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Seasons Introspection Poems | Introspection Poems About Seasons

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

Details | Quatrain | |

Windowpanes

An ancient river, centuries-old shops and restaurants steeped in a 2000-year history and 
culture set the scene. The ambiance seemed divinely contrived to facilitate the purposes of 
our meeting and the very fodder from which the greatest poets are sustained.
Not newcomers to the area, Kay P. and I were assigned to the Army Security Agency Field 
Station in Augsburg, Germany in 1974. We were colleagues in the intelligence community 
with no romantic overtures to our relationship, save an appreciation of poetry and profound 
philosophical discussions. Kay wanted to spend the evening with a poet, so we planned the 
evening to be appropriate for the purpose. 
At the time and place, we quickly found ourselves hopelessly immersed in the philosophical 
foundations of my writings throughout the evening. It was the first time since Vietnam that 
I'd felt worthy as a person. I still recall sipping the red wine and feeling the warmth of the 
large hearth inside the Balkan eatery. I still see the swans gliding by on the Lech flowing by 
our café.

When windowpanes begin to weep with autumn's chilly dew, I'm taken back through seasons passed to one delight held true, A rendezvous that time allowed, a gentle evening spent Amid a time of long discord when days were dreary bent. I feel the stretch upon my lips, the smile returns once more. Again, I smell the Balkan fare prepared on Lech's old shore, The mood is cast in high regard, the wine is tart and dry, As Augsburg ripples in the wake when swans go gliding by. The ancient windows frame our view and day begins to wane As rivulets meander down and streak the dampened panes. The ambiance of ages passed beseeched us not to leave And held us in its warm embrace throughout the ebbing eve. My heart was scarred, without regard and hardened by the war But her esteem unveiled its worth, while nothing had before. She saw the child that once was me, I'd long since cast aside, And bade he climb astride his mount, engage his life and ride. Now, she is but a memory, whose kindness soothed my heart, For we embarked upon our lives on paths ordained to part. Her subtle way escaped my eye till time had made it clear That her esteem had set me free, that night I hold so dear. The poetry that filled my soul remains these many years, Impassioned in my warmest thoughts when autumn first appears, When windowpanes begin to weep, a-glisten with the dew, And I return to seasons passed, to one delight held true.


Details | Free verse | |

AS TWELVE MONTHS CLOSE


I count my walks through herbs and shells never knowing how old bones can be fleshed from a heart bound on scrolls of endings, and here I am among rows of an orchard… feet like dust sanded by twelve months of famine and feast ; somehow the maple boughs wither from the laundry of evenings’ regret. Often times, like the gypsy rose, I climb into the lattice of my family tree smelling its tar and citrus that knit arms glossed by twilight’s love, then raked by froths of autumn’s debris. Closing a fence as another year shuts off, I am between silence and scream… eyes groaning with the music of an anonymous breeze sheltering a collected beauty of tragedy and the comedy of drama: trials pinned by veiled nights when kinship endures the flood of weather's hands. It is so, I mean, the certainty of taming the last ride before new seeds from a new year twirl upon unborn fruits… I disrobe the old bones to greet the unknown. .......................... "“In times of test, family is best.” – Burmese Proverb Charlotte Puddifoot's Open Free Verse Contest 7/14/2014


Details | Rhyme | |

Message of Departure

I will watch their winged endurance, on the crest of autumn's eve, without knowing where or distance, but in faith they must believe As the harsh breath sounds of winter are calling geese to leave I will hear songs of assurance, gliding low against the breeze I can hear inherent partings, as they form into a V And they soothe my doubtful worry, as they fly the crimson sea Lifting eyes, I follow upward, as they cluster into line With necks stretched long and southbound, departing with a sigh With constant proof, year after year, their calling fills my ears Sent here by the grace of God, in a race against my fear While their promised songs may sadden me, and tears to eyes will bring Their steadfast return assures my heart, to believe tomorrow's spring "Doubt your doubts before you doubt your faith."
______________________________________________________________


Details | Blank verse | |

Quiet - I'm Weeping.

Arrow's echo

bouncing off birch trees

capturing sound in it's wind:

blue birds at the screaming peak of hunger,

rustling of ants with the last haul of insects before winter
down deep into quiet tunnels of perfectly rolled soil and sand,

the singular first drop of rain on a crackling red leaf 
still holding it's breath 'till it turns brown,

four hawks in a circular flight
bleeding the wind in wings

and me, lost in autumn

shot from your bow

last year.



Details | Free verse | |

Novembersummer

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.


