Least Read Poems About Identity
#identity
Related Theme
#myself
Least read poems about identity. Find an undiscovered masterpiece in the DU Poetry least read poems.
yelluw_always
Poem Published
30th Apr 2019 6:31am
30th Apr 2019 6:31am
Lakeside 29/30
And the wind soughing in the trees
Catches in their ears, is sent out
In scouting parties of sensation down their spines.
If you say it became language or it was nothing,
Who touched whom?
In what hurtle of starlight?
Poor language, poor theory
Of language. - Robert Hass
I take out the box, it could be any kind-
a shoebox or a treasure chest, or a room-
and currently the lid is closed. I’m not
here to talk about the cat,
if it’s dead or present. Here I am in life,
opening it and what do you know
but a...
Catches in their ears, is sent out
In scouting parties of sensation down their spines.
If you say it became language or it was nothing,
Who touched whom?
In what hurtle of starlight?
Poor language, poor theory
Of language. - Robert Hass
I take out the box, it could be any kind-
a shoebox or a treasure chest, or a room-
and currently the lid is closed. I’m not
here to talk about the cat,
if it’s dead or present. Here I am in life,
opening it and what do you know
but a...
#identity
#NaPoWriMo2019
11 reads
3 Comments
FeNyX
Poem Published
30th Mar 2021 4:06pm
30th Mar 2021 4:06pm
Decay
The tempo slows
The hands run stiller
Filling days with nothing
Only putrescent filler
Prime past long ago
Disease runs rampant
Body attacking body
Pain the only companion
The mind slips also
Slower and slower still
Cell by cell evaporating
Like iron rusted will
Flakes of copper
Drops of silver
Lakes of platinum
Emptying like a polluted river
The hands run stiller
Filling days with nothing
Only putrescent filler
Prime past long ago
Disease runs rampant
Body attacking body
Pain the only companion
The mind slips also
Slower and slower still
Cell by cell evaporating
Like iron rusted will
Flakes of copper
Drops of silver
Lakes of platinum
Emptying like a polluted river
#love
#identity
#LifeStruggles #LifeCycle
#LifeStruggles #LifeCycle
12 reads
11 Comments
yelluw_always
Poem Published
23rd Apr 2019 5:05am
23rd Apr 2019 5:05am
Lakeside 21/30
It is a fact, a small fact. A known one
among our kind. Among the singed.
Among the moths of fringes and in their
fringes is this fact burnt from that what
we misunderstand as the moon in the kitchen.
It is a joyous metaphor of the night-blues.
There we edge drawers of butchers
and carvers. There we prosody
with the mashers and the strainers.
The boiling point and the preservatives,
the thermostat that will sink in a side.
All those are emotions ready at hand
for lamentations of...
among our kind. Among the singed.
Among the moths of fringes and in their
fringes is this fact burnt from that what
we misunderstand as the moon in the kitchen.
It is a joyous metaphor of the night-blues.
There we edge drawers of butchers
and carvers. There we prosody
with the mashers and the strainers.
The boiling point and the preservatives,
the thermostat that will sink in a side.
All those are emotions ready at hand
for lamentations of...
#identity
#nature
#culture #NaPoWriMo2019
#culture #NaPoWriMo2019
12 reads
5 Comments
yelluw_always
Poem Published
23rd Apr 2019 5:05am
23rd Apr 2019 5:05am
Lakeside 22/30
We say who we were right then.
Tell me, were you made to uncurl
your proboscis and bend the antennae
down as the television turns into dirty snow.
We disturb each other’s entry-ways
with tell me more, tell me more about the world
outside, I’ve just came from this place,
this cemented state,
something grey and narrow and it wasn’t the sky,
I barely made it out. The subject always
leaves the kitchen lights on with the grace
of a million moons. Somehow, we flew there
without science. Once upon a hot night,
I...
Tell me, were you made to uncurl
your proboscis and bend the antennae
down as the television turns into dirty snow.
We disturb each other’s entry-ways
with tell me more, tell me more about the world
outside, I’ve just came from this place,
this cemented state,
something grey and narrow and it wasn’t the sky,
I barely made it out. The subject always
leaves the kitchen lights on with the grace
of a million moons. Somehow, we flew there
without science. Once upon a hot night,
I...
