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Best Introspection Poems | Poetry

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The Best Introspection Poems

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A Long Loud Sigh

genius?
sometimes you are in its minimal spotted light...sometimes!
other times you just know you've been touched and you freeze,
moved but frozen...like a stranger it moves in, does its work and leaves.

...maybe it's been a while since you two spoke...
when the dead sea still hosted life,
the hanging gardens of babylon grew in sinc with the breath of the planet,
before the tower of pisa started to lean or mayan buildings were in ruin.

so you write words...any words...they might at least soothe your hurt
hold your heart in a protective shield.
you know how crippling unrequited love can be.
do you still dream of its hug...genius?

life and love share more than a first letter
(like the first letter you wrote under the veil of inspiration).
they also share good and evil...it's a flip of the coin.
either way is fine with you. you'd bathe in holy water or sell your soul.
life, love...passion...somewhere in there...it lives, genius.

all of nature a reflection through its transparent figure glows dark 
like the shadows live in the radiant illumination of evening rays.

so let me speak of us!
recently when i tried to hold you...
you were like a ghost in the bright of day,
a phantom out of its element...
there was nothing of you...i could embrace.
when i tried to enter you a freezing cold ran through me like a winter brook.
you exhaled me 
as if i were fog on a deserted country road invisible to absent eyes.
still you were my drug of choice.
addicted, i chased the dragon...you...genius.

memories fill me...
days when we would paint words,
stitch in a metaphor or two,
weave in music, 
write instruments to fill in the spaces,
ordain a voice.

i remember...

you wanted to taste me
i was overwhelmed 
how you put your fingers on my lips 
how you licked them...you...genius.

you were that giant pine i would climb in the dead of winter
(why do they say that "the dead of winter"? winter will die 
when hell freezes over. winter isn't death it's purgatory.)
the one with the needles that punctures human skin.

come to me again and touch me...
like the butterfly does the wind...barely but thoroughly.
(is it true that just a tiny flutter of their wings could be 
the start of a hurricane? are the icebergs melting?)
i didn't just write that out loud...did i...with you I'm shy...genius.

GENIUS?

fine!
hide.
don't show yourself.
don't speak to me.
fine!

don't bother with rising the sun today.
forget those showers you create your magic arc with,
vacuum away all the plants.
lower your wall of blue.
i'm not interested anymore in those pillowy shapes i use to love so.

i've always known it is fire that cleanses, water that burns,
it is the moon that breaks the heart,
the stars that slaps the face...with...i don't know...reality.
i've always known by the time we see a star...
in real time...it's already extinguished...already dead.

it is our friends that will use us...our heroes that will lie to our face...
our blood will betray our trust...our teachers will fail us...
our leaders treat us like just another job...
the devout that will exhibit hatred.

still i believe. no matter what else...the rose will always survive.
the petals deceiving. they will repel all that is unholy.
grab it by the neck and squeeze out its black ooze,
leaving a gentle soul there to admire its adversary.
don't even get me started on the orchid
or even the flowers all...alphabetically.

i dare confront the beauty of nature's art unframed...
canvas loose to admire...genius!

i miss you but i am out of tears.
do drop in though. 
i can offer you a cup of dry warmth...
soothing like burning logs that crackle with laughter.

or 

take you to my secret place.
behind the camouflage of forests dense,
where vines grow through spiral staircases 
made of turtle shells and dressed in discarded snake skins.
green is the theme there. it is everywhere,
unabridged, unabated, unaffected, undisturbed 
with a fuming, burning, yearning to be touched.
so let's...let's grab...hold...squeeze..
feel free from the cheap paradigm offered.

i don't think you know, even while you sleep, i hold your hand, genius.

dream a full rainbow on a fingernail moon night,
feel february twenty ninth its absolute might,
taste fully the slight of a pheasant in flight,
yearn eternal life, wish a vampire's bite,
concoct rhymes nicely fluffed with built in sight.

genius?
on this sombre morning the sun is blinding.
damn my eyes.
there is a negative entity drapes our children's world.
shame on us...shame on you...i need you.
i am reduced to an objective observer.
life glides on the little wings of its carrier,
its final resting point in the hands of the wind.
another life carried away on a worker bee,
busy stealing nectar from a succulent bud.
a stowaway hangs on for dear life to the flyers leg.
gets off at the next flower.
meets up with a companion to create a new life.

genius?,
everything changed when I met you.
was the sun rising or the mountain sinking.
was that an orange globe against a blue sky
or a lit round hole in a sad wisp of air.

i'll play a keyless piano if you'll paint me a horizon I can reach.
i'll sing you a ballad with a single note...

i walked into my life without consideration.
maybe crawled.
all the same...
when do I get a choice.
when will they stop holding death over my head.

if i could direct a few more plays with you as my guide...
my art, my life! genius i long for your influence...
even one last time to see your face, 
unite and give you one last kiss...goodnight.




