Best Indistinguishable Poems
Mark
The earth turns its face from you
as if ashamed. You
who tilled the soil, now marked
by what the soil received.
Your brother's blood—
how it murmurs, how it screams.
Deafness would be a mercy.
Wanderer
At Babel, you watch them build
their tongues a discordance of hope.
You know better.
The tower falls. Always, things fall.
In Athens, questions hang in the air
like ripe fruit. You reach for one
find your hand empty.
Constantinople burns.
You've seen this fire before
in your own heart, in Abel's eyes.
Love
Her laughter—sunlight on water.
For a moment, you forget remembering
the weight of your name.
Time, that relentless thief,
steals her breath, leaving you
with pockets full of silence,
her absence echoing in your eternal night.
Witness
Verdun. Mud and blood
indistinguishable. You've carried this earth before,
will carry it again. In Selma, voices rise.
You join the chorus, unseen.
Your story spoiled, yet written
in every cry for justice,
a testament to your own unending quest for peace.
Grace
The sea spilling secrets
waves crashing against the shores of your soul.
In a quiet cell, you contemplate forgiveness—
that impossible shore.
Your heart is a vessel of unspoken prayers.
Each wave a reminder: the divine
as elusive as your peace.
Mortality
She sees you—truly sees.
Beyond the mark, the myth,
to the man who carries centuries in his bones.
You learn to love in moments, not millennia.
Each breath a gift, each touch a benediction
her presence a bridge to your humanity.
Return
The earth no longer rejects you.
You lay down, finally
into the arms of the brother
you've carried all this time.
Abel smiles. You close your eyes.
The silence, at last, is sweet.
Categories:
indistinguishable, fate, loneliness, lost love,
Form:
Narrative
A truth in rage of insult furrows my mind
For it is only an offense given to me by myself
In the mouths of others far innocent than I
I feel the tears trickle down my cheeks
For I have surfaced into an ugly mistake
I am always inadequate in this brain
I try to shine like the advice of grace given
But confidence rarely rears its head my way
There’s a sort of shade blocking its way
A shade that darkens everyday
That very shade led me to believe my feelings are wrong
That I will never belong so long as they are not controlled
I must be careful—for the lines of love and lust run cold
I hate myself truly this night
And no one but myself will give me the right
The very right to degrade my every being
Because you are not seeing what I am seeing
There is no point
My lines run cold
Can I be so bold as to say
I still love with a pang of indistinguishable doubt
All feelings enter in
As my truth blurs and checks out
Your words pierce me so deep
I cannot describe the pain I feel
God it hurts so bad
It can’t be real
Much like the love I have come to embrace
The very love that links to your face
Tears don’t give it justice
It can’t be real
Much like the love I will never face
Categories:
indistinguishable, absence, abuse, addiction, allegory,
Form:
Free verse
I move lightly at sixty,
a little less than the max.
Any faster, and the sunflower shells I spit
blow back in my face,
and any slower and the driver behind
becomes too distressed.
I move lightly at sixty,
homeward through the rural landscape,
past barns and combines,
engine humming, without straining,
secure that I need not be anywhere,
or anything, but myself.
I move lightly at sixty,
through the longer shadows of fall,
short days and warm afternoons,
trees variegated with the leafy
nostalgias of the year past,
and the years before.
I move lightly at sixty,
the old van's engine drones
as I "OM", indistinguishable
one from the other, both well worn,
and oblivious of the
years we show.
I move lightly at sixty,
no longer with a need to lie,
or prevaricate,
in love with every woman I see,
and no longer afraid
to say so.
I move lightly at sixty,
in love with the journey,
rather than the goal.
In love with the moment
rather than the hour and
the need to mark it.
I move lightly at sixty,
bemused by public anger over
a rappers words, knowing they
are far less harmful
than the blood shed
in my time.
I move lightly at sixty,
ready to gear down if necessary,
still able to speed up if needed
to avoid the hazards
of an overactive ego
and libido.