Details | Free verse | |

Moving Lightly

I move lightly at sixty,
a little less than the max.
Any faster, and the sunflower shells I spit
blow back in my face,
and any slower and the driver behind
becomes too distressed.

I move lightly at sixty,
homeward through the rural landscape,
past barns and combines,
engine humming, without straining,
secure that I need not be anywhere,
or anything, but myself.

I move lightly at sixty,
through the longer shadows of fall,
short days and warm afternoons,
trees variegated with the leafy
nostalgias of the year past,
and the years before.

I move lightly at sixty,
the old van's engine drones
as I "OM", indistinguishable
one from the other, both well worn,
and oblivious of the
years we show.

I move lightly at sixty,
no longer with a need to lie,
or prevaricate,
in love with every woman I see,
and no longer afraid
to say so.

I move lightly at sixty,
in love with the journey,
rather than the goal.
In love with the moment
rather than the hour and 
the need to mark it.

I move lightly at sixty,
bemused by public anger over
a rappers words, knowing they
are far less harmful
than the blood shed
in my time.

I move lightly at sixty,
ready to gear down if necessary,
still able to speed up if needed
to avoid the hazards
of an overactive ego
and libido.

I move lightly at sixty,
content to be alone,
joyful to have company,
regretting neither,
thankful for old friends,
and old loves.

I move lightly at sixty,
finding that not acting,
is as important as the act,
knowing that one can be undone,
and the other, can't.

I move lightly at sixty,
like a comfortable breeze
on a fall day, a thermal for a bird,
uplift for a friend,
a drying wind for a
tearful cheek.


Details | Haibun | |

Past reflections and New Beginnings

her brimming eyes.. shreds of a happy picture in the icy lake Each gust of the bone chilling wind, blows in fresh despair. Though seemingly brutal has a new lesson albeit a bit harsh, to teach, a new message to deliver. The lonely lady in a dark trench coat with frozen tears in her sea green eyes, casts her eyes on the bare fanged limbs of skeletal trees around. Through all the bleakness she feels a glimmer of hope shine as a silver lining in this cycle of nature. Pondering over the human tendency to scratch up old wounds to keep them afresh and hold those daggers of the aching past, locking and unlocking them in the recesses of heart, to keep renewing the hurt. The flora around has shed the burdens of yester years, eagerly awaiting the blooms of a fresh spring. Clearly, it is the time to let go. To look forward to the bright horizons of the morrow, to cherish the first sprout of life rejuvenated. Let Go. Hope. one last look.. the frigid waters ripple her past reflections Haibun Yesha Shah


Details | I do not know? | |

(It Feels) Like: This too shall pass

Like the end
Like a death
Like you cant catch your breath
Like it wont end
Like the pain will kill you
Like tomorrow will be full of more pain
Like your heartbeat will stop
Like no one likes you forever
Like you will never love again
Like all you ever known has rejected you
Like your soul is crying
Like your darkest place has kicked you out
Like you will never recover
Like you are the ONLY one
Like you can’t go own another moment
Like you are the biggest fool
Like the LIE is real
Like the truth did not set you free
Like she is the only love
Like being ask to live the rest of your life without LOVE
Like there is no forgiveness for you
Like God stop your blessings
Like you have flat lined but didn’t die
Like you die every every day every day
Like you are the worst person ever
Like God doesn’t love you
Like you won’t make it back from the pain
Like you want to weep
Like you want to weep
Like you want to weep
Like there will never be someone who adores you…for you
Like your heart is broken
Like you can’t go on
Like you love a love that don’t love you back
Like you don’t know how to love, so it asks to be excused and leaves
Like your life and your love won’t ever matter
Like you want be blessed anymore 
Like you have wasted so much time…
Like you want to just die… (Make the pain stop)
Like hope is as hope does…no hope for you
Like they get away ….Free and clear
Like you are left broken 
Like they get to live HAPPY EVER AFTER
LIKE: THIS TOO SHALL PASS


Details | Limerick | |

Afternoon Afterthought

                                  Upon the roof, outside the walls,

                              now tapping soft its whispered calls,

                                              aftertaste of pain,

                                             this afternoon rain,

                                  like a  fading afterthought, falls.


Details | Quatrain | |

THE SEASONS OF MY LIFE

                                  THE SEASONS OF MY LIFE

In the Spring time I was blossoming,
The world was bright and new.
I learned to laugh annd cry and fight,
For what I knew was true.

That there`s a time to have your fun,
And there`s a time for work,
A time when we must learn to earn,
And value all life`s perks.

