Best Sameness Poems

We Will All Wear Khaki Pants

We are all going to wear khaki pants to the parade.
What’s khaki? I ask, knowing, but wanting to see his reaction.
He is new, and I love to toy with the new guy.
“You know,” he says, “Um, tan, plain, dull, plain, tan.”
“I don’t have any pants like that,” I tell him, “But I can do purple.”
I read his face, his cheeks pink up fast.  
I am going to have fun with this one.

“Oh, I am sure you have something khaki,” he says confidently.
“No, she doesn’t!” all three of the others in the lunchroom shout nearly simultaneously.
His nose is pink now.  He looks down, and I realize the minute it registers that 
I am wearing my red, orange, black, gray and purple owl pants.
“Do you have PLAIN?” he asks hopefully.
They are all shaking their heads ‘no’.
I am so proud as I leave the lunchroom,
They know me here!

The Sameness of Sparrows

It cocks an eye at me.
I recall, as a boy, I stood
by a window looking at a sparrow
just like this one.
Every feather could be the same,
even the mien and stance
of the bird – the same.
I had never thought of myself
as a tree,
yet all my life
I’ve been branching away
from first roots.
Now I’m gnarled, not the same,
and still changing, 
but not this sparrow,
not any sparrow.

Sameness

When life slips into sameness
And the days go drifting by,
Those who shuffle, feeling aimless,
Should find other fish to fry.

For the bored are never blameless
Since there’s so much they can do
Without being bold or shameless
In the projects they pursue.

We can all claim sloth or lameness
If we fall into a funk
But to overcome the sameness,
We must rise from where we’ve sunk.

Spice

Variety is the spice of life 
At least that's what they say..
We celebrate different colours 
Yet the world still chooses grey

There's room for different flavours
Whether green leaf, pulse or grain
Banana loaf or carrot cake?
Nutrition stays the same

The truth it seems is constant
With the source identified;
Humans - not so different
On this planet we reside

As this year rumbles onwards 
I throw love into the mix;
Not to colourise the whole world
Just my local bit to fix

No longer are we separate sides
Of some bridge-less, gaping fissure..
Maybe same-ness is the spice of life
As we share more than we differ.

Sameness

Fog's covering makes stealth of forest and creek
Sun's rising purple 'on all to be seen
A slight coolnees in morn's air for me to seek
Only for few hours that can be gleaned

There is a sameness to this morn's sunrise
As the orange fireball comes above trees
Sometimes sameness is good to yesterday's ties
Change can be good for it sparks newness old flees

Change can be bad bringing destruction
Like today's immoral legal abortion practice
Our future children dying before scion
Get grafted to vine, breathe, and have a voice  

Sameness, continuance can be good or bad
Change can be either good or bad or sad.....

finis

Some People But Not Me

Some people find comfort in living the same day 
Every day doing what they did yesterday in the same way. 
I know a man who ate a ham sandwich with cheese plain 
No condiments every day and cut exactly the same

I thrive on change. Daily seek out something new. 
Learning racquetball kept me entertained in 1982. 
As soon as we had the tournament all interest was gone. 
I dropped racquetball never going back. For tournament I’d won. 

Some women wear the same exact haircut for twenty years 
To change it up would instigate and initiate such fears 
I know a woman whose hair looks like 1960’s Loretta Lynn 
A different style is suggested every decade by her kin. 

My hair has been black and blue, beige and turquoise too.
If I had to keep it the same way twice it would make me blue. 
Some teachers  can print their worksheets a month in advance.
Given a choice, I would rather have gigantic wood-ticks in my pants.

Some people live the same year every single year. 
That would be my absolute biggest baddest fear.

Sameness

Hemmed in on each side by pier post
And rope that holds no hope.
But in the East the sun everyday rises
Assurance in sameness there's no need to grope

Date: 04/21/2021
Contest: Liberum Divisa 5
Sponsor: Gregory R. Barden

From my poem: Colorful Umbrella

Sameness

Sameness Insanity

Oh, sameness...hear here,
what a fable of lies,
it's in difference where love opens our eyes,
not one of our fingerprints match the same,
who are we to judge love's measures and gains,
but we do,,,all the time,
we think we're protecting our love in these chaotic times,
yes, i still dream...it keeps my heart alive,
in faith, holding on, in HIS love i survive.

