Submit Your Poems
Get Your Premium Membership


CreationEarth Nature Photos

Introspection Angst Poems | Introspection Poems About Angst

These Introspection Angst poems are examples of Introspection poems about Angst. These are the best examples of Introspection Angst poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

If you don't find the poem you want here, try our incredible, super duper, all-knowing, advanced poem search engine.

Details | Acrostic | |

Open Sores

I am a coward with open sores. 
I write and wonder who it bores. 
I hear my heart and mind argue repeatedly. 
I see others carrying out my dreams; 
that’s what’s defeated me.
 
I am a coward with open sores. 
I pretend open doors are closed, and walk the other way. 
I touch base with the fear in my heart, tearing me apart,
leaving nothing to say... 
I worry the world will leave me. 
I cry because no one believes in me. 

I am a coward with open sores. 
I understand nothing comes easy. 
I say I’m happy, but even I don’t believe me. 
I dream I am healed and brave. 
I try to overcome my weaknesses before I’m in my grave. 
I hope you hear me.
I’m on all fours. 
I am a coward with open sores. 




©  2011  ~JSLaM    

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

* 1st PLACE in Contest "MARCH MADNESS" Sponsored by C. Devonshire 2011

* 1st PLACE in Contest "ONE OFF" Sponsored by Brian Strand 5/11/2011 

* 1st PLACE in Contest "BEST EVER" Sponsored by P.D. 2011
                 
   

Copyright © JSLambert Mister ROBOTO | Year Posted 2011

Details | Free verse | |

Things That Seemed Poetic

Things that seemed poetic were always sad,
though I yearned for sparkle
and my dad's guffaw, which never came.
Familiar things were always drear --
repeated motions in the same old game.
There were only distant glimpses
of budding spring, fleeting views
of daffodils. The strongest
poems dealt me death and dying.
Yet I always hoped, never went under
to gray despair, always dreaming
of a garden of love that we could share.
But those forbidden delights faded
quickly away; the only reality
I understand is the ever-looming
and final one. Nothing's changed.
The strongest poems deal death and dying.

Copyright © Leo Larry Amadore | Year Posted 2011

Details | Light Poetry | |

Letters from Paris

I wrote a letter
With teardrops from my heart
I walk the streets of Antoinette
My mind dances with Baudelaire
Love flutters as the pigeon’s wings on statues
I see them, so close and feel the emptiness
Like the cold stone upon which their wings rest

My wine glass is empty
Then full
Then empty
My veins are red like bloodshot eyes
I am tired
Confessions made
I cried

As I walk across the bridge of god
Over the seine
Notre dame stares back, am I insane?
Have I been alone all this time?
Perdu, in time, perdu inside my wine
Hidden words and lost letters
You shall never see
Tossed thoughts in salad dressings
Away away as the river decides to run

I look back inside black and white photos
How did I become this way
How did I become the stray?
Fallen spirit, burning heart
Completely and utterly torn apart

I stare at the Eiffel tower
A mighty spear, that pierces me
Into the million lovers of gay Paris
Angels weep, pain flows
The blood of time, the blood that becomes the wine
The pain, inside of me
For all the lost letters
Mother and father never did see

Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse | |

These ribbons I tie as you leave

Blue – 
for your arm wrapped around
my clavicle. I thought
I would loose my breath.

Red – 
for the cusp of our hip bones
struggling to pull the drunken color
from our orange cheeks.
and our sweat, our sweat, our sweat
evaporating 
in the drenched summer air.
Our pants futile afterthoughts
Left crumpled on the floor
It is here I asked for your respect
And you filled me with it.


Orange – 
for the musk smell of our blanket den. I would watch the way dawn light
speckled your shoulders, pale, white-blue
Iridium. 
I would trace the ink
of your skin, fingertip hovering a half inch
from your bone. 

Green – 
for how my name would hesitate
on your breath in brief puffs 
like dandelion seeds blown from 
My wistful lips when I was 
eleven 
waiting for them to bring back my wish.

Black – 
for my sleeveless dress, as we strolled from 
your father’s funeral.  

It was the only time I watched you cry.

There were little holes in the cement sidewalk.
They filled with rain, oil
And your tears.
I watched your face change through 
their watery colored reflections.


