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Introspection Flower Poems | Introspection Poems About Flower

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

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Details | Haiku | |

SPRING HAIKU

morning quiet time
in nature's warm bosom found
sun kissed flowers shine













TRADITONAL HAIKU- POETRY CONTEST : 6th Place
12 March 2015
Sponsor: Debbie Guzzi






Details | Etheree | |

'Love - like a flower'

Love
tiptoe
and appear
out of the blue,
mystery to some
but others embrace it
happiness not guaranteed
instead of enjoying the voyage,
we focus more on the conclusion
before it has a chance to bloom, it dies…


Details | Free verse | |

At The Flower Market

At the flower market
I found spice, holy water,
cobblestoned obsidian dreams,
but no flowers.

The blustery Tuscany day
showed me its underlying graffiti,
incantations of poetica esoterica, 
and yet another way 
to excavate the mystery.

Nostalgic Roman nights, 
Spanish palabras, Sicilian incantations,
idyllic panoramas; promises 
enough to purchase the moon.

Such a foolish sacrifice to
fresco up for portfolios in 
sanctuaries precious 
and profane.


Details | Free verse | |

The Color Missing

The Color Missing
Red, black, and blue are the colors of our work pens. Red is the color of the blood we spill on other people’s mistakes.  Blue is the color of the songs we sing on tax forms or pay stubs- every page has a secret melody. Black is the color of the streets we fear most. Black is the color of our signature of approval. Black is the color of our death.

‘But what about the Green pens?’ I ask. They say ‘the ink is too hard to see.’


Details | Dramatic monologue | |

A Dark Fairy-tale

A Dark Fairytale

As I was chained, I breathe in.
As I was burned, I breathe out.
As I was cut, I looked down.
As I was broken, I looked up.
As I was destroyed, I closed away.
I had killed myself damaging beyond any repair.
To keep myself closed I chain, cut, burned, and destroyed what was within me, isolation my fear around me. But suddenly as I had nearly been kindled to a shivering light, something braver and stronger then I appeared and took me and held me and once again I was fixed and this is what happened; 
Suddenly I breathed in as I was unchained.
Suddenly I breathed out as my burns disappeared.
Suddenly I looked up as my broken body mended.
Suddenly I looked down as my cuts faded.
Suddenly I was opened up and my destruction was nothing more then a dream
As my knight, you entered that shadow and held me now I grow with a unprofaned radiance.
I was held once more, and my soul emerged.
I was spoken to once more, and my mind went blank.
I was kissed and my body reacted without a second hesitation.
And before I could run away once more, I was trapped.
Unlike my prison I lived in a fairytale, in were I don’t want to live this place anytime soon. What happened then and what happening now are so fair apart it hilarious.
 I’ve forgiven the past, not forgotten it. Prove never to make the same mistakes or else be locked back inside that tower I call my mind. 
Let me in brave knight, into your mysterious ways.
Let me in brave knight let me have secret passages into that world of yours. 
Let me in brave knight so I can truly capture you. 
I was as cold as ice even more then winters hail, but you with a ridged past that icier then I could have imagined is as warm as the summer sun and sweet like spring air.
For saving me, for taking my heart, for releasing me, I’ll become everything you want and then more, I’ll stand by your side and hold you like you held me and I shall be everything you need.
My sweet Knight.







Details | Light Poetry | |

Sophistication

Merlot wine
Kraft single slices
Dead roses not watered
Dead dreams unfulfilled


Details | Free verse | |

Wild Flower

Unassuming simplicity 
Child of the wild 
A bit of color to catch the eyes
It’s too much to leave her behind 
Sentimental blindness
Can only give bad guidance 
Leave her; why break her?
Look only, but do not touch
You’ll soil your hands
Can never be friends
To embrace nature is not in your nature
Think you’ll just put her on your table?
You’ll be unable
A narrow vase by your hands made
Freedom cannot recreate
Take her home, and she’ll wither
But your guilt won’t die with her


Details | Ballad | |

Hi, Bye


Loves magic riddle, shepherds the flower,
blossoming elegance, land to sea.
I never knew, how that love grew, 
until I laid eyes on Lucy Dee.

