Best Introspectionlife Poems
Isn't it strange?
How with time are feelings we
rearange.
When you've taken the time yet it seems they havent
finished the song.
When you've found yourself some place
you dont belong.
So far from that which you were.
So burnt out from life it all seem's
a blur.
Old stories.
shared memories of forgotten glory.
Am I just a loser to ignorant to admit
when he's wrong
have I woke from a well ment
dream.
to find myself some place I dont
belong.
Some place were even the water is as harsh as whiskey.
gone so far I question does anyone miss me.
I wonder have I burnt thoose briges beyond
repair.
as i question have I become
to jaded to care.
So beaten by life it's a losing battle to appear strong.
Life it seems has left me some place I dont
belong.
She spent
her evening with a
friend named Jack. Jack
stood out like a volunteer, making
no apology for himself (though he forward
marched through her life like a
soldier's foot-stomp parade,
minus pomp minus
circumstance).
Jack always
took his possessions at
first ever impulse, that is
to say he was the type of
man who could "carpe diem" with the
best of them. She agreed. "Play
the horn play the drum", she
thought, while given
to him.
Jack always
left his possessions at
second glance. He was the
nothing-to-show-for-it type of man.
She did not want him to return. She did
want him to return. He did not
want to come home. He
did want to come
home.
She spent
her evening without
a friend named Jack, who
steals the thunder. Jack sat on the
shelf like streamlined vodka. Apologetically,
he backward marched a Saint Louis
funeral-in-reverse. She
then nursed a wound
to remember
him by.
(Author: Chad Wood - This poem was entered in the contest "Create Your Own Form, Maybe
?" sponsored by Constance ~ A Rambling Poet! ~ Form: Call this the "In and Out" form. The
stanzas have ten lines each, which expand and retract, with subject matter about 'something
in life that comes and goes', can be as many or as few stanzas long as wished)
On the edge of the void, that's where we must be.
Somewhere between the thrill of taking your life into your own hands and the cold
realisation that you are finally in control of your own destiny is where you learn to
really live.
It is not the same for you and I, each of us must find our own void and peer
carefully over the edge, for we are human and we must look, or wither away, but to
carelessly leap into the void would surely mean destruction.
So we tread the fine line of life and hope that one day we shall learn to fly and bask
in the glory of that we can only watch from a distance.
A Poet , a dreamer , a man named Michael.
Named after my father and also a saint.
Drifting through time with my pen I paint.
Just a soul gliding in and out of God's cycle.
My name is known as the Godfather's last son.
Also a star who wore a little white glove.
But mostly just me who writes from love.
An Angel I'm not , but there's no harm in my fun.
Though I'm not Michael the second.
I tried to fill my dad's big shoes.
We coached together whether win or lose.
Such times imbedded in my heart as his son.
Now my own man and later in life poet.
I share my life in words to those who can't see me.
I hope to touch a few of those who read and feel me.
Each new write is another way for me to show it.
Now you have a clearer view of Michael your friend.
A confused life at times but now has found his sight.
With Rosanna by my side all is good, and life is just right.
I'm stronger for it all and never will this heart bend.
"What's In a Name Contest" by The Sweetheart of Poetry Soup
I, exist between me and myself,
in an ever deepening void.
Whatever angle life is dealt,
of emotions, it seems devoid.
In an ever deepening void,
I realize, I'm slipping away.
Of emotions, it seems devoid.
Yet, so comforting, I think I'll stay.
I realize I'm slipping away,
as I gaze at myself in the mirror.
Yet, so comforting, I think I'll stay.
I am my own souls bearer.
As I gaze at myself in the mirror,
I see what lies beyond my own eyes.
I am my own souls bearer.
How could I not have realized?
I see, what lies beyond my own eyes.
Whatever angle life is dealt,
I am my own soul's bearer.
I exist, between me and myself.