I move lightly at sixty,
content to be alone,
joyful to have company,
regretting neither,
thankful for old friends,
and old loves.
I move lightly at sixty,
finding that not acting,
is as important as the act,
knowing that one can be undone,
and the other, can't.
I move lightly at sixty,
like a comfortable breeze
on a fall day, a thermal for a bird,
uplift for a friend,
a drying wind for a
tearful cheek.
Categories:
indistinguishable, allegory, introspection, life, seasons,
Form:
Free verse
The meadow's radiance gradually dimmed
and evening littered far and wide
it encouraged the unfamiliar
and everything uncertain.
The night accelerated sounds of anticipation
as a thousand strangers loomed
and I thought him to be a foreigner
until he glanced twice
as his smile slightly dropped
astonishment plagued him
Insecurity encompassed me
as I turned away in doubt
betrayed by the numinous...
that often guides my thoughts
He left with lady and child, to merge
With a thousand anticipating strangers
and the northern lights sheltered me
the explosions across the sky
gave satisfaction -to so much expectation
that unexpectedly emerged
Then the night was briefly soundless;
the applause prolonged
as were my duties...by my immersion
and within what felt like only seconds
he was passing,
through a thin pane of glass
all I could yield was a smile,
a smile to the incredulity within his eyes.
Enclosed with the evening...was the meadow,
and the difference was indistinguishable.
Categories:
indistinguishable, faith, hope, imagination, life,
Form:
Epyllion
Time
Nothingness in it belies
A continuum, uncanny
In all lives it defines
Love, hate, rage and litany
A motion on its own
Sweeping, inescapable
A yardstick mankind bemoans
Perpetual journey, irreversible
It’s life’s anathema
Yet it counts life
It’s a thing of enigma
That heaven had contrived
To it the mind ascribes
Its values and permanence
From these, it proscribes
Denying life’s resistance
Our minds’ affixed
To it we subordinate
Subservience afflicts
Our minds it subrogates
It obfuscates reality
Yet mortal minds believe
Its power and ability
We could not, but receive
In truth, it exists
Only in our minds
Its dwelling crevice
From where it unwinds
In consciousness, it’s framed
Weaved to life, togetherness
For all excuses, it’s claimed
Indistinguishable, oneness
But for consciousness
It would not exist
Nothingness, meaningless
Like a vanquished beast
What is this thing of enigma?
Given life by consciousness
Unfathomable, life’s anathema
Yet, treated with utmost seriousness
What is this thing of enigma?
Ephemeral, elusive
Ethereal like an Avatar
Too convoluted to perceive
It’s life’s inexplicable debt
But to consciousness it owes
Payable only by death
Yet its interest never grows
You and I we share this thing
Only in consciousness it’s sublime
But in death there would be nothing
Of this enigmatic thing called “Time”
Jit H. Lim
12 March 2012
12:36am
Singapore
Categories:
indistinguishable, imagination,
Form:
Imagism
Monet
Brush strokes of elegant refinement
within eloquent sighs of awed inspiration
fluid scenery grasping Nirvana's refulgence
emotions painted vividly seasoned
music ringing from canvas's power
clinging to old master's sway
essence dipped of cultured omnipotence,
technique as enticed strumming violin strings
oyster'd pearls secrets of holy waters
in timely charms surrendered relevance
reevaluating a lost art's composition,
indistinguishable as snowflakes
in swirling paths of poignant distinction
relentless reflections ravish the eye
simply understated in complex polish
artfully dressed in sweet indulgences
delectation for the heart's yielding,
anointed of fire as elusive sands of time
like poetry misting off a gossamer pond
whilst wildflowers bloom amidst flair's allure
illusions that permeate spirit's indulgences
perception's pondered in provoked persuasions
amidst spells of splendiferous pièce de résistance,
concepts of genius's hand worked achievements
imploring deliverance of pondered breaths
exhaling hued aspiration's destined treasures
perfected jewels in classic showpieces' distinction
Monet's artistic pulchritude engraved for posterity
Categories:
indistinguishable, art, beautiful, imagery, inspiration,
Form:
Free verse
Crackling, crunchy leaves confetti the ground
as skeleton trees rattle their bare bones.
