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Introspection Winter Poems | Introspection Poems About Winter

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

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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

Copyright © Yesha Shah

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

Details | Free verse | |

A Winter Walk

I needed some time, some space to think
And it was either take a walk or drink
And since I knew drinking would solve nothing
I put on my shoes and I started walking

The wind blew the chilly air
Through my unkempt locks of hair,
But I hardly felt the biting cold,
Walking with memories warm in my soul

The street was dark, cold and silent
It was funny the places where my mind went
While I slowly walked across the blacktop road
No destination in mind where I would go

It's funny the things you will remember
I recall a day in mid-December
And how suddenly, nothing seemed the same
After that man at the door called my name

I followed him into a secluded office
Where he would tell me his diagnosis
And suddenly I felt my beating heart
But the rest of the world had just stopped

I felt a hand in mine get tighter
I don't think the room could have been quieter
I shook my head in total disbelief
Too numb to feel anything, even grief

The question asked, "What does this mean?"
But the answer didn't mean anything
My head too fuzzy, my thoughts too jumbled
I turned to my love to speak, but mumbled

I don't remember what else he said
Because of the swirling thoughts in my head
It took three days before I could even think
Which led me to tonight: walk or drink

So I walked and I thought and I truly remembered
Dreams of the past, love treasured forever
Friendship and laughter, sorrow and pain
As though I was reliving my life over again

Little things that I'd sorely taken for granted
Things that didn't happen the way that I planned it
Promises made and ones that were broken
Love that was shared, love still unspoken

The frosty air filled me with a sense of renewal
Inside my soul was fighting a duel
The angel, the devil, both battling demons
Inside of myself I fought to redeem them

I don't know who won the ethereal battle
And I'm not sure right now it even matters
Where once I believed everything for a reason
I'm finding that harder and harder to believe in

Copyright © Michelle Devon

Details | Free verse | |

Winter rain

Have you ever taken the  time to watch rain  fall in winter? 
See the beautiful symmetry of it; listen to the gentle splash?
    Watch the lacy curtain of moisture against the background of winter 
darkened trees.
 Drops, like shiny gems, are clinging to graceful branches. 
Others, growing in size until they are too heavy to hold on any longer, run down my 
windshield; their path erratic and wiggly. 
   There is so much beauty in Nature, even on the grayest day. 
It is in the peaceful pitter-patter of the descending rain. 
In the gentle ripple that appears as it enters a puddle.
 And in the heavy, leaden and mighty clouds that travel our wonderful world.

Copyright © Bridget Aubrey

Details | Free verse | |

First Winter Snow

Cupped-hands blessed the first winter snow – 
That tasted like peppermint wind

The pines and aspens share secrets, 
As they whispers what they know

Then, they giggled like schoolchildren 
In the snowy playground – with the red
Brick schoolhouse off in the distance

Their cold faces blinked and blushed 
Like a basket full of wild freckled strawberries
Suddenly, fresh pine cones fall to the ground; 
They chuckle, laugh and then roll over,
Exposing their innocent souls to fresh blue sky, 
This all appeared in the first winter snow
This, I am sure and still are

Copyright © Gregory Golden

Details | Rhyme | |

And Then It Was Winter

And Then It Was Winter

Time has a way of moving
So quickly that you’re caught unaware
The future seems far in the future
Then all at once it’s right there
It seems like only yesterday
I was among the young
Just married with a young child
Our lives had just begun
Yet now it seems eons ago
The years just came and went
I glimpse of how it used to be
How my hopes and dreams were spent
But here it is – it’s winter
The winter of my life
Somehow it got here way too fast
My memories are rife
I remember seeing old folks
Thinking that was years away
I didn’t have to think of it
That is until today
So here it is – my winter
And I can see the change
I’m older and I’m slower
And the young now seem so strange
I find taking a shower
Is a target for the day
A nap is not a treat I take
It’s my mandatory way
I advance into this season
Unprepared for aches and pains
The loss of strength and memory
A walker and some canes
Regrets? Sure there are things I’ve done
And things I didn’t do
But I’ve lived a happy lifetime
Regrets?  There are so few
If you’re not yet in your winter
Please do take some advice
It’ll be here quicker than you think
Time does not suffice
Whatever you’d like to accomplish
In your life time – do it now
Don’t put it off till later
For laters pass somehow
And you haven’t got a promice
That you’ll live to see all seasons
Life sometimes is fleeting
Comes and goes without the reasons
Live for today – say all the things
You want loved ones now to hear
Tell them to live their life in full
For their winter may be near

