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Introspection Mystery Poems | Introspection Poems About Mystery

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

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Details | Haibun | |

where barren branches touch newborn leaves

Scurrying on my way home, a little leaf catches my eye, and I am compelled yet again to slow down.

a whirlwind of thoughts
compete with swaying of trees~
lone leaf on my shoe

I am not sure exactly when my fascination for falling leaves started, there is just something so beautiful and artistic in which they drift to the ground....I recall one particular moment in my college literature class when my professor inquired into my choice of the word "wither" in my leaf metaphor for a dying old couple. 

My explanation involved telling him that for me, that particular word had a certain gracefulness to it, and that was how I saw that couple in their twilight years. But I deviate, for I merely intend to write about the interesting tree that I saw the other day. I do not know what species it is, but it bears its berry-like fruits on its branches and it has cordate leaves.

barren branches touch
newborn leaves on other side--
a paradox tree

A smile languidly forms together with my memory of seeing that same tree six days post double-faced state. It proudly donned a full crown of leaves in less than a week. With this image in mind, I can’t help but feel mystified, with the constancy and dichotomy of change….It seems like everything around me is continuously evolving, revolving. I can’t help but feel lost.

Almost in defiance to this line of thinking, I shake the leaf off my shoe, and trample on it. Instead of feeling satisfied, I feel guilt. I never did forget that Enid Blyton tale of how dried leaves were actually fairies. 

littered autumn road
I stomp on the frail fallen….
my feet crushing death

Rolling my eyes with my melodramatic thoughts, I continue my walk home. It’s crazy how leaves can make me go philoloopysical. I am tempted to actually stop in the middle of the road and simply sit there—be among the trees as the wind serenades them, with the leaves swaying gently, some choosing to pirouette, some doing the salsa dip.  

Being the practical person that I am, I just run my fingers along my wind-discoed hair. If it were possible, I would like to be a leaf. I find such nobility and grace to it. Imagine being able to capture light, transforming energy to create nourishment. Giving, breathing life. There is a delicate artistry with the changing of its colors—a complex, fascinating chemistry in each blade that I’m sure God is so proud of.

eyes gently follow
  dying trail of withered leaf;
wind sighs its mourning

I pick up one leaf to remind me...


Copyright © kabuteng P.iNk k. | Year Posted 2015

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? | |


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
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

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

Copyright © Heather Hill | Year Posted 2010

Details | Prose | |

Shades of Grey

Dark cumulous clouds contain
the filtered sunlight in a strange
monochromatic sunrise
where birds seen in silhouette
seem to think they can sing color
into this this grey day.
Mountains defined by stark dark shapes
fade into the distance as if swallowed
by fog's mysterious whiteout.
I feel encapsulated, as if inside of
a black and white photograph
that only defers to shades of grey.

© Connie Marcum Wong
March 8, 2015

Back Black and white film photography 
Poetry Contest Sponsor Giorgio A. V. 

Copyright © Connie Marcum Wong | Year Posted 2015

Details | Couplet | |


Some lives are like a stone quickly skipping over the ponds top, forever tossed.
My life is below the surface trying to reach upward with each breathe lost.
But there is still beauty, deep down here in the great depths below…
For the solitude holds me in its grip as I dwell with what I know.

My occasional trips to the surface leave me vastly wanting more…
Still, my life below the surface doesn’t scare me as it did, once before.
And the breaths will come when given, as my life continues to flow.
True it is dark but beauty lingers, everywhere the currents move below.

At times, the surface reflections seem surreal, as if it’s a place not to go.
Comfort comes more and more to my soul, as the deeper I glide below.
Here I dwell within myself, with words, and thoughts, that carry me along.
Perhaps I have found where I truly belong, as I sing my siren songs.

Copyright © Carol Eastman | Year Posted 2012

Details | Free verse | |

Probing the Unconscious Space

If the unbearable lightness of being has pushed you to the brink of catastrophic meltdown,
walk to the edge of our flat two-dimensional existence 
and take a leap of faith...

You may drift through space for quite some time
eyeing the stars, the planets, the galaxies
that make up the great and boring universe beyond.

Eventually you'll come across darker, scarier territory,
unseen with the naked eye
yet comprising 95% of all matter,
and all that matters,
otherwise known as the unconscious.

Some day you'll feel safer in the void, 
more secure,
at peace.

With not one mirror in sight to reflect your self concept,
everything and nothing make perfect sense here,
for they are one and the same.