In Summer time I learned of life,
Of people and the world.
I learned that life`s a mixture,
Of experience, a whirl,

That sometimes life moves way too fast,
It should be sipped and savored,
Or else it plays out way too soon,
And loses all it`s flavor.

In Fall I learned acceptance,
That what must be will be.
It does no good to fuss and fret,
`Bout what was denied me;

For some it seems are richly blessed,
While others get the crumbs,
Who gets what is up to God,
From Whom all good things come.

Now Winter fast approaches,
And what`s important now,
Is what memories I`ll leave behind,
Who remembers me, --- and how.

                                                   Judy Ball


For At This Age Contest by Nette Onclaud


Details | Couplet | |

Autumn

Immersed in the sound of the low rustling wind
Memories and places they haunt yet again
Passed by so quickly as each falling leaf
Drifting and flowing on an unyielding stream
A current to carry from birth right on through
Filling our moments with cares which ensue
A mind lost in remnants of lovers and friends
Babies and children and time long since spent
Familiar, intangible, just out of reach
Longing for ghosts that my heart doth beseech
Winter is looming and summer is past
A time for remembrance the years gone so fast
Beauty is captured in my last breath of life
The sparkling colors in the warm golden light
Do mimic the glory and wonder be told
In those bright days of autumn and a life to behold
 


Details | Rhyme | |

The Winds of the Night

The winds of the night creep in on you and they are up and about.
They surround you in the darkness and shed you into some light.
They are given and they are taken with your most silent thoughts.
They pass through your hidden fears and come from plain sight.
The winds of the night so clever and discreet they really are.
They hold no boundaries to your beginning and nor to your end.
They are warm and they are cold rising above you and reaching up from far.
They are of their own power and hold onto all claims of their own.
The winds of the night come sending a message to the unknown.
The winds of the night are aimless but when directed they drift all together.
They are dangerous when calm at night a sight not even one has really seen.
They are unsettled with no balance yet predictable by where they all concur.
They capture what is felt and heard because they’re accepted as they’re deemed.
The winds of the night come and go for they are on a lifelong mission.
They are silent within your journey for they can not be spoken to or touched.
They exist for your life bringing the world into its final rule on deception.
The winds of the night carry enough strength to lead a massive world into the unjust!








Details | Verse | |

A Restless Girl In A Pink Bedroom

A restless girl in a pink bedroom 
  Scans the implacable ceiling, 
Or buries her face in a book 
  To subdue the hurting feeling. 
And the days fall flat as roadkill, 
  Grind on and cool their heels 
In minutes and hours of deadlock, 
  Like rusted cogs and wheels. 
Childhood sneaks to closure, 
  And nothing does no good 
On the border between confusion 
  And the bloom to womanhood. 
In the tangle of ebony hair 
  Lank and listless on the sheet, 
And the summer-kiss tan of her skin 
  Lie the sorrowful signs of defeat. 
She could cry for the ending of times 
  Rose-tinted with visions of love, 
Now a restless girl in a pink bedroom 
  Sighs and stares at the ceiling above.


Details | Free verse | |

Tide

Must be so far
'Cause I can't see the end
Here's hoping
Here's to all who never cared

I said I'd serve you until the end
Not so hard to understand
But you have killed the moment
Left me here for dead

Coming too fast
'Cause I can see the end
Here's hoping
You take time forget

I said I'd serve you until the end
Not so hard to understand
But you have killed the moment
Left me here for dead

Coming too late
'Cause I have passed the end
Here's hoping
You let go of all regrets

In comes the tide
To wash your life away
Here's hoping
That you're on solid ground


Details | Rhyme | |

The Colour Of Spring

Springtime comes on gossamer wings;
Its sun beams down on all God's things.
The fields and woods are first to preen;
Each blade and leaf gives off a sheen.
Tis an emerald dress they wear,
Simple beauty without man's flair.
I look around in spring and swear
God's favorite colour is green.


Details | Quatrain | |

On Grandma's Farm

There's an antique red barn
Sits atop the hill
And a small little pond
Chock full of blue-gill 

There's old rusty cars
Which haven't ran in years
And a hundred year old house
Once manufactured by Sears
 
It's loaded full of memories
It's filled with lots of charm
It's a place I know and Love
It's all there...On Grandma's Farm

Used to go there every Sunday
From as far back as I can remember
Sledding down the hill
In the snow come December


I Loved it out at Grandmas
Playing with toy tractors in the sand
Going to help split wood
Just to lend a helping hand

I Loved it winter, spring and summer
But my favorite time of all
Was when the leaves all turned
The wonderful colors of fall

I was carefree and happy
The world was free from harm
Way back when I was a kid
Out On My Grandma's Farm

© 2011 Kevin Stock


Details | Rhyme | |

The Day My Uncle Died



The Day My Uncle Died...