My spring was fun and full of life
My summer days were thinner
My fall was fat and happy
And then it was my winter

March 2013

Copyright © mike dailey

Details | Rhyme | |

I hope

I'm 51 today.
51 tomorrow, yay
Was 51 yesterday.
52 is months away,
And yes I'm thankful.
Although it's not my real birthday,
It kinda is in a certain way.
I'm still alive another day.
I had the notion to celebrate.
And be thankful.
Though it's not a holiday. 
Thanksgiving has come and gone away,
I'm just alive today.
For that I'm thankful.
Honestly, I am not just trying to make these lines rhyme,
Or reflect upon the deep sublime.
I'm just grateful today to be alive.
I mean really thankful.
I'm not trying to wow you with philosophy,
Or impress you with theology.
It matters not at all to me.
I just feel thankful.
So tonight I take a walk outside,
I look up into the endless sky and then I breathe.
I breathe in deep,
And I say thank you.
And maybe not just to Who you think, 
Man let's throw in the kitchen sink,
And include all who've touched my life, to whom I'm thankful.
Some of you I'm glad you're gone,
Frankly you stayed a bit too long
And some you the grave stole far too soon,
And yet I'm still thankful.
Today the living and the dead
You've both been right up inside my head, 
And synergized this verbal thread.
For that I'm thankful.
I close my eyes and think of Tim, named David right there toward the end. 
I always smile when I think of him,
And now I listen
I heard a siren going by,
I wonder who and wonder why,
Was it a wreck, did someone die?
Yet still I listen.
Neighbors dogs are going wild.
Was that the laughter of a child.
Seems like I can hear for miles.
Still I listen.
I hear the hi-way roar of cars.
Tho I have never heard the stars
Is there really life on Mars?
Shhh brain please shut up and listen!
The soft night whispers in my ears.
Pressing through my random fears,
I stand amazed at what I hear.
And now I wonder.
I open up my eyes and see as I feel this winter breeze
The silhouette of leafless trees.
I stand in wonder
Then I wonder about the first man to ever be,
Or the first time he looked up to see
The Milky Way the galaxies.
Did he wonder?
I wonder what he did
How he loved how he lived.
If he ever lost a friend?
Man oh man I wonder.
Was he the first to dig a grave?
How it sounded if he prayed?
How he fought?
How he played?
If that man could see us all today,
What would he say I wonder?
In ways was he a lot like me?
Did he sometimes fear what he could not see?
Did he create unseen walls 
Of unbelief?
I stand and wonder.
Did he ever hurt the ones he loved?
Did life convince him not to trust?
I wonder.
My great grandfather lived
My DNA is shared with him.
I wonder how we are the same,
And I don't even know his name.
Still I wonder.
Will my great grand kids know my name?
Will it even matter who's to say?
Will they look up in wonder?
Will they listen?
Will they be thankful?
Not much I can leave to them
That would matter too much in the end.
I suppose the primal hope in man
Is the hope I hope lives on in them
I hope they wonder. About the universe.
I hope they listen. To life's unspoken verse.
I hope they're thankful. Even in midst of deepest hurts. 
I hope they're thankful.
I hope they listen.
I hope they wonder.
And no matter what life hands them,
I hope they hope.

Copyright © Kelly Crenshaw

Details | Quatrain | |

That Christmas Eve

On that Christmas eve I walked out alone
Passing sleeping fields glistening with snow
A lovely pristine carpet unmarked by man
In the midnight sky a mystic moon aglow 

Here the quiet was deep and full of nature's joy
No man made sound , only the night bird's call
The scent of evergreen's on a gentle breeze
I walked until the snow began to gently fall

Reluctantly I turned my feet toward home
The city streets decked with garland and light
To face the madness of Christmas morning
But to recall this, and yes that other, silent night

Copyright © Barbara Gorelick

Details | Lyric | |

Winter Rose

        Beneath my mantle of pure white snow
	        I lay, a perfect rose
      My cloak of snow protects my beauty, 
        	My life and my essence 
	      As winter rages above me, 
    I am safe and warm, from my cloak of snow
	         I am preserved
         I will emerge into the sunlight
           Through the melting snow
    I will emerge into the warm moist dew
      The warm sunlight dries my petals
              My petals are perfect
	        My color is brilliant
          My stem is taught and straight
          My essence long and lingering
              I am a beauty of nature
    I am a symbol of love, beauty and caring
	       I am the Winter Rose

