Filters Poems - Poems about Filters

What we hear What we say What we remember in our way What goes in? What comes out? What we show when we are in doubt What we think What we feel What is fake from what is real? What we smell What we touch What tells the body it has had too much? What we swallow What we know What helps or stops things that might grow? What we...

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Lip stick and pinned up hair and filters. Pouting and peace signs. Toilet selfie and different floral dresses, the flowers unfurled and colours of passion. Forced expressions and emoji captions. This is what I see on social media. Who can tell what is real about it, all the girls look the same and they look...

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Memories form in colors vibrant, vivid, varied by Time diminished as the echo filters reality Each person's process unique ... Echoes form organically Desires, wishes, dreams, hopes, aspirations, schemes, inclinations, rationalizations, attracted to then reflected off Life's hardened surfaces Discordant reverberation increasing, subsiding, in constant flux colliding, with reality abiding ... Perceptions construed from the magnitude of echoes merging as one ~ Life's composite echo filtering reality! ...

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charcoal grey horizon~ on the rusty cast iron bench my old self sits in pensive mood beside the lake beneath December sky the wayward wind as it teases my hair whispers melodies from long ago~ that breath echo in the air the echo reverberates ~ weaving fragments into vivid voices and symphonies of yesteryears my grandma's lullaby our high-school graduation song then...

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Hearing your words echo back to you is a very powerful thing weather the echo is in nature or comes back to you in the form of someone else echoing your words from another time it is a powerful thing It is definitely something to consider before you speak your thoughts or you will hear words that should never have been spoken...

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It starts with a hum, a thread unspooling through silence - soft, sure, and annoyingly insistent, like the world is whispering secrets it’s dared me to misunderstand. The first echo hits, ricocheting off the walls, and suddenly this isn’t just a room - it’s a kaleidoscope of sound, a ripple of moments reborn, sharper, louder, more alive than their beginnings. Your laugh? A sparkler snapping against dusk. My words? Half-forgotten...

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In the hollow of my mind, the past sings loud, a siren call bending time into ripples, its voice twisting the air like fractured glass. I chase the echoes, but they flee, leaving shadows that whisper of truth too sharp to touch. The echo doesn’t lie, yet neither does it tell all— its cadence steals clarity, weaving illusions of what was, what could...

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It creeps up on me early morning and again late afternoon a microcephalic shadow, almost the length of a football pitch, Land of the giants view My childlike head is miles away and dwindling, constantly deflating Proteus syndrome echoes back through generations crossing time zones too Elongated diffraction casts a very long shadow, tapering reality Low sun dysmorphia projects a reflection of me, A filtered perspective revealing my only...

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HOW THE ECHO FILTERS REALITY An echo is always intended as a sort of reply An answer, if you will, to reinforce meaning Yet each, in its own way, takes the initiative And maybe accused of being unappreciative As towards a new reality it could be leaning But over time, it must slowly but surely die Multiple repeated attempts one may detect Each...

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Humans act in accordance to a cliche, my uniqueness is in delay. Nihility calls my name, existence is in shame. Evaluating an enigma that have not yet have an answer, curiosities are to be a cancer. Humans come in all shapes or forms, yet there’s an universal norm. I am nothing close to remarkable, it...

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Suppose I threw it in your faces Please don't anybody asked of me to decided anything, I am not in the mood to explain: I do not know if Mr. Trump is running or not, or if he is too old, that he might stumble and fall (?? Or who will make the best candidate for this upcoming...

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bull monster slumbers on the soft cloud of life without stress or concerns, with no kind of stife. his mama gave him the assignment all bull monsters want. he rolls in his dreams, and his lips give a grunt. does bull monster ever come down here? Asked my boy. no, he stays there to guide us, giving us gulps of...

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I don't need the sun everyday I need grey, I prefer rain, mist fresh winds. The sun is a harsh benefactor, it coerces only to rule; demands to be admired before it crowns itself emperor of our every dependency. Yet, when it is shielded by the soft drapes of a less brazen light we ungratefully call that - bad weather....

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The Ohio wipes its face every few miles. This bend in the river forgets the wharfs, the gravel silos and power plants, only occasional coal barges push an industrial flatus before them. Here cattails gather herons into measured dominions. The river gallops under placid waves Fish-eyed currents dip and toggle in the ripple. It is possible to watch yourself being rinsed and laundered in this newly...

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Rejection is nothing I am used to it Somedays more so than others Today was different I took a risk even though I did not feel ready And I got my head handed to me on a platter. It was unexpected, came hard and fast. No filters. He was brutally his dad; not himself at all. I recognized none of his political correctness. It...

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