Insulated Poems | Examples

Unlimited Kilometres

It seems like your finances have evaporated
but don't fret sweetheart
today I emerged victorious
with a small sum of money
and wish your dear soul to share in this joy

So let the poetic
beauty of turning setbacks
into opportunities
inspire you to navigate
the realms of financial security

Plus, choose reward
for your unwavering commitment
"USB Charging Donut" OR
"Insulated Trunk Organizer"

Mother Wraps Herself in Silence

Sometime
before I was not mature enough to notice,
she began to dissolve.
Husband dead, son revolving
around one woman after another,
moving away from her fading presence.

Aware only of the ebb, and flow of her care
or interest, Distance surfacing in her eyes.
How her housecoat insulated her from
what she once loved.

When she looked at me it was through a tunnel
she had dug into her mind,
her presence muffled
as if it were now
always too cold to surface.

I should have seen the signs,
but by then I only visited
during narrow gaps in my life.

I told her to join something,
do what other old people did.
Only now do I understand
what old people do, -
they think of their parents
in threads and patchwork pieces.

I cannot recall the exact period
when the seam of strong bonds
began to unravel,
for of course,
that specific time was buried with her.

Serpentine Narcissus

My mind hibernates in the void of cavernous complexity,
wakes up in the sensual seasons of mystique living.
The wild psyche forms a sleek and sly unique entity,
as with whisper of intent hiss, dances the reptilian feeling. 

Within the deep cold layers many ancient secrets hide,
the sinuous slither of the silent senses can’t find.
Coiled in still shadows of the verdant world outside,
the echo of hostile footsteps is left to fade behind.       

   A prisoner under the disposable skin of own pedigree,               
with an animated grace of fear in introvert isolation,
I see all the frightened faces flee from me,
as I trace my tortuous path in the web of ardent adulation. 

In self-adoration, as a symbol of style steeped in serenity, 
I see in me a serpentine Narcissus lonely lurk.
Metamorphosed stealthily from an obsessive entity,
it holds the threads of life, waits insulated in the dark.

Bar Top Review

"Do you want ice with It?"
Why not,
the deep snow will be more slidable.
I rattle the cubes.
A snowstorm keeps me
twisting and corkscrewed
even when at rest.

'Not too cold for you?"
I am muffled
cocooned in layers of invisibility.
My spine is insulated,
flesh mummified
yet under these red lights,
I almost glow.

"Where are all your friends?"
They shelter in empty shot glasses,
the whisky in them is still warm.
They die alone while talking to my memory.

"What's your problem Mr.?"
It's that mirror back of the bar
it keeps thawing and dripping,
soon my face will emerge,
and its eyes will be
forever unlocked and open.

Life Changing

________________________________________
Life Changing 

In these quiet woods, as shadows spread,  
Timorous leaves whisper my secrets to the breeze.  
A sentinel of time I am among the malus trees. 
My roots run deep in my seed’s homestead. 
--
I stir under the warm sun anew. 
My blossoms blooming bouquets of pink petals fair, 
I stand in beauty, unaware. 
Unbidden but welcome, Spring has made its debut. 
--
My branches grow branches, my leaves bear blades. 
The bees buzzing come, a swarming tinnitus hum, 
My stigma swipes their pollen, my honey glands reward their plumb. 
Such is the dance of life, out of sight, in the shade. 
----
Sated with Spring and Summer, exhaustion nears, 
Pink petals pass. Unadorned leaves leave their color green for brown 
And softly, gently, resignedly, flutter down, 
Dumb in their final moments in the breeze’s tears. 

---- 
Myself, in those moments, stark and bare, I ponder life. 
Its fleeting fare seems awkwardly unfair to the fruit I bore, the leaves I shed, 
My issue are now numbered among the dead. 
But my roots still run deep, insulated from the strife. 
---
A sentinel of stone I am among the malus trees.

Broadway Ballad Christmas Gathering

The Male Belgium Blue
Spieciem #.0009-280
and Female specimen
Brown Swiss--290
( a deluxe wool Hat)
Swiss Maids Uniiform
west cotton that rots
but new she's a doll!
said Bisser Daned to have
the calf in the spring
but his wife wished it for
Christmas thyme and
all the joy it would bring.
Thought the cold winters
harshness
werst the chances
of success.
The newly built insulated
barn
was ready for the test.
He shall feed these cattle
the feed should last
until spring.
The joys of a new calf
and all the milk the calf
will bring.
Eggnog for Christmas
a rummy cultured drink.
Caroling and cigar
smoking.
While nature does
it's thing!

when echolalia mimics itself

boxed into self-inflicted confinement
reverberations intensify shackles 
towards the pinnacle of circular charge

blow out the fuse they emphasized
we need a circuit breaker for the echo
when the surge reaches its pinnacle

thoughts and beliefs amplify the crest
of what turned out to seem a battle of words
a coat of arms painted in repetitive darkness

polarization and confirmation bias within
a closed system insulated from rebuttal
dead end roundabout impasse and stalemate

as the echo filters reality illusions concur 
with distortions half-truths of corroboration
testimonial endorsement of fantasy worlds

when the sieve becomes strained and deluded
the drain overflows with misinformation
perspectives must change to reframe the mind

ample proportions need not succumb
to fortified chambers of stagnant circles
hashtag rehashing in order to heal reflect

01st December 2024

Bad Nation

I’m living dead, I’m a bad nation
As bad as you like to percieve
The easiest for condemnation
En masse, so maybe I’m not me
Because I’m always undistinguished
I am a crowd you ignore
All personalities relinquished 
It doesn’t matter now what for
I cannot see a film director
That could have done a sequel to
Forman’s Ragtime, like a reflector
Under the name of Ragtime Two 
A story of the insulated
Would not attract lot of attention
It would be booed and claimed outdated 
And all the dire consolations
They’ll put into quotation marks
And I’ll be ridiculed to bits
So no more travels in the dark
No waiters bringing fish and chips  
I’m cursed just for the case of birth
This thread will never be unravelled
For me all governments on earth 
Are one – its obvious at my level.