#identity
#nature
#culture #NaPoWriMo2019
#culture #NaPoWriMo2019
12 reads
2 Comments
yelluw_always
Poem Published
5th Apr 2020 6:01am
5th Apr 2020 6:01am
I want to say 3/30
I want to say
trip the
light
fantastic but it means to
dance
this is not what I want to say here
I want to sign a
requiem
for a
dream but that’s
a movie
for tripping
it’s telling me all kinds of
things
it’s gesturing me
to
conduct
compose
di-
a -
gram
a
mirror
of
my own
light
it’s telling
me to
own lines
& let’s not
drown
in the mirror ...
trip the
light
fantastic but it means to
dance
this is not what I want to say here
I want to sign a
requiem
for a
dream but that’s
a movie
for tripping
it’s telling me all kinds of
things
it’s gesturing me
to
conduct
compose
di-
a -
gram
a
mirror
of
my own
light
it’s telling
me to
own lines
& let’s not
drown
in the mirror ...
#identity
#myself
12 reads
2 Comments
FeNyX
Poem Published
5th Apr 2021 4:27am
5th Apr 2021 4:27am
Jumping Past Your Past To Regain All You Never Lost
Loss and redemption can be two sides of the same coin
One spurring the other to lift above the rare air
To dream and evoke ones deepest schemes
To mold reality to ones vision without care
To meld and temper to ones destiny
To realign the mind and all consciousness
To find the core and use it to restore the soul
Find your peace and your centered resourcefulness
Spiral down through the dark
Floating down to lighted sparks
Feather light wakefulness imbued
Measured in spectral...
One spurring the other to lift above the rare air
To dream and evoke ones deepest schemes
To mold reality to ones vision without care
To meld and temper to ones destiny
To realign the mind and all consciousness
To find the core and use it to restore the soul
Find your peace and your centered resourcefulness
Spiral down through the dark
Floating down to lighted sparks
Feather light wakefulness imbued
Measured in spectral...
#identity
#SelfDiscovery
12 reads
4 Comments
yelluw_always
Poem Published
5th Apr 2020 6:33am
5th Apr 2020 6:33am
I rub upon your 4/30
I rub upon your
temples
coarse
finger grains
fine
the microcosm
the mica
the pumice
of breaking apart
i could break it down
phonetically
with eye
naked
exfoliated
but the ocular
that’s learned how things occur
the abstract
mold concept
superimposed
rods
cones
making wind
stone
my words
pottery
they are the clay
living poetry
ephemeral dirt
in oyster shells
temples
coarse
finger grains
fine
the microcosm
the mica
the pumice
of breaking apart
i could break it down
phonetically
with eye
naked
exfoliated
but the ocular
that’s learned how things occur
the abstract
mold concept
superimposed
rods
cones
making wind
stone
my words
pottery
they are the clay
living poetry
ephemeral dirt
in oyster shells
#myself
#identity
13 reads
1 Comment
yelluw_always
Poem Published
11th Apr 2019 8:01am
11th Apr 2019 8:01am
Lakeside 10/30
The windmills fan their faces in cool joy.
Cartwheels walk the sky and feel with toes.
Listen, on the tippy toes are cartwheeling clouds.
Elephants cause earthquakes as they run.
Earthquakes make them run to higher ground.
Like children going out on a limb, higher.
Higher, out on a limb the children drop stones
into their faces, they see themselves as grass small.
They see themselves as grass, small with faces of dew.
Town-criers for the wind, for news of a bough.
...
Cartwheels walk the sky and feel with toes.
Listen, on the tippy toes are cartwheeling clouds.
Elephants cause earthquakes as they run.
Earthquakes make them run to higher ground.
Like children going out on a limb, higher.
Higher, out on a limb the children drop stones
into their faces, they see themselves as grass small.
They see themselves as grass, small with faces of dew.
Town-criers for the wind, for news of a bough.
...
