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Ode Introspection Poems | Ode Poems About Introspection

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

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Details | Ode | |

Optimistic Orange

It is the fragrant peel of Florida's fruit that comes in convenient slices.
The savory citrus that packs a punch - to my tongue it simply entices.
It is the sprightly stripe of a clown fish that says, "Look at me," unabashedly (no joke)
To read between the lines it has taught me, and in its splendor I am soaked.
It is the warmth inside a fire though his sister crimson gets all the credit.
It could be the light of your world if your vivacious heart would only let it
envelop you with its curious tone: the love of a rose - the brightness of the sun.
And though we might only think of traffic cones,
and hazard signs - for me - it is the lightness of a pun:
Orange you gonna ask me a question?
About how its wavering pathways on tropical seas
can bring the heaviest heart to ascension?
Or how its marriage of sweet strawberry and sour lemon
has brought to mind our engaging entanglement?
It isn't like the blue that's over our heads,
nor is it like the green that's beneath our feet.
Rather it is the hidden spark inside our hearts:
it isn't showy - but its beauty is discrete. Something to soothe
any gloomy day with gentle subtlety. To tell you the truth
orange is nothing dramatic
(perhaps that's why I like it)



Written March 4th, 2016
For the United Orange Contest hosted by Silent One

Copyright © Timothy Hicks | Year Posted 2016

Details | Ode | |

Faithful Shadow

I saw a death shadow in the eyes of my infancy
a soft mercy with calm blue fancy,
in childhood, when free will asserted it's wild supremacy
we sang of star charriots and laughter loyal to hyperactivity,
I see a death shadow in the prime of my ascendancy
outlining my temple of truth, whistling thy words of wizardry, 

I hear It like the madness of morning's ending,
I taste It as if from the burning breast milk of a Dragoness,
I see It in the bleeding smile of my heart's kindness,
I speak to It when love's luster unlocks the lunacy of loneliness,
I feel the humble shade of It's jade justice in a world hot and hustling,

My death shadow has a surface sweet with patient purpose,
It is not rough with forboding frost that frights the fight of flesh,
rattling the scythe of doom and cackling for cataleptic crisis it does not,
It is not a grim God or a greedy Goddess, no taxing terror trumpeted,
It has never been an angel of escape or a demon of dour delirium, 
when suffering becomes a seduction of brute beauty I share in it's wise joy,
my death shadow follows the desperate yet disciplined form of my body battle
through life's plethora of coy poisons and possessive passions,
marching along side me with martial grace, sculpting my face with lion spirit -

J.A.B.

Copyright © Justin Bordner | Year Posted 2015

Details | Ode | |

the cake you showed me

Happy Birthday April
where ever you are
somewhere up in heaven
flying amongst the stars

Today I'll buy that cake
that you said was your favorite
and somehow celebrate
what we meant to God

I wish you could see
the smile on my face
somewhere in heaven 
I'm sure it's someplace

And what ever gifts
they give in Heaven
in our case
lets hope that I have one

But always know
that in my heart
I would have given
you the world

God showed me the one
and you, you were that girl
but the price I needed to pay for you
was totally out of this world

So today I give you freedom
from my hating that you left
take every bit of heaven
I have no more regrets

Copyright © john loving iii | Year Posted 2011

Details | Ode | |

A Heart Song

A heart hath no boundaries,
It sees no fault, it does not fear.
It walks a narrow path alone,
Meeting sorrows along the way.
A path full of strife,
Yet it tarries along the path,
Till it reaches the place 
Of absolute eternity.

Copyright © Fiona Herne | Year Posted 2012

Details | Rhyme | |

Ode To A Former Wild Life

Ode To A Former Wild Life


Drank too hard, rode my horses too fast
didn't give a damn if my body did not last
Midnight was a bell for me to pour it on
get wasted until my head felt like a stone

Pretty gals, O' how they spun my wheels
woo'ed them as I pleased, made no deals
Passionate nights spent dancing in the bed
plenty of time for sleep after I am dead

Life was just a big box to rip'er open
bigger thrills , prettier gals I was hoping
Once a spirited mustang, wild as all hell
wildest things I did I dare not to tell

Memories good or bad often can not decide
yet one thing is sure, had one helluva' ride
Memories good or bad , often know not which
yet having none at all would be a real bitch!