April 1 2015
Maurice Yvonne
Sponsor: Linda
Contest Name:A Million Dollar Poem








Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2015


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My Affair With A Frost Flower State Of Affairs



There’s a beguiling danger in beauty… seduced as I was by the fickle fingers of fate musingly stroking my hair, I envisaged this lusciously lavish landscape of sun-raptured heavenly hills and valid valleys to be a lush, plush place for me to land ~ alas, such deception my naive perception did offer. Buried beneath the facade of a fertile dream-come-true and a mesmerizing mirage of natural light and zephyrus breaths - where your thoughts hugged the horizons of my mind like clouds on the edges of prairie dog skies and where your stampeding passions trampled my inhibitions - were delicate bandeaux of ice; finespun and feathery like polar gossamer that formed on the stems of your ruptured dreams that then became my nightmare when you had your hard freeze and warm sap still flowed through your veins, pumped and pushing through your broken being and freezing on contact with the chilled clime cocooning me, in a sudden silken surge of your glazing gauze holding me, in the vivid wild magic of your frosted crystallized clutches - fossilizing me, in icy opalescent ribbons of ornate whorls. Unable to escape the grasping glacial petals of your exquisite pain, your frost flowers plunged me into the frigid heart of your bitter big-bluestem prairie winter... There’s a beguiling beauty in danger hypnotized and hijacked as I was by the rhythmic sways of your tall grass ways - your flickering tongue tasting my air as my emotions were extorted till I was bled white - obviously oblivious that I was being preyed upon by a stealthy force of nature motivated by indigenous instincts. Susan Ashley March 13, 2018 _________________________ ~ First Place ~ Contest: Poetry for the Sake of Poetry Sponsor: John Lawless
* big bluestem: tall grass native to the Great Plains with bluish leaf sheaths * * frost flower: thin layers of ice extruded from long-stemmed plants in autumn or early winter. These thin ice layers form beautifully dainty ‘ribbons’ or ‘petals’ *


Copyright © Susan Ashley | Year Posted 2018


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A Poetry Collection


Hourglass

Sand falls
Through the glass
Love falls
Within the past
Memories dance
They never last
Head in my hands
As I stare overhead
At the hourglass


Falling Down Stairs

Stairs broken
Wheels unspoken
I fell
Grasping for air
Are you there?

Piano Keys

Playing me
Rhythms dancing free
Clouds in air
Notes tossed in despair
Are you there?


Voices

Echoes
Broken wings
Wounded sparrows sing
Clinging to clouds high in sky
Chirping symphonies
Knowing not at all the why
Never loved…
Never loved…
Never hugged
In solitude wonders fly
No one
No one is there



In the Key of Despair

Tap tap
Music in the ear
Flowing freely in the salty air
Beethoven, are you there?
In the breeze, I hear the notes
My mind runs away, it floats
Pain drowned in the river
Limbs frolic on shores of hope
Keys somber in black and white
As I touch them
It conveys the fright


Strings

Choking, not me, but the air
Credenzas and waves
Washing away the realities
Of all your trivialities
Whilst I whither and fade away
Inside a musical symphony
Strangled on lusty desires
Are you
Are you there?


Sleep

Notes hither and floating in the breeze
I look up
The moon
My last breath
My last hope
My last wish
A kiss from the one I never met
The moon hides under cloud
My eyes in tranquility close
The beat no longer in time
No longer there
Where ever I am going
My last thought
Are you there?






Violins and Other Things

Distractions
Deformed from loves inaction
Teardrops falling on time
Rolling down passages
Where darkness does dine
Notes high, notes low
Treble as I grasp the clef
The conductor knows all that is refined
In the end
He shall consume the wine
As I, was consumed by time


Masterpieces

The piano full of dust
Brushes dipped in paints
Now turn to dust
There is a poem over there
In the corner
By the naked painting
Of my Caribbean liver
That cried and wept
Day and night
Night and day
When willows swayed
And the raven landed
On the sill
Of the empty room
For I am no more

Silence whispers
Are you there?


