Identifiable Poems | Examples

Advanced Birdwatching For Beginners

Crow (Blackus Menacingus)
large, clever and a scavenger
found in gardens where there’s trees
good at puzzles, can be trained
likes TV shows about celebrities

Blackbird (Blackus Not-A-Pirateus)
common gardeners friend is he
perched on the handle of a spade
looking out for bugs and worms
went on a holiday to Adelaide

Thrush (Not-The-Itchyus Sortus)
light brown plumage with spotted front
easily identifiable medium bird
known for a complex, tuneful song
makes jam tarts with lemon curd

Starling (Impressiveus In-A-Large-Flockus)
iridescent all year bird
feathers change colour in the sun
swarms in huge numbers then
off to the pub for rowdy fun

Wren (Smallus Sticky-Uppy-Tailus)
one of the tiniest garden birds
surprisingly loud and piercing voice
small, round body, quick and gone
to play boardgames and other toys

Puffin (Brightus Beakus)
black and white with colourful bill
dives the water for its food
coastal, cliffside, craggy nest
sends birthday cards that are very rude

Awakening From Stupor

The Echo Of Stars
Galaxies away the echo of stars make her bloom 
this rose made of warm inside a heated hand * 
Fine tuning her soul to the chime of a thousand crystal pieces   
she blasts out and planets resound within her Chalice heart; 
Resonating inside her, the peeling bells of Notre- Dame
contain her whole Universe... 
Tucked safely inside an IVEAN cloak she lives free 
no longer part of this global world.   
A star of multiple constellations, she belongs only 
to One identifiable light,  HIS  own.
Evolving endlessly in time she reverberates and rings   
entering God's vestibule of heaven without a single sound 
Wearing the immortal crown of existence she delves  
in, a crowning moment of glory
The mirror shatters in a million tiny pieces and all of truth  
arrives, making her whole once again. 

“it’s not desire per say but the clinging ~

that stifles soul and stops heart from singing 

enlivening silence sets our soul free ~

vibrant in the now, joyful and carefree”

Orthodoxy

Orthodoxy

Is an encased

Cavalcade of words

Which pretend to

Capture an original

Insight not identifiable

With words..

The insight brought

A resonant freedom

For no one..

Orthodoxy is a story

Relating the futile

Religious impulse...

Is the Mind Traceable

The mind is an identifiable entity.
It resembles the dull interior of a cavity.

From the comfort of a mother's womb.
In the icy depths of the tomb.

Every idea has wings that lift it into the air.
Up an incredibly small fuzzy flying stair.

Sometimes it will fall off your nails.
To thrive in a litter that draws veils.

Even the best ideas start with a bang.
And listen as Karan releases the clang.

Written: December 26, 2022

Impressions

rich inspiration
complements
 &augments


at
that
crucial &
 originals
positioned
 so
precisely
 identified
 theme


a  movement’s
heightened colour
impresses
with descriptive
 energy
shifting &
contorted

yet
 beguiling
displayed
makes beauty
  apparent&
identifiable
  as
a conceit

in
a
sense of
 the emphatic
stillness
    splices
the
enchanting
unending stream
into
a
strange wonder


NOTE:THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE   using spaces&breaks without grammatical symbols ,the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' & so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and responds thus making this enigmatic form a two way interplay & interpretatIon unique to the moment& changing according to mood is inherently variable.
Copyright © Brian Strand

Jesus Is Riding On a Bus, These Days

(A poem dedicated to Khadiza Merry)

They all heard that, 
Jesus is riding on a bus, these days. 
Vinay from the remotest eastern village was an eye-witness 
He just acknowledged today, in confirmation. 
 
I was counting those quarters. One by one. 
The unpaid dues for the neighborhood store... 
When silence honors every single voice out there 
One can be a meaningful one for afterlife, with a storekeeper. 
 
And slowly, 
I sustained. 
I was tamed within 
With those hot, warm sweaty humid minutes. 
 
And I gifted a land of own, aged for long, to the storekeeper. 
Will it be an identifiable generosity accompanied with the right hand? 
A specially biased right hand? 
 
There are need of mirrors, here and there. 
These attires, dress etiquette and dress colors too... 
Under the slender palm trees, the virgin Mary cries here, also 
Somewhere, a frozen conversation dies in silence, with a noisy air-cooler.