You are the only observer
of man's true final frontier
and his one and only mystery.

Copyright © Yoni Dvorkis | Year Posted 2009

Details | Free verse | |


Midfall and nearly all the trees
Stand brown as broken sticks
Against a sky of impossible blue
And I in shirtsleeves a-walking go,
With love and longings my companions
Kicking through the drifts of colored shards
Fallen with another Summer's stealthy fading
Feeling and marveling at this piece of heat
That dropped unnoticed from her pocket.

I could believe today
In an America unnamed,
A place full of wild things and untamed peoples
A place where Spirit spreads
To ride the clouds
And sing its songs unhindered.

Nature has let down her locks today;
And who will look on her
And let themselves be consumed, entranced
By the beauty that lives on in spite of our assaults -
Who will be distracted by the miracles we move through,
Feel the surge of the sea of life all around us,
Hear the whispered prayers
In the windsigh of the sleeping trees
And watch the night come on
Announced by the rose glow behind the thumbnail moon -
Who will stand amid such things,
And not put aside for the moment
Those little cares we circumscribe our lives with,
And stand amazed to be here breathing,
Alive to feel how loving-close
Infinity holds us and claims us for its own;
Surely, not I alone.

I rest a hand on my sleeping child's chest;
Feel the heart fluttering beneath the skin
And I can sense a great wheel turning.

I wander out in the still warm darkness 
That follows this day,
To look up at the starstrewn sky
And see that great wheel begin its turning,
And stand amazed to be here breathing.

And stand, amazed to be.

Copyright © William Masonis | Year Posted 2006

Details | Dramatic Verse | |


          Oh, Poisiden, you disrupt my sea;
                Alter not your color for the likes
                    Of miserable me;
                       Your mouth foams in revelry
                       As I gasp desperately for 
                       One remaining breath;
                     My rosary floats upon your
                Fickle friendship of fury,
         For your whims leave me
      With goose flesh as
    The grapevine wraps itself
    Around my throat ~
    I bear witness to antiquated
      Notes which deceive;
         The tongue of  thy counterpart
            Scorches this bosom...
                Nevermore do I grieve,
                    Yet I swim vainly;
                       The chastity belt on land
                           It does remain,
                              Drowned dreams of delusion ~ 
                                Un- new;
                                     I  lurk within the shadow of
                                        Door number two.

Copyright © Tamiviolet Manchas | Year Posted 2006

Details | Haiku | |

The Internet: Rtrn

A void of Facebook
Creativity dies here...

Copyright © Dan Keir | Year Posted 2013

Details | Narrative | |

When Our Poetry Muse Beckons

Poetry is a highly personal endeavor for all who write
And answer the inspiration of Our Eternal Poetry Muse.

Why do we write poetry?
This a very important question for all of us who “spill ink.”

Poetry for me is a most wonderful magical medium and
An art and methodology which bespeaks the realm of the
Mysterious, Arcane, Uncanny, Mystical, Esoteric, and Divine. 

Poetry is my personal endeavor to master the complexity of
Relating my deepest thoughts and connecting with the reader;
Developing a memorable and intriguing theme or subject;
Choosing the right words and composing meaningful verse;
Finding the best metaphors and the proper tone and balance;
Exploring key theme attributes (to name a few):

	Feelings, passions, emotions, light, dark, happiness
	Sadness, humor, good, evil, intelligence, stupidity,
	Right, wrong, ethereal, ignorance, and indifference.

Our Poetry Muse touches each and every one of us at key times
When we least expect it:  morning, noon, evening, after midnight.

Our Muse, for me, captivates my thoughts and illuminates my soul
While compelling me onward to communicate and share with others
What I see and perceive, sense and feel, think and understand about 
A theme as it resonates in the depths of my innermost psyche.

I know that I have much to say now in my life . . .
Verse, meter, rhyme, tone, metaphors, metonymy, allegory, imagination—
All enliven my efforts and make easier my attempts to mirror my
Thoughts and views to the reading public.

I want my thoughts and doubts, as my passion abounds, to connect with
Those deepest elements of my human psyche and my emotions
In making my written message to be something that is: 
Meaningful and significant, resolute and spirited; 
Full of passion or compassion, humor or sadness, courage or fear,
Strength or weakness, Heaven or Hell, bliss or misery—or whatever
Motivates and inspires the Creative Process for me. 