Pink – 
for the way your skin repels from my 
Touch, quivers as though my finger- 
print were a red hot poker.
You haven’t allowed me to touch you
In a year.

Purple – 
for the color of her font, as she responds to you. It is an eager
Color. She responds with all the passion of an Eskimo kiss. 

You left her waitng..always.

I have been special to you,
she replies to your
overtures.

Her letters 
Who blush
like a maid
Who’s felt the hot moist
whisper of something naughty
tickle against her ear lobe.

White – 
for the way your eyes punch accusations
sharper then your razor tongue.

They spit 
blue crackled lightening,
like an angry alley cat.

My words cannot reach you here.
You will leave.

We will divide our booty

Words that once held my name like a piece
Of carefully folded origami
now hiss cold 
devoid like the plaster of our empty room.

Grey- 
for the morning 
now knocking on my window.

I am livid in my withdrawal, tossing and turning
I can find no comfort
in
the tangle of these vacant sheets. 



Copyright © Jennifer Brooks | Year Posted 2006

Details | Quatrain | |

My Torment

A fleeting still small voice tries to warn me
A sudden overwhelming desire to run
The tell tale taste of metallic flakes
Means my nightmare has begun

Everything around takes on a ghostly pallor
A landscape of anguish and corrosion
A moment of silence before the violence
The flash of light, the brilliant explosion

The sound of the Sun fills my ears
Fear, my throat, though none escapes me
And paralyzed I clench my eyes
As my tormentor prepares to rape me

And it's endeavor is absolute
Consumption is its ultimate goal
It exists to chase me so it can erase me
Whilst feasting on my soul

And then that familiar salty smell 
The sudden rush of warmth so stings
Engaging me relentlessly
In vile unspeakable things

Over and over and over again
My limbs stretched and wrought
As it's teeth tear my bones bare
It's mind defiles my thoughts

And still wounds beget wounds beget wounds
As in the mouth of madness I suffer
And with every injury he just seems to be
Rougher and rougher and rougher

Then just as suddenly as it began it ceases
And for a moment I am clearer
And then the true horror of it all
Is revealed in a darkly lit mirror

There in front of me stands my destroyer
Face flush with it's fill of my pain
And I find that it's eyes and mine
My God, they’re one in the same

Copyright © James Burns | Year Posted 2011

Details | I do not know? | |

Raindrops

Raindrops
are like my thoughts
falling down into my mind
sending goose bumps down
my spine

Their cool aftermath
cleanses me of my thoughts
of fear and uncertainty 
about what tomorrows
pain may bring

They make me feel,
wet with creativity
drenched in my optimistic
illumination. glistening
raindrops, my thoughts
leave paths of pleasurable
distress, and hope of success
which road, less traveled
may be the best

Forget an umbrella
when these raindrops
arrive, I walk outside
arms open wide

Ready to Receive
whatever
the mind storm may bring
because raindrops are
as my thoughts, falling
down into my mind
sending shivers down
my spine

My brain, yearns
for the rain, to wash away
the pain, tomorrows worry
does bring
One special drop
could speed up life's clock
to the time
I can handle my own
and not dwell inside my controllers
home

For raindrops are,
like my thoughts
falling down into my mind
sending goose bumps
down my spine

Copyright © Heather Hill | Year Posted 2010

Details | Elegy | |

Abrading Volley

Rainfall washing
Light splashes on windowpane…

Leaving nothing behind
No pattern or trace…

If only those tears
Anguishly wept for you…

Upon your deathbed
Had washed away…

Cleansing the pain
That even now abrades my spirit…

Copyright © Charles Fuller | Year Posted 2008

Details | Free verse | |

Dear Me

Dear Me,

I need you to be stronger
I need you to never be afraid

swallow your pride,and your flight will be softer
tell her you love her,even if it hurts

Grab onto your dream and live it
Do not be afraid of the sun's divinity

Be better,love more, hold on.

Dear Me,

Enjoy every stop of the ride.
For when the train finally stops...we die

Until we witness the angels dance after final day...
Dear Me, hide your fears away

Copyright © Winter Wallace | Year Posted 2009

Details | Free verse | |

The Day That Died Forever

When I am Colder,Older and then alone...
I will collect the sky on my own...
When the art has faded and the days then fade-
when everyone has gone away...

