Best Introspectionmay Poems
To you
I am
your friend
your acquaintance
your daughter
your sister
your aunt
your cousin
your niece
your in-law
your neighbor
your girlfriend
your ex
your classmate
your coworker
your dealer
your customer
a poet
a comedian
a girl
a musician
a seamstress
an artist
a weirdo
a bore
a joy
But those of which
I am to you
are all the things
I could be, too
I may lend my ear
I may give advice
I may ignore you
I may not treat you right
I may have hurt you
I may have helped you out
I may have made you smile
I may have made you warm
I may have changed you into someone futile
I may have been cold
Before I am who I am seen as;
Before I am who I could be;
Know the written word
is what's in me
And it will always be who I truly am
Form:
STANDING STONE.
In my image of standing stone
I dared to move beyond
Chilled time lines
Or perhaps my physicality
Will evolve
Like unto some warm flesh
Exposed to the wintry rains
Or to vagrant summer nights.
I may be a word
In constructions of dreams
An angelic legend serrated
With wings clipped
An eagle soarful of
The harassed heights
Spurred by winds
Of the plaited horns.
The bright white
Lights of afternoons
Will snatch horizons
From trembling shadows
And might smuggle in
A maudit melancholy
To upset prescribed sermons.
With cut face
Within my stony profile
With chipped voices
Within my throat
A circular solitude
Within my dreams
I may be ready to scribe
Some strange tales
Quilled in dripped bloods
For annals of the unknown.
I wish not to be the president
For I shall not sleep at wish
I wish not to be the lawmaker
For I may break them
I wish not to be a judge
My son may be docked before me
I wish not to be a priest
I might not heal the sick
I wish not to be an actor
Someone might call me indecent
I wish not to be a teacher
I might teach outdated principles
I wish not to be an executor
I might execute someone for a crime
I also committed some time ago
All I wish is to be me
Living life as it unfolds
Form:
A worthy man would hope to be
With esteem that stays his course
That from youth will ere agree
To carry pride thru best or worse
Though mind may own a driving storm
He withers not from errant stray
And when the sun appears each morn
He rises high to meet the day
Choice may come to essay worth
With shoulders high in redress of luster
Softly, quietly, he values berth
With dignity of life's muster
Form:
He may have worn my father's uniform,
lived next door five years ago,
took communion with my uncle
each night for a year
in the jungles of Vietnam
but the familiar heap
though weak and unthreatening
is dangerous.
I may feel shame,
tossing him a five
and whispering a Merry Christmas
when I know that his will be
a melancholy meal spent
at Saint Peters (if he gets there early)
and that he would be able
to comfortably forget the holiday
if not for donors like me
mumbling guilty-good wishes.
but I can only see
the shivering heap
asking me to forget
my society taught survival instincts
to invite danger
into my locked car,
behind my locked gate,
into my locked home
and into my locked heart
that cannot afford to lose faith
in yet another human being.
If I were to make my X-wife’s fury into a Star Trek analogy
It may end up looking quite similar to the Wrath of Khan
Each bridge red and smoky, ‘Red Alert’ til it’s annoying
As I ask for counsel from my trusted, “Suggestions, Mr. Spock”
"If we are all one
And there is no separation
Perhaps the birth pains have begun
For your soul’s evolution
Perhaps she is you
All the while you are she
Now the test is what will you do
To your ‘perceived’ enemy?
Possibly my most helpful tip
If you want to move to another level
If you were to destroy her ship
You may really destroy yourself
This scenario is quite similar
When the transporter had that quirk
When you beamed through the transporter
Producing a ‘good’ and an ‘evil’ Kirk
There is no logic to her actions
Evidence this is an illusion
Maybe the test is your reaction
To this potential self destruction
Perhaps now you must decide
If the events you see are real
Thus the question from your guide
Can you learn to lower shields?"
So how much time would it take to unlearn reality?
Perhaps this is the illusion for me to build upon
But I remember finding out that my accounts had been depleted
And my red-face bobble-head furry as I scream aloud “KHAN!!!!!!!!!!
…………..CON!!!!!!!!.........................................................
………………………………………………KHAN!!!!!!!.....................
……………………..CON!!!!”
Form:
Getting older, mortality is questioned.
Never knowing how long is left.
Has enough been done thats right?
Has everything tried been done to the best?
Doubts and regrets sometimes cloud the vision.
Sometimes judgments given carry there weights.