And gusty winds howl like a soulful hound
while kids mope indoors, glued to their cellphones.
Indistinguishable, they look like clones
and seem as enthusiastic as stones.
Winter's approach gets labeled a bad thing,
covering everything in snow and ice.
And migrating songbirds no longer sing,
they've left before Winter exacts Her price.
But changing seasons is like adding spice,
just think of a snowflake as something nice.
All the mosquitos have frozen to death,
and life gets swathed in a snowy duvet.
Winter entices with a frosty breath,
enjoy Her; don't think of Her as a threat.
Indulge in all the Winter you can get,
there is more to life than the internet.
Spring, Summer, Autumn, and Winter are real
gifts of Nature, designed to make us feel.
(Urban Sonnet)
10/20/2018
Categories:
indistinguishable, 10th grade, 12th grade,
Form:
Sonnet
Unshakeable groggy state
plagues mein kampf
impossible mission to awaken
this comatose zombie
drugged horror - by potent
self manufactured narcotic -
oppressive tantalizing
nightmares indistinguishable
when supposedly conscious,
eyes cannot differentiate
dusky "reality" from
twilit zoned lifelike slumbers
confused with medication
induced hallucinations ferrying
me to lands unknown
lack proper visa to allow
this migrant citizenship,
cannot escape tangled web
spun since birth
threads tensile strength
beyond realm of destruction
incredibly dynamic force
defies sophisticated
contraption to measure
even against most
powerful dynamometer,
no contest when utmost might,
sans primal scream
regarding non anesthetized excruciating
spinal tap daily visited
on this beastie boy,
no matter summoning every last ounce
of mine (billeted) willpower
foregone conclusion collusion
effectually ranked less
than lame duck effort
defeated, jackknifed, stymied...
every step of the weigh
I loathe forlorn doomed curse,
a worse fate than death,
no life worth living when bereft
of interpersonal, "normal",
relational... trappings,
yet death not available
for this walled in hostage
imprisoned within inescapable Alcatraz
every blinkered instant nsync
with pseudo fictional
realistic psychedelic dreams
mocking (this bird – dodo)
man cave existence, a mere
abysmal charade, facade, jade
did minimalistic functionality,
where suicide an irrevocable
unfair punishment to Shana Punim
precious daughter, whose caterwauling...
would wake grateful dead!
Categories:
indistinguishable, absence, bereavement, betrayal, conflict,
Form:
Free verse
Heavily laden boats, rectangular sails billowing
Under seas of low cloud, braving the fierce Yangtze;
Held between snowcapped mountains, earth and sky
Indistinguishable from steaming mist and rolling fog;
A long drawn straggle of Grey Geese plummeting down
From breathless, rarefied air to stumble awkwardly onto
Plum coloured mudbanks; an unrestrained, excitable
Cacophony of frenzied honking! Then wild monkeys
Provoked into howling each side of the river.
There, at the juncture with Longjin Brook, stilted homes,
Half-hidden by bamboo groves, crouch at the waters
Edge; maidens will come to wash clothes
Whirling wooden batons, twittering like golden swallows;
Fragrant wildflowers enhance their sweetness.
At drab, pale, first-morning light, fishermen cast
Nets over the cooling, placid blue waters;
The fish that swim here are said to be the finest
In the province.
We will exchange Black Carp and Blunt-Snout Bream,
Wrapped in moist bamboo leaf, for glutinous rice
With the clans that tend the terraces inside the fertile
River valley...
Does not the Emperor insist upon good commerce?
