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
21st Apr 2019 7:15am
21st Apr 2019 7:15am
Lakeside 19/30
Recreate the geography
of language by coloring
in the phonemes as body
shaped, as where.
Sign language is every
kind of onomatopoeia,
the hands making all kinds
of sounds against our bodies,
through the air, sculpture,
painting, pottery, temporal
and grounding but the after-
effects stay in your throat.
The words are indulged
by your eyes as they close
and you can taste
proprioception.
Space is replicated
into a stack of paper.
Squeeze as if you are seeking
a bed...
of language by coloring
in the phonemes as body
shaped, as where.
Sign language is every
kind of onomatopoeia,
the hands making all kinds
of sounds against our bodies,
through the air, sculpture,
painting, pottery, temporal
and grounding but the after-
effects stay in your throat.
The words are indulged
by your eyes as they close
and you can taste
proprioception.
Space is replicated
into a stack of paper.
Squeeze as if you are seeking
a bed...
#identity
#nature
#culture #NaPoWriMo2019
#culture #NaPoWriMo2019
19 reads
4 Comments
yelluw_always
Poem Published
5th Jan 2019 1:02am
5th Jan 2019 1:02am
Evolution of the House
Words have been lost as flies’ lifespans
evidenced on the gravesill. They drop
to the floor of fancy. And into the file
cabinet of euphemisms. What of the passage,
these two windows measure end to end crownings.
A linear pattern, a druther drags dream to dust.
Mammoths of language along dodos of ideas.
A sabertoothed diction dodders as gestures grow
digital wires. Fingers spark. Voice is analog.
The next testimony arrives, a living shortcut of description-
down the hall and around the corner- cinerama.
The floor...
evidenced on the gravesill. They drop
to the floor of fancy. And into the file
cabinet of euphemisms. What of the passage,
these two windows measure end to end crownings.
A linear pattern, a druther drags dream to dust.
Mammoths of language along dodos of ideas.
A sabertoothed diction dodders as gestures grow
digital wires. Fingers spark. Voice is analog.
The next testimony arrives, a living shortcut of description-
down the hall and around the corner- cinerama.
The floor...
#identity
#beauty
#PowerOfWords
#art
#culture
20 reads
9 Comments
yelluw_always
Poem Published
6th Feb 2019 5:14pm
6th Feb 2019 5:14pm
The Natural Cues of the Visual
You are on a sidewalk. Strolling along in a conversation conversion of a complete circle. You and partner are barbell ends. When partner moves a millimeter away from you, you slip in step and slip a telephone pole. You are home alone reading. Leave a sliver of the alcove window unshut. Foe enters at the other end of the brownstone. Tiny cyclones pass over forearm slanting to the slitted vortex. Tiny inflatable air dancers advertise "A presence is here. Shiver. A presence is here. Wobble.” You are in a car. Bust out in a dance at any time because you don't need music on the outside. Passenger...
#identity
#prose
#culture
20 reads
5 Comments
yelluw_always
Poem Published
31st Dec 2018 10:22pm
31st Dec 2018 10:22pm
Missed Connections
The non-signaler in traffic,
or every half-met greeting, a reservation
is set for them in the Pit. Fumbled
stroll charged by creosote aroma, over
the bridge a spiked heat. Uncontrollable,
tar, dough. Expanded wood, the jammed door,
loosely bundled sock and your shoe hanging
off the toe, blustering, declaring
sensational soon-to-split irri-ta-tion.
Some kitchens are pristine and ours
grind crumbs in the bulk while we
are darkly snuggled, an irrigation into beds,
underneath our feet and on the verge
of farmhouse...
or every half-met greeting, a reservation
is set for them in the Pit. Fumbled
stroll charged by creosote aroma, over
the bridge a spiked heat. Uncontrollable,
tar, dough. Expanded wood, the jammed door,
loosely bundled sock and your shoe hanging
off the toe, blustering, declaring
sensational soon-to-split irri-ta-tion.
Some kitchens are pristine and ours
grind crumbs in the bulk while we
are darkly snuggled, an irrigation into beds,
underneath our feet and on the verge
of farmhouse...
#anxiety
#identity
#humankind
#inequality
#disability
21 reads
11 Comments
yelluw_always
Poem Published
3rd Jan 2019 4:03pm
3rd Jan 2019 4:03pm
1. Annotated Peoples Make Connections: if they walked around in love/for love/by love with SFX labels to their chests
At first I was grateful. My proverbial
handkerchief had been picked up.