I was thinking about the smile on my uncle’s face….
This was a before he would “leave this place."

I'll never forget the words shortly before he died.
The more I thought about it, the more I cried.

He said, "you know Jimmy I wish I got to know you better."
I never received another phone
 call or even a letter.

A few days later he was ready to go to a funeral.
But it was also him who received a burial.

I was shocked and amazed as to what happened.
The events took place. There was no way
 I could "stop them."

Memories I had were from many years ago.
I often think about him.    And I do miss him so!

I suppose many don't take the time to realize...
How quickly life passes... 
Then someone dies.

Perhaps there's someone in your
 life you can think of…
There's been a situation that you're
embarrassed to "speak of/"

A harsh word said, and angry thought was spoken.
And soon your relationship has been "broken."

This may be a good time with this person to spend.
Irregardless if they're what you'd call a "friend."

Everyone is important to God who reigns above.
We need to be filled with his mercy and love.

The person you haven't seen shall one day disappear...
The days are short...  Our journey's end is so near!

May God speak to our heart and help us to see...
Where will you and I be spending our eternity???

By Jim Pemberton


Details | Free verse | |

My Seaons of Change

                                                  My Seasons of Change 

1. All the world’s a sky of faded virtue, 

2. Though major events have shaped my life,  

3. they are constantly replaced with new memories, most soon to be forgotten. 

4. One day’s triumph is another’s past glory. 

5. Like clouds, people have floated into my life and portrayed themselves in a way to form my character.  

6. Some have stayed and some have gone each leaving their distinctive steps in my path. 

7. The stars which illuminate the night are like the reflection of my past decisions. 

8. Like constellations show the history of people’s lives, mine is not yet run its course, but only begun.  

9. Just as God has blessed nature with its four seasons: summer, fall, winter and spring;  

10. He has also provided me with seasons that have developed my intricate character.  

11. The first is independence.  

12. Independence had arrived at the threshold of my future around the time of my late middle school years. 

13. Independence came from situations that pushed me to the edge of change. 

14. Change was not only a shift in my surroundings but a total alteration in my world view. 

15. The perplexing opportunities challenged me to make my own decisions. 

16. With my own decisions came discernment. 

17.  My whole eighth grade year I felt the daunting shadow of high school nudging at my side. 

18. After all, my success in high school could set the course for the rest of my life 

19.  and is it not my obligation to take the gifts God has given me and use them to change the world? 

20. That doesn’t happen overnight. 

21. The rough bark of an oak tree presented itself as a symbol for the following weeks of transition. 

22. High school brought discernment. 

23. I acquired the knowledge of why things are right or wrong. 

24. Responsibility was the next season in my life. 

25. Responsibility is not only gained through trust but opposition.  

26. Now that these three seasons have come to pass, they have matured my mind and soul. 

27. The last to follow is inevitably, struggle. 

28. Seamless struggle has lingered behind mankind since the begining of time. 

29. Struggle can be neither ignored nor avoided. 

30. As lighting strikes from the sky and thunder roars so is the ever presence of daily trials. 

31. Each season represents a pillar which will withstand not only the icy winds of fear, but 

32.  provide peace and security in my spirit that can never be driven out. 


Details | Free verse | |

The Swimming Pool

The scene is a bit too bright, and the
Water is a bit too tart. Slightly acidic,
But mostly enticing, it feels good to him.

With measured step 
He walks up - jumps - 
And falls in.

Plunging deeper he tries to see 
But the chlorine burns his eyes,
A rhythmic exhale eases the pressure on his ears
But he can’t breathe and is afraid his heart
Will beat out of his chest.

Acquiescing to his pain, he faintly hears a voice beckoning him towards the wall, 
Finally reaching the bottom he pushes off the floor,
Frantically kicking towards the surface.

Swallowing his first gulp of air, his back stings as the wind renders an aftershock of motion,
But he happily pulls toward the ladder;
Eager to climb up and plunge again. 



