Identity Poems
In A London Drawingroom
by George Eliot
The sky is cloudy, yellowed by the smoke.
For view there are the houses opposite
Cutting the sky with one long line of wall
Like solid fog: far as the eye can stretch
Monotony of surface & of form
Without a break to hang a guess upon.
No bird can make a shadow as it flies,
For all is shadow, as in ways o'erhung
By thickest canvass, where the golden rays
Are clothed in hemp. No figure lingering
......
Facade
by Kimani Hare
The Facade
Journeys riddled with incessant pain
Yet the scars never show
brought to my knees in agony
Yet they remain unscraped
Maybe there is no pain
This was a waste
......
In our pockets
by Kaylee Wilson
we carry
the beautiful
bitter
broken
pieces
of ourselves
-shaped and weathered
by time
and adorned with lint
......
Mama, Come Back
by Nellie Wong
Mama, come back.
Why did you leave
now that I am learning you?
The landlady next door
how she apologizes
for my rough brown skin
to her tenant from Hong Kong
as if I were her daughter,
as if she were you.
......
"A shadow know no master."
by Dylan Wu Rong
And what has these long year given me,
what have I earned when I spilled-
spilled my tears for times, and my blood for some-else.
A curse that’s followed on for centuries.
wrapping around - an Ophidian of chains.
A hold growing tighter, every moment the eye blinks,
cutting off and trapping a part so insignificant.
Insignificant- in their eyes,
and yet, a beauty in the ones who lost,
as they guard it for a while,
......
Facade
by Kimani Hare
The Facade
Journeys riddled with incessant pain
Yet the scars never show
brought to my knees in agony
Yet they remain unscraped
Maybe there is no pain
This was a waste
......
In our pockets
by Kaylee Wilson
we carry
the beautiful
bitter
broken
pieces
of ourselves
-shaped and weathered
by time
and adorned with lint
......
"When the mirror lies."
by Dylan Wu Rong
An end before it even began,
a touch to the start of falling dominoes,
In the eyes of a desolate living,
reflections of disparity plays out in frames.
Taking spilled out ink for boiling blood,
taking the crystals to be rocks in mud,
the pain in the smile is regarded for pride,
as the head held high is a facade of fright.
To the man who looks, with hopes for answers,
he see what he wants and see what he hates,
......
"A shadow know no master."
by Dylan Wu Rong
And what has these long year given me,
what have I earned when I spilled-
spilled my tears for times, and my blood for some-else.
A curse that’s followed on for centuries.
wrapping around - an Ophidian of chains.
A hold growing tighter, every moment the eye blinks,
cutting off and trapping a part so insignificant.
Insignificant- in their eyes,
and yet, a beauty in the ones who lost,
as they guard it for a while,
......
Who am I
by Saleh Ben Saleh
If Life is easy,
why do we strive?
And search for hope,
to keep us alive.
And feel the pressure,
which causes pain.
And leaves a mark,
or an ugly stain
It makes me wonder,
......