He blew the piece of cotton high
as a manner of greeting,
a quilt piece- a doily under my coffee
now a cloud. We were both light,
light from casting-off home.
In a building of pillows, sheets, shut curtains
and fulsome acts amongst sewing materials,
I looked down at the audience
of the waxy floor after the transient rain.
In a slippery distance, water and light met in color.
We met in color. I chose to leave the defined
end of the bridge onto a...
handkerchief had been picked up.
He blew the piece of cotton high
as a manner of greeting,
a quilt piece- a doily under my coffee
now a cloud. We were both light,
light from casting-off home.
In a building of pillows, sheets, shut curtains
and fulsome acts amongst sewing materials,
I looked down at the audience
of the waxy floor after the transient rain.
In a slippery distance, water and light met in color.
We met in color. I chose to leave the defined
end of the bridge onto a...
#lust
#sex
#identity
#shadows
#culture
21 reads
4 Comments
yelluw_always
Poem Published
6th Jan 2019 9:05pm
6th Jan 2019 9:05pm
Grunge
In eighth grade, she nailed on a pink shirt, a pale pastel
and felt exposed to the future. It had been years pulling it out
of the drain. She tied off a knit around the mess
borrowed from her mother’s narnia. The wrapping and knot
with limp arms like a lioness carrying her cub. Her idol
graduated and visited, opened her flannel podshell:
“Look at these things!” Unripe cheeks, a glance
at the eyes in the plank, at slivers and cracks.
She felt as if I could pass through them, in the...
and felt exposed to the future. It had been years pulling it out
of the drain. She tied off a knit around the mess
borrowed from her mother’s narnia. The wrapping and knot
with limp arms like a lioness carrying her cub. Her idol
graduated and visited, opened her flannel podshell:
“Look at these things!” Unripe cheeks, a glance
at the eyes in the plank, at slivers and cracks.
She felt as if I could pass through them, in the...
#teens
#motherhood
#childhood
#identity
#LifeChangingMoment
21 reads
5 Comments
Cyndi_Moone
Poem Published
5th Jan 2018 3:36am
5th Jan 2018 3:36am
THE WAITING ROOM
Rising from a midnight slumber to find myself in an empty room
As I rise from the bed hurriedly looking for my missing groom.
I find myself surrounded by concrete walls and hardwood floors
Strange room, no doubt, with a bolted locked door.
Looking around I wonder if this is reality or is this a dream
As I do my best to recall last night’s memory- scene.
But, from a far distance, I hear a strange screech
Doesn’t take long to determine it is alien speech.
Nowhere to run…and can’t even hide under the bed
I swallow hard and filling my buds...
As I rise from the bed hurriedly looking for my missing groom.
I find myself surrounded by concrete walls and hardwood floors
Strange room, no doubt, with a bolted locked door.
Looking around I wonder if this is reality or is this a dream
As I do my best to recall last night’s memory- scene.
But, from a far distance, I hear a strange screech
Doesn’t take long to determine it is alien speech.
Nowhere to run…and can’t even hide under the bed
I swallow hard and filling my buds...
#identity
#spiritual
#SelfReflection
#redemption
#philosophical
22 reads
7 Comments
yelluw_always
Poem Published
8th Jan 2019 7:20pm
8th Jan 2019 7:20pm
What Two Hands Can Explain
You are dismissed
by the flat openness
of the left the right touches
its center and flicks smooth out once.
When you are forgiven
a flick becomes solved wisps,
an upside-down emptying saucer,
more than once moving head, palm, me to you, me to you.
Love is indicated by crossed
clutches, stars not yet born, over the chest,
where feelings emerge from, squeezing keeping,
diamonds are created thus.
But if you relax the tenacity,
lay them opposite shoulders, pressure
the nerves to say rest, of rest, a small...
by the flat openness
of the left the right touches
its center and flicks smooth out once.
When you are forgiven
a flick becomes solved wisps,
an upside-down emptying saucer,
more than once moving head, palm, me to you, me to you.
Love is indicated by crossed
clutches, stars not yet born, over the chest,
where feelings emerge from, squeezing keeping,
diamonds are created thus.
But if you relax the tenacity,
lay them opposite shoulders, pressure
the nerves to say rest, of rest, a small...
