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Prismatic Poems - Poems about Prismatic

Premium Member The Prismatic Self
I meet myself at the edge of mirror glass— its surface holds me like a verdict; renders me in symmetry I do not trust. Do I offer brilliance, or only repetition? Each submission a blade, each stanza a wound— I split myself into offerings, waiting for the weight of judgment. The axe does not ask, only answers. It falls, sharp with certainty—yes...

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Categories: prismatic, creation, identity, introspection, judgement,
Form: Free verse
Premium Member The Prismatic Self
I am a daydreamer, a mask wearer a soul bare-r (but not always my own); a word-weaver. I pull at poetic strings. Strings of cobwebs and cirrus, frayed dungarees and sweet pea tendrils until I warp and weft worlds of words into poems. Sometimes I get caught in my own knots— I cut myself loose of those naughty strings. I hold...

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Categories: prismatic, art, conflict, identity, inspiration,
Form: Free verse



Premium Member The Prismatic Self
“This contest my poem will win, because it will make the sponsor grin.”- By Poet Poetry Soup gives in plenty the literary opportunity to show-case the assorted skill of poetic creativity, emanating out of the fantasy fountain of imagination. The torrent of words flows with the streams of elation, ripples as poems with the rhapsodic rhythm of heart, yearning to become...

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Categories: prismatic, poetry,
Form: Free verse
The Prismatic Self
The sparring mind requires a venue fit for wide ambition’s pointed blade—the craze of poignant poetry’s unbridled wit.— Masked)by the wily writer’s wire-meshed gaze, the soul unleashes on the stage of writ a flurry of pen strokes, a wanton blaze of mangled meanings, aiming now to split— —to split the atmosphere in half…for praise! Ah—perhaps, in this contest of our wills, I...

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Categories: prismatic, art, conflict, creation, poems,
Form: Sonnet
Premium Member The Prismatic Self
Colossians 3:17-25 KJV Bible "And whatsoever ye do in word or deed, do all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God and the Father by him. [23] And whatsoever ye do, do it heartily, as to the Lord, and not unto men; [24] Knowing that of the Lord ye shall receive the...

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Categories: prismatic, art, creation, extended metaphor,
Form: Narrative



Premium Member The Prismatic Self
Spelling, syllable count, vanity, too simple, Simon! Be prolific, cruel, smart, up to par, above the bar, fit for the stage. Tap, tap, tap… —by poet The Prismatic Self See the wooden stage, markers for my feet, bright lights, great expectations, critical analysis. Curtains will open any minute as my words make an entrance. Will my opening lyrics...

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Categories: prismatic, angst, confidence, introspection, writing,
Form: Free verse
Premium Member The Prismatic Self
Caressing the floral frame, I see reflecting in my eyes A question of perspective, of purpose, of the prize. Am I looking to gain favour? Do I desire to impress? Is my motive to spread joy with the topics I address? It's true. I would be lying to say that in my heart The virtual trophy doesn't matter, what does...

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Categories: prismatic, extended metaphor,
Form: Rhyme
Premium Member The Prismatic Self
You’re only as good as your last. —my spine, mid-fold I enter a contest like I enter most rooms: looking for sound no one’s made yet. I don’t chase strange— not all weird is created equal. Once I find it though— the mirror says submit the mask says edit the stage says nothing, but still demands presence. I wrap my fear of not-enough in a metaphor so elaborate it...

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Categories: prismatic, self, writing,
Form: Free verse
THE PRISMATIC SELF
In the hall of mirrors, I lose my face A maze of reflections, each one a different shade Of truth and lies, of light and darkest space I search for the real me, but it's hard to stay The judges' voices whisper, "Not enough" A litany of doubt, a choir of rough Hands that shape and mold, yet can't define The contours...

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Categories: prismatic, anger, anxiety, appreciation, art,
Form: Rhyme
Premium Member The Prismatic Self
Written May 03, 2025, for contest by Daniel Henry Rodgers Word count:397 words, Proposed new word: "aspira-fear" mix of fear and hope ***************************** In the quiet arena, I confront shadows that loom, What pushes me to spill ink? To create worlds? A question reverberates—my heart’s...

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Categories: prismatic, appreciation, community, poetry,
Form: Free verse
Premium Member The Prismatic Self
'I think, therefore I am!' I write to bang and clang, to play with words, cast spells. Wrangle and entangle readers, with thoughts dredged from memories, resonating, reverberating within selves, aligned on shelves, waiting to join in. An audience of thinkers shaken not stirred, by the clang and jar of poetic, rhythms, rhymes, images and ideas. Rendered with razzmatazz and syncopation, in the written words rendered, improvised,...

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Categories: prismatic, creation, poetry,
Form: Free verse
Premium Member The Prismatic Self - POTD
"Poetry is important to the writer but I feel it is all about the reader." By Poet Today as I open up my computer what will I see, a contest looking back at me? As I read the rules I must decide is this one for me, or will it haunt me if I turn it away? No mask needed...

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Categories: prismatic, poems, poetry, words, write,
Form: Free verse
Premium Member The prismatic self
“let’s ink the void with soul’s emote ~ at peace within in God’s bliss boat” ~ quote by poet In heaven’s womb, during deep sleep, soul poised for a consciousness leap, shallow breath synced with God’s heartbeat, we fearlessly swim in the deep. Come the morn our heart is upbeat, enlivened...

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Categories: prismatic, how i feel, muse,
Form: Rubaiyat
The Prismatic Self
I write because silence was a tyrant with a velvet muzzle. Because childhood was a soundproof cage, and I was taught to swallow every scream like communion. “Poetry is not therapy,” the judge says— but he has never been buried alive under the weight of unsaid things. This is not a poem. It is an autopsy where I hold the scalpel and the mirror. Anadiplosis: I write because...

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Categories: prismatic, deep,
Form: Free verse
The Prismatic Self: Male Arrogance
Okay then, I’ll admit it. Yes, I’m lazy. Not quite the hardest worker ever known. My talent is a Motorola phone: to drink the colour of a mountain daisy or taste a mirror (doesn’t that sound crazy?) I need to keep it charged: I have to hone those Pasolini “pentals” of my own (“that’s mental petals”, says the Bolognese). I enter things...

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Categories: prismatic, self,
Form: Sonnet

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