These Goodbye Introspection poems are examples of Introspection poems about Goodbye. These are the best examples of Goodbye Introspection poems written by international PoetrySoup poets
Oh what a mistake I have made,
Traveled so far to end up this way.
Not in a million years would I have guessed,
That this idea was truly not one of my best.
Never had known things had changed so much,
We for sure had fallen so far out of touch.
So many different do's , don't , and bewares,
Actually has left me absolutely scared.
What a fool I was to ever believe,
That she would ever be in love with me.
At my age you would think I know better,
You can trust this will be remembered forever.
Oh what a terrible mistake I have made,
Wanting all these memories to just fade away.
All this time I have always had my doubts,
Not the person led to believe is what I found out.
To be deceived and lied to for oh so long,
Down deep I knew there was something wrong.
Head over heels I had fallen in love ,
Always thought you were sent from above.
How the knife is twisted into my side ,
So much pain I can do nothing but cry.
These memories of what I thought was real,
I'm confused and I don't how how to feel.
Is this really possible that I did not know,
Through all this time it never showed.
Such an evil thing to do to a man ,
Especially the lies which he could not stand.
How cruel and cold your heart must be ,
To carry on as you did never letting me see.
Hard to accept all those moments so dear ,
Realizing they are now my greatest fears .
What was to be Joy and Happiness,
Replaced by the feelings of a loneliness.
Never did I imagine this happening to me ,
Thinking that you and I were meant to be .
It's a very hard thing for a man to accept ,
When he finds out that he's been tricked.
Was it the money or the control you had ,
Maybe because you are really just that bad.
Some day soon for this you will have to pay ,
For the sins against me and your evil ways.
Goodbye to you who ever you are ,
For in this heart you have left brutally scarred.
generic minds listen to generic music
have generic thoughts that are unknowingly abusive
watch generic things talk about generic things
gee this generic *****is spreading like a disease
better get your flu shot
thats what they said to me
a suicidal vaccine
a subliminal killing spree
its contagious and the outrageous
thing about it is that the people are blind in an eye
that they didn't even know they had
it's sickening to watch these clueless civilians
inside the looking glass
with nightmares of being free
without a key to their mind
for it is trapped in the frequency
in the illusion of time
bathed in our universe
killing all that refuse to see
those that admit to hypocracy
or see the message in hip hop
how cant you see
the message in the lyrics that
bring adolescents to their knees
from bullet wounds conflicting their flesh
contradicting that they're the best
but the songs keep telling them that they dont need no rest
that they dont wanna go home
that they should ride alone
with the gat as their only companion
and so the only path they choose is the one that they're told
until they grow old and hope turns to a window pane
inside a window pane, until all they feel is pain
they realize that the music itself is ashamed
so whats to look up to
when you cant even speak when you cant even walk because you look so bleak
your eyes are sunken from the tv you're infested with the dee zees
now its too late to turn around and live for your conscious
so when youre screaming oh please
close your eyes and bring your mind to life
open your eyes for the first time
and never wonder why
since the answer this entire time
has been inside
and you better find it before you die
you dont want your soul to be in a pool with all the others
a buncha brothers missing their mothers
but only seeing strangers
only feeling the haters
wishing they would have used their minds when they had them
and now its too late,
now it's time for another new born fate to grab them
And the storm calls to me in ways you'll never understand
A gentle call that urges my soul forth
The lighting guiding a path for my feet to walk
Between the stones and ash of all that once was
I stand in the echoing silence of the rain
It drops down upon my skin like the blessing waters of heaven
Soothing me, lifting the weight from my body
I feel at once as if I am home
Standing amid two dimensions
Caught between two skies - here and there
The night wraping around me in warmth
The gentle wind lifting me off my feet
Drops from the clouded moon washing away my body
and I am left just a soul, an essence
The storm calls me forth from beneath my roof
Beckoning me into its depth
I stand among the reeds in the basin
They dance and sway as if welcoming me
And I sway with them back
Caught up in the power that charges the air
That threatens to sweep me away
If the ground will just loosen its hold
The thunder rumbles a low welcoming growl
And I get pleasently lost within it
I am so small compared to its vastness
I close my eyes and succumb to the skies wishes
Rising higher until my feet no longer touch the ground
My fingertips touch the liquid color of the stars
A sigh drifts from my lips
There is no need of thought to stay afloat
There is no demand to breathe in air
No crushing weight upon my chest
As my lungs struggle to survive
There are no struggles here
I make my bed on blackened clouds
And give in to the call
The storm has claimed me as its own
It was such a struggle to stay upon the ground
When the storm would call me home
(for the countless women, names unknown, who bore the brunt of Apartheid, and who fought the racist system at great cost to themselves and their families, and for my mother, Zubeida Moolla)
Pregnant, your husband on the run,
your daughter, a child, a few years old,
they hauled you in, these brutish men,
into the bowels of Apartheid's racist hell.