#identity
#TruthOfLife
#PowerOfWords
#philosophical
#culture
22 reads
8 Comments
yelluw_always
Poem Published
2nd Apr 2019 8:40am
2nd Apr 2019 8:40am
Lakeside 1/30
You can spot his festivities,
twin blossoms swiveling
with his awareness
one step at a time. Passer-bys
confuse tenderness
for tenterhooks.
Eye sirens like pulsar stars,
they shutter shriller than,
and then, the trees. Subject
walks along the bank
and is the subject of a panel
at the American
Natural History Museum-
headlined under how lampshades
change and charge the walls
in dreams of information gathering
at the edge of black holes, there
endless light thinly licks
the...
twin blossoms swiveling
with his awareness
one step at a time. Passer-bys
confuse tenderness
for tenterhooks.
Eye sirens like pulsar stars,
they shutter shriller than,
and then, the trees. Subject
walks along the bank
and is the subject of a panel
at the American
Natural History Museum-
headlined under how lampshades
change and charge the walls
in dreams of information gathering
at the edge of black holes, there
endless light thinly licks
the...
#nature
#identity
#surreal #NaPoWriMo2019
#surreal #NaPoWriMo2019
22 reads
3 Comments
yelluw_always
Poem Published
4th Apr 2019 7:03am
4th Apr 2019 7:03am
Lakeside 3/30
Tethered, perhaps mercy is
not the water hiss-hissing
hexes over pebbles,
timelessness smoothing,
how we wish our skin was like this,
how I lift a wind. With a drawn
out breeze my hands sculpt
the subject, he is still
walking off the path plucking his
gempetal eyes. What he calls
the past that comes back
at night, when you’re the least
guarded. I hear them then by
guessing-and suppose the trees
are shrill now inured with the wilting
balloons- the scissors had...
not the water hiss-hissing
hexes over pebbles,
timelessness smoothing,
how we wish our skin was like this,
how I lift a wind. With a drawn
out breeze my hands sculpt
the subject, he is still
walking off the path plucking his
gempetal eyes. What he calls
the past that comes back
at night, when you’re the least
guarded. I hear them then by
guessing-and suppose the trees
are shrill now inured with the wilting
balloons- the scissors had...
#NaPoWriMo2019
#nature
#surreal #identity
#surreal #identity
22 reads
5 Comments
yelluw_always
Poem Published
6th Apr 2019 6:40am
6th Apr 2019 6:40am
Lakeside 5/30
Mostly passage-
we are
quiet
stories of nature, of
reattaching our
selves to
the sides of its book,
as coven to cover
a moon
by this I mean
they are quiet
and saying something,
bald eagle
drops a thorn
and says something
rhododendron
swallows it
and thinks something
the subject
closes in
do you think
he has everything
that
says something
as a strum
upon
dirt
let him approach ...
we are
quiet
stories of nature, of
reattaching our
selves to
the sides of its book,
as coven to cover
a moon
by this I mean
they are quiet
and saying something,
bald eagle
drops a thorn
and says something
rhododendron
swallows it
and thinks something
the subject
closes in
do you think
he has everything
that
says something
as a strum
upon
dirt
let him approach ...
#identity
#nature
#surreal #NaPoWriMo2019
#surreal #NaPoWriMo2019
22 reads
4 Comments
yelluw_always
Poem Published
25th Apr 2019 7:44am
25th Apr 2019 7:44am
Lakeside 24/30
Most mornings, the pinched pointer
and thumb opens slowly, stutters
as blinks, relapses.
Rise the pointer and thumb, both curved,
move past the arm, the horizon.
Two pointers and thumbs, both curved
deign the placement of a lake, but first
stress water.
This also denotes the moon, first
framing the face and moving it
above your head. We put ourselves there.
And you move it towards you, as a setting
for a plate. Eat
Awaken, rise, view, eat. A circle-shaped seeing.
A train zooms by- set...
and thumb opens slowly, stutters
as blinks, relapses.
Rise the pointer and thumb, both curved,
move past the arm, the horizon.
Two pointers and thumbs, both curved
deign the placement of a lake, but first
stress water.
This also denotes the moon, first
framing the face and moving it
above your head. We put ourselves there.
And you move it towards you, as a setting
for a plate. Eat
Awaken, rise, view, eat. A circle-shaped seeing.
A train zooms by- set...
#identity
#nature
#culture #NaPoWriMo2019
#culture #NaPoWriMo2019
22 reads
3 Comments
DU Poetry : Least Read Poems About Identity