Our Muse is there with all of us, in reality, to inspire us and help us
To bring passion, meaning, certitude, and direction to our thoughts
As we attempt to infuse these very attributes into our poetic narrative.

Our Muse, in the end, leaves it up to each and every one of us
To go one further step beyond Her ethereal influence and inspiration:
To invest and infuse at the end of this process our own “Free Will”
In making the final decision pertaining to what our final verse or
Narrative product will look like To Our Reading Public.

This is my take, my view on what happens when Our Eternal Poetry Muse
Tantalizes us and awakens within each of us that undeniable Spirit of  
Inspiration, and that giddy zest and irrepressible desire to “spill ink.”

Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved, Schoeningen, Germany (October 3, 2014) (Narrative poetic format)

Copyright © Gary Bateman | Year Posted 2014

Details | Sonnet | |


Euphoria this morning, it hits me
now and then. A feeling of joy and peace.
A feeling of well being, sense of we
rather than I, quickening, a release,
knowledge that there is another world
so close that I can touch it if I choose,
a sense of all the others that I hold
at bay on ordinary days, let loose
in the room, the house, in the universe,
and I know I am invited to join
them where they are, here and in the reverse,
seen and unobserved, a flip of a coin
away. I hold the door open slightly,
at times for hours, then, close it gently.

Copyright © ahellas Alixopulos | Year Posted 2008

Details | ABC | |

AlphaBet Constructs 3 2 1

Alphabet Constructs 3 2 1

Annotated Achilles amends fallen frame amputees

Bulimec Barbies browse media monkey banalaties

Cameo clouds cling to beaded breath curios

Dopamine dreams dilenate check cash desires

Echo endorfins eulogize bullet brain excrement

Fecal folly fantasies reveal relevant frivoloties

Gonadial grownups gulp secret scrotal generosities

Helical hemorriods hinder senior stricken hemocraps

Idiotic ideals idioiosyncrate post partem iconoclasts

Jack Jill juxtapositories seek sexestential jouveniers

Kryptic killer kisses ascot arrogant kingdumbs

Liquid lipid loiners fear frontline lucklullibies

Malovent mommies masterbate rich reflective mommocules

Nevertheless nightengales nourich ruby rich noonbeams

Ovulatory occults outsource torrent tofu outrages

Pensive picses picnics lovelorny passions 

Queer quiet quintensials release rancid quotients

Rape ripe residuals nullify nimble reprocussions

Silky seafoam silohouttes fornicate frothy sandlets

Tepid torch trilogies belie beligerent tourniquets

Useless utterences utilize organize orgasmic utopias

Venimous vixens violate visions

White willow wombs softly seed hospice hell winds

XY XX xfactors envision extracurricular xraydoms

Yearning yoyo yesterdays calculate clearcovert yeilds

Zen zealous zions mirror maginfy Zoneotones 

Copyright © Dave Collins | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse | |

Reality's Angel

I am Reality’s angel resting on the broad shoulders of discovery the truth feeds darkness and engulfs its target ideas and concepts in turn become meaningless to you there is a creator of all things He is just and patient many still have fallen into the masses of shadow wrapped in their own filthy idols of philosophy I have seen grown men fall like rose petals and weaklings rise into unjust leaders forever the follower of furtive evil dominating only to remain inferior the most important answers lie in the unseen regions where no sense can fully give assurance the mind that so many unreasonably twist and turn grows weary because of the distance it must take and truth be told the distance is not what frustrates it is knowing we are seeking something far that could very possibly not exist, that our minds can twist into theoretical, idealistic nonsense it is knowing all we really think we know is meaningless and yes—even a lie all that has been written thus far rests under my wings under the warmth in which you refuse to feel can you believe in me— though I am completely unseen? how much more difficult would it be to see Him?

Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2013

Details | Haiku | |


Silence can deceive                                        
One's quiet to understand
Another to destroy

Copyright © viviane leite | Year Posted 2011

Details | Haiku | |

' Metaphysical Moment (The Haiku)

Metaphysical Moment (The Haiku)

           Understanding A
       Metaphysical Moment …
       … Nature’s Mysteries

                 This Haiku is for:
       The Haiku Master ‘Raul’ Moreno
Metaphysical Poet Extraordinaire’ (smile))


Copyright © MoonBee Canady | Year Posted 2009

Details | Tanka | |

Half Truth Dreams

Lump of bitter dreams
In waking, tough to swallow
In sleep, liquid pools
to be tasted, drank silver,
only to metal harden.