Blindly sifting through the hazy maze, 
emerging aware, holding a key.
That fixed a hole, which filled my soul,
thanks to the love of Lucy Dee. 

The force behind the forces of life,
made me question how to see,
Suddenly views, were less askew,
thanks to the insight of Lucy Dee.

Now I care not, for transparent fog,
or the rain that pours for weeks.
For the weather, never weathers,
the amorphous Lucy Dee.

When my petals finally wilt and wane,
storms bring me to weary knees.
The radiant shine, forever binds,
lucy’s light within me; and without,
by loves decree.


Details | Enclosed Rhyme | |

One Single Rose



the crystal vase
just one red rose
an elegant pose
in natural grace


a simple thing
that red, red rose
yet the heart knows
what joy it brings…….





Details | Free verse | |

Day Grows Like Flower

Day grows like flower,
yet it sways like tare;

it taunts me-
a clueless identity 
wrapped 
in yesterday. Ah, too many 
yesterdays, all became 

of me. I traveled 
them, differently.

‘Though my spirits are 
like dodos, still they 
aim not the path, where a bough of spring
never shines as I plead.

Yes, tomorrow is yet 
to bloom, for us to fulfil...
perhaps, a dream.

And, if it could come true, then mine is 
not to dream a dream, which is not mine!




Details | Dodoitsu | |

Gardenias Flower

  
Gardenias' soft white flowers Release a delicate scent Young love brought me a few buds Then love was a friend The flower's essence floated From the one placed in my hair Now in winter their buds pressed Among love's pages
Sponsor: Dr. Ram Mehta Contest: Dodoitsu Written: February 6, 2015 Love or humor No meter or rhyme 7,7,7,5 7,7,7,5


Details | Sonnet | |

I Am Crown Of Thorns





Tall, straight of stature, a survivor, desert is my home,        
existence nature’s ageless course, arid desert serene.                     
Coat of thorns, needle sharp, defense from harmful cross intent,        
my veins bleed milk white poison, stand away for death I hold.    

Sparse of ornate adornment, my appearance will beguile,                         
blooms, Spartan mars red, hark to ancient Ares god of war.              
My bold demeanor is apparent, stance exudes my will,     
without life’s fear of mortal man, I strive to reach the sun.     

Sorely fearsome, my true nature, protect those I hold dear,    
these thorns in offer of defense to the weak and in need.           
Mine hardened foe should hold fear as wrongs done are slow to fade,        
the need of vengeance can be fierce, sharp as the needles pierce.                         

Created in an ageless time, grace of gods holy plan,                           
so behold the pain and strength, a true holy spirits crown.


Robert Gene Stoner Jr
5/4/15            
Euphorbia Millii splendens – aka; Crown of Thorns, Christ Plant, Christ Thorn
Euphorbus – Euphorbus 1st century AD Greek physician
Plant discovery by – Juba II of Mauretania 1st century BC

Form: Fourteener Sonnet
Meter: 14 syllables - Iambic Heptameter – Blank verse


Details | I do not know? | |

My Wishes are Simple





My Wishes are Simple


My wishes are simple,
my desires few,

to gaze upon an ocean,
and marvel at a solitary drop of dew.



My wishes are simple,
my dreams not too grand,

to feel the waves teasing my tired feet,
with no footprints left in the cool, wet sand.



My wishes are simple,
my thoughts serenely gentle, calm,

my heart resting beneath a swaying palm,

healing my being, caressed by nature's soothing balm.