Details | Epitaph | |

MY UNIQUE LINE : JSL -------A Day Of Ones In The Sun---

Inundating radiant sunshine beams down on my face fervently tracing crows feet nearing the frown I can taste obliterating tear streaks transmitting them into the depths of outer space introducing an iridescent spectrum of piercing waves golden ears fear in the race Electromagnetic oscillation inspiring me to rely religiously upon solar energy photosynthesis eradicating unwanted toxins by chasing them vehemently So on this sacred date of "ONE"… negative energy is trumped by the positive tsunami of the sun and as she dares me to stare into her face of grace ninety three million miles away… I sigh as her radiance blasts my face in such a merciful way suddenly my shaking knees give way to an epiphany that this day is laced with sanctity Finally the world's eyes feast upon an auspicious uniformed alignment five ones standing side by side gold adorned a spiritual aspirant making change the world will see... "The Sun's Seven" pronouncing a unified spirituality
* Entrance for P.d.'s "Unique Line" Contest-----This poem's title is unique "A Day of Ones In the Sun" because it describes a very special and unique calendar date 11-1-1. But if you missed it... don't worry or let your eyes get blurry with tears cus' 11-11 's comin' in a hurry to relinquish your fears.....so yes there will be another day of ones on 11-11-1! tho' I can't promise you at the Soup that the 11th will be filled with sun!------I believe my poetry, like many others on this amazing site, has a fresh variety, inspired by life and everything in it! I hope you enjoy my lines like :"the world's eyes feast upon an auspicious uniformed alignment five ones standing side by side gold adorned a spiritual aspirant"


Details | Imagism | |

A Farmer's Eyes and a Sailor's Shadow

A thorough yield
On a farm field of far east
It took me time to realize
How far I am to my far east of coast

Call of my weather
Call of my winds
I sailed further and farther
To my naked coasts
Naive songs, Nimble rains
Nile of rivers, Nascent clouds

Reaching this far
I kissed my earth
Ground of my grief
Glory of my ghosts
Glad is those leaves
However scanty they are

Cast is my shadows
No longer they hide
My colors and my figures
They cast numbers on stars
Measure their light
Scope my winters
Scale my summers
Scanty my rains
Scuttle I wish my springs

Now let me see my greens
Their leveling heights
Their leafy gaze
Their spiderly gesture
Their primordial texture
Now let me be slow
In company of my greens

#Poem by +Gokul Alex


Details | Tanka | |

COUNTING BACK




autumn star glimmers

lighting boughs on threadbare trees

          I count seasons back---

while eyes gaze at  young moon’s love

and shiver alone in chills




Suzette Crous’ Tanka- the Pivot Contest
By nette onclaud


Details | Classicism | |

Flight of Fall

As I lay one sullen autumn morn
on pearl dew turf with the day unborn
staring at the grey grimacing sky
with the mood and moment not quite high
sepulchral static wherever I looked
when my dreary dizzy gaze was hooked
at a lone leaf's death-descent down
to join its wilted kin on ground
then a sudden silent slithering breeze
deprived me of my warmth and ease
and the disturbed withered shroud of Fall
hustled revived in a rustling brawl
hurled and curled in the fading mist
till the whispering winds chose to desist
but Nature lies dead once again
until the wind resumes,retrieves restrain
and I know this flight of life is brief
for I'm none other than a fallen leaf.


Details | Free verse | |

Motionless is Deceptive

The frost is in my toes, 
                                         riming the up tilted boulders,
and twinkling the night sky, 
                                                  like a cold breath blown
and whooshing clear off the plateau into the arms
of the universe. 
                              Ah, standing still is spinning
all axis in step to be motion free except the heated
breath of the stars condensing and exploding.
Just diamonds or dewdrops, 
                                                   a taste of eternity
swallowed. 
                     Analyzed. 
                                        Understood. 
                                                                 And gone.
Me scrunching down, counting the meter
until full exposure. 
                                  Listening for the mating cries
of crickets absent in the last dying down of autumn.
I hold onto my self, then. 
                                               Great big hug and release.
Fall into the tumble of earth churned rock.
                                                                             No one
but me
                   to see  the castaway burning through
to my side. Call them meteorite, spore, seed planted
for tomorrow traveling the empty spaces of time
wondering when, how, where the tick tick tick
of radiation
                      changes our bodies and our minds.
To be melted down, patted onto others, cataclysmic
blown and find a way to solidify, decorate
                                                                             and blaze.


Details | Rondeau | |

When Autumn Comes

When Autumn comes and visits me And Summers end I can foresee Remaining years are on the wane Cherished days won't come again My shackles soon set free Life like the deciduous tree Watches it's adornment flee And embraces falls refrain When Autumn comes When I respond to the decree And feel the chill wash over me When I no longer can remain My life no longer can sustain I'll with my soul to heaven flee When Autumn comes