Best Introspectionlight Poems


Premium Member Dreaming of Jemez

It had been a long day,
a rainy day,
outside my window,
a clearing sky
caught my eye,
with thunder heads
just past by
and a setting sun,
I knew I would have
that perfect moment,
the light was right,
the canyon shadows
were deep,
grabing my camera,
and out the door,
knees that hadn't worked
for years danced
over brush and rocks,
scattered jack rabbits,
and made it to the
canyon's rim,
to capture the perfect
moment of cloud,
and light and 
and amber glow.
Thank the gods
that I can still run
in my dreams.

Paintings In the Sky

Ever wonder
Who paints the skies?
Who bares his soul to the world
On his pallet of crystal blue?

Perhaps a warrior,
Borne on wings of steel,
Carves into the heavens tales
Of war and death and glory
Bold strokes of red and yellow
Tales of greed and hate and pain
Tales of valor and strength and might

Perhaps a virgin,
With hair of gold and wings of silk
Painting stories of love and care and joy
Against a soft dark blue
Glistening with the magic in her soul
Confined within a glass box
Pushed further into darkness
So that the radiance only just seeps through
To light up our night sky

Perhaps a God,	 
Showing us simply that His world,
Our world, is filled with love and hate
Righteous and vile
And after every moonless night
Comes a radiant dawn
To once again light the way
And pour its radiance into the souls of the lost

Or perhaps we each paint our own skies
And see them through our own eyes
Behind which gaze a warrior, a virgin, and a God.
© Moose Bak  Create an image from this poem.

A Patron of Shallow Light

I don't often greet 
disciples 
of Midnight anymore.

I'm so empty, so hungry
for places more vast 
than what my mind contains,
so weary 
of being the keeper 
of my own fate.

I still wonder what truths
are concealed 
behind burnished seals 
of constellations

but I'm too tired 
to witness the sequined, 
star-coded riddles 
that hint at prophesies sewn 
into the folds 
of small hours

and the flow 
of wide, serous-steel veins 
that wound darkness
as the moon 
is slain in fair deaths.

I used to shiver 
anticipating the feeling 
of some strange 

Knowing

that animated skin with goose-flesh
and eroded bones with gravity
as if both 
would seek to diffuse into night
and abandon me 
as a pile of human pulp.

I tell myself that I am too old,
too sensible 
to make wishes on stars
or search for optimistic omens
among symbolic stickers affixed 
to God's great ebon envelope.

Instead, 
I seek direction 
from the silence of my senses,
in the dullness that comes 
with light without depth,
work without pleasure

and I am bled 

by symptoms of naked hours
and loneliness,
swathed in the patient void
of bright, bulbous deities
that allow no light to assume
greater clarity or purpose 
than theirs.


The Cynic

Trust not, know not,
Love not, show not,
In the midst of such vague
expressions, lies the life,
of the pessimistic cynic,
or rather the temperament
born from his solitude,
a solitude which remains fortified,

Hope not, see not,
Free not, be not,
are the unwritten rules
of his constant confinement,
Faithless and motionless
due to comfortable surroundings,
He sees the world through logical,
eyes from the darkest spectrum,

As light is merely the wrapping
paper over the ugliest truth,
Illuminated paint covering walls
that shall forever remain the same
Yet the appeal is incredibly seductive,
The brighter allure of hope keeps light desirable
Whereas his view has no seduction,
merely the fact of being fact,

Thus he embraces not corruption,
nor does he take pride in eradicating
any sheltered scent of optimism,
For he too would enjoy a moment
of essential ignorant indulgence,
if only to know the touch of acceding,
Yet he chooses not to, despite his
opinions condemned to being despised,
He sleeps in his only comforting reward,
the serene knowledge that he helps
truth be seen, known, and heard...

Pain

A heart fragmented like shards of glass 
Shards of glass each one stabbing
Stabbing pains searing a mind
A mind demented by torturous lies
Torturous lies kept in darkness
In darkness a cry not heard in the solitude
In the solitude of the suffering 
The suffering that keeps the light subdued
The light subdued dulls the senses
The senses held tight in a body recoiled
A body recoiled, longs for absolution
Absolution entrusted by enchanted souls
Enchanted souls dancing 
Dancing in the light of hope
Hope and dream in the silence 
The silence escapes when walls come down
Down where sweet voices sing
Sing into the wind and be carried
Carried off on an angels wing

Response To Matthew

Mother and Father
as I release this bind,
I walk into individuation
and free myself of time.

I am female and male
wrapped into one.
I sew together duality
and return to the sun.

My light burns through me
and resist I will not.
Please pray with me
 as I choose an open heart.

I am now peace.
Something I had forgotten.
My spirit within me 
has now risen.

Married to my soul
is my devotion now.
No Thing is able to move
this choice I bestow.

My flame is so vibrant 
that all whom pass through it
will warm themselves with nurture
or run with a fevered conflict.

Be in this holy light with me
or choose another path to see.
The threshold is here
and the truth resonates divinely.


Scye By the Bye

Jay:  
I can not see the stars in the city;
But they can see me.
I can see the brightest ones;
So they can still guide me.
So it doesn't matter;
I know they are still out there.
Even if the sky is covered with clouds;
They are copper colored clouds that still light my way.
And will never leave me in the dark.

My eyes hold light.

