Introspection Flower Poems | Introspection Poems About Flower

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

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Details | Haiku |


morning quiet time
in nature's warm bosom found
sun kissed flowers shine

12 March 2015
POEM OF THE DAY - 14 March 2015
Sponsor: Debbie Guzzi

Copyright © KP Nunez | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |

The Color Missing

The Color Missing
Red, black, and blue are the colors of our work pens. Red is the color of the blood we spill on other people’s mistakes.  Blue is the color of the songs we sing on tax forms or pay stubs- every page has a secret melody. Black is the color of the streets we fear most. Black is the color of our signature of approval. Black is the color of our death.

‘But what about the Green pens?’ I ask. They say ‘the ink is too hard to see.’

Copyright © Jacob Reinhardt | Year Posted 2013

Details | Bio |

A Rainbow Flower

From beyond the horizon of time, my roots unending, chose life
For as in the beginning, I in the dark, beheld light
When even in the dark of night I must climb
When challenges I must face, rather than taking flight
I must look right towards the light
Even in winter, I am a flower.

May I assume any color in the scheme of good things
Assuming any form, in whatever haven I choose
Like a rainbow following rain, I'll rise
I'll rise with crimson/gold, each clear day
Even in winter, I am a flower.

From the innermost chambers of my conscience, came I
Saturated with thoughts for life
Springing forth day and night
Like a rainbow shimmering, I rise
I rise, delighting in life's gift of a new day
Even in winter, I am a flower
I am a flower, even in winter.

....Written at age 50.

Copyright © Iris Elizabeth Sankey-Lewis | Year Posted 2016

Details | Etheree |

'Love - like a flower'

and appear
out of the blue,
mystery to some
but others embrace it
happiness not guaranteed
instead of enjoying the voyage,
we focus more on the conclusion
before it has a chance to bloom, it dies…

Copyright © Wilma Neels | Year Posted 2011

Details | Free verse |

At The Flower Market

At the flower market
I found spice, holy water,
cobblestoned obsidian dreams,
but no flowers.

The blustery Tuscany day
showed me its underlying graffiti,
incantations of poetica esoterica, 
and yet another way 
to excavate the mystery.

Nostalgic Roman nights, 
Spanish palabras, Sicilian incantations,
idyllic panoramas; promises 
enough to purchase the moon.

Such a foolish sacrifice to
fresco up for portfolios in 
sanctuaries precious 
and profane.

Copyright © Alicia Patti | Year Posted 2007

Details | Sonnet |

Spring And Sunlight Wrap This Heavenly View

Spring And Sunlight Wrap This Heavenly View

Slowly I climb that very steep and rocky hill,
seeking the beautiful summit so far above.
As a breeze sends me that cool pleasant chill,
far away echoes, sweet calls of morning dove.

Summit reached, burden was greatly reduced,
as I saw great flowery meadows unfurled.
This the beauty God magnificently produced,
one of his many fine gifts to this world.

Spring and sunlight wrap this Heavenly view,
in a sheen invading my searching soul.
Each visit, I find feelings serene and new
relieving me of dark world's heavy toll.

Thus I battle with dark and unknown gloom.
By entering Nature's gifted wilderness room.

Robert J. Lindley, 09-24-2015

Note: I just felt the need to write a sonnet this morn.
Thus from my memory this new poem was born from
a place that I once visited quite often.

Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2015

Details | Didactic |

Golden secrets in the flower

"...The Secret of the Golden Flower is not only a Taoist text of Chinese yoga but also an alchemical tract. (...) it was the text of The Golden Flower that first put me in the direction of the right track." C. G. Jung

"The Golden Flower alone, which grows out of inner detachment from all entanglement with things, is eternal." Richard Wilhelm

does it bloom in the subatomic quark neuron
a flower petals deranged
burning with green rage
dark firmament pullulating infinitesimal quasars
unpeeling layers of nuclear fusions fissions
the blue-blackish greenish-blue haze

is this the eye looking at the eye
which I
between the crushed ajña-eyebrows
under eyes straining to envelope reality from afar
spotty bright grains pulsating in a velvety ink-blue-black throbbing screen
thoughts racing forwards and backwards in time

childhood slights deprivations unrevenged hurts
throbbing thriving on treacherous jabs by of-all beings friends
those who profit from taken-for-granted confidences
the women who dun-you-in
thoughts of a nature to make you hate fate

then the pulsating roving churning dismembering coalescing screen
and in the pale fringey opening white furry stripes on the blue-black greenish bulgey bed of velvet
whose I
lights the frigid fire burning dynamo
whose eye
reopens brightens
what is it an eye
which stares
shrinks sharper by the fractioned second
closes and opens again
and again
till the pinpoint galactic blackholing centre

the myriad diamondlights buoyed on a myriad-petalled dryburning flowering sun
shedding golden glory
expelling all thought or is it mere doubt
the intense unrelenting feeling of
is it joy
or a fumbling stolen fear
the mental orgasmic relief
the sense of deep other knowing power come face to face
refreshing retreading the worn-out neuron paths

then the return
after the wearinesses
or is it nonplussednesses

to this world
to words
to wars
to waste
to wickedness
a world without wonder
without womb
a world dying
a tomb
see only what you should see
words see only what eyes make belief
even when words don’t mean what they see

© T. Wignesan - Paris, July 3, 1997[Revised May 2003] -from longhand notes: a binding of poems. 1997

Copyright © T Wignesan | Year Posted 2012

Details | Light Poetry |


Merlot wine
Kraft single slices
Dead roses not watered
Dead dreams unfulfilled

Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2015

Details | Enclosed Rhyme |

One Single Rose

the crystal vase
just one red rose
an elegant pose
in natural grace

a simple thing
that red, red rose
yet the heart knows
what joy it brings…….

Copyright © Barbara Gorelick | Year Posted 2014

Details | Dramatic monologue |

A Dark Fairy-tale

A Dark Fairytale

As I was chained, I breathe in.
As I was burned, I breathe out.
As I was cut, I looked down.
As I was broken, I looked up.
As I was destroyed, I closed away.
I had killed myself damaging beyond any repair.
To keep myself closed I chain, cut, burned, and destroyed what was within me, isolation my fear around me. But suddenly as I had nearly been kindled to a shivering light, something braver and stronger then I appeared and took me and held me and once again I was fixed and this is what happened; 
Suddenly I breathed in as I was unchained.
Suddenly I breathed out as my burns disappeared.
Suddenly I looked up as my broken body mended.
Suddenly I looked down as my cuts faded.
Suddenly I was opened up and my destruction was nothing more then a dream
As my knight, you entered that shadow and held me now I grow with a unprofaned radiance.
I was held once more, and my soul emerged.
I was spoken to once more, and my mind went blank.
I was kissed and my body reacted without a second hesitation.
And before I could run away once more, I was trapped.
Unlike my prison I lived in a fairytale, in were I don’t want to live this place anytime soon. What happened then and what happening now are so fair apart it hilarious.
 I’ve forgiven the past, not forgotten it. Prove never to make the same mistakes or else be locked back inside that tower I call my mind. 
Let me in brave knight, into your mysterious ways.
Let me in brave knight let me have secret passages into that world of yours. 
Let me in brave knight so I can truly capture you. 
I was as cold as ice even more then winters hail, but you with a ridged past that icier then I could have imagined is as warm as the summer sun and sweet like spring air.
For saving me, for taking my heart, for releasing me, I’ll become everything you want and then more, I’ll stand by your side and hold you like you held me and I shall be everything you need.
My sweet Knight.