Details | Lyric | |

Nature's Sigh

The Black butterfly waves away her adorations
All she seeks is seclusion, subsuming slave to mortification
The Dear Air is all she can breath, captive of imaginary dreams
The Beacon resonates, but the hope isolates
The Wasteland's silky fingers caressing the virgin's face

So she is now, the covet of the damned
Programmed to every victim's pain
Carrying the weight of every sorrow
Drowning in wrongs she does not know
But paradise is at loss; she must go

Nature sighs after the bite
All my hopes fading
Don't look at me with those sorrowful eyes
How do you know exactly what I'm feeling?
I'm just the ghost flower passing by
And you can hear nature's sigh


Details | Prose Poetry | |

An End to Aloneness

In my life I often feel I am alone; alone in my thoughts, alone in my musings, alone in my day-to-day movements and unsatisfying activities. I move like a ghost through hallways and down sidewalks, unnoticed and, at times, gratefully so. 
I do not wish to be eternally alone. I long for togetherness. But despite this desire for a real connection, I find myself regularly retreating from that temperamental beast that is human interaction. 

“Come on now, sweetheart. Don’t lower your head. Don’t look away. Look up! Smile at someone! No! Don’t go back into your bedroom. Don’t lock the door! Why are you doing this?” my brain will plea. 

I can’t help myself. Aloneness is comfortable. In being alone, I don’t have to worry about anyone but myself. I don’t have to please anyone else. I can think anything I want, wear anything I want, listen to anything I want, and laugh at anything I want. 

And still there remains that nagging desire to be loved and wanted and needed by somebody. I do not know the feeling of being truly desired. I do not know what it is like for someone to crave my company, my smile, my kiss, or my touch. 

                                                                              But I would like to…

I cannot make someone love me or like me or want me in some primal way. It may hurt, but I cannot make that handsome boy want to hold my hand or brush my hair back behind my ear. I can only struggle on. I can only work within myself. I can only try every God damn day to hold my head up, keep my eyes fixed ahead, a give the world the best smile I have. I and I alone can bring myself out of the safety of my bedroom and into the bright world that lies beyond that locked door. 
	
I often find myself alone with nothing more than my thoughts and the ever-strong glow of a computer screen. But no longer will aloneness be the constant in my life. It is true that never having known the caress of a man’s hand on my thigh doesn't make me any less of a woman, but I fear that if I stay confined within myself much longer I will begin to become less of a human. A flower cannot grow if it retracts its leaves and petals every time it feels the warmth of the sun or the kiss of a gentle spring rain.  
	
And I want to grow. I want to grow so tall and blossom so big and beautifully that every place on earth is touched by my shadow at some point in the day. And I will grow. I will push myself and share myself with the world, and finally
							                                 finally
								                                   finally
know the closeness and comfort of love and honest, unabashed companionship.


Details | Rhyme | |

When Flowers Bloom and Birds Do Fly

If mine heart should speak, let it speak so well; 
For I may not have another time to tell. 
Let me say it straight; let me say it clear, 
It may not be so loud but the deaf can hear. 

It's for the sane to commend me of my views 
And for the fools to take me as a foe; 
For my word shall either be sweet or foul 
But it bears the frankness of my soul. 

The sheer desire for wealth or fame 
I apt no more for all is vain. 
It's good enough for me to see 
That I've lived a life in each passing day. 

When a man is young he's at his best 
And a merry soul has no time to rest. 
But life's like hanging on a ledge 
The soul is weakened at the ripe old age. 

No amount of sleep shall recompense or mend 
Of a good dream lost to awakening; 
So as a speeding star in a tranquil gaze 
That fell so sudden before a wish. 

The time that flies and makes one old 
Burgeons the burdens of an old man's load. 
It shall be heavier when he departs 
If he'll bear the laments of a shattered heart. 

Life is doomed and to cease one day; 
Not a single soul can choose to stay. 
Better pave a way for the saints to stroll 
So that bad old serpent could tempt no more. 

Then for my own sake I'll pray with them 
That my soul be freed from the hell's domain. 
And my heart won't dare to sing again 
Those mournful lines of life's refrain. 

A blissful sunset shall start to thrive 
Nocturnal solace upon my head. 
Then it shall be on the day I die 
When flowers bloom and birds do fly. 

Author:  Jecon B. Nadela 
Date & Time of Writing: 
10 May 2014 ; 2:03pm - 3:21pm 


Thanks God I'm writing again. 