Stu:
So close yet so far;
So bright in a galaxy of darkness;
Glitter on the canvas of the cosmos;
Each spec, a speck;
Colossal size;
For light to meet our eyes;
Where even the biggest,
Has no comparison in size;
Big or tall,
Bright enough to be seen by all.

Jay:
Our eyes hold light.

The Cavern of Solitude

The echoes reverberate, bouncing off distant walls like little rubber balls
Until they slowly conjugate into a meaning that’s leaning towards sanity
Dripping with profanity, as it slides inside my mind with its insidious intent
Hell bent on creating distress, as the shadows begin to coalesce into solid form
They transform, through shapes shifting and sounds drifting, it comes into place
Those words I could not erase, feelings rushing and pushing, like an angry crowd
Smothering like a shroud, drowning in the waters of guilt, in this cavern I’ve built

Racing through this barrenness, this construction of my own destruction
Adding excess to my distress, with heart hammering, nerves clamoring, I go on
The conclusion long forgone, beyond realization and revelation it hides in the dark
The great white shark, that’s calling for this morsel that’s falling into open jaws
No time for pause, the acid eating from within, formed from sin and consuming all
On this painful fall, through darkened caves and freezing waves of deep revulsion 
Causing juddering convulsion, lying on the rock floor, breathing no more, dying alone

Esfahan beckons, a hot shining light so painfully bright on delicate balls 
Scant remaining seconds are all it takes, no more mistakes can we afford
Crawling toward the sweet luminosity, through harsh viscosity on bleeding knees
Becoming Japanese, remembering all the obligation and dedication that it portends 
On wings it transcends, that cloying coil and breaking toil to find a sparkle of peace
The hope of release stretches like a coiled snake with shining wake before the eyes
With absolute cries, all light disappear as he appeared and existence slowly died

Unreleased

So today im sitting here 
Brooding, Pondering 
about things and words 

I sit in a dimly lit room and wonder
Why is it so dark in here
and why so light outside?

Cause darkness seems to follow me 
And in a way im embracing the isolation that comes along with it.

See yesterday sat painted for the first time in a long time 
in the same dimly lit room
Today only to discover that 

what i had painted 
Looked like a rainbow 
and i didn't even know it 

Im thinking about things that i know are fact 

A few of which are.

Without dark there would be no light 
and in the end every color in the world eventually turns to black.

So now im wondering,
Is it bad to sit alone 
Here, In my dimly lit room?

Or is it a natural progression of things
And maybe, Just maybe the darkness inside of all of us 
Is really what makes the light 


For there is beauty in the breakdown

Flying Solo

A black Ocean consumes
as it pours forth 
splitting heaven,
as stars fall to comets
and vortex into my
gasping mouth,
I swallow
every last spec of light 
in my world


so overwhelmed
I spew endless streams
of angered refusal
and splutter embers


as my mouth burns
in the light of ever’s
I now know


to deny 
from the world
the smallest scrap 
of glimmers
is not to live


swimming free 
from oceans
and regurgitated


Now,
I stand on 
virgin beach
alone 


consumed in light

Cool Blue

what you do not feed will burn itself out

disconnect ....

from malcontent

  ...cool removal

just bouncing light off

like a cool moon.

 gasoline

...searching  for a match

   step back  .

 

what you do not feed will burn itself out

the sacred, exquisite paradox

too busy making love to unworthiness

 tangled inside your own entrails

mis-reading the message of cowrie shells

 

what you do not feed will burn itself out

moving back into the abstract

fodder for the storm

thunder rolls

birthing rage

  ...caged

so I move into blue

 ....lighter shades of cool

..waters to douse the fires

the ire swells and flows

 ..vacuums of light and Indigo

that cool place  

 ..of fierce grace

 

(c) Katherine Wyatt 2010

Premium Member Light Within the Dark

Blind within my dark, I've stumbled and I've faltered
confused and full of fear, not knowing what is real.
I've sinned and made mistakes, have fought my share of demons
I've prayed for death to come to end the way I feel.

Though I've known much pain and had my share of sorrows
and on my burdened soul lay sins that I contrive.
Still within the dark there is a light that shines there
and with His guiding light I know I will survive.

Through His word He's said that all the things I've come to
are the things that He has wanted me to know.
I pray to be forgiven, for strength and the endurance
to make it to the day His reasons He will show.

My soul is light and dark and it has many facets
has felt the Holy Spirit, has known both joy and love
but even when it's black it still does not know hatred
for this and so much more I'm blessed by God above.



Inspired by Michael Jordans Share Your Soul contest

Days Are Numbered

Days are numbered!

Days of darkness without end
 Madness scourge has come again
Numbers will be known and then
Warriors, white light will defend

Evil is an evil vile 
 nasty bitter constantly
Never let the beast beguile,
 use you treat you wantonly

White of light do use it well,
 Darkness can seduce you too,
Therein lie the fires of hell, 
Dodge it sidestep it wants you

Don Johnson

Secret Garden

This is my secret garden. 
Where feelings ripen and harden. 
Perpetual light shined on this plain.
Now the light is starting to wane. 

The beauty that lives inside, 
is all but lost to the outside. 
It tried to bloom and show you its splendor. 
You didn't want it, so it had to surrender. 

It went down without a fight. 
Now it sees only the blackness of night. 
The garden wanted nothing but to please. 
The owner of it, must watch it freeze. 

All his intentions and dreams,
were ripped apart at the seams. 
Now everything he is will be lost. 
No one cared, so he paid the final cost.
© Chris Matt  Create an image from this poem.

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