Copyright © Lucinda Schaffner

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

Details | Bio | |

I Am Poetry

I stand solo, aloof in the snow, a precipitation 
                     of words cascading from a nebulous eye 
Fathoms wide, forever dripping like wax onto 
                     a punctured paper serving a Sanskrit sky,

and spreading into sibilant sentences swiftly 
                     sliding from syllable sorcery to soulful serenades 
so silent in the shunting shout of white. Poetry 
                     fills a churning void where novels cannot wade,

Phrases solidifying into idolisation of emotion 
                     itself, isolation of the isometric individuality that so 
Crushes my keeling cavern of thought, ever 
                     careering from caustic career path to another new low,

Which so seems to crumble into crazy paving’s 
                    counterpart. In this first freeze-frame we can all grasp
A fraction of the familiar, oh so fractured by the 
                    fumbling nature of enforced form. Freed by the gasp 

Of a photo-opportunity glowing phosphorescent 
                    with firsts, I am no longer framed by the festering 
Constraints of non-fiction, and folding my fond 
                    farewells carefully, I hesitantly face a vision pestering 

Me, fearing the fiend that would open maw and 
                    gnaw beneath my feet, evoking an avalanche of the 
Vernacular, but I am further past this unfed 
                    existence now, loosened from the fickle friendship of a

Winter thaw. Focus not your gaze on the grinding 
                    gauze of the greats, for the pressing pestilence of 
Perishable poetry is elsewhere pondering its parallels 
                    in posturing and post-modern pining for forlorn love. 

Praise no other; I am poetry.

Copyright © Dan Keir

Details | Free verse | |

If I Shall Grow Old 2K13

If these eyes shall become blinded, and if this
hair shall come to be combed thinly and grey;
No, it would not be the end of the world.
I would still see beauty therein this world through
the songs of Crickets and Feathered Songsters.
The breeze would yet whisper and trees still dance.
I would yet smell the freshly bloom of Spring.
I'd still endure Summer's sweltering heat.
I'd yet feel Autumn's leaves crunch 'neath these toes.
I'd still long to be fireside with Winter.
Disabled or not, perhaps I'd yet walk
therein wonderful imagination.
How I'd be forever young at heart!
Then just as one journey came to an end,
I'd indeed greet another with a smile.

Copyright © Anthony O. Mitchell Jr.

Details | Haiku | |

Autumn Sees Winter

Autumn sees Winter
far to near, approaching fast
never an escape

© Christine A Kysely All Rights Reserved
Wausau, Wisconsin USA
October 12, 2011

Copyright © christine a kysely

Details | Rhyme | |

The Wontry Winter of Why

In this hope 
Where nobody survives

In this place
Where babies wither 
And die

All I ever wanted  to know
All I ever wondered

Disappeared upon your kiss
That last illusion
The Wontry Winter of 

Fever spreads
Takes another 

And the castle 
Can't protect you

Stop the slide

The race never 

A futile search for

In places that
Eat you 

Pass the salt
Place it inside
The wound

Try to 

While your blood burns
Within its


Ask the question

Where did it go?

Ask the question

A million times


In this poem
Where thoughts melt
Before they 

In this life
Where true meaning
Is rarely 

All I ever wanted  to know
All I ever wondered

Disappeared upon your kiss
That last illusion
The Wontry Winter of 

Copyright © Catman Cohen

Details | Lyric | |

Ride The Wind

Written February 24, 2012

One too many times
Our love has been unkind
To the rigors and chills of the snow
The streets they meet
Intersecting the heat
But the cold will blow without heed

To rekindle the flame
Must sound quite insane
But it's all I have left in this world
Yet to feed from the hand
Of another's demands
Could lead to the start of the fall

Ride the wind
Wherever it goes
Don't ask it questions
You don't want to know
The wind will carry you home

Copyright © Brandon Carter

Details | Rhyme | |

All That's Sure Is the Season

Approaching the winter of my years,
Never yet found my reason.
So much laughter, so many tears,
Yet all that’s sure is the season.

To few, all my days;
So many spent simply breezin’.
Should I regret their waste
When all that’s sure is the season?

What’s it been about anyway?
Perhaps there is no reason.
Did so want to learn the truth,
But all that’s sure is the season.

Always tried to consider others.
‘Tis much easier to be pleasin’. 
How many are my friends?
All that’s sure is the season

Felt the urge to make my mark.
Fame or fortune was my reason.
Fear of failure was my tether,
For all that’s sure is the season.

