Identity Poems | Examples of Identity Poetry

I’m a rat trapped in a cage. Spinning my wheel round & round forever. The days don’t start & the days don’t end. I just exist & at the same time I don’t. It makes me wonder if phantoms are real & if they are is this how they feel? Like they’re floating outside reality....

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A black girls stance on self love Is one not often understood One that take years of healing One that understands the process of feeling Because in a world that shoves hate down our throat You can't be surprised when we swallow the bare minimum The relationship between a black girl and herself Is one not...

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(“Before the Door”, 2023, original encaustic) Our Changeless Nature Within all the changes of this life All the particulars of who we are What we do and know, and don’t know, Is something that isn’t a thing Isn’t caused and conditioned Thus changeless and permanent. There is only one way to know this nature And that is for ourselves, Once it has been pointed...

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In every thing he found a joke at every one he took a poke While himself hid deep inside a fragile veil of wounded pride One day the veil, ripped...

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What if every soul has no where to go? What if when we die our souls take flight? What if they take the form of something we hurt or killed before? What if the next time round your killer is you or the other way round? What if that wasp that stung you has a soul too? What if...

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I am the voice Of the first breath upon this land. I am Aboriginal — And I have wept since 1788. When they came, With boots that crushed our soil, And eyes that did not see us As human. They called us beasts Because we danced with the wind, Because our skin kissed the sun, Because we spoke to the rivers And the stars knew our names. They...

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They called her Alice, but perhaps her true name was Smoke, rising slow and silent from letters never sent, from altars crumbled beneath the cold gaze of forgotten saints, from lips that kissed her only to still her breath. She did not fall. She transcended. There is a sacred difference, between shattering and choosing the void. She stepped beyond the back of her own reflection, where silver fractures...

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Man is a jumble of contradictions, I know, a hard nut to crack! So unfathomable, so mysterious- at once a Satan and an angel. To the outer world I am someone. But in the well-guarded cellars of my privacy aren’t I different~ hiding my innards to light, as every other man? Am I not a masked player in life’s pantomime? At times, I...

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pretty or slippery are not my names no time for docile dolly games peaceful presence my authenticity aims ascension not something timidly tame Chorus : shiver shake not, I have nothing to hide flowing with life’s lovely tide if you cannot bear scars and shadows go elsewhere to see what flavour marrows sure I hold open portal doors when lightning...

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enslaved to the cyclical void, abused, confused, and paranoid of that endless—(somber schema)— cyclical void, enslaved to the? sheer gravity and that friendless somber schema.—Of that endless wicked, whirling, said wanton wheel and that friendless, sheer gravity of motion which sent atwirling said wanton wheel, wicked, whirling, hurtling through hell? a meager twitch sent atwirling of motion which shook all things fused.—And all this spell: a meager twitch,...

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There once was a man who loved guns With women he hit no home runs He'd whip out his round And shoot it outbound While wishing to target their buns...

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In halls where silence speaks louder than words, I stand, a beacon amidst the unseen. Their gazes, sharp as unspoken swords, Pierce through the facade, where I've always been. Once, my voice resonated with pride, Now, it's drowned by murmurs and disdain. Yet, I endure, with dignity as my guide, In a place where respect is hard to attain. But within me, a...

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Comeback-Shirley, starting early, I'm the sparkle that teases night. Worship, the Madonna baby! Comeback-Shirley Foam hair curlers set loose coils tight. Strawberry cheeks, fans wish to see. Appearances, tilt the glass right. Put your sugar bowl out, missy. The world shall call you its sunlight. Stolen cradle, aren't you in glee? Comeback-Shirley...

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Just now I’ve met somebody beaux, whom I perceive to truly glow —(oh! anxiety—oh! fitful fret!)— Somemany beaux (just now I’ve met!) has flicked a spark of gaiety O’! Fitful fret! O’ Anxiety! for outfits worn—For, mask and mark of gaiety has flicked a spark to illumine a free soul born for mask and mark, for outfits worn, and who’d begun “woman”.—Hu(man?): A free soul...

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I never buried certain names, They lingered like a scent in air. I whispered them through window panes And found them waiting everywhere. I never buried childhood roads— The ones I walked with bleeding knees. They live inside the softest odes And bloom like ghosts among the trees. I never buried what she said The night the silence broke our bed. Her voice still echoes...

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