Copyright © Marcedies Rhodes | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |

Wild Flower

Unassuming simplicity 
Child of the wild 
A bit of color to catch the eyes
It’s too much to leave her behind 
Sentimental blindness
Can only give bad guidance 
Leave her; why break her?
Look only, but do not touch
You’ll soil your hands
Can never be friends
To embrace nature is not in your nature
Think you’ll just put her on your table?
You’ll be unable
A narrow vase by your hands made
Freedom cannot recreate
Take her home, and she’ll wither
But your guilt won’t die with her

Copyright © laszlo kecsedi | Year Posted 2013

Details | Dodoitsu |

Gardenias Flower

Gardenias' soft white flowers Release a delicate scent Young love brought me a few buds Then love was a friend The flower's essence floated From the one placed in my hair Now in winter their buds pressed Among love's pages
Sponsor: Dr. Ram Mehta Contest: Dodoitsu Written: February 6, 2015 Love or humor No meter or rhyme 7,7,7,5 7,7,7,5

Copyright © Sara Kendrick | Year Posted 2015

Details | Ballad |

Hi, Bye

Loves magic riddle, shepherds the flower,
blossoming elegance, land to sea.
I never knew, how that love grew, 
until I laid eyes on Lucy Dee.

Blindly sifting through the hazy maze, 
emerging aware, holding a key.
That fixed a hole, which filled my soul,
thanks to the love of Lucy Dee. 

The force behind the forces of life,
made me question how to see,
Suddenly views, were less askew,
thanks to the insight of Lucy Dee.

Now I care not, for transparent fog,
or the rain that pours for weeks.
For the weather, never weathers,
the amorphous Lucy Dee.

When my petals finally wilt and wane,
storms bring me to weary knees.
The radiant shine, forever binds,
lucy’s light within me; and without,
by loves decree.

Copyright © Nicholas Rush | Year Posted 2015

Details | I do not know? |

My Wishes are Simple

My Wishes are Simple

My wishes are simple,
my desires few,

to gaze upon an ocean,
and marvel at a solitary drop of dew.

My wishes are simple,
my dreams not too grand,

to feel the waves teasing my tired feet,
with no footprints left in the cool, wet sand.

My wishes are simple,
my thoughts serenely gentle, calm,

my heart resting beneath a swaying palm,

healing my being, caressed by nature's soothing balm.

Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |

Day Grows Like Flower

Day grows like flower,
yet it sways like tare;

it taunts me-
a clueless identity 
in yesterday. Ah, too many 
yesterdays, all became 

of me. I traveled 
them, differently.

‘Though my spirits are 
like dodos, still they 
aim not the path, where a bough of spring
never shines as I plead.

Yes, tomorrow is yet 
to bloom, for us to fulfil...
perhaps, a dream.

And, if it could come true, then mine is 
not to dream a dream, which is not mine!

Copyright © Ernesto P. Santiago | Year Posted 2010

Details | Light Poetry |


March 29, 2014 


Destination aimless
love floating like
a fragile butterfly
surfaces on which
to safely alight.
Between the
terrestrial and 
the celestial

My love hoovers
beaming in on a 
familiar stream of light.

Another traveler 
circling same time;
Together we land 
in a poppy field;

Allowing ourselves 
this time, perhaps
to trust happenstance.


Copyright © Vicki Acquah | Year Posted 2014

Details | I do not know? |

The Sieve of Time

The Sieve of Time

Cast ashore,
along the banks of time,

whirling through the passing years,
clinging to my futile scribbles set in rhyme,

Cast ashore,
thrust into an unrehearsed pantomime,

clenching slivers of joy as weariness descends,
lulled into a peaceful slumber exhilaratingly sublime.

Cast ashore,
hazily adrift, a dandelion seed on the wings of time,

trapped in the sieve of spiralling memories,
caught between pristine bliss, and reeking slime.

Cast ashore,
flung aside for no discernible crime,

my human heart thuds with elusive hope,
though battered, bruised, and covered in grime,

I stagger ashore, 


embracing each moment of detached, oblivious time.

Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses | Year Posted 2013

Details | Prose Poetry |

An End to Aloneness

In my life I often feel I am alone; alone in my thoughts, alone in my musings, alone in my day-to-day movements and unsatisfying activities. I move like a ghost through hallways and down sidewalks, unnoticed and, at times, gratefully so. 
I do not wish to be eternally alone. I long for togetherness. But despite this desire for a real connection, I find myself regularly retreating from that temperamental beast that is human interaction. 

“Come on now, sweetheart. Don’t lower your head. Don’t look away. Look up! Smile at someone! No! Don’t go back into your bedroom. Don’t lock the door! Why are you doing this?” my brain will plea. 

I can’t help myself. Aloneness is comfortable. In being alone, I don’t have to worry about anyone but myself. I don’t have to please anyone else. I can think anything I want, wear anything I want, listen to anything I want, and laugh at anything I want. 

And still there remains that nagging desire to be loved and wanted and needed by somebody. I do not know the feeling of being truly desired. I do not know what it is like for someone to crave my company, my smile, my kiss, or my touch. 

                                                                              But I would like to…

I cannot make someone love me or like me or want me in some primal way. It may hurt, but I cannot make that handsome boy want to hold my hand or brush my hair back behind my ear. I can only struggle on. I can only work within myself. I can only try every God damn day to hold my head up, keep my eyes fixed ahead, a give the world the best smile I have. I and I alone can bring myself out of the safety of my bedroom and into the bright world that lies beyond that locked door. 
I often find myself alone with nothing more than my thoughts and the ever-strong glow of a computer screen. But no longer will aloneness be the constant in my life. It is true that never having known the caress of a man’s hand on my thigh doesn't make me any less of a woman, but I fear that if I stay confined within myself much longer I will begin to become less of a human. A flower cannot grow if it retracts its leaves and petals every time it feels the warmth of the sun or the kiss of a gentle spring rain.  
And I want to grow. I want to grow so tall and blossom so big and beautifully that every place on earth is touched by my shadow at some point in the day. And I will grow. I will push myself and share myself with the world, and finally
know the closeness and comfort of love and honest, unabashed companionship.

Copyright © Molly McCarthy | Year Posted 2013

Details | Haiku |

Delicate Flower

delicate flower

wind tears at its soft petals

tree provides shelter


(February 4, 2011 Wausau, Wisconsin)

(c) Copyright 2011 by Christine A Kysely, All Rights Reserved

Copyright © christine a kysely | Year Posted 2011

Details | Rhyme |

When Flowers Bloom and Birds Do Fly

If mine heart should speak, let it speak so well; 
For I may not have another time to tell. 
Let me say it straight; let me say it clear, 
It may not be so loud but the deaf can hear. 

It's for the sane to commend me of my views 
And for the fools to take me as a foe; 
For my word shall either be sweet or foul 
But it bears the frankness of my soul. 

The sheer desire for wealth or fame 
I apt no more for all is vain. 
It's good enough for me to see 
That I've lived a life in each passing day. 

When a man is young he's at his best 
And a merry soul has no time to rest. 
But life's like hanging on a ledge 
The soul is weakened at the ripe old age. 

No amount of sleep shall recompense or mend 
Of a good dream lost to awakening; 
So as a speeding star in a tranquil gaze 
That fell so sudden before a wish. 

The time that flies and makes one old 
Burgeons the burdens of an old man's load. 
It shall be heavier when he departs 
If he'll bear the laments of a shattered heart. 

Life is doomed and to cease one day; 
Not a single soul can choose to stay. 
Better pave a way for the saints to stroll 
So that bad old serpent could tempt no more. 

Then for my own sake I'll pray with them 
That my soul be freed from the hell's domain. 
And my heart won't dare to sing again 
Those mournful lines of life's refrain. 

A blissful sunset shall start to thrive 
Nocturnal solace upon my head. 
Then it shall be on the day I die 
When flowers bloom and birds do fly. 