A man of Christian faith,
Hope God finds me pleasin’.
Fair chance tho’, I’ll go to Hell,
Yes, all that’s sure is the season.

So what of value will I leave?
Hearts and souls I may be teasin’
With too few words too few will read,
While all that’s sure is the season.

Approaching the winter of my years, 
Never yet found my reason;
But thank God for each extra day I search.
Still, all that’s sure is the season.

Copyright © Robert Candler

Details | Light Poetry | |

Farewell, Winter

The sharp bite of winter
In her freezing heights
With chills that shiver the hearth
And seek shelter from the flakes;
Through soft, floating kisses
An irreversible need,
With dreams of a new season
Pulling the wind to retrieve
Each day from its cold  existence
When buds start to whirl
As snow melts under sun's display--
Here and now, I say farewell
To an equinox ready for an adieu;
Waving" next time"; her wonder
A blessing and a trial!

Winter's End: Skat A Contest

Copyright © zelene desha

Details | Haiku | |

WINTER BLANKET contest haiku

                 WINTER BLANKET           

                       swirl white birch
                brittle leaves snow dance
                             Cocoa Kiss

Victoria Anderson-Throop

Copyright © Victoria Anderson-Throop

Details | Sonnet | |

Hope Of Renewal

As the last rose petal falls swiftly down
The last of the great roses of summer
What a great summer that was lived_you known
Rose had much character an affirmer

Fall approaches with sure desolation
Only bare branches with prickly thorns left
Mocking Bird nest with nesting cessation
Protected by the Rose as in a  cleft

Used up_bare waiting for winter's cold breath
Not knowing what this winter chill will bring
As the petals flood onto the ground_death
Hope awaits but winter comes with its sting

Will the sap rise again coursing through vine
Revitalization __ one  bud sure sign

Copyright © Sara Kendrick

Details | Free verse | |

Rainy Days

The revelations of winter pass now,
the captured moments of vertical strife,
the stanchion of paper white birch forests
rigid on the black scratch board of rocky hillock
soon, these markers of winter will be hidden.
The milky froth of frozen ground water with its
watery tresses falling in a downward slashes 
passing over grey granite cliffs will disappear. 
Brave bits green will spring,
rising succulent and sucking, hungry 
as the red tipped maples tonguing the foggy air.
Winter weaned from the austerity of fast.
The still white tombstones marking the hill
will be hidden behind verdant forests of poplar,
beech, maple and rampant evergreen.
Each structural element, each under pinning
pining for the cloak of spring,
craving an end to the cracked and chapped existence,
longing for the robin’s song, and the worm’s rise.
Dreaming of golden dandelions 
as the rain tinkles down.   

Copyright © Debbie Guzzi

Details | Haiku | |


                                                   in winter session
                                        mist fall at night forms dew drops
                                               flowers seem sweating

Copyright © BL Devnath

Details | Free verse | |

Newness Of Spring

Chirup, Chirupup is now gone away 
For the Cricket now sleeps in the deep woods
Deep down under a bed of dry decaying leaves
Awaiting the spring's warmth to call__ come

Out across the now no-fence pasture
Lies a giant pan of Rice Krispies cookies
White on tan the dead crispt grass made so by the cold hoary frost
Chilled so that it groans from the cold penetrating deep within the ground

The whole earth awaits that warm sun who takes his time
Slowly slipping back closer up, up, up to the Northern Hemisphere
Will spring come to renew or will those deep woods remain dark and deep
Inviting all eyes to see inside the open venerable vault of clearing

Those dark deep woods encourage exploring
To clear away all the tangled briars, dead barren ideas that need purging
Open clear up those winter woods for new growth of spring
New ideas on which to encourage the grow of the poetic mind 

Been in winter long enough in that cold barren woods
Trapped in the cold lingering by the fire of hearth's contentment
Now is the time to escape_be fresh new
Spring _bring on the novel

Copyright © Sara Kendrick

Details | I do not know? | |

Homo Sapiens

"I stabbed a faggot 
in the knees", he whispered.

I wanted him
for bait

To catch some
bigger faggots,
from a pile of

Growing stubble heads
and high-heeled masculinity

They twist,
so I unhook them
to sea [see].

Copyright © Ammy Avocet

Details | Rhyme | |


House stands in mock defiance
of blustery winds that blow,
ice crystals pelting windowpanes,
precede the winter snow.

Barren limbs stretch to sky,
frost hardened furrowed fields
await the winter season,
anxious for spring yields.