Details | Haiku | |

Delicate Flower

delicate flower

wind tears at its soft petals

tree provides shelter

 



(February 4, 2011 Wausau, Wisconsin)


(c) Copyright 2011 by Christine A Kysely, All Rights Reserved


Details | Free verse | |

ripper

he watched her,
lying there in the grass, among flowers,
the cherry petals covering her slowly…
he suddenly realized
how sweet was the shadow
touching her
and each flower gently offering
its tribute of death to her
was no less beautiful
than that wonderful crimson bloom
he himself had helped birth
on her chest…
the nectar of that flower still on his hands
and the ethereality of the cherry-tree shade on his retina,
he wished to grow roots
and draw life from the very earth that she,
his masterpiece,
was slowly
beginning to become


Details | I do not know? | |

You and I



You and I.


You.

Your heart blazed,
with a warmth of spirit,

soothing,

alluring,

soaked in truth.



Your smile burned,
branding me permanently,

gentle,

tender,

enveloping my being.



Your love was complete,
from the depths of your soul,

unsaid,

yet fierce,

bathed in silent knowing.



Your dreams were poetic,
fluttering in the afternoon breeze,
infused with the distilled essence of rhyme.


I.

I squandered your generosity of spirit.

I vainly discarded your priceless poems.


Now I stand,

alone,

empty,

desolate,

wasting away,

rotting inside, day by day.




Details | Haiku | |

IN WINTER SESSION

                                                   in winter session
                                        mist fall at night forms dew drops
                                               flowers seem sweating
 


Details | Tanka | |

The Flower

a downcast face
stares at the curlicues
forming symbols
he loves me petals
grow upon the flower


Details | I do not know? | |

She

She

She smiled, gently,
her warmth infusing me,
with a serene stillness of time.

She settled, slowly,
in my waking thoughts,
a soothing balm of simple joy.

She remains, scribbled,
on the walls of my fractured heart,
memories of happiness that once breathed...



Details | I do not know? | |

The Sieve of Time



The Sieve of Time



Cast ashore,
along the banks of time,

whirling through the passing years,
clinging to my futile scribbles set in rhyme,


Cast ashore,
thrust into an unrehearsed pantomime,

clenching slivers of joy as weariness descends,
lulled into a peaceful slumber exhilaratingly sublime.


Cast ashore,
hazily adrift, a dandelion seed on the wings of time,

trapped in the sieve of spiralling memories,
caught between pristine bliss, and reeking slime.


Cast ashore,
flung aside for no discernible crime,

my human heart thuds with elusive hope,
though battered, bruised, and covered in grime,

I stagger ashore, 

alone,

embracing each moment of detached, oblivious time.



Details | Romanticism | |

The flower of hope


The flower blooming in the sky
Its the flower of hope

It carries raindrops and mildew of rhymes
In its ever broadening scope

The flower blooming in the sky
Its the flower of hope

It blooms into wonderful times
Just like a vision that a floats

The flower blooming in the sky
Its the flower of hope

It seldom withers into the night
But today is undoubtably mine!


Details | Haiku | |

Love Is A Flower

Love is a flower
 giving to the gardener
  hope after winter.


Details | Didactic | |

Golden secrets in the flower

"...The Secret of the Golden Flower is not only a Taoist text of Chinese yoga but also an alchemical tract. (...) it was the text of The Golden Flower that first put me in the direction of the right track." C. G. Jung