If you are dissatisfied as a peasant
You can take the ancient "old tea horse road"
And burden your back with heavy bales stacked high
On a rail;
The road will take you all the way from Zigui
To Tibet...or even further perhaps,
And sombre ravens will soar overhead and taunt your
Every footstep.
But I will remain where I am, in the
Village On The Water
Nestled deep within the Three Gorges;
My life, the endless horizon stretched beyond,
Held in balance as if it were Shaseng
The Shadow Play Stone;
And each new morning awakening to slow,
Chiming bells.
Categories:
indistinguishable, appreciation, environment, winter,
Form:
Free verse
ashes in an urn
a lovely new urn
whose ashes are they
who was burned that day
what races
what religions
what sexes
what nationalities
maybe they’re all mixed in
ashes indistinguishable and
undiscriminating in one
could there be hope
Categories:
indistinguishable, color, death, discrimination, encouraging,
Form:
Free verse
There is a woodpile in my in-laws’ cellar, and some coal, but other rumored things also.
And it has been there a long time since anyone tripped down these broken concrete steps.
Maybe twenty or thirty years; we inherited this home a long time ago.
We have sold it four times on contract,
which has fallen through again.
My husband is not here,
He cannot take it.
But I can, so I take a couple of steps,
Until I get within a foot, when I stop dead as
I can smell the mold through the three-inch door.
The rumor is that there are treasures down there.
I do not know. We were never allowed near this cellar door.
Now I am sixty-six, so technically old enough to go down into this cobwebby den,
But I can smell the mold through the door.
So I back up and rest in an old lawn chair, left by one of the people who thought they
were buying the house before they decided to desert it.
I can still smell the mold, so I back up a bit further, the sun on my face, my feet leaning against a gentle lavender clover.
I am terrified of mold, as I am an asthmatic, and mold could trigger some awfulness in me.
So here I sit, staring as others wander in and out, poking among dusty things
That are disintegrating as they are being brought out into the sun.
Other relatives are coughing; trying to breathe as they haul green and brown stuff out,
Most indistinguishable as real things at first or second glance.
Most needing a power washing, that would completely decimate it.
Maybe she had the right idea, one says, pointing at me, as I lie here, soaking
Up the sun rays. I take off my shoes and push my toes into the clover.
Then I turn my face up, letting the sun hit my nose.
Are you kidding? A teenager yells. This treasure hunt is great!
She runs back down the steps to haul out more loot that her prissy mother
Will never let her take in the car, let alone in the house.
I know because I am prissy girl’s mother.
So here I sit, in a falling-apart green lawn chair, watching the show.
Thinking how my mother-in-law is probably up in heaven laughing, as she too
Smells the mold through that cellar door.
Categories:
indistinguishable, moving on,
Form:
Free verse
A tense mind, forsaking abilities
Days passed can not be recovered
The suffering brought upon, by choice
Fear arisen at the thought of the inevitable
I scorn at my sight; their pride, mistaken.
Excuses granting an escape, to relinquish
Forces I seek, to deny that which could have been
Regret masked, by an expression unseen
A promise to change, unmet by time's progress
Lies spoken; their trust, misplaced.
A resolve is thought, a distraction is discovered
A minute becomes an hour, an hour, a day
The effort becomes insuperable - the load does burden
To find others, does alleviate
A sleepless night, my own cause; perseverance, they presume.
An unsteady hand, prepares notes anew
Legibility is minimal, as panic progresses
Absorption is improbable - an attempt at redemption, in vain
Expletives remembered, relevant now
A head that aches; difficulty, they concede.
Eyes wake, pleading for rest
A disheveled appearance, hides no worry
The many lines crammed, indistinguishable
A dire situation, chiseling a cheat
Failure admitted; their forgiveness, undeserving.
Categories:
indistinguishable, angst, conflict, feelings, high
Form:
I’ve been empowered to inform you that never again
Will I allow you to light the flame of rage or ridicule within
The walls of my very being.