I may finally see what never was saw
.....ahhhhhhhhhhhhh............... the quiet sky

The unlit room which bares my end...shows the flashes of my pains my joys and sins.
This life has been a strange one since the curtains were drawn
These paper and plastic figures have clouded the dawn

I was once younger,foolish,and obsessed with truth
Now I am bitter,sour,dour faced with my heart under shoe

The children were all searching or lost in a crowd
All weeds in a garden...growing vile and foul

Though beauty was sold it never came true
Obsessions and vanity have traveled safe through

Materials and poison and everything lost
have been burned in the fires or lost in the frost

I stand face to mirror tearing my being apart
Winding thoughts of love,pain,god,and art

As the sun sets and the darkness grows
I too shall follow this pattern in tow

Death has a friendly hand and a pretty face
She has given me comfort as I leave this place

The wars have occurred,humanity's lost
Souls have been burnt in the fire or lost in the frost

Day was Life,Night is Death

And the latter has given counsel on my final steps

Copyright © Winter Wallace | Year Posted 2009

Details | Free verse | |

Unshed Tears

Slice me with your tongue,
Razor blade wounds,
To suck out all my poisens,
Sweet lonely lullaby,
Accusing eyes of sadism,
Picture perfect prodegy, 
My Deadly Sin,
A bitter taste of arson,
Burning in my vital organ,
Your the pyre that burns away my mortality,
A sip of tea made from Lilly of the Valley,
A shadow of Death stalking,
With odd angel like wings,
A Numbing kiss like Drowning in Morphine,
My Oblivion,
Sweet arms to rest in till my vision no longer holds,
Eyes neither like Hell nor Heaven,
Cocain Addiction,
That Drip of Drugs into your system,
Intoxicated blood stream,
I'd rather not dream,
And instead get lost within - Your paralysing,
Your Paralysing, Brain lapse,
Your moving too fast,
Stay slow and dreamy,
Dancing silhoutte,
Like a burning forest fire,
Pain throughout my veins,
Ravishing and Beautiful,
A voice torn from my throat,
Dying joyfully,
With my last sight of you. . .

Copyright © Jay Loveless | Year Posted 2012

Details | Rhyme | |

Restless Heart

A river may babble
The wind may sigh
A cloud may rumble
		Are they any more at peace than I?

Oceans may swell
Volcanoes erupt
And a dam can burst
		Do their hearts stop as abrupt?

Tornadoes may destroy
Lightning strikes from the sky
And an earthquake can ruin all:
		Do they hurt any more than I?

Copyright © Anthony Amero | Year Posted 2010

Details | Free verse | |

Can You Hear Me?

I never talk to you as much as I should
Just to say thank you for all of your gifts
I take for granted all that you’ve given to me
Sometimes blaming you for all I have missed
And when you come to me I shy away
Feigning I can’t see you or hear you
But no matter where I look you’re around me
In every vivid color and shape of movement
You voice beckoning in all the worldly sounds
I even try to hide myself away from you
Still you find me wherever I go without effort
Cruel and hard or ignorant and fleeting
I’ve been both and you lovingly embrace me
Cursing you at the losses washed upon me
Your hand generously gives without prejudice
Gluttonously taking much more than my fill
When I look back you’ve again filled my cup
All the mistakes I have made and will make
Many of them knowingly and willingly
Still you offer all of your forgiveness
If only I will ask as a son should his father
I’ve broken so many of your rules a multitude of times
Deceiving myself believing you wouldn’t notice
Still you offer me everything you have
When I lay in the dark at night and examine
I hope and fear you and I doubt and pray
I hope you can hear me through all the other voices
Although I fear you don’t listen to me anymore
I force myself to doubt your existence
Knowing the truth unwilling to admit to it
I pray…Dear God…Can you hear me?

Copyright © Charles Fuller | Year Posted 2006

Details | Rhyme | |

Every Time We Fall

Every time we fall we lose a bit of  are selfs.
Untill hollow becomes the heart.
bare as a vacant stores shelves.

The dreamer finds solice in every new face.
That new love's illusion.
Cold is the afterglow when we reflect apon that 
once passionet embrace.

Can the bitter heart find a reason to try?
Skipping stones alone across dark water.
We keep setting are selves  up without 
a single question as to why.