Author:  Jecon B. Nadela 
Date & Time of Writing: 
10 May 2014 ; 2:03pm - 3:21pm 

Thanks God I'm writing again. 

Copyright © Jecon B. Nadela | Year Posted 2014

Details | Haiku |


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

Copyright © BL DEVNATH | Year Posted 2013

Details | I do not know? |

You and I

You and I.


Your heart blazed,
with a warmth of spirit,



soaked in truth.

Your smile burned,
branding me permanently,



enveloping my being.

Your love was complete,
from the depths of your soul,


yet fierce,

bathed in silent knowing.

Your dreams were poetic,
fluttering in the afternoon breeze,
infused with the distilled essence of rhyme.


I squandered your generosity of spirit.

I vainly discarded your priceless poems.

Now I stand,




wasting away,

rotting inside, day by day.

Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses | Year Posted 2013

Details | I do not know? |



She smiled, gently,
her warmth infusing me,
with a serene stillness of time.

She settled, slowly,
in my waking thoughts,
a soothing balm of simple joy.

She remains, scribbled,
on the walls of my fractured heart,
memories of happiness that once breathed...

Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses | Year Posted 2013

Details | Haiku |

Cherry Blossom

Cherry Blossom.
Little tree, pink leaves.
Flowers falling in the breeze.
Birds sit in the nest.

Copyright © Imani Robertson | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse |


he watched her,
lying there in the grass, among flowers,
the cherry petals covering her slowly…
he suddenly realized
how sweet was the shadow
touching her
and each flower gently offering
its tribute of death to her
was no less beautiful
than that wonderful crimson bloom
he himself had helped birth
on her chest…
the nectar of that flower still on his hands
and the ethereality of the cherry-tree shade on his retina,
he wished to grow roots
and draw life from the very earth that she,
his masterpiece,
was slowly
beginning to become

Copyright © Liliana Negoi | Year Posted 2011

Details | Nonet |

All Beauty Destroyed

I do not see things the way you might
I can find good in the darkness
Even when things seem hopeless
Even when it seems that
All beauty's destroyed
There will always
Be some hope
And some

Copyright © Brittany Larson | Year Posted 2014

Details | Haiku |

Love Is A Flower

Love is a flower
 giving to the gardener
  hope after winter.

Copyright © Wilfredo Derequito | Year Posted 2007

Details | Tanka |

The Flower

a downcast face
stares at the curlicues
forming symbols
he loves me petals
grow upon the flower

Copyright © Debbie Guzzi | Year Posted 2012

Details | Free verse |

Petals Of Regret: One

My regrets fall like petals,
I watch them land softly on the ground.
Why do they not make a sound?
You would expect regrets to come 
Crashing into the ground.
The wind blows ,
And the petals fall.
All I can do is look around me,
There are so damn many.
Some fall upon the flowing water
Rushing to meet the others
Who have been washed upon the rocks.
I reach down and hold them in my hands
The wet fragrance will not last forever.

Each year they fall like this,
When the autumn winds rush them away
And every year you think i would learn
But I can’t help but to watch them fall.
It is always strangely beautiful.

Copyright © Tyler Rawlings | Year Posted 2017

Details | Rhyme |

A Pink Flower

The blossom is a fussin' 
About the shining sun -
Colour and oxygen -
The bud bringeth the petal,
Where there is no cussin'. 

The pride of nature's platter,
The joy of the buzzing bee,
The thing by which we all fathom,
Just exactly what it is that we can be. 

The scent of the perfume,
In the gels of the body shop,
The standard for their products,
At which we've all had a pop. 

The claim of the respiratory doctor,
For breathing and atmosphere,
Is that air comes from plants, 
And that plants with us do cohere. 

But we need to be remember,
Before we become egotistical,
That plants evolved before humans,
That we come last, not hierarchical. 

There is no above or below,
The message of the flower,
The communication so opine,
That expression of power. 

Copyright © Rhoda Monihan | Year Posted 2016