Robert J. Lindley , 04-18- 2015

Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse | |

If you had a name (An ode to loss and water)

If the lovely breeze had a name
we could drift together as two dandelion wishes
floating wanton on foamy winds.
If the river were rolling, gently
we could slide in and swim
for hours, without rushing
and love is like that.
Love is like still water
standing so deep in a vessel
 yet so easily broken upon the smallest of stones;
scattered, and yet-
from this another river begins
(as you begin)
How lovely if you had a name
I would call out to you
and I would hear your reply as
the wind blowing, the water rushing
and not your echoes
 as you trickled across so many small, jagged stones

Copyright © Meggan Rogalski | Year Posted 2006

Details | Ode | |

In Memoriam (Che Guevara)

                            I
I woke up this morning with tears in my eyes,
your face was in the morning paper;
they shot you dead like a dog,
hunted you out all day and night.

                            II
They said you'd always been a bad seed
and youths were dying because of you;
they said you're a criminal on the run
with a dirty face and shaggy head.

                    (Refrain)
But I know you better than they do,
you preached love to all the people;
you fought for them, young and old,
you lit up their nights with your heart.

                            III
And now as I see you lying dead,
it seems my dreams have vanished as well;
they can call you names, any names they want,
but I know there's only one like you, 
there's only one like you, 
there's only one Che Guevara.
              (Repeat Refrain)
                
You lit up their nights with your heart,
you lit up their nights with your heart,
you lit up their nights with your heart.


Copyright © Wilfredo Derequito | Year Posted 2007

Details | Ode | |

An Ode To My Beloved

I just wanted to let you know
That I have this love for you...
Although I'm not fast to show
For you, there's nothing I wouldn't do
And I can't control this love
No matter what I try to do...

While I know our lives are separating
Which has got me pretty blue
I just want you to know
How much I love you...

Because I was blinded by shyness
And now my heart's feeling rugged
So this here's An Ode To My Beloved 

Oh how I still see you every night in my mind
You're the best girl I feel I'll ever find
And when my eyes would fall upon your smile
My heart would be put on trial
And so if nothing else, I want to let you know
That I'll always love you, that my hearts beat
For you, won't ever slow...

Because I was blinded by shyness
And now my heart's feeling rugged
So this here's An Ode To My Beloved 

So I wish you happiness beyond compare
And sorry for the times I couldn't help but stare
Caring, passionate, smart, and loving
From my heart, to you, I'll never be shoving

You will always be in my heart
No matter where we go, how far we drift apart...

Goodbye My Love...

Copyright © Andrew Shannon | Year Posted 2013

Details | Ode | |

Crook

You stole my laughter and hid it well under layers of concrete

I used a jackhammer to release them and with care

Moses was our traffic cop and we floated in opposites

Our love was stricken and the wind blew us like lonely chimes

I was your orphan taken back as a suit that won't fit

I am not a fool but was

How dos it feel on your tower

Can you see me and my clear eyes

The laughter has come back to visit

Sometimes I ride it as the sea we loved

But Moses wags his finger at me and I am reminded

Copyright © Patrick Cornwall | Year Posted 2012

Details | Ode | |

Whispers Of The Stars

In the darkest hour, Of the coldest night When the Heavens deign To open wide And e’en Angels Take startled flight Form eerie sounds And silvered light The Cosmos converses In Cosmic verses and is Softly scriptured, the melodies The stanzas…the bars In the gelid Winter’s night… And would’st one lend a careful ear, Perhaps the Gods… would grant him hear …The whispers of the stars…

Copyright © David Whalen O Haolin in ancient Celtic | Year Posted 2014

Details | Ode | |

Untitled #206 / Icee

Mmm, Icee
it’s so
icy
so icy

Copyright © Jesse Jones | Year Posted 2007

Details | Bio | |

Solitude: To Yoda, An Ode

Green bark a prism creates,
Feel the pull of earth, you must.

