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Lost Introspection Poems | Introspection Poems About Lost

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

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Details | Rhyme |

Midnight Brings The Dawn

It seems that all my life I’ve seen some darker times Now and then the times I knew were more than I could stand. But, learn we must, from all hard times and soon we come to know It’s trying times that we go through that makes a boy a man. When we feel weak at heart and think we’ll never make it Our spirit strengthens us to somehow carry on. It’s then we learn that just at midnight things could get no worse And soon we see the darkness fade and midnight brings the dawn. Every midnight has a dawning Every dawning has a day Where daylight shines on things remembered And some things lost along the way. And every passing daylight Brings evening into play Where we’ll face another midnight That brings, yet, one more dawning day. It seems a pattern thus emerges, Monotonous as it may seem, Every midnight brings a dawning, Filled with all our daylight dreams. Dreams are meant to bring survival To those who may have lost their way. Who found the darkness of the midnight Kept the dawning light at bay. So, as near as I can figure, There’s this we can rely on However bleak the darkest midnight, After midnight comes the dawn. Written by John Posey 04/09/13


Details | Rhyme |

Lest We Forget

In churned up soil the poppy rose 
On top of death, still steadily grows 
And in our minds we see the crosses 
That lie in rows and count our losses 

Blood that drips from tiniest bloom 
Beloved children, lost from the womb 
Their essence blown upon the earth 
For infinity, will show their worth 

And so they marched by decree 
A war they fought, so we could be free 
The poppy, how we remember them now 
So in silence we do reverently bow 

One single day, just once every year
To remember all the horror and fear 
To give thanks and praise, to those in need 
Who saved us through unselfish deed 

For so young when they said goodbye 
With no idea that so many would die 
In Flanders Fields where poppies grow 
Innocence, now lays buried in each row 

For those that did return safely home 
Their spirit lost and so had flown
To fly away among the peaceful skies 
With friends and larks with carefree eyes

In the thunder hear the roar of guns
Calling to all our native sons
Arise, arise, from sleep once more
For once again, there will be war

In Flanders Fields, the poppies grow 
They cover our loved ones, buried below 
Like a blanket, they protect all within 
From a world that is ravished by sin 

More souls will join them as the years go by 
More wars will be fought, as the lark does cry 
More fields will be filled, with our dead 
And poppies will mark their graves in red

"Lest we forget and more shall die"
"In Flanders Fields our loved ones lie"

 


Details | Free verse |

The Day That Died Forever

When I am Colder,Older and then alone...
I will collect the sky on my own...
When the art has faded and the days then fade-
when everyone has gone away...

I may finally see what never was saw
.....ahhhhhhhhhhhhh............... the quiet sky

The unlit room which bares my end...shows the flashes of my pains my joys and sins.
This life has been a strange one since the curtains were drawn
These paper and plastic figures have clouded the dawn

I was once younger,foolish,and obsessed with truth
Now I am bitter,sour,dour faced with my heart under shoe

The children were all searching or lost in a crowd
All weeds in a garden...growing vile and foul

Though beauty was sold it never came true
Obsessions and vanity have traveled safe through

Materials and poison and everything lost
have been burned in the fires or lost in the frost

I stand face to mirror tearing my being apart
Winding thoughts of love,pain,god,and art

As the sun sets and the darkness grows
I too shall follow this pattern in tow

Death has a friendly hand and a pretty face
She has given me comfort as I leave this place

The wars have occurred,humanity's lost
Souls have been burnt in the fire or lost in the frost

Day was Life,Night is Death

And the latter has given counsel on my final steps


Details | Narrative |

And The Road Begins?

Mornings are dreadful time in life unless waking beside gorgeous woman hopefully 
a not married one  husbans can be such a downer.
And when ya wake to a warm beautiful creature by your side.
And the first thought that comes to your mind is i wonder whats for breakfest.

Then ya probaly cant read the menu to start with and desserve 
to have a oversized weight lifter re arrange your ribs.

Im a southern man once means several things  non of which means im normal.
And this morning finds my yerning for a trip and widespread  mischief.
My amigo had vanished after are trip south of the boarder I remember saying 
to myself as i watched him  running naked across the dessert  being chased 
by the flying monkeys  he was surley seeing after his consumption of a foreign substance 

There goes a fine american.

I would have ran after him  but  but i didnt want thoose things to turn there attention to me 
I herd they had a thing for southern  actscents.
And theres nothing  worse than a bunch of horney flying monkeys trust me 
Ive delt with this problem  befor.

and being it was happy hour i knew my slightly insane amigo would understand 
in all his naked glory.
Besides  I left him some sneakers  and a sixpack.
And kept his credit card for safe keeping.

Naked men have no place to keep credit cards and I figured he was in no state to handle 
money.

So as i sit  behind  the wheel  ready to to get lost in the madness of fast food and
  the ant hill of insanity that is wall mart i turn my thoughts to vegas.
For where would a lost nude slightly insane person  run to and feel at home.

