Imperceptible Poems | Examples

List of Member Poems

Premium Member Look deeper

take formless to be form invisible 
go beyond body mind and senses five
so what if space is imperceptible 
know the entire universe is alive

Premium Member AMELIORATION

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The needle slips beneath the silk again~
perfection demands no frayed edge, no trembling stitch.

Each thread pulled taut as a guillotine wire,
each knot a universe compressed to flawless geometry.

This blessing: the tapestry shimmers like captured moonlight.
This curse: the blood on the thimble, the hour lost to a single imperceptible flaw.

Creation gleams, a frozen star in the palm.
Yet the hand aches for the wild, uneven bloom of something alive.

Premium Member Please, Get My Life

Just get my life

Hmm. Out of love. Out of order. Dry field
No green lawn. Walk on dry land. Unloved

Hmm. Unloved. Empty of love. True. Hmm
Hmm. Always was true. Never lie. Dark star

In the sky. Invisible, imperceptible desire
A dead hope, solitude, motionless, this life

Motionless restlessness. Without lust for life
But believe. A bit. In life. Need a soul to get life

Give, please. I don’t need your money. Just heart
Please, implant a new heart in my soul. And love

Give, please
A new beginning
From your hot blood
From your beating heart
To me
For a new desire


Premium Member Sitting on the Porch

something small almost imperceptible is crawling across the porch
I have to get closer to see it; it is a tiny bug, so small it has no color
I wonder if my dogs have noticed; but they are asleep, not caring
leaves of my lilac tree capture my attention next; they seem to shimmer.
a different color on the back, kind of a silver sheen.

a tiny wren or sparrow flies downward; this interests me.
Birds usually fly up, unless there is rain water to dabble in.
This one landed on the edge of the cat door and promptly went inside.
Does she have a nest in my garage? This was curious.
She went in that flap as if it was her flap.

there is a whoo whoo whoo sound now
an owl in the afternoon? My ears struggle to hear.
Yes, it is an owl. In the day time? They are nocturnal!
Whoo Whoo Whoo; a third call.
This was remarkable.

A large shadow of a raptor brings my eyes skyward.
It is huge, black, a turkey buzzard?
Now there are two, now three, my final count is six.
They are circling above the marsh. Is there something dead?
I shudder.

One of my dogs is having a daymare. He is shuddering.
I lean down and pat him a bit, to reassure him.

Premium Member our purpose

who is he who looks through our eyes
fuelling thoughts that glow in mind
consciousness which as our heart sighs
this is the source we need to find

the source is in heart detected
subtle and imperceptible 
we are all interconnected
each to each is susceptible 

as a spark entwined with the whole
we have a duty to perform
to illumine space is our goal
conjuring in it a bliss storm

Premium Member Point of No Return

A crescent moon dangles in the distance,
whilst meteors jet across Prussian blue heavens,
leaving trails of grey ash in their wake.
An abnormal, elongated silence creeps through threadbare trees,
as an imperceptible breeze skims past my hair,
causing, for just a second, déjà vu—
a flutter between my muffled heart and a crushing ribcage
jolts me back.
Never-ending, frayed nerves keep me on edge;
the taste of insufferable copper taints my tongue.
Spitting it out—only for it to return,
haunting me like your last words,
replicating, repeating nightmares,
eating into my wailing brain.
That night: the broken glass,
shattered mirrors, overturned tables,
blood-sheathed floors—
became our point of no return.


Chasing

I remember he wore a dark, blue coat.
But remembering doesn’t mean much. 
For a woman like me who feels fluttering and sees flying things. 
I remember he wore a light, orange coat.
Then he turned into a traffic cone. 
While I stepped into the street. 
Nodding my head even without music. 

Sound is forgettable. 
Screeching cars feel bubbly and tumbling. 
A coat of indeterminate color and appearance. 
Means that they certainly won’t believe me. 

He turned to me in an impossible, head turning way. 
Painful, imperceptible. 
Nodding along to the music instead. 

I stepped in the street at 2:25 pm. 
No one knows why I act out like this. 
To me, danger is like an asteroid. 
Always flying overhead, but I am an earthly boulder. 
So danger to me is,
Just like me.

I had a few scrapes and bruises. 
As I chased an impossible man. 
I don’t think he’ll want to come back around here. 
Knowing that there’s a person like me.

Premium Member The Narcissist Who Saved Himself - Cynthia Howard - collaboration with Dilly Dally

nothing spoils this surface view ~ see me
crave attention, gift empty touch  
tonal mask veils flaws and vices  
face alter ego and kneel

to feed the shallow shadow that circles 
~ around gossamer tears of the grieving moon,  
as silenced streaks of tongue-twisted lines,  
undress a puddle of poisoned stars

pull force imperceptible, attraction
lost in blissful contemplation  
comatose until that last equation  
gravitational persuasion creating longing 

but will the lake that flows with fears  
thaw words tangled in golden chains?  
for I’ve drowned in liquified lies,  
drawing perfection from imperfect reflections

delve to the depths of my spun world  
peripheral interference dissipates in darkness  
only requirement is carved version of self
that steadies my hand and drags me in

sinking beneath Narcissus's polluted undertow
tainted oxygen leaves my expanding lungs 
hitting jagged rocks, spoiled skin shreds,
exposing a forgotten empath ~ salvation rises

Premium Member Unveiling Our Myths

Muffled voices in clouded corridors,
where legends mold the unseen,
drifting through thoughts like specters 
bestowing authority upon the mysterious.