Contest: Pantoum Me
Placement: 4th
Ninety years old a life fulfilled
The things I've seen and done
Sometimes filled with heartache
And others just memories of fun
My wedding day jitters I'll never forget
The happiness and joy I felt
The day I met my Saviour
As I went to the altar and knelt
In college I was the Leader
That everyone aspires to be
I was the one calling the shots
The rest were just following me
High school was my careless years
And girls were my reason to live
I remember how my direction in life
Was based on the guidance you'd give
Would I ever catch the tooth fairy
As she crept beside my bed
And I knew that santa and Jesus was real
Just because you said
These memories for me could have come true
And my life been long on this earth
But for me this life was not to be
For I was aborted at birth
This piece was not written to judge anyone, only to encourage much thought and prayer
before making such a big decision
As I reflect for a moment to consider my content,
My soul is astonished to decipher a life well spent.
I hope it's not my mood that will soon pass away;
But rather, a truth that I will discover today.
You see, I have pouted for most of my existence
Despite a determination that kept me going the distance. .
Wealth has escaped me, and beauty has crept away
Struggle has been my partner as I've ventured everyday.
Being my worst enemy is an emotion I have mastered
While defeats overshadow my accomplishments ever after.
And, I've often declared that should I ever pass away,
It should be memorialized as being my happiest day.
So, I stand here bewildered by the notion I am teasing
I'm blindsided thinking that life might have been pleasing.
I have slipped on my journey, but never did I fall-
Maybe the universe has blessed my life path after-all
And if so, how could my thinking have been so corrupted
And, why is my mindset being so sweetly interrupted?
Whatever the reason and for whatever the measure
I welcome the enlightenment and delight in the pleasure.
Have you ever heard the sound that silence stirs
it is a sound like no other…as if nothing could possibly ever own an echo
a pair of feet going the wrong way on life’s clearly marked paths
Have you ever heard the sound of someone trying not to breath
no air in…no air out…no air out…no air in…no risk…no gain…nothing ventured…or lost
almost as if life itself enjoys the mockery….no life in…no life out..no winner…no loser
Have you ever heard the sound of someone slipping through the cracks
for one brief second a desperate plea of some sort wrangles your audience
save me….grab me….if you save one person in your life…let it be me….let it be today
Have you ever heard the sound of a whysp wandering idly
a gentle swish surrounds a moment not quite ready to be more than a tic or a toc
more…more than what……what can a whysp possibly wish to be…
....listen closely
Irish
Once again a life suspended
to save a grounded fledgling.
Only now the chicklet
weighs more than me, indeed
weighs more than the whole nest!
A life deferred, indeed all dreams,
with less and less time
to be fulfilled.
Now's not the time to be all
desperate.
accept the weight for now, just
one more testing.
Gently push, without damaging.
How do you save your child when
he cares less about his life than,
you do?
I try to get inside your head and snoop
around a bit. I see common folk around,
most are decent, alone or in a group.
Most can look you in the eye and not bound
to stare you down or contest a bit of ground
unless their child or life be threatened. They go
to work, do their jobs, pay their bills and sound
no alarms unless they are really merited. And so
I'm curious as to what makes you tick.
At what point in your life were you capable
of sending innocents to their death. What trick
did you pick up that makes you so able
to ignore the casualties. How do you sleep?
Do you hear the screams? Do you ever weep?
it's times like these when you are at your lowest point
when you are on your knees with your head held down
oh , how vulnerable you must be
Get up
and get that dirt off of your jeans
Don't let them see you like this
Oh, please just rise up and realize that your life has meaning
You're so much stronger than you look
I swear, just don't turn your back on the ones that you love
the ones who never gave up on you
you push, you pull, you thrive to survive
but how can you succeed when you haven't even opened your eyes
it appears that you have hit rock bottom but you just need to stop following the trends and
beliefs of this dying generation
oh yes, stand up, rise above, with both of your eyes wide open
Live your life and know what it means to succeed
Be yourself and live to live
Not just to breathe
These leafless trees remind me
of the ebb and flow of soul...
As the sun slides lazy through a thoughtless gray sky
my mind is forced into misanthropic musing,
watching the tumble of deadened leaves tustling
by way of an influential breeze
The blazing summer life, now just an afterthought...
the euphoric encounters all memories so instantly distant
...could they be just dreams? Yet the sights so vivid...
sounds piercing beautifully into willing eardrums audience
Her laugh and "sunny day" way of saying anything at all....
