set out to become, 
or a stranger who longs to be set free? 

To truly live is to never hold back, 
let your passion be a guide to your way. 
Find that spark that let's you live, 
by taking action into the light of a new day. 

You will find your true purpose and the meaning of life, 
if you trust the inner voice, you have hidden inside. 
Never give up, laugh, and learn to forgive, 
then you will realize, it's a gift to just live.

Details | Identity Poem | |

Sweet and Salty -LIBRA TALE

      LIBRA  TALE

Sweet and Sour hectic sign
Love me, trust me, the stars align
   Balance of truth and dare
   Good and Evil, full of care 
Blind when it comes to blood line


 
:) PD

Details | Identity Poem | |

Cyber real

Has the convenience of technology 
inoculated us from reality?
Do androids dream of electric sheep?
I pray the code my soul to keep?
Does your universe live within 4G
Or megapixel infinity?
Which memory lies within
The one that was
Or the one that's been
Or how much gig how much ram?
Which reality is true?
Cyber me
Or cyber you?
Cyber bully
Cyber crime
Cyber hate 
Cyber time?
Cyber boxer
Or cyber brief?
Who is the real identity thief?
Cyber pleasure
Cyber pain
Hours spent glaring into the screen
Choosing an alternate username.
Status updates and trending tweets
Fill your mind and rob your sleep.
Clever hashtags and Instagram 
Will shape your image and gain more friends.
Is the you you've shaped in cyberspace 
The same you I'd see face to face?
We hide behind our computer screens
And criticize with brutal ease.
Virtual reality
Is buying souls of men you see 
And robbing the ability to dream real dreams.
I want to conquer something real
That I can grab that I can feel.
I want to touch life and hold on tight
I want to unblock true friends
And "like" real sights.
I want conversation face to face
In real world time
In a real world place.

Details | Identity Poem | |

In My Place

I have been put in my place many times
Told how to talk
What to think
How I need to look a certain way
Be the way I'm suppose to be
Expectations to be met
I could never be me

That place that almost drove me insane
I kept being placed there
Over and over again
Yet I had no choice but to be true to myself
I couldn't be someone else's book 
Placed on a shelf, in a perfect row, not standing out
No one knowing what I'm about

I ripped out the pages
Inserted my own
Scribbled on the cover
Added my own colors
My pages screamed to be read
Hoping others would hear what I said

As time went on
I often changed my design
Desperately trying to know myself
Unsure what I would find
Never really fitting in
Confused by what I found within
Hard to know where I belong
Listening to notes from others songs
Was my way of thinking right
In a distance I could see a glimmer of light
I dreamed my dreams
I craved the light

Then one day
All the pieces clicked
I fell into place
Joy accompanied by a certain grace
Comfortable with me
I live in the moment
I can just be
Finally, finally 
I am free
I know my place


Dedicated to my Friend Armand who knows 
his place and helps others discover their place. 
You my friend are a true original Happy Birthday!






Details | Identity Poem | |

This Poem Is Who I Am With Everybody

       This Poem Is Who I Am With Everybody.

I was told who I am, always reflects upon my friends 
and family. When I choose a friend we become one 
soul forever.This Is how I interpret my friendship.

When I choose a friend, I would shelter their names 
in my heart,after conquering their friendship.
Their secrets will register in my brain to never be exposed. 

I was told who I am always reflects upon their lives, they know
my spirit and soul will not survive without them, my consistency 
will nurture their strength to exude.
When I choose a friend, my love will never sleep or vanish,
my telepathy will wake up and sleep when they retire.

My sharing becomes an unconditional awareness of either their 
pain or happiness. They feel that I am capable of praying for 
them each night.
If they are near or far makes no difference out of love their 
shadow will send me messages in what state of mind they 
are at the moment.
 
My heart will surrender when I am needed, if they want to talk,
I will listen, if they cry I will wipe their tears, if they are hungry 
for food I will feed them, if they hunger for philosophy, I would 
share my knowledge, if they crave for silence my voice is muted,
if they are weak in health nothing will hold me back from running 
to stay next to them day and night till healing will prevail.

When I choose a friend, I was told who I am always reflects upon
their everyday living, because knowing all what I possess will be 
shared without asking, generosity progresses out of love.
Their silhouette constantly moves next to me, feeling their heart 
beat continuously to determine how to approach them.

That is why who I am always reflects upon their everyday,
knowing I analyze the word friendship as the dearest to my soul,
I have no boundaries, my tears will flow like raindrops reaching their 
window if any help is needed.
I love all my friends.


21/5/2013 Contest For SKAT. This Is Who I Am with everybody. WIN (10)

Details | Identity Poem | |

Slave

She wrapped herself in a beautiful lie
Bound so tight she was unable to fly
Slave to some pictues in a magazine
The essence of her could barely be seen

Bound so tight she was unable to fly
Choices she had made but didn't know why
The essence of her could barely be seen
The face of a woman who's only a teen

Choices she had made but didn't know why
Taking her love from a much older guy
The face of a woman who's only a teen
Absorbing sad from the places she's been

Taking her love from a much older guy
Minutes became years as her youth went by
Absorbing sad from the places she's been
Wanted happy but became sad and mean

Minutes became years as her youth went by
Life of desperation and getting high
Wanted happy but became sad and mean
Pain began early when she was fourteen

Life of desperation and getting high
She wrapped herself in a beautiful lie
Pain began early when she was fourteen
Slave to some pictures in a magazine




Details | Identity Poem | |

Narcissist

I saw you looking in the mirror again today You can’t seem to go past one Without taking a second glance Your own image seems to impress you As if you were really in love With the one staring back at you You never seem to notice me Watching you as you pass the mirror And you seem almost a narcissist to me Who only sees how you prance and primp Staring long and hard at your appearance I don’t believe I’ve ever seen Another look so long or endearingly Into that looking glass where we all see Ourselves staring back at us Could it only be me or are you actually In love with what you see Looking back from your reflection And it is a little troubling to me When I see you speak to yourself Long moans of yearning Puppy, I know you long to believe That puppy in the mirror Is your brother or sister!