Rotates, a slime of endless hates,
Can hold me not, this world’s crust.

Friendship’s ties, isolation Deflates,
Succumbs, my spaceship, to bitter rust.

Mist, my soul forever permeates,
Lift-off, booms the rocket’s thrust.

My spirit when light returns, elates,
Swamps swell, swallowed hope’s swirling dust.

Trapped, I am, until student from fate
Arrives to learn; Cloud City or bust.

Copyright © Dan Keir | Year Posted 2013

Details | Ode | |

Why Did I

A few days past, at a stop sign
Eager to hit the road,
Waiting at the back of the line
And obligated to return by nine.
To my hypocrisy, this is an ode.

See, I hope for a world of giving
Where needs are always met
Where sins can find forgiving
And all are peacefully living
Though I’ve done something I regret.

For, as I pulled up to the street
I was approached by another,
Who wore no shoes upon his feet
I thought a thought of pure conceit,
How could I call you, brother?

He raised a soiled hand to wave
His weary eyes found mine
If I’d had cash I might’ve gave
But sit and talk, I wouldn’t brave.
Certainly, he’d be fine.

See, I hope for a world of giving
Where needs are always met
Where sins can find forgiving
And all are peacefully living
So how did I forget?

I hit the gas and sped away
And watched in the rear-view
Why I did it, I can’t convey
And in the mirror he faded away
A scene I’ll ever rue.

If anything within my mind
His form is amplified
Hauntingly, the thing I find,
within guilt’s prison, now confined
I nurse remorse unsatisfied.

See, I hope for a world of giving
Where needs are always met
Where sins can find forgiving
And all are peacefully living
So why did I forget?
Why did I forget?

4/20/15

Copyright © The Grahamburglar | Year Posted 2015

Details | Ode | |

Untitled #237 / Or

Or is he heartless?

Copyright © Jesse Jones | Year Posted 2007

Details | Ode | |

Fun-Frosted Memories

Dee’s father bought a fancy, family sled 
to her amusement and joy
He shocked the town pulling this sled around
With his good, shiny Model T Ford

Memories run through Dee’s mind
At the family hardware store,
she would climb the latter up to the loft
and sit inside the sled stored there,
reflecting on cool-warmed times-
a father’s smile…a heart sublime

-For my Grandma Dee
May 30, 2014

Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2014

Details | Ode | |

the nature of success

The Nature of Success. 

On an old tank ship that was so slow it felt as
we were suspended in time, a world shrunk 
only us the ocean and the rhythmic hear beat 
of the engine… and when the ship birthed, at 
some god forsaken refinery, we felt overcome 
by shyness seeing so many strange faces. 

It was on a ship like this I met the third officer
a young man with literary ambitions, and he
succeeded on Norway´s modest literary tree. 
Often interviewed, asked awkward questions 
about writing and why he writes like it should 
be a hidden formula.

I´m glad for his triumph, yet there is a sting in
my heart, not of rancor, but of sadness…never 
having received the clarion call of acceptance.
Collections after collections have been rejected.
I feel as I have been suspended in a fool´s time,
only the sea and me and the shore is far away. 

Copyright © jan oskar hansen | Year Posted 2012

Details | Ode | |

Janitors Broom

the janitors' broom,
it sweeps every room,
under each desk,
cleaning up the mess,
it never complains,
leaving a clean environment for our brains,
this broom is on a mission,
without recognition...

Copyright © Desiree Tatarazuk | Year Posted 2005

Details | Ballad | |

An Ode to Struggle

All the days go by desperately,
Everyday is a day to be overcome,
I am struggling to get through them,
Just to live another day in agony.