I can still tast her lip gloss and sugar coated optimism
No, this is no dream...the contrast between here and then
is so stark it can only be but an impossible yesterday left lingering
like the last life you lived but cant recall.
Now consigned to nostalgia like a security blanket
faded and wearing to paciphy nothing at all
Here is the season of holding breath til one day
I might breathe fresh and newer life like springtime
This cycle is mine to bear...
...a fair weather phoenix rising and falling all too often
In my eighteen wheeler rolling, I am like a salmon fish in the rapids shoaling! Spawn’s flowing
next generation’s showing! Black smoke a rolling from smoke stack.
I am laid back, I don’t snort crack, I take time to stop and get some java black, and hit
sleeper sack! I don’t let my mind get out of whack!
Even my cb handle is, ‘Laid Back’, I acquired the name way back, in driving school, I live
good life jack!
“Laid Back”, my cb handle on the radio, and my 460 Cummins an’t slow, she’ll blow and go,
she climbs Cabbage mountain in a snow, “good buddy, come back!”
I hear drama queen, playing her scene, on cb radio, her sultry voice saying, “I am Back!”
Inviting me to stop at a TA travel stop, telling me what all kind of food they got, I tell her I
am already late, can’t stop!” Been there, done that, all they got is slop!
Again I hear drama queen, cussing a stream, saying, "you’re the lying-est S.O.B. I’ve ever
seen." But I am not mean, I just don’t make this type scene.
I pull over on shoulder to miss lost tire tread called an alligator, as a 40 pound possum, runs
under my trailer, meeting his alter meta.
A beautiful dream, the trucker scene, all the world I mean! I’ve not been mean, I am laid
back. And I don’t let my mind get off track! Don’t smoke dope! Don’t get on that slope!
I am laid back! I stay on track! I am Love, I live, that’s what I give. So if you want to live,
Love is what you give.
To live laid back, you must stay on track. And out of drama queen’s sack. For she has that
knack, to draw you back, into a life of your mind that’s cracked, a life minus Agape fact.
It’s time for humanity to pull over and rest, from a mind of fest. This trucker wishes you all
the best, be Love’s guest. For of a mind of fest, your life can become a mess. Be laid back,
keep your mind on a reality of Love’s fact! I am drew back ,“I am Laid Back!”
Placed #4
Life changes as the seasons do, first our youth along with spring
As all earthly things begin to wake, our life also has its beginning
Birds spread their wings and learn to fly, green grass reaches for the sky
We do the same while we can, never stopping to ask why
Like teens do, the summer too, never stops to rest
While they last, we think these years will somehow be our best
Things are in bloom, we take long days cues
Our bodies growing, thinking life lasts forever too
With middle age, brings routine, as does the coming of fall
Families, work and getting gray, as leaves turn color after all
We find those things that we love dear, and bring them near
As all migrating things, do year after year
But the end of life, along with winter's chill
If prepared for, can be better still
Like wild things do, gather things you know
You need and spend it sitting by the fire's glow
©Donna Jones
I drag my life as excess packages
in the bag lady’s cart.
Dropping my ingenuity in puddles behind doorways,
the sleeping cats hiss their start,
interrupted from their dreams.
Solace in solitude has no voracity,
Yet solitude drapes around me it seems,
as cynicism backs up to yellowing pale of mediocrity,
My life flows backward rewinding to the place
found in the innocence of youth.
To the days when wonder unfolded
with temple like aura, a masterful truth.
Truth is no longer a valid argument for me.
As her smile, there are too many interpretations.
Hiding in the folded arms of escape
I cringe with trepidation.
Self confidence seduces me, it fills my cup with excuses.
Then, forced to drink my own despair.
I choke on the words that are not there
and sip the silence mendacity peruses.
Can I have my life again?
Not the politically correct version cloned?
I can say now what I couldn’t say when
on the top floor of Wall Street, I was owned.
© 16 Dec 2010 Charles Henderson
For Paula's "You can say it now' contest