Never more will you pierce the core
Of who I am and anything I’m seeing.
You are hereby vaporized before my eyes
Into the nothingness of forgetfulness
Which is less than having ever
Lived and breathed at all.
You are smaller than the memory of
Earth’s first turning like a blue-green ball.
Leave me now, you of such baseless insignificance
And return to the pitiful depths
Of your own self-centered, concentric view of who
You think you are and have always chosen to be:
A god among men, legend above legends
Living far beyond the realm of reality.
I see you now for what you really are…smoke
Rising into the night sky
Disappearing toward the stars…
Whose molecules and atoms are so minutely scattered
That collecting them would take infinite light years
To discover how little you mattered.
My only prayer for you is pity
Which is all I have left to give.
Farewell, your myth having been dispelled to the gates of hell
(If such a place exists for those few,)
Whose life was wasted on ignoring, degrading and attempting to destroy
The unquenchable and indistinguishable
Beauty, love and unbounded good graces of humanity,
Like you.
Categories:
indistinguishable, anger, beauty, death, farewell,
Form:
Free verse
Sunset, occurring daily (and as such, no miracle by the nature of the word),
calls me again to it's evening forum, where I, though vaguely moved to testify - again, only watch.
I watch...And as ever, am left rippling with the quiet swell of majestic privilege felt from inception (I am certain) by each and every oak tree born of ancestral crops in earths red canyons - Intrinsically original, yet universally indistinguishable from it's likewise peerless brothers.
A part of the whole.
I myself am human and in so being, have been much exposed to the impossible pink of a newborn day and to the breeze of sky blue it becomes with age. But this ongoing cycle of singularities leaves me unimpressed...
It is the sunset I await.
The sunset, who, unlike it's younger selves, is fast running out of time. Yet, who each night still requests my audience and waits patiently while I (no miracle myself, by the nature of the word!) valiantly attempt perfect attendance.
Tonight, though I am only here as a bystander, the sunset, now in it's twilight moments, asks a few words of me.
And tonight, I speak...
For I have long awaited the day when, at it's end, I could tell the beautiful sunset all that it has meant to me. And thank it for the elegant gift it has been my honor to accept each and every evening of my life. This being so, now I stand and my face awash in it's molten light,
I whisper to it from my reverent pew...
And the story I tell is one not only of it's own magnificence
But also of mine...
Categories:
indistinguishable, beauty, imagery, joy, sky,
Form:
Free verse
The silence, the almost endless joyful silence,
That's what I remember most looking back,
Silence and belonging, companionship,
Not in Nature so much as part of it,
Absolutely indispensible we were,
As if God Himself, the great ‘I AM, '
Would not exist, if we were not here,
Lines, hanging organic from pole ends,
Like branches of a weeping willow
Disappearing into the glassy water,
A living lollipop for nascent fish to gum,
Hoping to evolve into birds perhaps,
Wondering what it would be like
To swim in air and sleep on tree limbs.
All this in the forever present, stretching to infinity,
Here, now, fishing with older men!
Their faces blend together, rustic, tan,
Until God Himself is indistinguishable from
Cliff, Johnny, CH, or Uncle Jimmy
But Granddad Neighbors is the twinkle in God's eyes,
Clarence and his boys, bringing God down to earth
Ardean too, though I never fished with him,
Mother's five brothers, she was the one…
Ardean hooked me with his music,
I swallowed that bait whole, so deep,
It have would killed me to retrieve the hook.
Every ripple on the lake, every wave,
Whole notes in an endless adagio,
The movement Mahler longed to write,
Welcoming us back to home fires, fish to fry,
Breathing the smoky air of countless stars,
All of us fishermen forever!
Brian Johnston
In a Laundromat in Pierre, SD
August 3, 2014
Categories:
indistinguishable, fishing,
Form:
Blank verse