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Poems On / About IDENTITY  12/21/2014 2:43:13 PM
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Best Poems About / On IDENTITY
 
 
 
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  141.     

A larger Identity

It is not enough to have our own identity.
Our individuality, just one layer, a small brick
In a multilayered cosmic structure.
We are part of a bigger world
And wish to be part of that larger identity.
To be a mother-father, brother-sister,
Son or daughter or a friend and relative
Is part of accepting that greater identity.
A social activity related to the service of others
Is rewarded by a sense of elation and stimulation.
In an environment where wider consciousness
Of a larger community is overlooked
Sense of oneness is diminished.
A segregated individual starts to
Suffer from malice of loneliness
Holding an insecure place
In a large body of universal existence.
 
Savita Tyagi

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  142.     

African Roots

My DNA dates back to the trees that planted
My identity.
Soils creep up to distress how the hairs on my head were made.

My ancestor...
the ghosts that breathe through me
exclaiming their identity.
The roots that planted my existence flow through me
My
African roots.
The earth carries on its back the blood of those who fought for our liberty

Liberty... Our hips, our thighs
Free to paint itself into a frame of its own choice
And it chooses the hourglass
Dating back into time where
African women spoke through their stride
Head bowed down
An unspoken noun

That he the man and his muscles may protect his crown
Wabonga izulu
Esho izithakazelo zikaShaka Zulu
Thina ma-Afrika
Thina esinsundu
Esabeletha isintu
Ngoba kwathiwa umuntu ngumuntu ngabantu
Thina esinezimpande ezingasoze zahlubuka

Indoda yabukwa
Yabukwa indoda
Kwaqubuka ukuziqhenya
Laqhamuka iqhawe
Kwaqhaqhazela umhlabathi
Kwazalwa izwe eliqhakazile
Thina ma-Afrika
Thina esinsundu

Our DNA dates back to the trees that planted
Our identity.


(A poem by Yolanda Mbatha and Mbali SImelani)
 
Yolanda Mbatha

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  143.     

Silent Screams

Soul dressed in decrepit robe
Of flesh, all tattered, hanging, loose;
Spirits torn, identities denied,
Disowned progeny,
Living on the margins of community;
‘Being’ split into two parts moves
To the beats of drums, tears are shed within,
Silent screams submerged by jingles of anklets
Grotesqueness dances and claps in candy-colours;
Painted smiles, crude laughter lips sing course songs
On broken strings of life,
Begging for ipse, coins burn palms,
Soul scratched by mockery-
Soul that is above any identity,
Equally comes from divinity,
Left suffering silently
In the wilderness of hermophrodity,
searching violently in the jungle of identity.
 
Yasmeen Khan

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  144.     

Primordial Identity

Primordial Identity

* Soubhagyabanta Maharana

Everyone around me
Is a strange passer-by here
To know the reality of my identity
Which has duped my innocence
With an irresistible spirit
Of surging profanity.

Years have gone by
Bidding adieu to transitory moments
And momentary events
On the sands of fleeing times
Ignoring my subtle requests
To crave for a valid individuality.

In the vicissitudes of fortune
I have come across people
Talking big before me
Belittling their image before me
Praising high of me in pretense
Speaking ill of others deliberately
To synchronize their feelings.

I know not
Who is more primitive
In attitude and etiquette
Than my innocuous self?
Everybody thinks himself
To be an icon here
Amid pretence and hypocrisy
To hide the primordial identity
That pains me very much
Looking deepening darkness around me.

*********
 
Soubhagyabanta Maharana

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