Sameness

Track this light through 
my always
And this fact to our never...
Thrust this test into wonder,
And fracture away from this
...this sameness of us,
with hearts in too deep

Absence of An Ideological Sameness

the big picture will roll around
found within the romantic bliss
of one & another’s initial journey,
where questions that are not simple
get asked of the other, to establish 
some kind of “spiritual” center 
in the person laying there in the bed beside
or across the table in a fine restaurant---
for those of us whose “center” is hollow,
for those of us whose “center” is merely
a mish-mash of tendons, muscles, organs,
nerves, biological fluids & life until
life decides to stop within us,
then the conversation stays on this plane &
this plane alone &
for the other motivation,
one in which by some sequence of events
conjured in one’s head,
the whole universe has a puny little human 
being in mind &
therefore, there is “life after death” & meaning
beyond our mutual reality &
a “soul” & all the rest of it…
when these two heads collide,
once the sex has worn off,
there may be
an absence of ideological sameness
which causes one individual,
the one who wants the other to believe what
they believe,
to throw a little fit &
it might just ruin the whole deal---
why not break the ice with the big questions &
leave the little stuff for the post-orgasmic 
babbling?

a.“hi there, i saw you standing over here & i was
just wondering if you think that there is a “god,”
you know, a “soul,” that whole “afterlife” thing &
the rest of it?”

b.”um, i guess so…your name is?”

a.”hey, enjoy the rest of your evening.  see ya.”

Mere Readers, Repeaters Are We

Mere readers and writers we are,
Tell me, who’s found a new letter?

Seers as if of same stars in sky,
As same water’s recycled nigh,
Vibes of the same waves on us vie.

To learn same things we’ve strived so far,
Mere readers and writers we are.

A few letters, world of words vast,
Same old flag we flutter half-mast,
In palm whole sea, in wink time past.

Eons it takes for a new star,
Students of the sameness we are.

Called in when to create oneness,
We’ve got drowned in sea of sameness,
Mere readers and repeaters I guess!  
__________________________________
Reflections | 04.12.2022| Free verse

The Notice Change

We were once rivers,
braiding through each other’s lives,
carving valleys of shared wonder.

Now we float in bubbles,
soft-walled sanctuaries of sameness,
drifting past one another
with eyes turned inward.

The more we seal our edges,
the less we feel the ripple,
of another’s breath.

Weekly Faculty Meeting Yum

Many are gabbing, like magpies on steroids.  
As if we are getting away with something.
Our big chance to speak to adults, and we are taking it. 
Teachers at a faculty meeting.
I distance myself in proximity and mindset. 
This is a weekly meeting. I can jump
onboard next week as well as today, and catch up quickly.

Ready for my playtime to begin, not interested in their gabs.  
It is usually some cute antidote I have already heard.  I do not 
teach reading or math; my job is to look for
the good in everyone. I can hold onto that if I do not 
listen to the gabbing.  I look for
the good in teachers too, after all.  

These meetings are heavily saturated with testing,
attendance, reading, and math.
I teach none of these things.  I am not responsible for 
getting them here, and I detest all
of this incessant testing. Doubting the validity in the first 
place, it makes not a whole lot of sense to me.

Snatches of conversations float past me.  I look around. 
Same players. Same conversations. I am serious, truly.
The same talkers, the same listeners. I move around from 
table to table each Wednesday, to get different perspectives.
Most do not.  I sit in the corner today, alone,
marveling at the dull sameness of the gabbing, and the conversations.

The lone wolf, howling silently, with her pen teeth.

Our Unique Sameness

our unique Sameness

be who you are
we are taught..
those who know
who they are
and are
who they are:
these are teachers
temporary teachers
who offer a word
or a brushstroke
or a glance
wiping clean our
cloudy perceptions..
allowing then our
perceiving to shine
with our very own
unique Sameness...