A room smoke filled yet every thing shows 
clear.
Sometimes  we play the cards.
And hold the best one aside in fear.

As vast as the ocean  from its shores 
the  the innocent crawl.
Trying to capture only a glimmer of that true passion.
Every time we fall.

Copyright © John Patrick Robbins AKA Gonzo | Year Posted 2009

Details | Rhyme | |

The Memory

In the garden she said goodbye.
A kiss filled with remorse.
Moonlit memories she asked to forget us 
as I promised to try.

Time and addictions.
A change in appearance.
Old vices and new  afflictions.

I found comfort with many
and refuge with none.
Life can be a tragic play.
As empty as the night as beautiful
as the setting sun.

Sometimes a vision becomes unclear.
Forgotten lovers guilty eyes.
Did we part under false terms or
simply fear.

A candle's light.
Glows softley and cuts
through the night.

Sanity is only a common state of mind.
To forget is not possible.
For it only takes a single song to remind.

I saw the pain in your eyes.
The sorrow did illuminate the darkness.
Moments   go unseen as this statue of a man cries.

I cannot give you my word that it will
be my best.
In that place so far away.
I belive I will never be able to fulfill your 
request,

I understand that which could never be.
Trapped in a prison  of a memory.

Copyright © John Patrick Robbins AKA Gonzo | Year Posted 2009

Details | Rhyme | |

If Only It Was Me

If only it was me who could win this race.
I stand so very proud with honor.
Along with you in my rightful place.

But I am but this man that you see.
Everything  but  him.
If only it was me.

A beggar ive become pride no longer does exist.
Counting seconds till my rejection.
With no escape  still the foolish heart does resist.

For we are but children when it comes to soul.
Love leaves us blind.
Failure turns the heart as dark and bitter as a piece 
of coal.

Head apon pillow waitting for what will be.
Tears from a helpless heart pour.
 The mind becomes a prison as i curse if it
were me.

For if it were me I would make it all
right.
Castaway doubt.
Erase every empty night.

My arms are open empty they do remain.
Reflecting apon every word.
As slowly I go insane.

But i do not wish for the sadness 
of being free.
Your love  is endless passion that cast such warmth.
A fool cries to the wind if only it were me.

Copyright © John Patrick Robbins AKA Gonzo | Year Posted 2009

Details | I do not know? | |

R.I.P

 Nobodys home so dont knock apon the
door.
No need to empty the trash  or sweep 
the floor.

To many bottles of booze mixed with
pills.
Notes left apon the wall.
Stained souls as the blood 
spills.

Pictures far from center.
Trophies from the road.
Bones collect were memories 
splinter.


A long term vacation guess there's no 
need to sign a lease.
May dust greet my bones.
Until I rest in peace.

The mask is but a facade.
Cracks in that perfect image.
All true art is flawed.

They know the person who is 
not me.
Time traps the mind.
As love brings only agony.

Failure cast's doubt as old truthes
give way to new lies.
As the sunset bids farewell.
With it the story dies.

A fraction of myself I have yet 
to release.
The pain is now transferred to 
another.
Reflection to late so may it rest in 
peace.   

Copyright © John Patrick Robbins AKA Gonzo | Year Posted 2009

Details | Narrative | |

The Phone

The phone rings empty into the night.
Filling a void that brings strange comfort
to thoose around.

Rage eats away untill it bores a hole
straight through are hearts.
Whiskey cauterizes the wound.

Alone with fools we gather.
The bitter ones taking to there barstools.
the weak look to punish thoose happy
bastards.
Who dare to feel anything in the place of  
emptyness.

She left so many years befor.
At least her mortal soul did.
I rememeber when it was when I still
dared to dream.

Long befor reallity was a friend.
Lovers lie.
Motions keep us living.

She spoke but the words were empty as her heart.
So as strangers we parted just as we met.
With a bitter taste I never did reply.

The phone rang it's last time.
I herd it echo farewell down the hall.

I had to go so I never unlocked the door.
i just left my emotions hanging  like some
forgotten coat pushed back in
the closet.

Its been almost a year since that phone filled
the emptyness of my soul.
If only I had answered.