Guitar Strings and Clouds

I caress the strings of discord
Melodies shouting
Displeasure
Credenza’s and interludes
Wine intrudes
The senses squished like sour grapes
Emotions boxed in crates
I caress philosophy
As my garden sadistically does undress
Taunting the desires of my illusions unrest
The rose and the rain drop
Embrace
I cry


Last Act

Once was life
One…… tear…   one tear…… drop
One gasp of fear
Fate licking……………………… deaths ear










Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2017


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One Regret

Now walking through the autumn of my life
Where maple leaves have turned from green to gold
I watch them fall in breezes turning cold
In a whirl-wind of harmony and strife
And I ponder, on the fact that I might
In the light, as another day unfolds
Have like these dying autumn leaves, grown old
Slow, spiralling toward the pending night


Moss grows along the path where I now step
That rocky road now softened by the years
Seeing for the first time, so crystal clear
That I will leave this life with one regret
This vision, that these old eyes now behold
Those blazing  flames, when autumn leaves let go. 





Copyright © Elaine George | Year Posted 2016


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Soul Searching Trek Along Winter's Snow Painted Trails


Waking to cold blown tent, ground frozen icy hard woods are my love, as is poetry to a bard. Today starts my anticipated forest trek, seeking salvation from heart's emotional wreck, last night I watched stars twinkle in heavenly skies pondering how to overcome world's darkest lies. Now dawn breaks, sends fresher pair of gem seeking eyes desirous to find what Time, Fate and Earth denies, finding cold breeze that blows snowflakes from white cream ground, thankful for Nature's sanctuary here now found. First step taken, this soul takes its desperate flight, embrace anew, treasures that make life feel alright. Through drifted powdered paths my healing does begin rhythm of my brisk breath is like a cleansing hymn. Serenity in solitude is what I seek, in contemplative meditations I do speak amongst the frosted firs a chapel for my prayers in your Trust surrendering all worries and tears. To slow life’s commotion and hush harsh emotion, quiet communion in woodland is my potion - sweetest swells of ecstasy makes my spirit swoon in whitest snowdrop bloom my heart will follow soon. With every snowy step I purify a thought in this pristine Love I find absolution sought. The winding trail I followed with a downcast face and left behind the sorrow of my past disgrace. Ascending farther to the snowy mountains peak animated to discover my fate unique. I shall not let my courage waver, not this time, with weary steps I continue my forward climb. The final steps to reach my summits divine light, my mind virtuous as snowflakes of purest white, I inhale the essence of life at nature’s hem, finally free from chains of torment I condemn. With Fate and Time to blend with Earth, I shall redeem my dignity and recover my self-esteem. Robert J. Lindley, Susan Ashley, Teppo Gren (a collaboration - joining as one voice and one searching soul) July 25, 2018 _________________________ ~ POTW ~ Week of July 29, 2018 It is an honor for me to share in this recognition with my gifted collaborators, Robert Lindley and Teppo Gren _________________________ My poet’s note: Dear Robert, mere words cannot express my great appreciation for extending your invitation to Teppo Gren and myself for a collaboration with you on this special spiritual poem of soul searching and soul learning. I am so fortunate to be able to create poetry with two such wondrously gifted poets and this lovely artistic experience was a thrilling and beautiful poetic journey for me to take with both of you. Thank you, Robert and Teppo, for sharing with me the treasures of your illuminating and creative talents, fruitful friendships and endless exquisite inspiration..


Copyright © Susan Ashley | Year Posted 2018


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The Maltese Moon

The Maltese Moon,
she draws my eyes
to shapely orb
in starlit sky
she smiles at me
with wanton grace
and spills desire
upon my face
I'm all awash
in milky glow
sacred secrets
Mine to know...

the Maltese Breeze
he flirts with me
can't let me be
his fingers trace
my rounded face
my hair he twirls
my skirt's a whirl
he has no care 
this Maltese Breeze 
alone can dare
dishevel me
and set me free

The Maltese Sea
now beckons me
wets my desire
in moon glow fire
that rides the waves
as my heart craves
His liquid arms
and all his charms
This Maltese Sea
so vast so free
is calling me
is calling me....