Landscapes agonize for change,
snow flurries soon appear,
covering white dear Mother Earth
at closing of each year.

Rosy cheeked with numbing lips,
we bundle 'gainst the cold,
frozen ponds bid winter games
that never shall grow old.

Nestled 'neath Granny's quilts
while fireplace crackles warm,
tranquil peace now settles
thru' winter wind and storm.

Copyright © Tamara Hillman

Details | Lyric | |

Cold Season

Cold Season…

I feel the winter calling
The cold season blowing on the wind
I want to send my spirit soaring
But it doesn’t know where to begin

I watch the leaves as they’re falling
Changing colors I watch them twist and turn
Turning to the ground, I’m gazing back into the sky
To feel the frost; just as fire, burn…

I feel the winter calling
The cold season blowing on the wind
To me it seems the clouds are falling
And I’m wondering where I fit in

I see life through a picture window
Unpainted glass covering the expanse of the frame
My unobstructed view of the trees bending in the wind
Wondering if the view will ever change
Or if it will ever be the same again…

I feel the winter calling
The cold season blowing on the wind
I want to send my spirit soaring
But frozen, it doesn’t know where to begin…

Copyright © Michael Domaracki

Details | Couplet | |

A Winter Night

Shall I compare thee to a winter night
Your freezing gaze gave me such fright

Copyright © Tahera Mannan

Details | Rhyme | |

The Freezing Point

A chunk of ice fell off a car
As I was walking past.
With temps around the freezing point,
I guess it couldn’t last.

I must have been there when the weather
Inched to thirty-three;
In Fahrenheit, the freezing stops
At that exact degree.

And so that fender filled with ice
Had no choice but to melt.
When Nature is the dealer, well,
You take the hand you’re dealt.

The melting is the easy part to see,
‘Cause just one drip
Announces to the world that Winter’s
Lessening its grip.

What I’d like to observe instead’s
That moment, so precise,
When water leaves its liquid state
And reappears as ice.

We take for granted things like that
For science tells us why;
But there’s a little magic
We’d discover if we try.

Copyright © ilene bauer

Details | Rhyme | |

The Winter of My Discontent

The gelid wind is a knife, ice to bone
As Demeter decries Persephone's moan
I too shed a tear, crystalline nature
In the pallid winter of my discontent.

Downy flakes fly in my woods, this glacier
melts slowly, apart from everyone ashore
I die a little more each day I bore
Holes, In this winter of my discontent.

No ode to my urn shall abide tragedy
Created in frolic architecture, majesty
Denied grace in art, I cry a little more
In the frigid winter of my discontent.

Copyright © Tim B

Details | Rhyme | |

It's what I do

It’s what I do

There’s something about these early morns
They make me want to write
Each day My heart feels so brand new
That it be my delight
To sit here putting words to paper
As they well up from my soul
Which clears me up. And cleans me out
And make each moment whole

I don’t know really, why I do it
I guess it’s what I do
But I can tell you one and all
It makes me feel brand new
To put this stuff down on a sheet
And know I’ve done it well
Though whether good, or mediocre
I really cannot tell.

I know that I’ll be doing this
Until my dying day
Each morning for so many years
I’ve woke up in this way
‘I’ll write some poems for my wife
That’s what I love to do
And then I’ll watch the dawn come in
Then I’ll write a poem or two

And I’ll write about most anything
I don’t care what it is
I’ll write of love, I’ll write of death
I can only tell you this
Each word that wanders from my pen
Is as true as it can be
It be the way one sees the world
As it comes filtered through me.

30 June 3013 : 0508hrs.

Copyright © Peter Duggan

Details | Prose Poetry | |




Here in the winter of my long lived life,
the leaves of my head now fall to the ground.
Destined like leaves of trees gone dead, 
the winter winds will soon blow my dust around;
and like fallen leaves, I’ll be done with this world’s strife.

Oh but when the scythe of time snips my thread,
would if I could be like leaves of trees---
who in due season, go happily to their death:
leaving their wooded---naked bones with nothing left
but the bark of reason guarding their earthy homes
through whose lonely arms, the chilly breeze freely roams. 

Yet, for these trees, another season comes like the mornings’ dew;
And they shall rise up from winter’s purgatory and begin life anew.


And though the sojourn here has had its moments of despair,
the flames of  love, faith and  hope have always been there.
So when I’m gone, weep only tears of joy for me;
for I know why the empty cross was made of the wood of a tree.  

Copyright © millard lowe