Copyright © John Patrick Robbins AKA Gonzo | Year Posted 2009

Details | Free verse | |

Betting on Nothing

By committing to nothing, one retains infinite options.
I have hid inside these words for moons and seasons and New Year’s toasts.
The lone wolf roams fertile pastures unfettered.
The thrill of the hunt.
The chase.
An empty bed is the hope of a new body’s sleeping curve.
Tomorrow becomes yesterday.
“The mystery of mysteries is the gateway to marvels.”
I stopped looking long ago.

The faces have blurred into a montage of emptiness.
Come and go; came and went.
I never bothered much to be bothered.
There aren’t many memories
And I am thankful for that.
Wet fingers and licked lips’
Blood on my hands.
Wasted time.
The years run on like a favorite sitcom gone bad.
It all should have been retired years ago.

It is easier to stay afloat and roam the big waters alone
Than set up camp on an island and face a face.
No problems.
No worries.
No connection.
Freedom is all that you cannot commit to
And who surrenders to nothing is he who lives in frigid shadows of fear.
Maybe I have never truly known warmth.

I walk the streets like a war-worn shoulder.
A little cold, a little distant, a little too silent.
The words I have are recycled fragments of someone else’s life.
I don’t offer much.
Poker face.
Can you read my concrete stare?
I have an entire universe hiding in my back pocket
But I’m scared to show you.
It’s been so long since I groped or even fondled my own life.
I’m not sure what I do or don’t have to offer.
I just keep making bets and upping the ante.

Copyright © Robert Woolridge | Year Posted 2005

Details | Rhyme | |

The Half Heart

Every morning  I wanna  wake to your face.
Empty are the walls.
Bare is my soul for without you this is
just a place.

Head apon pillow deep in slumber without a care.
I curse shadows and lose
myself in the sent of her hair.

I miss you befor you even leave.
The foolish try.
Emotions are not hidden well 
apon the sleave.

She saw the man befor the ghost.
The ship sits out off shore.
As the pain does linger just  off 
the coast.

In hand brings more comfort  than
in heart.
You felt all.
So without warning you did depart.

Every morning  just befor light chases 
night away.
I sit and curse the  reason I could no longer
stay.

Empty as the lost who's life  
sit's in a cart.
To exist is a struggle when your
forever missing 
the other half of your heart. 

Copyright © John Patrick Robbins AKA Gonzo | Year Posted 2009

Details | Rhyme | |

Love From Afar

Strange creature and my best friend.
The distance between us is great.
So why do we pretend.

You cross the street as I head to the bar
I'll drink to you my dear.
For if I cant hold you close.
I'll just love you from afar.

Like crumbs tossed to a pigeon from a delicate 
hand.
I'll wait like a fool.
For my heart is forever yours to command.

You say I cause pain when you remember the past.
Bitter tears erase the passion.
That sometimes isnt ment to last.

Sometimes it's easier to forget then remember 
who we are.
if it bothers you to keep me close.
Then I'll love you from afar.

Standing underneath your window in the pouring 
rain.
Times alone often i do reflect.
Love has a way of making the normal seem insane.

So very close never knowing who we truley are.
Taken from my heart.
left only to love  from afar.

Copyright © John Patrick Robbins AKA Gonzo | Year Posted 2009

Details | Rhyme | |

ADRIFT

Alone for for now driffting apon the sea.
You stayed at the shore.
Cause you never found comfort  in someone like me.

The sunset is empty when your alone.
Worthless is the kingdom.
When no one is willing to share the 
throne.

I was your clown when in shadows I always 
found a way to make your spirts lift.
Ive lost all since of direction.
Since you set me adrift.


Was it only a moment something I cold not see.
the heart bleeds still.
From this prison called a memory.

The storm doesnt effect me out here.
Its not death.
But isolation I fear.

The wind is my only friend the ocean my home.
Searching for that which I cannot have.
On this endless quest I roam.

Drawing a heart inside your hand as
 through the sand you sift.
From the comfort of the shore I wonder
do you  recall.
Are love you set adrift. 

Copyright © John Patrick Robbins AKA Gonzo | Year Posted 2009

Details | Free verse | |

Against the Raging Now

Finger in the hole in the dike
Holding back vast volumes
Of raging emotions
Surely to sweep me away
I try some comforting
Favored music from my past
Grab a book
To distract my fear
Linger in the Black Hole
of despair
Reach out to memories
Misty unrealities
Sweet and sour
I pass another hour
Only the peace of sleep
And ultimately death
Will bring craved relief.