They wanted information, you gave them nothing,
these savage men, who skin happened to be lighter,
and white was right in South Africa back then,
but, you did not cower, you stood resolute,
you, my mother, faced them down, their power,
their 'racial superiority', their taunts, their threats.
You, my mother, would not, could not break,
You stood firm, you stood tall.
You, like the countless mothers did not break, did not fall.
You told me many things, of the pains, the struggles,
the scraping for scraps, the desolation of separation
from your beloved Tasneem and your beloved Azad,
my elder sister and brother, whom I could not grow
up with, your beloved children separated by time, by place,
by monstrous Apartheid, by brutish men,
whose skin just happened to be lighter.
You told me many things, as I grew older,
of the years in exile, of the winters that grew ever colder.
You were a fighter, for a just cause,
like countless other South African women,
you sacrificed much, you suffered the pangs,
of memories that cut into your bone, your marrow,
you resisted a system, an ideology, brutal and callous and narrow.
Yes, you lived to see freedom arrive, yet you suffered still,
a family torn apart, and struggling to rebuild a life,
all the while, nursing a void, that nothing could ever fill.
I salute you, mother, as I salute the nameless mothers,
the countless sisters, daughters, women of this land,
who fought, sacrificing it all for taking a moral stand.
I salute you, my mother, and though you have passed,
your body interred in your beloved South African soil,
you shall remain, within me, an ever-present reminder,
of the cost of freedom, the struggles, the hunger, the toil.
I salute you!
(for the brave women of South Africa, of all colours,
who fought against racial discrimination and Apartheid)
‘ ‘ ‘ ‘’’’’’’’’’’ ‘ ‘
Those tender wrinkling leaves pour dizzily down
auburn dressed palms of shaven- tree solemnity,
like drowsy tunes of autumn’s harp sound,
saintly foliage fluting, swooping in withered harmony.
Auburn dressed palms of shaven- tree solemnity
tangerine floats of stems fading by lamp light,
saintly foliage fluting, swooping in withered harmony
their torn skins crackle, mumble and fall from flight.
Tangerine floats of stems fading by lamp light,
brushing a wandering sky soaking in rainfall’s keep
their torn skins crackle, mumble and fall from flight
and whispers of stooped dance soothe the moon to sleep.
Brushing a wandering sky soaking in rainfall’s keep
spreading leaves’ goodbye glory for a final display,
and wafts of stooped dance soothe the moon to sleep
as full season of fall sheds life’s leaves to pray.
Spreading leaves’ goodbye glory for a final display,
like drowsy tunes of autumn’s harp sound,
as full season of fall seems to shed life’s leaves to pray
those tender wrinkling leaves pour dizzily down. ~
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By: nette onclaud
Darkness consumes me
Corrupted thoughts take over
Soul becomes hollow
Self castigation occurs
Tears of blood destroys all hope
Too young to die
They take a boy, too young to shave
Who has never lived his life
While his mates are chasing girls
They fill his life with strife
They send him off to a brand new war
Over some damned fools Ideal
I don’t understand their wars
And I guess I never will
The folk who like to run the show
Or most of them at least
Have never even been to war
They’ve never felt the beast
As he rips right into one’ intestines
That hollow hole of fear!
Each leader should be sent to war
Then the picture might grow clear
Then when they send young boys to war
They’ll see the whole damned show
The weight of endless terror
And then maybe they’ll know
What it’s like as a fine young man
To be sent out there to die
He might then know, how a mother feels
When she’s lost her little guy.
1 August 2013 @ 1443hrs.
Her smile always greets me
As I close my eyes each night
The love in her voice is comforting
With passion, she's burning so bright
A sparkle in her eyes
And a fire in her heart
Let's spend together our lives
Couldn't stand To Be Apart
To Be Apart would destroy me
Reduce me to the tears
Without her right beside me
All throughout the years
I don't know what I'd do
If I ever had to restart
And oh how much I'd lose
If we were To Be Apart
The most beautiful girl I'd ever seen
With every desirable too
She was everything to me
When we're apart, oh what will I do?
I am a misprint,
Ink blot on love,
I remain a maybe
Longing for fact,
No speck of lint,
A hand in glove.
Thunder; a baby
Will only react
When you etch
Whistling on cue
To a dead town.
Dream a sketch
Of silent crowds
This boiling crown
Holes in the walls
To spy through,
Seeking a sort
Of bricked-up sun.
A heaven of halls,
All leaving you.