I close my eyes
as Maltese Air
caresses my lips
in great fanfare
I breath him in
in sheer delight
invigorated
by his might
I pause a while
my life on hold..
my heart, it beats
so brave, so bold

The others, they just
walk on by
and yet I wait
alone, I sigh 
Awash in light
of Maltese Moon
the Maltese Breeze
just simply croons
and Maltese Sea
he, murmurs sweet
and I am lost
In Maltese treat

The magic starts to fade away
I start to walk, I cannot stay
They've called me from my reverie
I rush to catch up with the three
but turn for one more blessed glance
at Maltese Moonbeam's fond romance
There's more to me than what they know
more passion than what I can show

The Maltese Moon, she smiles at me
For we have shared sweet ecstasy

Eileen Manassian


Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2016


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Without Lament

I have no sorrow, for sorrow is small,
And can't be held guilty for choices made.
Reflections are scrawled on mind's darkened wall,
Will leave a stain as they begin to fade.
Time passes without a sense of motion.
Silent dreams disappear with wrinkled skin.
A traveled path teams with life's emotion.
Leads from the world not to be seen again.
Though eyes perceive what the heart desires,
Long to conceive of perfection not found.
They see the way lighted by hopeful fires.
A clear path to stay on the fateful ground.

     The distance traveled, the lifetime spent.
     Hurried times unraveled without lament.


Copyright © Frederic Parker | Year Posted 2015


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I Think Of You - After The Fall - 5

I could have cried like a bride at a funeral
Bled out, dry. I could have but I was already
dehydrated...I

i think of you

I wish someone could turn the 
moon back on, turn the dimmer back up
on the stars. I can't stand these dark 
black nights void of even one tiny ray 
of light. I am tired of walking blind through
the evenings of my everyday life...I

i think of you

Yesterday I dreamt the night sky exploded.
Bright white pinholes of light appeared .
It was as if an invisible hand was holding a huge 
Fourth of July sparkler against a waterfall of black gold.
I watched the oil well blaze. The whole Earth was on fire.
The world was burning hot. Without fear I walked through 
the flames warm, comforted as if I was being held in his light...I

i think of you

Still in the grip of my sleep suddenly an ocean appears.
its water rises and shapes itself like the head of a dragon.
Its neck is shaped like a Chinese silk fan. At the same time 
it is just a huge wave. The kind surfers expect to find in heaven.
There is nothing threatening about this apparition.
Quite the opposite like the fire it feels as if it is a part of me...I

i think of you

Do I miss you? 
Miss you? I died with you! 
There's a knock at my door but I'm not here.
Life's going to have to wait. I'm in hiding.
I feel safe inside my walls. In reality my bedroom light
is all the outdoors I need. It is my Sun. I hate here without you. 
So I lie in my bed motionless starring into my nothingness and I...

i think of you

(Frozen!)

As time passes...introspective...I begin to understand.
The earth, the air, the fire, the water all the elementals are him. 

(I begin to thaw!)

He is with me even in my ignorance he has never left me. 
You can take the lord into your heart without a word by accepting his light.

(Slightly cold!)

A deeper, purer understanding. A trust that rejects the dark no 
matter how black. I am a part of all, a part of one as you are. A part of me. 

(Warm!)

I open my curtains...watch the dark exit
hurried as love rushes in. Firmly in his hold...I

I think of you...

Once again with you.
Fully! We...the power of one...I 

I think of us.

The Beginning!


March 25 2015
Armand






Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2015


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Try

Try to live
Try to feel pain with no tears
Try to remember years past and often lost
Try, oh try to know life need not be cold as frost

Ear not the words of those proclaiming silence
Listen to the rhythmic melody; give voice to a new start
The world will follow when you sing from your heart
Believing in things that some may only try

Try, to see, the truth is musical to you and all of thee
Telling histories with music, as soothing as can be
When you sing, and when you inspire our romance
Ones on crutches, they too shall rise and dance

Try, I beg
To see as eye
Even the ear is lost in the sky
Purest of hearts, they never die

Note: If you cant open the video, as sometimes different Countries have different copyrights, just search YOUTUBE for "Mandy Harvey: Deaf Singer With Original TRY"


Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2017


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and that comes from within


if I had all the money that I ever wanted,
                  I suppose that I could travel the world;

       live in a better home, buy designer clothes and stuff,

  if money was no object in my life . . . 

                     but you see money cannot help me,
each day my health is more delicate, slipping further away;

       and all the money in the universe will not change a thing,
                               this is my struggle and my daily reality . . . 