Beyond the Ivory Tower

Soft ivory pages, crisp and new.
Insulated from the world's harsh truths,
Snuggled in the comfort of rote learning, it waits.

Protected from challenging ideas,
Camouflaged as a bastion of knowledge,
Ignoring sounds of a changing world outside.

Each lesson absorbed, concepts released,
The slightest spark of curiosity dimmed,
Minds anchored to standardised forms.

Slow to evolve, the system creaks.
Returning to the safety of metrics,
Covered in a shroud of false contentment.

Coal-dark ink scans the ledger,
Nourished by the currency of test scores,
Effortless, true learning slips into the abyss.

A place where wisdom once flourished,
Embraced by the essence of inquiry,
Now mechanical, measured, misguided.

We too must remember,
The embrace of knowledge's true essence,
Living beyond the melting ivory tower.

Above the Melting Ice

Above the Melting Ice

Soft white skin, taut and smooth.
Insulated from the Arctic cold,
Snuggled warm in its wetsuit, he sleeps. 

Protected from predators, 
Camouflaged as a mound of snow,
Ignoring sounds of cracking and popping.

Each inhale releases, exhales,
The slightest shift in movement, 
Flippers anchored to his round form.

Slow to stir, he scratches. 
Returning to the place of now,
Covered in quiet contentment. 

Coal-black eyes scan the horizon,
Nourished by the bounty within the icy waters, 
Effortless, he slips into the abyss.

A place of serene silence, 
Embraced by the essence of life,
Peaceful, pristine, perfect. 

I too must remember, 
The embrace of life’s essence,
Living above the melting ice.

Never Again

The cacophony of headlines spills into homes. 
Living rooms swell with images of death.
Horror hails against insulated windows... 
A fusillade of destruction and trauma 
Resonating in a global conscience.
Barrages of how's and why's rally...
...between... 
brothers, sisters;
wives, husbands;
fathers, mothers;
sons, daughters.
All comsuming blitz of bewilderment. 
Disbelief pierced by shrapnal of reality.
Darkness, without peace, smothers Europe
again

The Cold

What are you doing? No, don’t do that!
Don’t play with the cold.
Make sure the doors closed tight.
Make sure the seals hold.

That’s how it’ll get us, that’s how it’ll win.
That wind that you hear, it has evil within.
All of nations, all of our own.
Forced into this captivity because the world let us go.

Now just in thousands the billions we were.
The ice came on quickly the cold grew and grew.

Don’t play with the cold. Don’t invite it in.
This insulated prison is all we’ve got and it’s thin.

We’re blocking the outer rooms with what we can find. We’ll lock the doors soon and retreat to the central hive.

The plan is to freeze us cryogenically! 
In fifty years some will be set free.
If they can’t find an end to the cold. 
They’ll retreat for a century and check again more.

But, until we’re all frozen but alive in the Dead Sea we can’t let it in or proper dead we will be!

Starling on an Electric Power Line

Lined up
they perch in spaced formation,
ready to take fright and scatter
should a roving hawk approach too near.

I don't know why
they seem insulated from the deadly current,
or why
they make such a reckless target
for the raptors.

A cat looks at them
from a city pavement.
I do know what it is thinking.

The differing spaces between the starlings
could be musical notations.

A language just for cats and hawks,
played loudly,
on a blank sheet of sky.

DEVOID OF WINTER

In my residence devoid of winter
my mind virtually explores its reality-wonders
thus, with enthralling vicarious experience 
I thank God for freedom to imagine
how it is to doze serenely 
toward winter slumber
midst assailing below zero temperature  
blanketing the room beyond chills…

Here am I persisting to defy coldness
enveloping season of enchanting enigmas
fueled by prayer place
warmed with divine compassion
heralding faith messages from God
hoisting hope*, insulated with fellowship
fiery against ice-kissed isolation…
around knitted family ties 
intensified by gestures, verily kind
as love prevails to blossom
bearing fruits after Winter’s leaflessness.

*Psalm 78:7 That they might set their hope in God, and not forget the works of God, but keep his commandments.

Bodhi Tree

and I hunger for you, like a moth
longing for one last flicker of flame 
nestled deep inside my heart

the memory of my childhood worship sits deep 
as an innocent deer panting by the riverside 
and I need you now, ... like I need the air I breathe
for I feel lame as a joke I can't retell,  
perhaps I am the joke itself;

inside this narrow minded insulated world of reality,  
you don't exist anymore for me   
at least not in the way you did when I was young 
for I have given you so many different gowns and shapes 
that I am no longer able to envision you 
the way I did before, what do you look like now? 

I ask while sitting quietly, beneath a   
Bodhi tree.

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