Preconceptions Poems | Examples

A Reflective Mirror recounts

The Mirror is my forbode
It shows fragility in my face
but my mental self preservation
still resides
I am dancing with light
Rim and Refractive light interludes 
bringing her reflective nature to fore


I am rewarded with both fear and delight
But I come without tears
Questions come to me
What  should and could I have been
An Academic  or A Police Officer
but my mirror comes without preconceptions
I am a drowned Man
The ghost of the future

Deep State People

Deep state people, deep state minds
False importance, jobs contrived  
Guardian people, warden minds
You’re not the people of my kind
Your crimes are well investigated
To lay the charge on those you hated
To set the safety, you threat and punish
Your dreamland state still cannot vanish
You welcome those who come to kill 
A few cruel fates make no big deal
You tax the pensioners, to draw
Another graph to make the score   
Your preconceptions are predictive
You rules are very much convictive
But not for those, who live in peace
Who wouldn’t go for golden fleece
Deep state people, straight lined minds
A state more shallow how to find? 
I reckon it’s a bit too late
Your cockroach breed fills every state

Reflections of a Soulful Kind 1292

“To be free of the darkness in my past allows a bright light to beam for my future”  The poet

Locked away in the crevices of my mind.
Reflections that are truly of a soulful kind.
Remembrance can be a useful tool per se.
In the crevices of my mind, locked away.

Exuberant success, sorrowful mistakes
Thinking things through is what it takes.
Creating a stable pathway, I will address.
Sorrowful mistakes, exuberant success.

It’s a key part of emotional intelligence in life.
Reflection helps to understand our past strife,
A tool to control emotions of the mind not heart.
Of emotional intelligence in life, it’s a key part.

A defined process to evoke resonance at will.
Enlightened methodology to hold memory still.
No preconceptions as I let my mind regress
To evoke resonance at will, a defined process.

There is wisdom I draw from each past interaction
Splendor of nature, and that of human attraction
Vast realms of knowledge and learning to adore.
From each past interaction, there is wisdom I draw.

Intimate Truth

p a u s e s
spaces in your words like notches on wood
endearing stillness
till a sprawl of irregular "I love you's" spill truth like a stream
                                                                                   run full
a tear-choked gaze in a sighing-room 
                                   tugging us to earthy touching

our commitment
inhabiting green-garden parts of a world
tireless in its defining
pushing past preconceptions
snared by the peace of pressing one to one
fluorescent part of gifted chemistry, 
                                              claimed

no soft need to nudge it
no drift to sullen limbs
a saga of expansion 
                  like a coal mine burning underground
where we live
an intimacy even in small tallk
truthfulness finding its bounce, prized like existence
                       still shaping days in words we share
                                                                       and heed
                       in words that pull r e c o v e r y 


Poem composed May 10/2023

Blank Slate

Quote: Free from preconceptions and biases, He never judges us  
though we constantly mess up, He never does keep count.  

A life of prostitution taught her never to take 
anything for granted; 
Numerous were her sins, far greater was her guilt 
but she never sang inside that iron cage of hers
She considered herself to be the lowest of the lowest 
until one day  
She found herself crawling up to an altar 
in the middle of the night. 
Hungering for more than flesh, the power of the cross consumed her 
igniting flames inside of her, and allowing her to feel her own brokenness 
An unrest came upon her and she decided to flee, 
but just before she reached the doors a tender voice spoke 
through the walls of the cathedral 
"My child, why do you run from me. Do you not know, that the moment 
you came to me, you became  a newborn Dove, cleaner than snow"  

The End. 

Feb 22, 2023 
Sponsor	Edward Ibeh  
Title Chosen: Blank Slate 
Contest Name	This or That, Vol 16

Clerihew Morris

Robert Morris did persist 
as a well known minimalist
Preconceptions will just melt
when viewing installation so heart ' felt'

Seeds of Sorrow

No time left to beg or borrow.
Here lies my friend; bone and marrow.
A quiet place finally found.
A soul at peace in hollow ground.
His headstone placed within a row.
Yet, lonely, as an old scarecrow.
A journey that’s sure to astound.
Where preconceptions come unbound.
My ol’ friend, oh how I wish we could speak of it all tomorrow—
Then, I could dry my eyes and stop watering these seeds of sorrow—

Interactions

INTERACTIONS
aesthetic
  happenings
present
the
passive
 experiences
intense
& disconcerting
engagement
of the
 sense
of  inhibited
mystery
of
reality

 preconceptions
released
emerge
& engage
 the
maginative
concept

fantasies
 emblazoned
in
gilded
splendour
of abandoned
devotion
  charting
the
stylistic
extracts
in magnified
detail
of evanescent
outbursts
of reality

deconstructions
offering
outlined
colour
  embracing
fragrant
&
illustrations
in
contemplative
 concentration
of
insatiable desire
in
momentary
 sensation

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

Parapet of Beauty

"The greatest unrest in this world 
comes from noises & sounds we create"

Parapet Of Beauty

Blossoming thoughts of candor beneath a parapet of beauty  
Our he/she God has abandoned all preconceptions 
that is what compassion does in the name of love!
Lets place our existence in the arms of a shimmer-Deity 
lets hold our tongue silent & stretch out our arms instead

Facades In Varied Repetitions

unsullied
              by preconceptions
              or prejudice
of atmospherics
again
&
again
         vibrant
           wrought
shimmering
motifs

made manifold
in reflections
with
   fleeting moods

on passing 

        phenomena

Verse Freed To Fish

No mission,unless it’s God’s mission ,no germination without nurture for no harvest without preparation. Nuture with tender loving care crossing bridges, breaking ground,assumptions& preconceptions dismantled and destroyed. Welcoming & warm,not in our natural strength but empowered by grace to stand and be and be set free to befriend and to acquaint, to witness and pray.
Proclaim the Good News,of life now and to come,be placed as sons ..as one.

Has Our World Gone Mad

I’m confused 
At times bemused
By the turn society’s taking,
Sexuality so complex
Gender needing further context
All my preconceptions breaking.

Are cows good
On this we brood
Carbon footprint the new quandary,
Should we fly
Or cycling try
A simpler world I recall fondly.

Left or Right
The current fight
Politicians all grandstanding,
Little caring
Overbearing
Of our hearts and minds demanding.

To take part
Is quite an art
Every word now needing measure,
Opinions rue
So fast to sue
No surprise the past I treasure.

Twisted Minds

A Few twisted minds 
or if people combine,
 it’s a perception untwined or a deception well tried.
If everyone’s kind 
and see’s preconceptions as lies
people unite
Then the masses Aline

Art Comes

On a day when nothing pleases you,
not land, sea or sky - art comes.

You see a distant view as if it were unmasked
of all space in-between. You feel an interiority;
like a snake you shed preconceptions.

Art recognizes what distance has developed
between the eye and the viewed,
then brings it to the unseeing as something 
very close, unexpected and newborn.
At that moment

land, sea and sky
have become an otherness.
A blossoming of a stranger world, 
that has yet to be imagined.

A Broken Man

When I see a homeless man on the street
I imagine myself there in his place.
Wrapped in a blanket, sleeping on concrete,
a broken man who has fallen from grace;
begging for coins as tears run down his face.

He's not garbage; he's a human being;
feeling the same as you and I inside.
Besides the obvious, you're not seeing
his hurt; set your preconceptions aside
and grasp the shame of having lost one's pride.

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