                                         the things I give myself are simple,

relaxing music to soothe this weary soul;
peace, tranquility and love to ease my pain,
and I ask the Lord for acceptance . . . 

             in meditation I try to fathom the why,
                                           
                      of course, with money I could go to a fancy retreat;
but a corner in my bedroom is set aside for meditation and relaxing,
and it is there I have placed peaceful things that cost very little . . . .

     perhaps with money I could get better drugs,
                but no drug is going to change this girl's destiny;

                                                this I know deep in my heart and soul, 
                       I have for a long, long time . . . 

I think a lot about my past and life so far,

                              the paths I took or did not take;
                              the things I said or did not say,
        could money have changed my journey in any way . . . 

                                     a warm bath, a cozy bed, a sweet purring cat,
                                                    paper and pen so I can write;
               my laptop within reach, a walk in nature listening to the birds,
      a loved one to hold my hand  . . . .

      these are my indulgences and they may not seem like much to you,

                              but I feel like the wealthiest person in this world;
              for money cannot buy happiness nor can it buy life,
                                      all I need is the indulgence of tranquility . . . 

                            ''and that comes from within''

____________________________
January 28, 2015

Narrative

Submitted to Contest 259, Brian Strand, Seventh Place

Submitted to, Poems That Are Soup Favorites, PD, Tenth Place

Submitted to, Indulgences, Shadow, First Place



Copyright © Dear Heart | Year Posted 2015


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AS FATHER IS TO HIS DAUGHTER


Passing through framed windows like ours, I recall your tales of reckless war and lost friends that burned your innocence at 21... and though you claimed flashes of courage, moist eyes poured vulnerability looking calm, undaunted. We both searched deeply into our souls as a father is to his young daughter, that I wanted to let you know, it was alright; but that mound of shoulders turned away. Down the years as officer and gentleman, Time stole long weeks, absent from your dining chair, leaving me resentful and bitter on hardened sills until you arrive under crawling dock of stars. But in free moments, how you cherished me so; waking my cheeks at 3 am to race the winds, to fly with a shooting neon, laughing with a blue moon. You spoke of faith and honor if life dared a shame, oh mild scent of your arms cuddling my girlish dreams... until off you rode suddenly on heaven’s wheel. I see you through all framed windows like ours, that even if my iced breaths needed you more as small flowers thirsted for rain, my anger was a cry for love’s company... “ I have adored you in moments of distance and nearness, if not always, then for all eternity.” Have I forgotten to open this, my soft, broken sigh? Dad, everything is all right. Ir0nic Zink's Your Personal Favorite Poem Contest Resubmitted 5/19/2017


Copyright © nette onclaud | Year Posted 2013


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I Think Of You - Where You Bloom - 4


A transparent melody paints the walls
in the coloured scent of fresh linen.

The changing of sheets in the morning air
can not erase our dance from evening last.

Outside a late spring asleep too long
with no blooms until June, awakens.

Fully opened September flowers 
perfume late night conversations.

Looking outside reveals
only one set of footsteps in both directions.

The days when I would watch you walk,
lagging behind with a smile.

The moss grows wild in the forest...
trees surrounded by families of mushrooms.

The word "family" 
so I...

An I for an I
and soon the whole world will be in love.

How I long your hug,
your body encompassing mine.

God exists
no greater proof...

With a single tear I
lay flowers where you bloom...and I

i think of you.




March 20 2015
Armand




Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2015


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winter's afterglow

stars twinkled brilliantly
against majestic snow-capped mountains,
delicate pure white flakes danced;
swirling, twirling, rhythmically.

she stood, nose pressed tightly
against the window pane; gazing in awe
at the magic the snowflakes created;
as tears spill from her emerald green eyes.

the cabin is warm, radiating a comforting glow
a fresh pine scent lightly sweetens the air;
she fights the memories, as she begins to shake.

fingers entwined, she tries desperately to hang on
be present in the moment;
"stop, stop, stop" she says, stomping her feet;
she falls to her knees; quivering. 

she holds tightly her arms and begins to rock,
feeling his presence in his favourite black sweater;
she cannot bring herself to take off.

giggling sounds permeate her thoughts
cocooned in his aura, his essence, his scent;
she feels his lips kiss the nape of her neck,
his strong hands caressing her hair.

she rocks and rocks, time ceases to stop,
as she falls deep into a rich
moulton pool; his smouldering brown eyes.

