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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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Details | Identity Poem | |

Alice Sweet Alice

      ~Alice Sweet Alice~

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


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

The way she looked 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 loves 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!
We whispered the day I fell off my bike
Alice sweet Alice, said I look good in bloody red

Every day I stared into the mirror
Alice put 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 could not take
Again Alice, whispers--- "Kill Them All!"
No one ever said a word,
when she stood by my side
Alice, knew me inside and out.
She knew my eyes -When they cried!

Now I can't sleep,
Since the day Alice, fell in the abyss
Forever conscious in a self hug
--- this is no dream 

The rage took place 
--- when she left!
Burning curtains  
Empty mirrors
This Girl Named Alice, spoke of darkness
Then disappeared 

Now when I hear the sound of pouring rain
I stare at the shadows on the wall
I allow myself to soak in the abyss of where it started all.

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

ALICE SWEET ALICE! 
Please call my name!
Why did they say she never held a single breath?
I know she is real, she's existed
Why else would I had let her cut my wrist?

This Sweet Girl 
"I YELL FOR ALICE!"
Visits again ---
Who is to believe?
For everyone says 
Alice lives inside my head.

By;PD

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, slave 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 dries 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 mano 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,
Wordmaster'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, over used 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-scraped wall
Wanting to belong, a trick -or- treat*er in disguise 
No friends, everything 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

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 | |

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 | |

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 | |

Frank Herrera Once Wrote

Frank Herrera Once Wrote 

Bukowski’s Quote:     An intellectual says a simple thing the hard way 
                                    An artist says a hard thing  in an easy way 

“I don’t care much for long winded ostentatious verbosity 
Full of riddle words to unscramble it’s a poets generosity 

Yes I much prefer the simple enigmatic daily prose in use   
Well structured, it defines Art’s etch a sketch and muse “ 

Dear Frank, 

I own a diary of you that is out of use 
Also a memorial of your tenderness that petitions every day 
The yesterday moments, the one’s long pressed away;
 
Care you,    to stay,    in my thoughts n’ heart for a while 
Well,   we could,    be good friends,        in copious style   
For the language of friendship is etched            overt  
And the silence is what makes    spoken word   act  

Let me leave you with my soul’s converse 
As you free lance my thoughts in sauntered verse 
So let me end this neither bathing in fear nor hope Frank 
For to be honest means that you are being frank, 

Please be kind, when you nudge,
Much Love, Your Fellow Poet & Friend, you’re Vienna 
Also known as Mystic Rose 

Frank’s Words In Quote: 
“If I succeed in entertaining you with what I write 
Then this could be a start  
You then may decide if it be poetry I write, 
And if I am indeed,                              a Poet “

Written in Collaboration with a dear friend, 
Thank you Frank for your love and support, 
For the invisible wings that lifted me the other day 
You were an angel, sent my way, xxx





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 | |

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 | |

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 | |

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 | |

Poor man Rich man

I went to a poor man's house
There was an exquisite car in the driveway
I walked up to the grand entryway
Rang his doorbell
The chimes sounded like cathedral bells
He greeted me with a practiced smile
Welcomed me to sample his world
Together we walked across marble floors
Gazed out magnificent windows
A truly glorious view
Yet I noticed no photographs on the wall
A mansion filled with things yet he was all alone
We sat and talked
Into the night
He told me of his great success
The trophies, awards and famous guests
I could see it was important for him to impress
He told me he was living the dream
Yet it was only sadness I was seeing
He thought more was more
So he grasped at the extreme
The best of the best
He was busy being
In the end he only talked about things
All the pleasures his money brings
Convincing himself as he blindly sings
Unaware of his poverty
When I look in his eyes I seen misery
This house a mosoleum to his insanity
He left his wife a while ago
They grew apart both fast and slow
She raised the kids he never got to know
To busy chasing his successful dreams
I left his home with heavy heart
Unimpressed with all his expensive art
More concerned with his bankrupt heart


I went to a rich man's house
A modest car sat in the driveway
The wheels were scuffed from when his daughter learned to park
He was at the door before I had a chance to ring the bell
He welcomed me into his lovely home with a warm smile
Introducing me to his wife and kids
We sat in the front room looking out at their yard
I commented on the tree house
He proudly told me how him and his son had built it together
Boys only sign on the door
Still his son would play tea party, with his sister there
It seems they were an inseparable pair
This man had so many stories to share
Photographs of family displayed everywhere
He was living such a full life
So much to be thankful for
He appreciates his kids and loving wife
I got to see an art collection on the fridge
Spending time with him was a privilege 
He invited me to stay for a meal
I said "gladly, that's a great deal"
Enjoying myself with a man who's real
For he posseses a richness of the soul
Not trying to impress by playing a roll
Success in relationship his primary goal
When I left I had gained his smile
Real is real I liked his style
A worthy life a truly wealthy guy
I turned and waved 
sad to say goodbye


Inspired by Dave Wood's poem "Poverty"



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 | |

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!