"The Golden Flower alone, which grows out of inner detachment from all entanglement with things, is eternal." Richard Wilhelm

does it bloom in the subatomic quark neuron
a flower petals deranged
burning with green rage
dark firmament pullulating infinitesimal quasars
unpeeling layers of nuclear fusions fissions
the blue-blackish greenish-blue haze

is this the eye looking at the eye
which I
between the crushed ajña-eyebrows
under eyes straining to envelope reality from afar
spotty bright grains pulsating in a velvety ink-blue-black throbbing screen
thoughts racing forwards and backwards in time

childhood slights deprivations unrevenged hurts
throbbing thriving on treacherous jabs by of-all beings friends
those who profit from taken-for-granted confidences
the women who dun-you-in
thoughts of a nature to make you hate fate

then the pulsating roving churning dismembering coalescing screen
dissolves
and in the pale fringey opening white furry stripes on the blue-black greenish bulgey bed of velvet
whose I
lights the frigid fire burning dynamo
whose eye
shrivels
reopens brightens
what is it an eye
which stares
shrinks sharper by the fractioned second
closes and opens again
and again
till the pinpoint galactic blackholing centre
bigbangs

the myriad diamondlights buoyed on a myriad-petalled dryburning flowering sun
shedding golden glory
expelling all thought or is it mere doubt
the intense unrelenting feeling of
is it joy
or a fumbling stolen fear
the mental orgasmic relief
the sense of deep other knowing power come face to face
refreshing retreading the worn-out neuron paths

then the return
after the wearinesses
or is it nonplussednesses

to this world
to words
to wars
to waste
to wickedness
a world without wonder
without womb
a world dying
dead
a tomb
see only what you should see
words see only what eyes make belief
even when words don’t mean what they see


© T. Wignesan - Paris, July 3, 1997[Revised May 2003] -from longhand notes: a binding of poems. 1997


Details | Free verse | |

Flower Plateau

It's pretty late, isn't it?
The day's done, Midnight draws near
You mischievously glance at me
I carry you away to our room

Along the way, I think
Of all the last four years have given me
Scar tissue that I wish you saw
Warheads all rusting in peace

Four years ago, I was still so innocent
Fresh eyes, clear mind
Chasing some distant dream
Through a lush, lovely forest

And in a massive clearing, I found the dream
And took her in my arms
She ripped herself away before I could blink
And dragged me down into her suicidal spiral

It took months to escape
To pull us both out
My eyes became jaded
And her innocence was given to another

Latching onto a beam of light
I clung to another
Treating her emotions like a toy
And feeling that I was making her stronger

I became addicted to her quickly
I lived to repent my sins
And repent I did
As I became the toy to her

And in that time, I headed west
Trying to ease the pain of loss
Dragging yet another soul down
And running when it became too much

I've yet to apologize for that
Maybe it goes without saying
But if it doesn't
I send my prayers and sorrow to her skies

And as I walked upon the plateau
Where nothing but weeds grew
I found a single flower
Weakly blooming under the dust

That flower would change my life
And alone I sat on that plateau
Blooming alongside it
Blooming alongside you

And as time passed
The plateau began teeming with flowers
As my life and yours
Became increasingly intertwined

My sorrows melted away
Every loose end that caused me strife
I went back to tie up
And close another chapter of my life

My thoughts come to a halt as I look upon you
Your body under mine, our heartbeats in sync
I take you in my arms and press my lips to yours
Here atop this flower plateau


Details | I do not know? | |

My Flower

My little flower
why do you weep
in your perfect existence?
Did you finally relies the corruption at the ties?
My silly sorrowful flower
I weep with you,
for your perfectly misguided existence.
Why did you choose to bloom
in such wretched soil?
My little flower
why do you weep?
Why do you search for corruption
when all is well it seems.
Silly little flower all you will find
is a heart full of ache.
So I too will cry
as your final bloom
ends with your perfectly misguided existence.
My little flower
I know for whom you weep,
As my tears are returned to me.
Silly little flower,
why do you weep for me?


Details | Nonet | |

All Beauty Destroyed

I do not see things the way you might
I can find good in the darkness
Even when things seem hopeless
Even when it seems that
All beauty's destroyed
There will always
Be some hope
And some
Light


Details | Free verse | |

A Soul Awakened

They bloom as buds,
The young and expectant
bursting with the life of spring.
Winter-bones, stiff with frost, 
Unravel the icicle wire;
Release the spry exuberance of
Underground bulbs of self:
Heart, mind, chakra points--rise,
Rise to greet the thaw!