Best Introspection Poems
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Introspection
Poems
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Best Famous Poems
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Introspection
Poem
Footprints
Frothy waves stretch to kiss toes
Hikers plodding sandy coasts
Leaving imprints on the shore
Who journeyed here, perhaps this morn
As the orange orb created dawn
Summoning sun worshipers
Footprints far too large to fill
Descended down the shell-strewn hill
Then hugged the waves’ low tide
The retirement community
Sends scouts here daily just to see
If the sands of time still wait
Alas, they do, imprints remain
Sacrificed to sea when evening tide returns again
Their legacies erased each day
Another scout, another age
Will surely cast its prints anew
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Introspection
Poem
A Ripple In Time
A new borns cry
Tearful last good bye
Swaying waves of golden prairie grass
Shifting desert dunes - an hour glass
An acorn dropping among forest leaves
To mighty oak - a lifetime of dreams
The changing moon - to full again
Each morn' the sun - new skies begin
Eagles soar high - our hearts go there
These ripples in time - we all share
4-28-2013, A Ripple In Time Contest
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Introspection
Poem
This Poem Is How I Feel
Sometimes on the road of life
Change becomes the norm
When you think, “The sky is true”
The horizon brews a storm
Some storms last but a minute
Like a ship they sail right by
Other storms seem to be
As endless as the sky
Some storms come with a flood
As life gets washed away
Other storms shake the ground
As mountains crumble into clay
Storms come in many sizes
They come in many shapes
Storms come in many forms
Some bless while others rape
As we face the storms of life
They change who we are
Sometimes, we’re the clouds
Other times we’re the stars
Storms have one thing in common
One day they too shall pass
As a car rolls to a stop
Storms run out of gas
After the storm has passed us by
A seed sprouts to a flower
Each petal seems to be
Exuding strength and power
I have weathered many storms
Their lines map my face
In their wake I have found
Love is my saving grace
I don’t know what this poem means
I don’t know if I ever will
All I know is that right now
This poem is how I feel
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Introspection
Poem
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.
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Introspection
Poem
Midnight Pearls
.
Shine, midnight pearls!
The smoke curls up in whirls of doom
On the wet sand
my own hand draws unplanned pierced hearts
Deep blue-black sky
I play by rules and sigh despair
To lay aside
starry-eyed dreams that hide a sin
Shine, distant stars!
Through guitars notes, through scars of time
For her first kiss
an abyss drains all bliss from me
And far away
shadows play down their spray of doubts
Opaque pearls, shine!
On this fine night, define my north
.
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Introspection
Poem
Melded
Questions hang suspended like stalactites
Time, circumstance and elements contributing to its formation
(—then something else seeps in, pushing me to call it fate)
Questions that know not whether they should be voiced out and see light
...or remain hidden in caves, destined to be only heard
by the labyrinthine chambers of the heart
But yes, it is inevitable that these questions d
r
i
p
They drip, bit by bit, oozing with curiosity,
forming more queries, that turn into stalagmites—
Grounded questions to the suspended ones,
open-ended to the closed.
Sometimes meeting, creating columns,
melded complements of each other.
And then this makes me wonder—
When these questions meet,
do they ever find answers within themselves?
Will the truth ever be brave enough to come out of hiding?
This then makes me think of the words within souls,
how these souls are the questions, in search of answers.
...And of how your words, your thoughts, your feelings,
can drip into mine, feeding that inner glow
It then collects, forming this deluge,
flooring me as it creates a bond so powerful,
it seems to defy time and even reason.
A fascinating influx,
that makes me smile despite myself
Where sometimes I don’t know the beginning from the end—
where bliss swims freely there,
immersed in waves of laughter and ripples of tears.
This for me is the beauty of it all,
the search, the mystery...the discovery
That constant ebb and flow,
the give and take,
that push and pull
the flooding and trickling,
that hiding and seeking
Where one listens as the other speaks,
but ah, both feeding off each other—
hungry, thirsty, full, satiated yet craving for more.
It’s something akin to, but not quite to
how sunlight makes way for moon’s glow,
how thunder rolls after the lightning strikes,
coming hand in hand...yet both so defined.
--------------------------------------------------------------
Yes, the questions may still hang like stalactites,
and sometimes I do wonder if they will fall—
And if they do,
will they shatter,
piercing hearts as they do?
Or will their fates let them stay there,
melding with stalagmites,
standing the test of time,
and sparkling
as they
do?
June 17, 2012
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Introspection
Poem
Wayward Child
Memory is a fickle lover succumbing to the tide
grasping for the grains of sentiment sometimes left.
In cold or torrid waves, spent passion now abides
for you have left me, long ago, and now, alone bereft.
Grasping for the grains of sentiment sometimes left
beside a roaring bonfire, where sparks on night winds glide
for you have left me, long ago, now so alone, bereft...
I huddle in a dune's dark shade with nothing left inside.
Beside a roaring bonfire, where sparks on night winds glide
We conceived a wayward child, a changeling child, a thief.
I huddle in a dune's dark shade with nothing left inside
as the waves of age and ages, return only grief.
We conceived a wayward child, a changeling child, a thief.
In cold or torrid waves, spent passion now abides,
as the waves of age and ages, return only grief
Memory is a fickle lover succumbing to the tide.
Date: 8/8/12
Poet: Debbie Guzzi
Inspired by Charles Henderson write
A Song of Michael's Rose
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Introspection
Poem
Mixing Of The Bones
If we could peel back the blanket of earth
To expose the bones buried there
Mix them all up in a great big pile
To say they'd all look the same would be fair
The rich man, the poor, the blind and the weak
Each gender, religion and race
The short, the tall, the large and the small
And include every shape of the face
If we had to choose one bone at a time
Not knowing who's bones belonged to whom
To make ourselves over new again
I wonder how well we'd do
Not judging by color, size or shape
Or status of high IQ
The bones might fit together just fine
And stay together till the end of time
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Introspection
Poem
DEVOTION
I dream of you
I fantasize
I see you when
I close my eyes
I speak your name
With every breath
I vow to love you
Unto death
I think of you
All the day long
My love expressed
In verdant song
I speak of you
To all my friends
I long for you
When each day ends
I see your smile
In every face
In my heart you hold
A special place
I know that we
Were meant to be
And that you're the only
One for me
And when I go
To sleep at night
I know this love
Is more than right
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Introspection
Poem
Open Sores
I am a coward with open sores.
I write and wonder who it bores.
I hear my heart and mind argue repeatedly.
I see others carrying out my dreams;
that’s what’s defeated me.
I am a coward with open sores.
I pretend open doors are closed, and walk the other way.
I touch base with the fear in my heart,
it tears me apart leaving me with nothing to say...
I worry the world will leave me.
I cry because no one believes in me.
I am a coward with open sores.
I understand nothing comes easy.
I say I’m happy, but even I don’t believe me.
I dream I am healed and brave.
I try to overcome my weaknesses before I’m in my grave.
I hope you hear me.
I’m on all fours.
I am a coward with open sores.
* 1st Place in Contest "MARCH MADNESS" Sponsored by Carolyn Devonshire on 3/8/2011
* 1st PLACE in Contest "ONE OFF" Sponsored by Brian Strand on 5/11/2011 judged
6/17/2011
© 2011 ~JSLaM
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