The path taken may not always have been right,
Maybe time has changed and made the road better.
Maybe those looking into memories will remember,
The colorful child of long past with kindness and love.
For it is time to remember the effort made and forgive.
The smile and flamboyant youth may be fading, not dead.
Maybe somewhere in the passing from this world,
Colors effervescent will bring back the warmth once held.
For all have unique roads to travel, challenges to meet.
All one can ask is to have left there hues of heart behind.
Getting older, mortality is questioned.
Never knowing how long is left.
Has enough been done that's right?
Has everything tried been done to the best?
DOREEN CYR
OCTOBER 17
Form:
I am a thought do not be afraid,
I talk a lot for I have plenty to say,
simple reminders that may hurt just a little,
but the pain is a reminder that you're still alive,
hold on, grab tight, this ride is not over,
the ups and the downs may make you sick,
but once more I ask you to not be afraid,
for without me you can only know disarray.
Am I lost?
Am I tired?
Am I forgotten?
Am I unknown?
Am I unseen?
Oh that I may find rest
It is all my body longs for
Oh that I may find quiet
It is all my ears long for
Oh that I may find peace
It is all my soul longs for
I grow weary of the fights
I grow weary of the shouting
I grow weary of the double edged sword
I grow weary of not knowing whether today you will stand by me
Or not
Oh that I may sleep
And forget the worries of the world
Just for a moment
Just for a minute
Just for a day
I am burnt out
And need my rest!
Form:
scared to wake up everyday
you the ones like me
know who i am speaking of
the morning begins with a rude slap from the alarm buzzer
work calls for some like me
and although the morning may start out sunny and bright
it may turn a murderous black
and flit from shades of grey off and on for hours ...
this murderous black
unpredictable in nature
can
when provoked
spill out into murderous rage - splattering innocent bystanders with rains of the past
so scared to wake up everyday
you the ones like me
know of whom i am speaking to
and i have no answers
no solutions except to learn to feel compassion for yourself
expand it outwards
even outwards more
and by consistency
perhaps one day
rainbows will come out to play.
Form:
Wild hair, veiling her eyes
A curtain, an ocean's corral spiraling down
A crescent wave rippling across the faded sight
But no mask, no veil, blocks the looks exchanged
Revealing the reality inside.
A window detained
From the secret that lies
The truth told through a distance glance
A stare that implies
The withering cold
Beneath the falling eyes.
Why whisper false words
For the tongue may lie
But the look may not
For in her disbelief
Its masking deceptions essentially dies.
Some may see my posts,
A few others more than most ,
As you read between the lines,
Sometimes freed within the rhymes.
I may write so you can see,
There are times when you are me,
As I've walked within your shoes,
And have lost what you may lose...
Though you may not understand,
Every scribe as it demands,
Just don't hastily read through,
Take your time relive the clue...
Because theres always one I'll write,
That may shed a little light
And may bring you some resolve,
Or relinquish and dissolve...
See there's others on your list,
Who just may be seeing this,
And may need to hear me say,
What they feel in just this way...
My daydreams have a mind of their own
A life of their own
And I'm just another character
From another world
Trying to find my home
And I switch between
Nightmares and sweets
Just like night and day
And you may wonder why my heart beats
It's just its way
And even though this world adheres
To some degree of my design
You may find it weird
That it's hard to find a place to define
As mine
Form:
He may be a friend
A lover, a sister, a brother
Some kind of kin
But,
Their are five minute's
That I may never get back
That was on the eve
It was a silent attack
When all the Snail's came
In a pact
And thing's even get
More fuzzy than that
Yes, we should pay attention
For what we say and do
And make sure that only
Good thing's get back to you
They are slow to react,
They are hard to track,
Know that they are serious
And will strike right back
-
I never met many
Yes, I know it's a fact
But, Hell hath no furry
Like that,
Where their a no
Honorable
Mentions' either!
GF
the engine revs as we wind it out
a relationship entwined with passion and doubt
we fine tune the rattles, switch out the oil
long may we run, long may we run
we pump in gas and take to the road
never a smooth track, sometimes overload
as we hit the brakes, downshift to low
long may we run, long may we run
we run on fumes and the motors heat
good times and bad thrown in the backseat
toss in change for the tolls and onward we go
long may we run, long may we run
memories that we stow in the trunk
with a spare, a jack and miscellaneous junk
over each bridge and some excruciating bumps
long may we run, long may we run