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Poems On / About IDENTITY  11/23/2014 6:03:39 AM
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Best Poems About / On IDENTITY
 
 
 
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  145.     

My Shadow

My shadow lives my life
With strong-mindedness;
Majestic in character and
Sophisticated in fashion
More spacious in capacity and
Efficient in activity
Than me and my own life
Growing out of my strength
It isolates me from my life
And seduces my properties
To maintain its own identity
As if old enough in humanity
To throw me away in waste container
My shadow, that I throw in the earth
Stretches my body in full
Shearing the clothes from my body
With only the skinny left over
No one can recognize me
As my own identity
I try to run away from my shadow
That chases me like a wild goose
I scan the horizon of my life
Far beyond my limitations
And search my identity
Inside me and my life
Not knowing any relation
If it exists, with my shadow
To name
 
Pushpa Ratna Tuladhar

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Read more: identity poems, strength poems, life poems, running poems
   
 

   
   
 

  146.     

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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  147.     

Fufu Momo and Kottu

Noises of different tongues
Occupying stoves in the kitchen
It is not belonged to any one
But belonged to a time

Spreading smells of continents
It is the global identity of art
Every one washes in same sink
Using the water in common

Asia Africa Arabia and Eastern Europe
People in the kitchen being refugees
Using material in same some extent
Make and cook the identity of own

Using flour and flour made
Decorate in an exhibition hall
Like amateur painters pain
Create noises and silence in mixture

Identity of meat flour and leaves
Transformed into their own
On and in the cooking pots
Steam becomes smells


Fufu in the vessel
Pasta in very common
To be well cooked
An African guy in a struggle

Momo like oysters
Made in art by a Tibetan woman
A Nepali prepares Chapatti
Burnt culture of secularity

Leeks, Carrots and green chilly
Cutting into pieces Rotti
In a war like their home
Making Kottu in loud
Everyone looking in surprise
Occupied Sri Lankans noise in kitchen

In two three hours war of kitchen
Gradually becomes calm
One of the oldest in the camp
In midnight begins to cook

Washing everything in psychiatric clean
Cooks Halal singing a song
He is called ex- mayor in his land
Midnight ghost of different rhythm
 
Udaya R. Tennakoon

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  148.     

My identity

What defines my identity?
Being the son of my father and the torchbearer of familial legacy; possibly...
And what does my identity task me with?
To indistinguishably seed the next generation of the genealogy chain; perhaps...

Life is life’s longing for itself,
It may conform not to any preset moulds of traditions and definitions,
In the endgame, my epitaph would only bear testimony to where I ended – not where I started,
And my progeny, when it arrives, may not even tarry with my today; forget my parents’ yesterday...

So, it may be then – no one belongs to any one,
Identities get chiselled by one’s own voluntary doing,
Yet my soul dwells in that house I grew, the hearth and my family,
Publicly – I may be what I am; but privately – I am still my father’s son....
 
Ram Josyula

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