Copyright © tom bell | Year Posted 2008

Details | I do not know? | |

No Chance

Friends we are  much  more I yern for us
to be.
I take to silence cause  its not him.
That I was ever ment to to be.

A barfly wasnt ever ment  to  see the light.
I'll bury my emotions .
 So no one will ever catch sight.

Drown like a coward  in this bottle of booze.
And ignore the  impulse.
For its not in my nature to use.

speaking whats on my mind.
Isnt  worth  leaving you 
behind.

I cannot speak these words to your face.
but you bring warmth to my life.
And take away  the emptyness
from this dismal place.

If only I was a painter then i could show 
you clear.
That  I am empty without you here.

Am i the fool or just a pawn
just a worn out fighter in 
a all to ready stance. 
 Dont need a fotune teller to
know I have no chance.

Copyright © John Patrick Robbins AKA Gonzo | Year Posted 2009

Details | Rhyme | |

Evergreen

So stay the gold.
foolish thoughts wasted 
apon the old.

Your never alone except day and night.
did we forget the cause.
Or just grow tired of the fight.

Evergreen moments dont exist in books.
Or pictures trapped apon the page.
The wisdom of life is nothing without the rage.
 
Into a maze we go blind.
Far past  the moment.
Nothing is left to remind.


Motions are not feelings. 
Along with contracts and lies.
So many loser's  with there double dealings.

Taken from the city lights
I lost all that was obscene.
My pasion was turned into my evergreen.

Time you change all but me.
Casting many storms.
That turn  so very deep  within the sea.

Erased are thoose moments
apon the slate  is clean.
I wonder do you ever reflect my sweet evergreen.

Copyright © John Patrick Robbins AKA Gonzo | Year Posted 2009

Details | Free verse | |

Just Some Highschool Math Problem

i am a possibility
of many possibilities
i am a ratio
an indecisive factor
in the rest of what this dimension has to offer

the world is a top
i spin it and predict the probability
that the end will equal the means
or perhaps surpass it
even if i never surpass this muck-up
these broken eardrums
and the inquisition of my empty head exclaiming empty words

and i don't even exist
especially to the solipsists, nihilists
and i no longer give a sh--
i am now officially some lazy apathetic prick

oh i could have been a possibility
but that possibility was so small
that you'd need a magnifying glass
and some tweezers

i am rust, oxified and tearing up
i am crust, the sh-- in the ring on the toilet
i am lust, but never just enough
i am bust

i am a loser without a leash and/or choke chain

Copyright © Val Murah | Year Posted 2007

Details | Free verse | |

Generic Oppression Poem

Oppressed by you, your state, your religion
So you think you good, kind and Superior
But I find you  cruel, arrogant and callous
But that is just in my view, what do I know?

You control the language that describes pain
But there is no for me in its grid, or how I feel
My soul is ripped from my body and bound,
On to your machines on which I slave and toil.

You say it has to be this way, no room for doubt
Master and slave, it is only a matter of degrees
But it is my kind that is always tied to the rack
While you sip vintage wine in the lap of luxury.

Everything has its time and its place, yours is over
End is near, for you and everything you hold dear
Everything carries with it the root of its own destruction
And I will rejoice now that your has very nearly come.

Copyright © tony northover | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse | |

The missing me

With shadows in the dark,
Facing atrocities of the cold,
Yet drenched in the sweat,
I walk down the street

Am bound to follow what others passed by,
Crime it is as if else I try,
Tears follow the path of my cheek,
And it’s the only way my eyes speak,
Lips of mine when turn dry.

I smile I really try to,
To be happy as if I was made to,
I speak of something I don’t know
But there’s what my heart knows,
That’s what my eyes ponder,
And that’s what untold but true,
Yes I know,
Yes I do,
I am missing me in me,
Yes I know,
Yes I do,
I am missing being me……….

