Serial Poems

Theme: Identity 

(Ghazal): A Lost Soul

A small soul, with a covered face, no name;
Peeping around the wall, they must be ashamed.

You call out to them but they don’t reply,
Their identity is something they don’t want to claim.

The sunlight reveals their clothes, tattered away
Now out of nowhere, it begins to rain.

Before you let them in, to care for the child,
You must determine that they are sane.

The small child says they don’t remember anything
You respond by reassuring them that they aren’t to blame.

A bright searching light, White, guides them from the shadows
From this moment on, a story of finding identity will have became.

 

(Rondeau): Treated Like a King

A newborn boy is treated like a king,
But at this time, he does not know a thing.
Relieved to see that he’d finally come out.
Mom was tired of having to push and shout.
Everyone rejoices, they all sing.

He’s only lived a while as a human being
And he has gifts, that people chose to bring.
That’s the kind of stuff I’m talking about.
Treated like a king.

They’ve picked out a name, it has a ring.
Something that really speaks and sings.
They have an idea of who he’ll be, he pouts
The family has it already planned out.
One thing’s for sure, he’s sharp, it may sting.
Treated like a king.

Identity Thief

Those thieves stole it from beneath me
My most prized possession, right when I wasn’t looking.
They began to mock me and copy me.
I just thought they were interested in me as a person.
I was extremely wrong, that wanted to BE like me.
The thieves took everything I ever had as if they cloned me.
I guess it was for the best. It wasn’t really mine, to begin with.
My skill is identity theft, I’ll do it again.

Finding Who I Am

Who am I?
I’m unique, I’m one of a kind.
Or maybe I’m just like the rest, average and all.
I feel something within, ecstatic to be released.
Trying to break from the inside out.
Every day I discover a new piece of myself.
Similar to a puzzle, I just haven’t solved it yet.
My personality becomes stronger each day.
That is what makes me, me.
I will never find myself because I never lost it.

Reality is Real:

The reflection from my mother’s eyes,
As the sun bounced off of them ever so slightly.

I looked into her eyes falling deeper and deeper.
I finally saw what I was looking for: myself.

Felt as if I was traveling to a place I wanted to be.
No judgments on who I was as a person.

I felt a tug, then a yank, forcing me back to reality.
Unprepared, I wasn’t ready to return.

She told me to be who I wanted to be.
To never change for anyone else in the world.

That moment, I realized that reality is real.
I realized that I am fine just the way I am.

Saving Myself:

The feeling is unreal, I’m lost in plain sight.
I can see the frown on my face, it’s all I notice.
A leaf falls and rests in the area my eyes are set.
It all goes blurry for a few seconds, I wait for it to calm.
The light blue water, and a bright orange autumn leaf mix.
Both touch each other, I reach down to pick up the leaf.
It all goes back to normal, I’m in the same position.
I’m still staring at my reflection in the puddle.
This time I see a smile staring back at me.
For some odd reason, I can see more clearly.
I can see myself, and I’m found.