I had turn the music up to drown out the sound of whoever was in the trunk.
I figured if i had put sombody in there  in a drunken moment.
It had to be for a good reason.

And so with slightly hungover mindset are road begins.
and so with that do the games also.
And i figured hanging around with a cops wife wasnt the smartest idea.
That and im allergic to bullets.

My muse and 16 year old spirtiual advisor had phoned me to say that.
I probaly needed to Invest in the spirt of Jack Daniels  today.
And hey she had went to church more than once  so who was I to argue.

With a five five spitfire by the name of tinker.
so with A unknown companion in the trunk not helping my hangover i was off
to the races  Untill next time kiddies. 
Adios and im off to find my amigo.


Details | Free verse |

Minds lost are Minds Found

I’m losing my mind in a hurry!
Maybe, maybe, losing the mind is letting it find itself
or maybe, i'm just crazy

I keep running  with anticipation, with heart open and judgment closed
[I discover most superbly this way]
 Foolishly Dropping it, hoping that it’ll pick up something useful
On sidewalks, books, table-top salty discussions,
Sometimes in filth letting it pervade the crevices
And when I tidy it, sometimes
It doesn’t all come out, but I try my best
Ever so often, after a new dish soap and scrubbing gloves
 it comes out cleaner then it ever was, 
With spicy remains of the crude yet true substances

Chunks fall out where the glue of stability erodes 
                  I know that I am fond of it this way
So I can put them back together
                   With my own fingers


                                                     Organized C   H   A   O   S


Instead of the media’s, my peers, my parents, piloting
The pivotal pieces 
I let them descend tenderly into location
In my own decimal code
I constitute the regulations here
This belongs to me, my only
Safe place

It doesn’t matter to me if life doesn’t flow
If it’s jagged or slow, here
I don’t care
If insanity is the real sanity
Or that distinctive is incorrect
This is my society and I shape it as I please
Seeing as it only affects me
As long as my mind is 
In flurries of expansion
I don’t really care if it’s lost at all


Details | Free verse |

Questions

Who is more righteous,
The pious man who watches in awe,
Or the faithless man saving those in the blaze?

Who is stronger,
The man who lifts a ton with one arm,
Or the mother of four on her own?

Who has lost more,
The man who has lost his money,
Or the man who has lost his love?

Who is weaker,
The man who can't fight back,
Or the man who won't fight for him?

Who Is more savage,
The man who doesn't know right from wrong,
Or the man who doesn't care?

Who is wiser,
The man who has the answers,
Or the man who asks the questions?


Details | Quatrain |

Lonely Dreams

I never knew following dreams could be this lonely,
But up on the hill, looking back, thank God I'm not the old me.
If the tears will fall, let them be;
I believe this is God's plan, follow your dreams.


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?


Details | Rhyme |

Does Not Need a Title

My mind is always running like an overflowing faucet
Like a never ending bouncing ball that someone took and tossed it
Paid for with attention that I forgot how much it costed
As my mind will sometimes lose itself and I forget just where I lost it

A mind is that a beautiful place yet it can also be very scary
As those with sight to read the mind all readers be wary
Like the venom of a beautiful plant flaunting poison berries
Poison thoughts can rot the mind and the perspective that it carries

What would it be like to explore another mind
Is it like a whimsical circus from thoughts of different kinds
Or would it be a calming stream to help leave troubles behind
Perhaps reality is an illusion conjured from the thoughts we find

As my mind sits in mental slumber 
I sit in a corner and sometimes wonder
How I allowed myself to be pulled under
By my own mental blunders

Still thoughts run like a marathon with no intent of stopping
Time would steal a moment's notice while seconds continue dropping
As time sheds into the past the present continues cropping
For time is neither round nor linear but explodes the moment popping

Times combustion blinds the  mind stealing that which it most wants
Memories reflecting the past with the regret that serves to haunt
The present steals the frown from the past wearing a smile that taunts
Reminding thoughts that the confidence it bears comes from the pain it flaunts

In the past, when the present seemed to be facing a downward slope
As if the foot of reality lost its traction slipping on water and soap
When falling to an inverted sky reality extends a rope
Some may call the extension luck while others call it hope

Or maybe faith, hope and luck stem from the same fibers of thought
Like time catching us in the moment thinking it is time we have caught
Reminding us of something we don't know but ought
Control what you can control for time we can not


Details | Free verse |

The Loose Connection

So much is lost in time.
Words are taken  in the wrong meaning.
Soon te bridge is but a scar of memory.

Sweet moments but a fargone reflection none of which
I choose to recall.
the laughter stale as the beer in this smoke filled room.

Music heals but stabs us deep.
Cents for the pain.
Numbers the tune.

Her body is there but not for anyone to
truley know.
the backward thougts with forward visions.

The emptyness my home hollow in the aftreglow.
My return is long overdue and  to soon  my exit.
A thief of emotion that exist only within my pen.


Has it been lost all over agian?


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