Copyright © Shiraz Iqbal | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse | |

An Early, Experimental Poem of Alternate Lines

The mirror reflects, obliquely,
a peculiar yellow butterfly -- it flutters, flutters
the specks of black my beard is made of
on the breeze.  A daffodil hangs down its treasure
and I spread shaving cream, in great white puffs,
shielding from the wind and rain its yellow
across my face.  The nose protrudes, ridiculous
excrescence.  A leaf half green sweeps up in circles
in the whiteness all around.  A weak chin, think I,
of windy sighs.  Squirrels crack acorns, crunching,
down into a patchy neck.  Very unsatisfactory
remembering winter's almost famine.  The trees --
appearance.  Altogether so.  Oh well.
Quiet.  Steady.  Sturdy.  Oh well.
The mirror reflects, but not uniquely.

Copyright © Leo Larry Amadore | Year Posted 2012

Details | Couplet | |

I Cry Alone

Time passing all around in the air Seemingly so without even a care On the ground an empty turtle shell Off to swim the vacant waterless well Watching from inside the tree so hollow The Pied Piper plays and they all follow Staring blanks into that black hole sun Marching prisioners from the lost race run Hark the demons and how they do sing Calling out unto the sacred buried things Echoing reverb in the darkness so vast Spiral downward crazy how it goes so fast Searching for answers in all that's unsaid But left speechless and one of the undead Anticipating that strife and all the misery Quietly awaiting amid all that haunts me Counting the leaves while they do fall down During the removal of such a gifted crown Grasping fiercely stubborn for what I may When all the cherished goods steal away Screaming silence and left in the wake As the mirror begins to crack and break Turning to the darkest parts deep inside Bravely I dig into that cesspool of pride Bringing winter's bitter yet sweet icy cold Touching the shards of glass ever so bold But the shattered pieces turn into icy stones And while bleeding among them I cry alone Copyright by Scarlett Sepulvado Anderson

Copyright © Scarlett Sepulvado Anderson | Year Posted 2010

Details | Rhyme | |

The Park -- Part One

Pigeons flutter in the park
eating refuse from the grass.
Noon comes; the hours pass.
Leaves fall; the sky grows dark.
Silence reigns throughout the park.
A crumpled headline, a forgotten toy,
lifeless, do not hear a far-off bark.
In the park, not a single little boy.
Midnight comes; the hours go --
soon, the sky begins to glow...
morning breaks, and with it, sound.
In the park begins the morning round.
White skeletons of benches -- slats --
in all the wintry parks of Age
fill up in morning. Deserted flats,
each with the aspect of a cage,
become an unused, waiting gauge
that measures dull and wasted years --
floods of loneliness -- rivers of fears...
The weak and battered, pallid crowd
which, daily, parks ingest
speak in muted tones; but loud
is the message all suggest.
The clangor of the beaten Belles,
trampled in the slime of years,
entreats the mind to plug its ears;
yet, if it will, it hears...
memories, perhaps, keep active still
the shriveled and the loosened flaps
that are the mouths of all the Bills --
reduced to gray and ugly gaps...
Down the graveled pathways come
children bent on carefree play.
Belles, though silent, are not dumb,
nor will the Bills forego their say.
But warnings fall on ears too deaf;
around are eyes too blind to see.
And so the tots, too young for Death,
play on and on till time for tea.
Day after day after day
children come and children play.
Pigeons flutter in the park;
Leaves fall; the sky grows dark.
Once more, deep silence claims the park.
Midnight hours come and go.
The sky again assumes a glow.
Wind stirs dead leaves to rustle.
Starts again the aimless bustle
of the battered, weak, and infirm-eyed:
those whom living failed -- who died
but still must play their signal role
of unloved, friendless, unhailed Old;
who gather daily in the park
to envy tots their vital spark --
the hope, the promise in their eyes --
before it fades, before it dies.
But tots at play -- the young, the bold --
must laugh and sing -- cannot be told
that youth's not long and Time is cold.
Time devours -- a ravenous beast --
and men are the courses at his feast.
Some he swallows in their prime,
 On some he waits too long a time:
 these rancid morsels, Time's midnight snack,
explore their memories. They hie them back
 to that old moment, deepest black, 
when they first dared to know -- and first said --
that Time's the master all men dread.
(Please read The Park -- Part Two, which is a continuation of
this poem...due to space limitations)

Copyright © Leo Larry Amadore | Year Posted 2011