Illusion Poems - Poems about Illusion

The magician wore my mother’s perfume and conjured family from thin air— a brother renamed uncle, a wife recast as mother, a daughter vanishing behind a tale of bees. Each sleight of hand was tender— a hush, a smile, a bowl of soup cooling on the Formica while the truth was sawed in half and tucked beneath the linoleum. No one told me why my “uncle”...

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I said I knew him— like the sea knows the moon, drawn, pulled, dancing tides to his rhythm. I traced constellations in the freckles on his back, wrote sonnets on the way he stirred his coffee, knew his heartbeat like a song I was born with. I could name the sound his silence made, the way his right eye twitched when he...

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In our universe so vast, life and death is an interpretation. In our life, we hold dear sadness, and joy is an imagination. Our life is full of colors, or so we assume, But there are no colours — just the product of our brains. Reality is beyond what we imagine. What we see around is just an illusion. Nothing is...

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Your voice cuts through my morning thoughts, While coffee grows cold in my hands. I memorize each word you speak— How foolish love can make demands. You mention rain and subway delays, Small troubles that fill up your day. I turn them into precious things, Though you mean nothing that you say. My friends show pictures of their dates, While I rehearse what I...

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They built a world of wires and lies, Wrapped it neatly in the skies. Taught you dreams through filtered screens, Fed you systems, sold you means. Your food is poison, your music's low, Your clothes are spells you didn’t know. The news you watch is scripted fear, The truth erased, year after year. Behind the curtain, shadows rule, Old money laced with hidden tools. They...

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Deceit is a silent killer Yet so many wear it well They master the art of pretending And call the mask a shield. Like her She crowned me with tender lies Draped in robes of sweet illusion And I, the fool, saw no disguise. I was blind To the poison in her touch Too drunk on the way she smiled Too far gone to feel the...

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Things are not making sense, and I am questioning if my reality is so because I thought it in to being. Am I the only one hearing the truth? Am I the only one believing? I think I am in need of a witness. Archons deceive souls using the illusion of separation. The mind is the sole...

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I have a brain. But not just any brain — I have a brain dog. It doesn’t sit. It doesn’t stay. It runs. Fast. Far. Wild. It sniffs every thought ever thought. Dreams in 4D. Overthinks lunch plans like it's nuclear policy. Sometimes... it chases shadows. Dark ones. Horror-movie-type thoughts. So I lock it up.! “Time-out,” I say. “No more mind mazes today.” And there...

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This piece was sparked by an idea in a fellow poet Tom Woody’s’ — “Last Dance Amid the Stars.” I however, followed a very different emotional path — one that avoids finality and leaves room for mystery and one’s own imagination. The story also touches on the true stories of a growing trend with...

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hello my darling he said to me as he waltzed casually back into my like AP: 1st place 2025...

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This world illudes us Like a mirage enticing; Still, we cling to it....

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Worlds from sleight of hand, What you see is not what's real, Magic in the air. ©bfa051725 ...

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I have too many regrets they bloom like tumors in the soft tissue of memory, each one pulsing with what I should have said before silence set in like rigor mortis. I swallowed whole versions of myself the reckless, the brave, the boy who ran before the door slammed shut. Now I speak in echoes of things I almost did. I wear lives that were never mine borrowed skin stitched with...

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"It's not in the way that you use it" with the color of that money Made a "run" for it "Something is tearing us apart" A "Bad: influence took control But I "walk(ed)" away I am "hung up up on your love" I "take a chance" but flew away like dove "Holding on" for my own good Do I " miss you" Love "Holy Mother"...

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"Sometimes, the heart holds on in silence—tied to old habits, haunted by what could never be. cry swallowed by shadows, a confession born from obsession and self-betrayal. This is not a love poem. It’s the echo of wanting what was never mine to hold" The past still hums beneath my skin, an ache, a whisper, soft as sin. The...

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