Details | Identity Poem | |

ALL ABOUT CURIOSITY



The mashed dust beneath my feet fiercely engulfs me, rummaging and drowning my thoughts to slay the winds and honor my madness. When I feel something lighting my mind, a starburst, a craving, a dream... this virus from a soul quite delirious spreads over me like wildfire flowing through the marrow of veins. Again , I become heavens's chime feeling the earth grating beneath my feet, the rustle of my hem spinning with the breeze. Must I quell this sense of curiosity that leaves my arms open by grace , a never –ending brushstroke of chase. I don’t know how this quest to break rules relieves my moans as I look at birds fleeting gliding, soaring. For whatever it is, I am born from a rebel and angel's womb gently accepting my sense of wonder at my own sacral ease. Any Poem, Any Subject Sponsor: Anne Currin by nette onclaud

Details | Identity Poem | |

Dancing In Ink

DANCING IN INK

A Poem by Debbie_Philly
 
" I love dance and I love writing !!! "
One of my very first writerings 
 
DANCING IN INK
 
My pen dances in ink
feathers quilled and twirl
in the excitement that is my pen.
My mood gives it rhythm
the graceful movement
to slide across my page.
The rhyme that flows from my soul.
Sometimes the dance is slow
so sad, bittersweet.
Steps of drowning tears.
The tears of my heart
pounding with drops of disappointment.
With other splashes of written dance
the mood and movement is angry.
I stomp.
Making my presents known across the page.
Yet on another performance of the pen
my ink dashes along the margins
in pure delight.
Ecstasy that can only come
from the ever passionate mind
of a dancers pen.
Feathers quill the rhythm
and rhyme inside my mind.
That is when my pen takes the lead
in this tango of words.
I become my fantasy.
My mind, lost
absorbed in what is my purest passion.
What more can be said.
Steps splashing in ink.
For me the two intertwine
as though they are the meshing
of two perfect souls.
Souls, separate but joined
tells a story.
One with the mind.
The other with the body.
In perfect union.
That is why my pen
DANCES IN INK!

Debbie Kelly ( Debbie Philly)

2005


Details | Identity Poem | |

YOURS TRULY, OLIVE ELOISA

OLIVE ELOISA
    came from my Mama's name: OLIVIA.. OLIVE means peace: ELOISA means hale and wide

MY TRAITS:
  
 *CHILDISH
     28 but young at heart, sometimes still impulsive and too trustful; sweet they said
 *DAUGHTER
     the 2nd child of ALEX and OLIVIA
 *WOMAN AND NURSE
     soft but firm, strong and loving; angel but can be an antagonist; forgiving; 

SISTERS OF IRIS AND ALELI ALEXIS
  the one in between fire and ice; sugar and spice; the one need to decide...

LOVER of:

  *FOODS: wahhhhhh! sure I can't say NO to: ICE CREAMS, CAKES, CHOCOLATES,       PIZZAS, RICECAKES
  *ANYTHING SOFT like pillows; marshmallows; human hands
  *HUGS: the warm, comforting, soothing, from the heart hugs. 
  *MUSIC: I sing along with mellow and gospel sounds, and R and B's; I dance along hiphops;  modern  music. but well when so "FEELING ALIVE" I do both sing and dance.
  *BOOKS: I read any book that catches my interest: from romantic to historic novels, cooking to lifestyle books; philosophical to scientific to religious book.
  *POETRY: weeeee!!! I am so eager to learn how to do it right and the different styles too..
   *NATURE: not a green thumb though :( but I love flowers, puppies, sitting or lying on a grass, dipping in hot springs, falls etc though I can;t swim :P
   *HONESTY: better tell me that truth than letting me believe of a lie.
   *JUSTICE: I try to fight when I fully know am right.. When accused, I try proving my bad accusers wrong!
   *DISCOVERY: Life is just too short that as much as possible when given the chance: I TRY and I TAKE RISK.
   *HUMILITY... I can only smile.
   *GOD.