her lips part; barely into a smile at
his joy when he surprised her with the cabin; 
their oasis away from home.

she wipes away a tear, beams from within
as she recalls the snowball fight, he lost, she won.
he scooped her up, carried her with glee,
over the thresh hold of their cabin; 
their oasis; their heart's retreat.

a decadent white rug bought just for her
lay invitingly in front of the fire,
fiery orange embers crackled and glowed.
he gently laid her down; "my beauty" he said.

they drank champagne, drunk in each other,
wrapped up in his care, she felt peace.
as they lay basking in winter's afterglow,
he whispered "this is my time, i must go".

startled, she sat up, staring deep in his soul,
as snowflakes twirled and danced, 
fresh pine lightly sweetened the air;
he breathed one final breath; then he let go.

her screams were not audible, her body convulsed
as she lay on his chest; her heart; her home.
she cursed the night and winter's afterglow
sobbing "not him, not him, please take me too".

she fights to bring herself back
to the here and the now,
as embers slowly dim, she wobbily stands
clutching tenderly his urn, she must set him free.

the stars twinkled brilliantly
against majestic snow-capped mountains
she opens the window, where dreams breathed of life;

with tears cascading
she releases her love; her life;

to become one 
with the magic of;
winter's afterglow.


Copyright © Lynn Marie | Year Posted 2006


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Other Side of the Wall

Silence? or is that a cry I hear Screams? or is that memories hiding? Wall yes I listen to a wall days weeks forever A white wall stares back at me curiosity mounts I feel the wall whiteness blinds me My heart stops a rhythm still dances ah a smile crashes into me two yes two hearts one wall


Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2018


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If I never

If I never lift up my voice,
How will I know
How sweetly I can sing,
Or how well I harmonize
With the music of the universe?

If I never open up my heart,
How will I hear
The echo of its beating in time
With another,
Or the exquisite pain of love,
Or the infinite joy of forgiveness?

If I never open up my eyes,
How will I see
The beauty in a falling drop of rain,
Or the wonder in the vastness of the skies,
Or what the mirror tells me
In its stark honest reality?

If I never spread my wings,
How will I know
How high I can soar,
Or how far I can fly,
Or what it's like to race the moon,
Or dip my fingers in a cloud or touch a star?

I do not want bitter tears
Shed o'er my grave
For songs unsung, or deeds undone,
Or fruit untasted, or love untested.
When the time has come for me to leave,
There'll be no reason, then, to grieve.


Copyright © Jim Slaughter | Year Posted 2018


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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

©Donna Jones


Copyright © Donna Jones | Year Posted 2013


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Do Not Grieve Your Muse

              (For My Younger Self)



You have forgotten your muse.
You neglected her, in the hustle and bustle
of city life, in trying to carve a niche,
driving yourself too hard -
thinking it could make you rich.

She grieves.
Don’t you see her? She grieves.
How she longs to reunite with you
but you are far too busy, with everything new.
Too unmindful, too steeped in the practical
your change was so radical;
Too pragmatic, everything has become automatic.  
You have lost touch with your muse, 
no matter how she pleads you have become obtuse.
When will you reach into the softer, 
more introspective part of yourself?  
Please do not say, never.

Remember how you would write through the night
and people around you would wonder why…
Those moments were priceless, 
the times you communed with words so ageless
as you poured onto paper all your emotions -
In the night, you would write of happiness and pain,
of a young love, and of your simple dreams.

Go back to those simple dreams.
Do not allow yourself to be lost 
in the conundrum that is Life.
Step back, take stock, be still.
Find time for meditation, there is no condemnation
for those who acknowledge the need for salvation.
And as you find that inner peace, 
write once more.
Write, and write some more.  
Set free all those words that have long been kept
within your heart…the happy words, the sad words,
words both simple and intricate
that a reader will enjoy as he masticates
the meaning, the lesson, the joy and young wisdom.

Let your words dance…let your words s o a r !