#identity
#nature
#NaPoWriMo2019
13 reads
3 Comments
Poetic_Strength
Poem Published
24th Nov 2019 4:34pm
24th Nov 2019 4:34pm
Rekindle
Seemed as if my present-day aged,
reforming my deep-rooted prophecies,
into whims of novelties,
I try to refresh my journeys and fondness for idioms,
Discoveries,
Led me to sceneries of blessings and obscenity,
The effects of my imageries; inclined and bounded by scribble's identity,
I tried to flee the abuse of my ingenuity,
But failed to resist ,
I submitted to tongue's sprain; "my tropical tones" ,'
Resembled fire on burning stones,
Provoked my intimate dream to be awaken; by whispers of illicit undertones.
Candid moans...
reforming my deep-rooted prophecies,
into whims of novelties,
I try to refresh my journeys and fondness for idioms,
Discoveries,
Led me to sceneries of blessings and obscenity,
The effects of my imageries; inclined and bounded by scribble's identity,
I tried to flee the abuse of my ingenuity,
But failed to resist ,
I submitted to tongue's sprain; "my tropical tones" ,'
Resembled fire on burning stones,
Provoked my intimate dream to be awaken; by whispers of illicit undertones.
Candid moans...
#identity
#WritersBlock
#LifeAsAWriter
#learning
#SelfReflection
13 reads
2 Comments
yelluw_always
Poem Published
21st Apr 2019 7:14am
21st Apr 2019 7:14am
Lakeside 18/30
The freeze retreats
like crumpled paper,
the birds skid in,
tossing the ozone
of their wings. They
are signing home
in the sounds of our ghost
cinema. The music is
in ripples as we skip
flat, trying to feel it
through our hair, spines,
and calves. We have
emptied so that it echoes.
With our claws we rake the air
as rain, brush our hair,
toss a salad, scratch
our spines, cramp
our calves, and grow
the hay. We say theory
of mind and I see
what you’re saying
from the...
like crumpled paper,
the birds skid in,
tossing the ozone
of their wings. They
are signing home
in the sounds of our ghost
cinema. The music is
in ripples as we skip
flat, trying to feel it
through our hair, spines,
and calves. We have
emptied so that it echoes.
With our claws we rake the air
as rain, brush our hair,
toss a salad, scratch
our spines, cramp
our calves, and grow
the hay. We say theory
of mind and I see
what you’re saying
from the...
#identity
#nature
#culture #NaPoWriMo2019
#culture #NaPoWriMo2019
14 reads
5 Comments
yelluw_always
Poem Published
9th Apr 2019 7:42am
9th Apr 2019 7:42am
Lakeside 8/30
Let us unscrew all the bulbs, let us see
what really happens at night, what is this
wildness of roads bordering this lake.
Their lines of divide, cars going
in the opposite directions. In sign,
we would say this in a way
that indicates misunderstandings,
two fingers passing by in the night swiftly
ends in a question mark of face.
Therein lies the dichotomy
of cities, bodies have machinated
towards sound, matching the sonic
boom with their twin beams. I look
at the moon and cannot see behind,
who are...
what really happens at night, what is this
wildness of roads bordering this lake.
Their lines of divide, cars going
in the opposite directions. In sign,
we would say this in a way
that indicates misunderstandings,
two fingers passing by in the night swiftly
ends in a question mark of face.
Therein lies the dichotomy
of cities, bodies have machinated
towards sound, matching the sonic
boom with their twin beams. I look
at the moon and cannot see behind,
who are...
#identity
#nature
#surreal #NaPoWriMo2019
#surreal #NaPoWriMo2019
14 reads
2 Comments
yelluw_always
Poem Published
15th Apr 2019 6:38am
15th Apr 2019 6:38am
Lakeside 14/30
All the bowl-shaped
things, my hands, can make
but can’t hold
this rain,
cave flower crescent
smoked pipe skull
gourd stomach bucket
body cloud clam crater
the form changes
without context, like the way a stranger
comes in the room and begins
asking for directions to who knows what is this
content is
as the insides
are filled
of words, in a rush
even as I swish them...
things, my hands, can make
but can’t hold
this rain,
cave flower crescent
smoked pipe skull
gourd stomach bucket
body cloud clam crater
the form changes
without context, like the way a stranger
comes in the room and begins
asking for directions to who knows what is this
content is
as the insides
are filled
of words, in a rush
even as I swish them...
#identity
#nature
#NaPoWriMo2019
14 reads
2 Comments
DU Poetry : Least Read Poems About Identity