Copyright © Tatyana Carney | Year Posted 2006

Details | Sonnet | |


I am looking right at you and you don’t even know it.
I will deter your intent and throw you off a steep cliff.
But in the air will be my snuff and gruff you can sniff.
Eventually I will have some sort of mercy of just a bit.

Surely we are above empowering manners of tat for tit. 
Maybe I’ll light a scented candle and blow you my whiff.
Or maybe I will strand you grounding your bones to stiff.
Opposed or decomposed and still composed I won’t quit.

Upside down,
Inside or out,
I’ll throw down.
I am the clout.

Don’t mistake my identity,
Either or, it’s your eternity.

® Registered: Ann Rich   2009

Copyright © Ann Rich | Year Posted 2009

Details | Free verse | |

Carbon Monoxide (CO) Week 2: Carbon Cabrona

Smokeless inhales hurt.
I cough tar on my shirt.
As my black lungs breathe,
Shrilling exhales wheeze.

Falls me
Down to
My knees.

The nicotine cracks
My will.
My composure

I want 
I must 
Have this.

I sink
The brink
Of madness.

Copyright © Hyle Chu | Year Posted 2009

Details | Free verse | |

The Beauty In Futility

my heart breathes its last breath
Embraces its own death
Ready to be reborn 
and made anew

Can’t live a lie
Refuse to “do”
and I’ll DIE....
Focus now on why I’ll live 
And never touch the sky. 

I have to forget you
I have to reject you 
But I will never love anyone 
like I loved you.....

I heard you whisper 
and you never knew it
I wiped the tears from your eyes 
But you couldn’t feel it

You’re lost and you’ll never find you
And neither will I 
And I’m so sorry--
but I’m NOT. 

I'll attempt to reset
Try to forget
But you know, I never will. 

Be my dirty little secret 
My very worst-kept secret 
Sweet, smooth, beautiful poison 
My infernal and endless attraction 
towards complete and utter self-destruction 

I fell in love with the devil
And it will take one heck of an angel
To save me from the likes of you....

My addiction 
my confusion
my nightmare
my dream never to come true

Oh, I’ll never forget the times
we never shared
I’ll never forget 
how you were never there

Always me, the stars, and tears
And I ask you,
what kind of life is THAT?

I have to face the facts 
I don’t know what happens now
but it happens without you. 

The stains will always be there
the scars will never fade
But the memory of you----
it HAS to. 

I could carry the torch forever
But it would only consume me
I can’t cry another tear for you
Or I’ll dry up completely

It doesn’t affect you
and you never deserved me

You’ll go on with your life, too
All, all alone
Because you’ll only ever be in love
with you. 

Copyright © SLS It Is Rife With Ambiguity | Year Posted 2011

Details | Free verse | |

Carbon Monoxide -CO- Week 3: Talkin' 'bout My 'noxide

The steady pull
of temptation--
a tease on
my resolution.

When I can sleep, 
I take what dreams 
afford me.
In these dreams,
my 'noxide comes
to ward me.

Her smoke is an invitation.
my conscience
falls for
the con science
of my imagination.
I give in
and reality spins.

Between the sleeps, 
I lie in sanity. 
I wonder:
Did I give into 
my humanity?
did I'd err?
Is that
smoke in the air?

Copyright © Hyle Chu | Year Posted 2009

Details | Free verse | |

Carbon Monoxide (CO) Week 1: O.D.A.A.T.

Chain smoke until
I'm in care of the CO.
There's one left, still.
I smoke it really slow.
"It's the end," I anticipate
As the last inch evaporates.

I can't get
Over it;
It's over before 
I know it.
Butt, I can't quit.
I'm possessed with this 
Obsession; I'm addicted.

My lungs have oxygen,
Yet I'm suffocating inside.
I can't breathe again
Without my 'noxide.