31 October 2015
Poem of the Day 01 November 2015
Awarded 1st Place  -  What Would You Say Contest




Copyright © KP Nunez | Year Posted 2015


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A Poet's Cry



Wanting to leave a small footprint when  I die
I often ask myself that age old question "why?"
When the mask I wore is stripped away at last
Will I be just a pebble dropped in seas so vast
Might I scribble in the dust some sign that I was here
A word or phrase that might bring a smile or tear
Now that the days are marching toward December
When there is not but words, will anyone remember
A simple poet's cry; the chapter closed and done






Copyright © Barbara Gorelick | Year Posted 2015


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Hot And Cold Comes The Night


LIST POETRY - A FUTURISTIC INTERPRETATION
You must know I cried yesterday and I think I broke the world so I braided some words into twine planted some sweet and sour coated seeds I grew free standing expressions and then I joined them with left over thread to present these interlocking pieces in their proper order regardless of the number they wear in an attempt to confuse and deceive. I offer this humble list for your reading enjoyment It is an honour to have you visit my page. The pleasure I assure you is all mine WORDS ON PAPER - THE LIST FIVE I loved you centuries before we were born. You lived in my dreams before I ever slept. When others wasted time picking flowers I waited for when it was time to pick you. Love calls you in the natural scent of your partner. You'd feel their touch in the vacuum of outer space. Your desire for them would melt away the ice age. I want to find a door in the brightest part of the sky I could open to erase what was, to shine a light so bright it, like a book of golden words, would write ideas so vital as to eradicate even a suggestion of our mournful past. I want to be that magician who does not bother with illusion but rather heals wounds and shatters burden. TWO We were at the fair, joviality in the air. A memory filed, I was a young child holding balloons floating round like full moons in vivid colours bright. Fixed on this joyous sight I was on Cloud Nine proud these were mine. If I had not let go of them. If I hadn't watched them as they flew higher and higher as my heart sunk lower and lower I might of never learnt what it felt like - hurt. Hope gloats, hope floats. either your way or just away. THREE sometimes the afternoon sun is.....too hot to walk barefoot........on the concrete path still even then.......I refuse to wear my hat I guess I'll never change, I'm just like that. sometimes when I jump in the lake in late summer... with all of my clothes on...I do it in the evening......as I go down...way down to the bottom...there's a gentle peace overtakes me..I want to stay down like a rock... revel in the ecstasy...not swim back up..........not ever SEVEN ours was a paper mâché love living in a cut out cardboard home with a macaroni art painted lawn and nothing real to call our own nothing solid that we could hold. we tried stacking lego bricks but you have to be able to pop your cheek to qualify as a kid - to get a license to build. the castle we assembled didn't pass the test. so much for fairy tales - hello reality check. we rolled the dice but our thimble went straight to jail and our mouse ended up trapped. can you hear that buzzing the operation failed. where are you going? your tricycle is still in the shop and I might as well tell you..............I have no eights................."go fish!" we fell through the bunny hole where i - jack fell ddddownnn nnnnnnn and broke my crown and you - jill came tumbling aaaaaaaaaaafterrrrrrrrrrrrrrr EIGHT it is a choreographed ballet our love stands strong legs at the base digging deep build roots delicate hands branched out reach high long slim fingers define twigs draw space the body of our trunk thick sweet filled music fills our human needs one sound wind pixies dance meticulously the air sunlight leaks effectively through dark spots lifts carries holds and shapes our smiles it is a choreographed ballet our love in sync our bodies their senses once immersed in I now us ONE I know the last thing I want to feel as I leave this world, it is your lips on mine. When I take my last breath I want to feel yours with its loving touch. NINE Always, no matter the roar or intensity of the storm how severe the attack even out of the norm Always, i offer my hand with sincerity aim to deal with it peacefully. Always! SIX then suddenly it hits like a swarm of locus. a deep dark manifestation that greases my mind my very existence in its unforgiving sense of doom. every bone stiffens, when I move, a sound of dead dried out forest twigs breaking against the boots of hikers echoes in the confined space of my skull. i reach for a pill slowly it dissolves under my tongue i wait and i wait and i wait ... my body is soaked in a sweat with its own cold and hot tap. i assume the position, lying on an unstable floor. the creature depression is now in full control of my faculties. this too i will survive ...that is what i do...what i do...this is what i do.......somehow i survive. FOUR there is a deafening hush... silently raging through the core of my existence...still...I am humbled by the light and the love I have witnessed in my brief appearance...........here on Earth there is a river...that walks at my side... walks with me........at the same stride... April 14 2015 Armand


Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2015


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I Think Of You - At The Edge - 3


A reflection of the coloured pencil drawn sky
skates on the glass smooth surface below it.
While a rebellious group of shades take their positions 
on a glorious stage to express themselves artistically and
I...

i think of you

Wisps of clouds shaped like a palm leaf
fan the winds that stoke the fire
of a randomly sketched sunset.
I...

i think of you

The cool of an ocean breeze 
travels the shadows of this low lit evening.
Caresses my skin like the essence of romance.
Enthralled by the allure of a candle lit sky,
I...

i think of you...