Narratives

NARRATIVES
in a
  prospective pastiche
this a lingering
   concern
of
deprecating humour
an identifiable
yet
perverse eccentricity
in
   a comic strategy


THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE without grammatical symbols the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' & so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and respond thus making the form a two way interplay and often a unique interpretation by the enigma so derived

Random Thoughts On Miracles

No matter what anyone says to the contrary
I firmly believe in miracles, not the divine kind
Turning plain water into fine wine, necessarily,
But seeing a newborn deer first learning to run
A deaf child hearing sound for the very first time
A spectacular natural eclipse of the morning sun,
Tests confirming a dreadful disease is in remission
Watching an unfolding rosebud flare out in full bloom
Imagining complex formulas proving nuclear fission.
Miracles are often showing up in the smallest feat
Coming when least expected--in a windfall, a bonus
Or, just when we had given up all hope in defeat,
Victories over those formidable obstacles, you see,
Are identifiable, verifiable, bonafide miracles to me.

Written June 15, 2021

Limited Shelf Life

Contemporary hunters wielding 21st century weapons of influence

Firing indiscreetly upon blindfolded hostages that double as their clients

Mutilating their customer case before gutting them with ease

once they're expendable


Feasting upon the impoverished entrails

until there is not a shred of identifiable human flesh

Disturbingly convenient as it is prevalent

Once the remains cannot be recognized as human,

there is no chance, not even a miniscule possibily, of retribution

There is no face and no conscious voice

to  demand justice for countless grievances


The corpses sink into the Earth where they

are subjected to further degradation

Posthumously polluted with the toxicity emanating from murderous mouths

Dreamweavers Magic Weave

Long into the night 
the Dreamweaver works,
spinning dream-threads
of golden silk
into etheric fantasies.

Archetype and metaphor
do a mind-meld
in REM’s
2/4 time;
conjured music
from Dreamweaver’s
harp.

Echoes of
past lifetimes are
revisited in
the Dreamtime;
swirling,
do-see-do 
memories are,
identifiable to 
spirits who share
the dreams.

Birth Mark

Marked birth
Body's wealth
Deepest imprint
Nature's tatoo
Natural colour
Unique stamp
Creator's singiture
Precious treasure
Glittering
Identifiable
Joy's revelation
Special mark. 

Drencho POET Loads

Chance Worth

Can I walk away for once?
To walk away from everything I've ever known
I want to give chance a chance
For that everything I've ever built that isn't a home

I do not want to travel to run away
I want an imagination that could change my life
Not that my life is so hard I couldn't stay
Just that my life is a becoming constant without drive

There simply isn't a new meaning anymore
Can I un-know all that I think that I know?
Everything is becoming increasingly difficult to adore
Is an aging life subjected to go with only the flow?

I grew myself everyday knowing lesser of me
To look pass years without an identity
I could've been a one identifiable to be
Or perhaps an every once can only ever be a memory

Can I ever walk away from everything I'll ever know?
Am I not already living an everyday to chance?
Am I a delusion mind with a body I only but borrow?
Or have I already walked away beyond chance...

Dear Id

Dear Id,

Once again, I find my mind making the same journey into your deepest ocean of questions I can never fathom. So many times I've told myself it's such a complete waste of time to even cast my cares upon your unyielding  waters. I have been utterly lost for days at a time trying to find my way back through the labyrinth of my mind. The air feels heavy and breathing has nothing to do with want or desire. For as long as I can remember, my reflection has been as an ever evolving meaningless Rorschach. No identifiable constants, just a tangled mess of emotion with a gaping hole of disappointment in the life experience. I ask myself, "Is this it?" The overwhelming outpouring of human pretentiousness and superficiality leaves me dying of starvation for anything real! Will it even matter? How can I miss something I've never known and be so instinctually convinced there is more? Enlighten me!

Truly,
Frustrated and Unfulfilled

Introspection I

i
take a
peek inside my

mind - animal happiness find

it’s beautifully identifiable intelligence - that

space - electrically bioelectrogenetically multidisciplinarianismic creativity place

Truths of Faith

Doctrine includes 3 truths of faith
1st the trinity is one
2nd the three are distict from each other
3rd, they are in relation to each other

1st: The trinity as one
We speak as three Gods in one divine nature
Eternal Father, Eternal Son and Eternal Holy Spirit
They are in unity of persons  in one Divine nature

2nd: Three divine Persons are in distinct from each other
Eternals Father, Son and the Holy Spirit are modes of God
But three identifiable persons
Each fully Eternal God in a way distinct from each other

3rd: They are in relation to each other
Eternal Father cannot be the Eternal Father without Eternal Son
Nor can be the Eternal Son without Eternal Father
Eternal Holy Spirit is related to Eternals Father and Son who send Him forth

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