I wish to come out victorious,
Of all the turmoil I have to bear,
Of all the pain that I go through,
Of the loneliness that grips my heart.

Each day passes by me unnoticed,
Each day has become my sworn enemy,
Each day I wish for things to change,
Everyday I pray for a miracle to happen.

I hope to get through this unharmed
Without a scar to remind me of this
This story I wish to end well or let me be
Without any expectations of what will be.

Copyright © Fiona Herne | Year Posted 2013

Details | Ode | |

Musings of Mother

"I shall be telling this with a sigh" Robert Frost My thoughts they roil like waters dark in the abyss of blackest night with memories of mother’s book marks of Longfellow read by lamp light. She called in the room around me the patter of other small feet, her gentle voice fetched angels Oh, rhymes how they astounded me like lullabies soft and so sweet. All fearsome shadows, she’d dispel Maxine, my queen read Tennyson and the Charge of the Light Brigade a little girl dreamt of caissons roll and thunderous cannonades. To be so brave the small child mused mother’s small, precious, heroine what would it take to stand so strong without father, and not confused What words where the linchpin to right mother’s tell tale wrong. Such sad inspiration*.. mother but a champion you were born. You’re adored before all others yet, tears bring memories forlorn. So, dreams stream on of Mother Goose three kittens and their mittens. My visions of your fleeting smile return almost every night, and your spirit comforts, lightens sights, if only for a little while.

Copyright © Debbie Guzzi | Year Posted 2010

Details | Ode | |

Waking up is Dangerous Business

Waking up is dangerous business. 
Killing time, wash the dishes. 
Open the bottle, swallow silence, 
Brainwash the kids, quell defiance. 

Or maybe it’s just me. 
Or maybe it’s just me. 

Break them down, impose the dogmatic
Walk away, consider it emphatic. 
Instill false virtues, pass the world into the hands of the meek. 
Destroy opposition, leave the whole world weak. 

Or maybe it’s just me. 
Or maybe it’s just me. 

Waking up is dangerous business. 
Contemplative kids end up in ditches
Passive aggressive logical corruption
Chop the garbage fine, for easy consumption

Or maybe it’s just me.
Maybe it’s just me..

Copyright © Mason Lucas | Year Posted 2013

Details | Ode | |

Pleasant Melancholy

It is symphonic
It is rhythmic
It tells a story,
of love and life,
of pleasure and pain, 
of joy and sadness;
a story of defeat and triumph

It is the invisible book
of the human experience
It has the power,
to move you,
to make you yearn for more,
of its delightfully painful, 
audible deliciousness

It can deliver you;
it can be your cry of deliverance
It is so mysterious; 
it could only be celestial

It straddles the emotions
quietly packing a punch,
but pulls it, only to suck you in 

When it hits,
it leaves no bruises
It knocks you out,
into the habitation of joy;
a relief from heaviness

It is transcendent;
a passport and transport, 
to the esoteric zone; 
the inner longing of the soul, 
warping the time in its wake,
at such a pace, 
that leaves you transported

It blows in,
from beyond the firmament,
riding the undulating,
invisible crests of space

It is copious in joyfulness,
filling the soulful emptiness; 
an aid to cope with the sorrowfulness
of humanness,
reaching deep into the soul,
soothing even the savage beast

It is infectious, but does no harm

It is delightfully musing;
rousing a deep satisfaction,
yet, in it, lies a deeper longing,
for something or somewhere,
fleetingly familiar, 
very present, yet very distant

Seemingly desiring to reconnect,
to something or somewhere,
enchanting, elusive, and disconnected

Shhh! Can you hear it? It is music! It is Jazz!

Copyright © oliver Okoli | Year Posted 2007

Details | Ode | |

Ode to the Rain



Rain drops pounding upon my window pane,
Oh joy! Not the foreboding sound of gloom. 
The sun blotted from the sky by gray rain
bringing harmony and flowering blooms. 
I hear the distant sky's waning thunder. 
The catharsis of mother earth's womb shares 
the joys of rebirth in the winds chorus
with the sound of wonder.
In the warmth of my home, my soul declares;
the rain has come to relieve me from stress.