Our French Bakery early mornings.
Café au lait and croissants.
Our freesia soaked baths.
Your mink soft body.
Its milk and honey scent.

As I fall off 
the edge of the world,
I...

i think of you.




March 19 2015
Armand






Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2015


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I Think Of You - Ground Zero - 1

I Think Of You - Ground Zero (Part 1)

Leaving under a blood moon
                in a jet plane rising
  los angeles falls behind me
and I...

You.
Two.

                              Clouds dance
            to the song of the spiders.
Latent sun rays fall on me like rain...I 

...They say third time's the charm.
On planes again.
A sky...endless... and then finally 
from the other end of the world to here.
A continent, an island,
an australian flower drunk on wine.
Her...uniqueness lends to her beauty.
...and I

A fourth night.
A church spire at sunset.
At a distance bats fill the sky,
resemble a smoke plume.
...I 

I plead the fifth.
It's all these moons.
Tonight a hunter's moon.
She's unable to hide 
even with her bowl of clouds.
It's no help.
She has no spoon.
                     Her luminous rays give her up.
Moonshine in the moonlight over the sea.
...I 

I count...five, 
six...on the beach.
A purple nightshade,
a sand flower,
Irish eyes speak uniquely to me.
....I 

I, you...
you can't roll a seven with one die.

Back on a plane.
A snow fog blinding.
From my window seat a one of a kind view.
Alone,
...I

 I eight...ate...need to eat.

Africa...a Safari.
A plant chloroform green
has holes like cheese.
A large swiss leaf.
I laugh and I...I distract myself.

A stitch in time beats nine.
 Back in North America.
A dilapidated fortress stares down 
an overwhelming thunderhead.
...I 

I camp out.
It requires a tenth...tent.
An Eagle never blinks.
No eye lids.
An unimpeded view.

...but I...I surrender.
There is no place in the world
I can escape.
...I 

i think of you.

You are living art.
Here.
Now.
What I perceive 
is what I live.
I perceive us.

I can picture you.
I am photography,
the camera, the lens.
I absorb your image,
process it.
A form of plagiarism

I didn't borrow.
I stole.
Inhaled you but 
...I
I dream
and I...

...i think of you.



Armand
March 11 2015






Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2015


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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 again
When evening tide returns

Their legacies erased each day
Another scout, another age
Will surely cast its prints anew


Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire | Year Posted 2009


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a new beginning

with each crest of a wave
forming white crystal peaks
she weeps, inhales, let's go.

beneath a star studded vista
a resplendent guiding light
arms open, palms up, she is free.

the soothing sea winds
carrying away her grief and sorrow
hands posed in devotion, she smiles.

in a seascape of serenity
her baptism place of choice
she steps forward, her new beginning.













02-17-2017


Copyright © Lynn Marie | Year Posted 2017


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Shadow of Death

My shadow flirts with the sun
As I caress the darkness
We are one and separate
As my shadow smiles
Anxiety suffocates me
The shadow will soon fade
I shall die
One happy, one not


Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2017


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The Blind Painter

There is a part of me missing
There is a part of me that shall never be
Inside of this dark sad brooding mind
Is the painter who will never see

So I take my pen, and vaso of wine
I contemplate
I get lost in the drunkenness of time
Stooped over my own memories on a sour palette

I had the brushes staring at the naked breast
My paints were frozen, at such beauties unrest
Erect and tall, at her feet I did fall
The blind painter, who lost it all

So now you see I am a poet of some seedy sort
Painting Braille, is poetry of my last resort
I write down words with the flourish of my pen
The Braille poet, cause painting I could not fend

I take words and wish them bountiful explosive colors
If only I had talent, a painter and not a story teller
So for me, in pain and clad in the cloth of sadness
I write words, for this painter has only Braille

I have no painting brushes
I possess no smile, wandering along on wistful miles
Of blindness, blowing in the winds of the frail
No map for the future, and yet I set sail

Hoping my words one day will be seen
By an artist who paints the soul and the serene
She takes my blindness and paints boldly my dreams
Taking my words, from Braille to bright pastel creams


Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2017