WHO FEELS
    *grateful for everything that has been
    *excited of what still to come
    *special for I have a God who has been always faithful and loving.

WHO FEARS
   *failures but am taking risks and I am positive that I can overcome them for I have my God with me.
   *heights but gradually am conquering it through rappelling and disaster training.
   *being the one being prick via needle catheters or anything... :D :D :D

WHO WOULD LIKE TO SEE
   *Disneyland, my long dream trip and I will make this come true soon!
   *Two guys beside me at the bed each time I wake up! and a girl, I will teach to cook, sing and all.. :)
   *My ever silent friend and rescuer, my LOVER before am born, my all in all: GOD

RESIDENT OF
   *the troubled challenged but still never forget to smile: the PHILIPPINES

GUILLERMO

Details | Identity Poem | |

A Palindrome called Temptation

A Palindrome, also called Mirrored Poetry, is a poetry type not listed, so I put it under Free Verse.  If anyone finds a better categoy for this please let me know.  Thomas
______________________________________________________________________

Temptation

Temptation
And porn replaced love
Day after day
We are bombarded
Sex and beauty
Objects over heart
Thoughts lustful, confused reality
Isolation supplanted communication
Clouds out move clarity
Facade my life
~Redemption~
Life my facade
Clarity move out clouds
Communication supplanted isolation
Reality confused lustful thoughts
Heart over objects
Beauty and sex
Bombarded are we
Day after day
Love replaced porn and
Temptation

Details | Identity Poem | |

Nurse Anne

            Nurse Anne

Snow steeped in mountains and mountains steeped in snow
Evergreens and pine trees hold the earth with purpose
Nurse Anne steps into hospital from brutal winter cold
Measures stethoscopes and takes gentle pulses
Takes care of bullet wounds and children on her rounds
Wears white, green or blue uniforms or gowns while working
That’s pure speculation as you know
Nurse Anne is not a lawyer according to close sources
She writes poetry on line, refines them in her leisure time
Her prescription for good health and life is simple
Eat vegetables, fishes and less meat
Most importantly, Breath, (it helps a lot) 
Take moderation in everything
Get plenty of rest and sleep
And if you can’t be intelligent or stay on your toes
At least stay on your feet
Naturally a life spent vertically is not advised
Nurse Anne wants us all to exercise 
She will help you to get by and back to skiing
With her good guidance and by being wise
She does her noble work then travels home
Returns to evening
To writing poems at her own leisure

Details | Identity Poem | |

Who is the reader of poetry

Are you educated?
Have you injured heart?
Have you purified brain?
Do you believe in truth?
Are you alone?
Do you seek problematic truth, solvable truth, real magic?
Are you a secular person?
Do you believe in democracy?

If your answers are YES...

You have poetic mind.
You are the reader of poetry.
You are the real minority in the world. 

Keep patience.
The earth is moving.
It is proved that new history is created by the minorities. 

SANDIP GOSWAMI, INDIA

Details | Identity Poem | |

I Want Not to Fade Away

My one burning wish -
I want not to fade away
like rotten lace, dumped
onto a trash heap and forgotten.

I want to leave myself behind, 
for those who come after
to inhale during breakfast.

Not money, like my mother,
who judged it to be the only thing
of worth she had to leave behind,
as though her love meant nothing,
as though her virtue didn't count.

A nonpareil pattern of motherhood,
of personhood for that matter,
written in permanent script,
propagated in layers of goodness,
flung onto her progeny
with the glue of infinity. 

As long as I live, so will she.
I want that, 
when it's my turn to go.




Details | Identity Poem | |

A Near Life Experience

Quote: We are only fully alive when our mind, body and heart are undivided. When we are truly present. When we smell the roast coffee and see the clouds scurry overhead. When we listen deeply to what our loved ones are saying. When we stay in one place – without wishing we were elsewhere, or with someone else, or doing something else.

The dishes pile 
The baby cries 
The laundry's taller than Taj Mahal 
You want to walk but you only crawl

You take a walk to la la land 
but no one's there to take your hand 
And when you sleep you strain the sieve  
Away from the life, you almost did grieve 

The telephone rings a terrible tone 
It's pooh bear baby, nobody's home
You're burnt to the crisp, fricassee   
Like a cat who is wiped, kitter-free!

October 24, 2014
For contest: A Near Life Experience   

 

    
 

Details | Identity Poem | |

dream

dream

to dream without a conscience
is for the weak and vulnerable
it gives them a chance to break free
from familiar prisons