Copyright © Hyle Chu | Year Posted 2009

Details | Rhyme | |

Trumpet Call

My heart is the same full of love
     My house that shelters it full of pain
But it's autumn in my life, Dove
      The hair of gray and wrinkles reign

I set the table full of food
        For the family to dine fun times
But it is autumn in my life
       When changes prepare for winter

I'm not sure I'll know winter now
        For I have not experienced it
But it's autumn in my life somehow
        Where beauty glows bright from the depths

Producing leaves of many hues
       Love the autumn of my life, Dove
Now all that's left winter's white snow
        I think that when winter comes cold

Plants freeze if left out in weather
      They will need a warmer place inside
But since it is just autumn now
       There's time to prepare room somehow

I still watch the birds from window
       They have not all gone away love
But it's autumn in my life now
        Soon most will be gone for winter

Winter soon will approach with cold
       Seemingly death of the roses
But it's autumn in my life my bold
       There are few thoughts of approaching winter

But when winter comes my way
        The body rest to rise another spring
Now it's autumn in my life this day
         On another day I'll be called by trumpet away

Copyright © Sara Kendrick | Year Posted 2010

Details | Free verse | |

I Wonder

Sometimes I wonder,
What ripped us asunder
I wonder...why friends fade away,
I wonder...why death is our destiny,
And as we experience our final day,
I wonder what will become of you and me

I wonder, with eyes dilated,
Why this day was to be so fated...
When all I saw was you walking away
Or your soul released from here...
I see the suffering of Rene'

Our lives are short,
I wonder what ought
To have been,
Is there some reasoning
For the the ultimate sadness
Towards which we spin?

I wonder if we'll ever understand
What it's all about
I wonder, and wonder,
What was God's plan grand?

I could have redone this life
And accomplished so much more
But now it's too late,
For death approaches my door.

Copyright © tom bell | Year Posted 2008

Details | Free verse | |

Thirty-three Letters From Batman to Robin

Playing Batman and Robin is a lot different

When the Riddler is your Stepfather

And simultaneously an alcoholic and pedophile

When your secret mission is to keep him

From bringing heroin and pornography

To Gotham city


Your mother wanted to save you both

But Catwoman captured her

And held her six children hostage

You tried to save your brother

From the Riddler that October night

But you were just nine and

The Joker had you in quicksand

The rope was too rough for such small hands


 Twenty years later you both get married

And you laugh at those childhood battles

Neither of  you knowing

That those villains were still there,

The Penguin was waiting in the shadows


Batman gets arrested for Statutory rape

They put Department of Corrections

On his fabled cape

No Batbelt to help him escape


Batman sends Robin thirty-three letters

Written on that yellow prison paper

With those light blue lines

Tells him  he's found Christ

Read the New Testament twice

Robin pretends to be happy for him

Even when he really doesn't believe him

And is too disappointed to care

         And returned letters from his two children

Hurt him in the worst way

When all he wanted to do was

Give them four or five dollars

For Christmas or their birthday


   Still in every Former Super heroes life

There is a Forrest Gump/ Gomer Pyle

That just takes it all in

Regardless of his sin

Just because he's your brother

And because you love him

    Because you were the one that rode

On the handle bars of his bike

Holding the umbrella on the way to the store

While it was thundering and lightning

Not knowing that the real rain was yet to pour

   And you were the one

That sailed into the wind like Mary Poppins

when the bicycle stopped

"Make sure Mama's groceries don't drop."

   You open those letters

Because he was one that you looked up to

When there was no father to answer your call

And a twelve year old make-believe father

Was better than none at all

    Because he built you a ten feet basketball court

Out of throw away scrap wood

It wobbled when you shot the basketball

But he did the best he could

    And you were the one that used to ruin his fishing trips

By getting your hook snagged every ten minutes

And he would still ask you to ruin his next trip a week later

And he would walk in the dirty lake to un-snag your line

Because you didn’t like getting your clothes dirty or wet

   You don't tear up those those letters

Because he was the one that

Shared those stupid


At your mother's funeral

    And you hated it when his kidneys failed

And he was only fifteen

And he couldn’t fight bad guys anymore

And you both swore never again

To wear those stupid capes

 Your heart failed when he was charged with rape

   You open those letters because

When you can't sleep or rest

Nothing like a game of Russian Roulette

Ignoring the voices in your head

The next letter is the one you’ll regret


    But hidden in those letters

Between the lines of

Those religious rants

Somewhere Between the Johns

The Deuteronomies and the Acts

Were those unknown facts

That never made it to

The courtroom

Was never read by the DA or judge

The DNA that got lost by Vice

The bloody tissue misplaced by

The evidence clerk

The real trial was in those letters

    And you learn that he wouldn't

Tell the Judge the real truth

Waived his right to a trial

Because he didn't want his kids

To end up in Foster care.

And Robin wasn't there

   And he broke his promise

To never ever play  hero again?