In politics, a performance: 
marionettes on a dream-filled platform, 
ballots cast for favor 
lies woven with words 
strands of optimism and dread 
woven in imperceptible restraints.

Religion, with its narratives,
deities and monsters depicted in faith 
comfort sought in fables 
significance discovered in customs,
fleeting peace in their presence 
prayers ascending, vapors in thin air.

Daily rituals of superstition 
a black cat crosses the path, a broken mirror 
navigating through symbols 
interpreting with outdated understandings,
guided by obscure beliefs
apprehensive of uncertainties.

What if we dared to look behind the curtain 
to view the myths we hold; 
What secrets lie beyond?

Premium Member On Guard

Terrific tornadoes predicted
On guard
Trees tremble, leaves shake
Be safe
Phoebe fanfare inflamed
In tweets
Errands to run
Save them
Stillest darkness, imperceptible danger
Don’t be fooled
The weather map in ugly shades of red
Holding my breath
Shelter contains walls, floor, roof
Please stay
And windows and doors
Stay closed
Terrific tornadoes predicted
On guard

March

First buds emerge in velvet cocoons
As dank, dark mornings transform
Into frost clad, bright, clean-aired dawns. 
Grass laden heavy with dew, 
Nectar of nature to sustain awakening creatures. 
From deepest winter slumbers, 
To drink deep the anticipation held in each drop. 
Static in the air, in our hair, as crunched grasses
Make way for warming days, milky moons,
And pearlescent sun shards melting
The cold of winter soil. 
Grass, long since recoiled after long summer
Parching, burnt and bruised,
Now tender and sweet, shoots pushing
Up through the loamy layers of frost bitten ground. 
The scents of spring, almost imperceptible 
Yet nonetheless I feel them set my belly to flight 
The excitement for some unknown event, 
As though a celebratory feast,
Honoured to be invited to.  
Tingling in extremities, no longer from cold
But now in joy, in pleasure, 
In the fruitfulness we know to come to pass, 
When spring finally announces her arrival 
Once more.

Premium Member somewhat like falling in love

childlike spontaneity and pure intent
as innate propensity of our soul
in judging poetry contests
where focus is upon
a line of inquiry 
seeks an ethereal scent
made alive by words symbolic 
cajoling presence to imbibe the fragrance 
assimilated in stillness by the mind of our heart

as renowned masteroes electrify the stage
with flawless renderings of their music
an almost imperceptible subtle note
possesses the fabric of our soul
playing as a healing refrain
which is what grips our attention
compellingly as a wave form magical
conjuring in toroidal heart a smokeless fire
exerting upon mind full potency of magnetism

Premium Member SURREALISTA picasso at al

banal
                yet
deadpan
absurd
            clashing
            symbols
heard
          in
              the eye
          where
imagery
is
                  all

dimensions
share
one
          frontal
          view

side
&back
          converge-
stark
styles
          merge
into
symbolic
              cubes
bright doodles
erupt
 from unconscious
minds
the common fears
 and complaints of life

            Of looking into
                          of looking through
the imperceptible  crowd
  of creative gravity
    found
things      no-things
 no-forms
      afloat
 whirling
    or resting
in the
mansions
  housed
      within


off the wall
       out of this world
drifting
together without
a care

                kissing

missing minutes
become hours
     one dream becomes
another


No
mirror
of the soul-
Archimboldo
art,
more
satire
by cartoon
on nature's still life

Premium Member The World Before Grey

She is
has always been
a safe place for joy
It radiates from her pale skin
Her frame is small and slight
The shadow walkers
fail to see her magnificence
“She’s such a daydreamer”
“When will she ever grow up”

Little magical things
recognize their own
Butterflies flit about and softly land on her
They feel no threat
She has an essential calm
Together they vibrate in harmony
Wordless whispers 
Wings of wonder
Joyful oscillations 
She leans into her happy
Unabashedly open 
Floating on imperceptible notes 
A delicate destiny
An eternity of possibilities 
Her direct path to joy

It’s so sad the shadow walkers cannot see
They cannot dream
They cannot feel her joy
They are bogged down in the muck of responsibility 
Yes, they grew up far too quickly 
To them the world is grey.

Sidereal

My heart burns with a cold, white fire
Fighting against itself in a battle no one can win
I am contrived, a portrait of a girl who...
And anyone can fill me in. 
My destiny was not written for this world
This earth is not my home
And I am but an echo, the perception of a far-off light
Almost imperceptible amid the light pollution
Streetlights, headlights, stoplights, flashing highway signs
Obfuscating the truth.
For a moment, I think perhaps I could escape
The confines of flesh, blood, cells, atoms, tangibility
And ascend into the night posed into a constellation forever.

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Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.

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