Shall I take a sweet nap or lose control?
In my flannel pajamas, I delight 
in quiet time alone, feeding my soul.
First, sleep with dreams, love caressed in starlight. 
Hand-in-hand, a stroll under silver moon. 
Awakened by a gentle kiss to spark
feelings stolen by my mundane routines.
With flower petals strewn,
moistened blooms beckon me out to the park 
to skip and splash like a child in blue jeans.

Rain still pours from the sky as I reach home
for a matinee, Singin' in the Rain.
Cozy with hot tea, no more need to roam.
Warm, content feelings, I cannot contain.
Gene Kelly inspires me to leave my bed
dancing through my house with full abandon. 
Music plays loudly, I'm liberated.
A gray day turns bright red.
As I dance, ducks splash outside on my lawn.
My tired body feels rejuvenated    


By Rhonda Johnson-Saunders
for An Ode to Small Comforts on a Rainy Afternoon contest (Cyndi MacMillan)

Copyright © Rhonda Johnson-Saunders | Year Posted 2012

Details | Free verse | |

Ode To Childhood

Tender petals of youth wither and fade

Stinging the soul with regret

Sharp penance of years

A yearning too deep for tears

A token of repentance

Times short pleasure to take

Youthful mirth vanishes away

Copyright © Lori Lucas McClure | Year Posted 2012

Details | Blank verse | |

Ode to Kafka

What is this creepy thing
Infecting my body?
Busily digesting my flesh, melting,
The first stages of the blob.
End of my extremities
Swell ominously, wriggling,
Undulating like giant worms
Busily digesting my tissue
I’m becoming what I fear most,
Mistaken for castings
Shoveled up and thrown
On the compost heap.

Copyright © James Gibbons | Year Posted 2010

Details | Ode | |

An Ode To Youth


I remember when I was young and fair
Slim long legs and soft black hair
My winsome smile and dark green eyes
Caused many a suitor to agonize
When turned away…rejected….forlorn
Wishing he had never been born!
I was always the Queen at any ball
Captivating one and all!

But youth is fleeting…beauty a sham
Just a façade…not who I am
The years fly by…beauty fades
Gone are suitors and accolades
Long in the tooth now…wrinkles persist
This is the world in which I exist
Winter is here…my Springs have flown
I sit here lonely and on my own

In life’s twilight before the sun has set
My thoughts turn to youth and the little coquette
I used to be when youth was King
Anticipating what each day would bring
Dark hair flowing… dancing the night away
Thinking life would always be that way
Oh bird of youth…I miss your song
But in the hush at evensong
I sense that I can hear it still
And in my heart…I always will!

Copyright2011 Beatrice Boyle
(All rights reserved)

Copyright © Beatrice Boyle | Year Posted 2011

Details | Ode | |

I'm Just Me

Some say I'm arrogant, the rest say I'm cocky,
But the funniest thing is that no one said it right to me,
They talk behind my back like it has at least one ear,
And as soon as I turn around they all disappear,
Its just my confidence, is there something wrong,
Well if yes the wrongs make me very strong,
I'm just being me, impersonating myself,
Too bad you can't be me, the copier is high on the top shelf,
I’m high on my pedestal, high on my own stool,
Looking down at you all, you all my students welcome to my school,
To be like me you have to keep a straight A average,
Doing extra credit just to get some leverage,
I isolate myself from all you fake people,
Solitary confinement, as I strengthen and you weaken,
All you want to be is fly with some huge swag,
Where's my fly swatter? Oh its right here in my bag,
Just sit and watch as I SWAT all you flies,
Special Weapons And Tactics, then everyone dies,
They say only monkeys are cute, then call me the ape,
Roaming through the jungle to find my female primate,
As I look in my palm, there I see the world,
Then I scan through it all to find the perfect girl,
I search the globe to find her, I wasted my time,
When there she was under my nose, now she's mine,
She's at my level, and we all know that's far,
And I'll search the world again to find you, where ever you are......