They gave him fourteen years

For another person's sin

   We could have put those capes on one last time

We could have beaten the Joker

And put him and the Riddler on the run

Could have shot Cat Woman with our toy guns

    After five years in prison

Batman dies at forty-one

And Robin has to go on

    And it sucks that you left

All the clues with me

And I can't even use them to set you free

The rape you confessed to

Was never what we all believed it to be

And somewhere in Gotham city

The Joker, Penguin and Riddler

Are still running around free


Goodbye Batman

Growing old with you

Would have been better

But the best of you remains

In these thirty-three letters

Copyright © Poet M.e. | Year Posted 2016

Details | Rhyme | |


"Do not feel Lonely the entire Universe is inside you." Rumi

With endless microcosom's curl 
both inside and out of man's swirl 
of atoms and world's spins
each as lovely as a pearl.
For God's has formed, so many worlds
each in a perfect whorl.

Attach, connect, be playful, free
open arms and hearts by His decree
bless the large and the small
with grace and camaraderie 
together birthed in harmony
harken all to His call.

Copyright © Debbie Guzzi | Year Posted 2012

Details | Free verse | |

the art of persuasion.

She and the handsome gentleman finalized the contract, and he gently placed 
the antique pearl necklace into the palm of her tiny hand.  As he walked away,
she fantasized about making love with him, for he possessed both charm and 
exceptional good looks; he certainly was enchanting...thick, black wavy hair,grey-
green eyes...tall...muscular ~ oh, those muscles...all over his tanned body...head
to toe.

But she wondered about that limp as he walked away, depending on a heavy 

after all, an eternity of beauty and power in exchange for 

The evening of the deed was a frigid six degrees, and there was a dead smell of
the sun.  She stayed late after work, waiting anxiously until everyone had gone.
Finally, he was alone in his office, so she placed the pearl necklace around her
fragile neck and unbuttoned her red, silk blouse so to reveal her sexy red

She entered the office, and gently leaned over him from behind; he was aroused
by the scent of her "Red Door" cologne...his favorite, and his senses were even
more heightened as he turned around and observed her erect breasts speaking
in a language only he understood.  With his large hands, he slowly explored her
thighs, making his way up her black skirt.

"You have beautiful legs."
"You think so, huh?"

They kissed, and the necklace brushed his chest; he didn't feel well, at all.  He 
was hot, and his body began its metamorphosis, retaining a grayish
tinge....then blackish...


then, disappeared along with all omens of the deed.

She walked over to the black wrought iron mirror and smiled; her wrinkles were
gone...vanished...just as promised; she was ten years younger.

The windows began sweating, and the handsome stranger appeared.

"I have one more assignment for you."
"But we made a deal, one soul."

She began to feel peculiar, and as she viewed herself in the black mirror, she 
began aging...ten years...twenty...thirty...she pulled out a large clump of thin, white

The room darkened from his moonly mind.

"My dear, the other yours."

Copyright © Tamiviolet Manchas | Year Posted 2007

Details | Blank verse | |


Some divine light
Beams upon my life

Every day the same sight:
A star beyond shallow sky,

Would I see you if I die?

Copyright © Lukasz Walterowicz | Year Posted 2012

Details | Rhyme | |

Love Letter to the Lord

Of course, who can claim to be my lover Eternally wedded to him I am, in the form of a prayer That is you, only you, powerful Lord Revered you shall be as long as I can breathe your word! Seated on the highest altar of my heart Forever you shall be the ladies' sweetheart Even if the guys will want their friendship's part My lover forever you shall be in your tender heart Feelings are profuse, You have been my only muse Lighting up at all times my fuse Tending all the times to my bruise Blissful are those seated near the Lord Guiding them he is, always away from discord Pray, altruist Lord, Love me endlessly I am yours incessantly, claims my harmony
Placed 6th in the contest Endless Love;Gail Doyle

Copyright © Anoucheka Gangabissoon | Year Posted 2012

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.

Copyright © Alicia Patti | Year Posted 2007

Details | Dramatic Verse | |


Words are just a decoy
An excuse to dance around the truth
Underestimated silence
Proves language is uncouth

Your gut will always tell you
What your heart tries to ignore
Most try their best to silence it
Stirring an internal war

Why deny yourself of happiness?
Why pretend logic is correct?
Why hide behind a curtain?
Why pretend our hearts select?

Ignorance is truly bliss
Too bad that's not our case
Lets take a risk and show our courage
Let our souls meet face to face.

Copyright © Leah Werner | Year Posted 2011