Copyright © Jevaun Walker | Year Posted 2012

Details | Verse | |

This is The End Ode to Jim Morrison

Sanity on Colonial Road no longer exists.
The endless spiral downward still persists.
Friends have been lost, no longer exist.
Life is strange, wipe me off the list.

Have no wife, no kids, no job.
And yes, I live the life of a slob.
Feel like I’m hiding from the mob.
Give them time, they’ll do their job.

61 and obsolete, too old it seems to compete.
61 and without a dime, got too old before my time.
61 and life’s past me by, happened quick, sigh.
61 never thought my life would be a lie.

Where are the grandchildren to make me smile?
Where are the days I can relax in style?
What kind of fool have I be in life?
Why do I have to endure this strife?

If it were cancer or heart disease
Or some other health issue if you please.
Then I could understand what I’ve been dealt.
And try to keep living, not be willing to melt.

I once had a life, a business, a dream.
I woke every day with a full head of steam.
But that business, that dream has faded away.
And I have not replaced it, have not had my say.

I keep trying to reinvent myself.
As I’ve been told it’s that or all else.
I’ve been at it for the last two years.
And my reward, nothing but tears.

Perhaps I’ve had it too easy from the very start.
Inherited a business, my father’s death was a part.
Did all I could for almost ten years.
Then closed the doors, but had no fears.

Started a new one, way back in ‘86.
From the beginning, I knew it would stick.
Lived a good life, not rich but no worries.
Until it nosedived and gave me the sorries.

When you’re 61 without a dime to your name.
It’s hard to look back and feel the same.
For almost forty years I lived the dream.
Now all is lost, I do nothing but scream.

Oh, I send resumes to all the employers out there.
Not one reply in two years if your dare.
Unless you want to sell credit card machines.
There’s no work for you, you ain’t living the dream.

I’ve had plenty of good counsel and lots of advice.
Not a single thing in two years has been able to suffice.
I think of the gun virtually every single day.
Get over this misery, say goodbye and good day.

What you say, don’t ever give up?
What about George Eastman or Ernest Hemingway?
Or Hunter S. Thompson from Rolling Stone by the way.
You think my problems pale by the way.

I tire each morning facing my painful non rewarding life.
I hate the world for not recognizing my strife.
I have so much more to give to this world.
But if no one can see it, let the flags be unfurled.





Copyright © Guy Chaifetz | Year Posted 2013

Details | Verse | |

Ode To Mac

Yet once more again
that same old refrain:
good guy coming fast
then finishing last.

Copyright © Wilfredo Derequito | Year Posted 2008

Details | Sonnet | |

Ode to Painkillers

Slow released relief from powder coated tablets.
To an ache which seems to never go away.
When I’m fighting to survive each hour, each day
I will take whatever comfort I can salvage.
My veins once rich with vital fluids
My skin once not so deathly in complexion
The recipient of my fixation
Turned inward on what I’m consuming.
For a few moments of brief relief
I’m condemned to greater sufferings.
There is a line you should not cross, and I
Have recklessly passed it countless times.
For what little anguish I have staved
Away, I have matched in dirt for my grave

Copyright © Samuel Lee | Year Posted 2015

Details | Ode | |

Ode to Endometriosis

Strong, like kingdom walls,
stacks of sandbags, swamps of quicksand,
or barricades of filigreed barbed wire.
It holds me inside.

I can see myself in eleven years.
Perched on sterile metal instead of 
mountains of handmade quilts,
or nests of woven moss.

It will have turned love-making and child-bearing
from an art to a science,
and I will paint pictures 
of how being a woman is supposed to feel.

Copyright © Gwen Walsh | Year Posted 2011