Best Introspectionme Poems
You taught me how to
love and laugh
You taught me how to
cry
You taught me how to
Stand my ground
You taught me not to
lie
You taught me how to
follow my heart
You taught me how to
Take pride
You taught me how to
be prepared
You gave me wings to
fly
But Daddy you forgot to
teach me
how to say
goodbye.
Did you say you want to know me?
Which me could that be ...
which of the what-evers that were me when?
The one from way back then
with pigtails flying behind
already learning to hide pain
to become another Me
that no one could see
unless they looked real close?
Looked at the daughter, the sister,
the student, the friend, the worker,
the lover, the wife, the drunk.
The Momie me, the widow,
the divorced me ... twice ..
the divorced from me Me.
Which role to know?
Age brings them to an end,
no more parts to play, no pretend,
no stage or lights, only lines etched by time.
Naked we arrived to life.
Naked we leave emptied
of all the layers of all the Me.
Perhaps we will know
in that other place, that other space,
where souls become We.
Something shining, glinting in the Darkness,
golden points of light stare back at me,
and tell me just where the predator hides,
waiting to spring upon me.
Will the beauty tear me apart?
Or will it leap in play,
purring like a kitten?
The mirror clouds over,
hiding what it sees.
And I know, the danger lies within.
The Virgo In Me
A virgin goddess, pure simple mind
A fervour in heart, kindness for mankind
Always yearning for eternal youth
In search of undying truth
High aims of touching the sun
Enjoys the company of the young
A craving for perfection as close as it can be
That’s the Virgo in me
Little actions and deeds observed
But very easily perturbed
Even if a dear one steps out of bounds
I’m ever ready with my sharp bullet rounds
People adore me for my abilities
Oh my it is the Virgo in me
I’m famous for my devotion
My heart an ocean of emotions
Its love that makes me passionate
Trying to immerse my loved ones in it
I’m often quite forward and bold
But nerves quiver turning me cold
No chains bind me, a spirit free
Oh yes it is the Virgo in me
18/06/2011
By-Tahera Mannan
Is it not enough that you’ve hung me beside
myself from your fraying rope - tendered by
graying wooden clips with rubber fingers?
Must we really soak on dry until we are sepia
toned under-developed photographs, left on fix?
Why is it you still feel the need to marinate
my every flexed tendon in formaldehyde?
Is it the slow bumping up against red glass
that turns you on; that you relish? Or simply
the come-hither thrill of the bottled hunt?
Watching our developing forms (and by ‘our’,
I mean me and myself - I left the party half
cocked and ready for more long ago) submerged
beneath the red tinge of shadow forms split at
the wrists - dividing one truth from the
next - your tapping, impatient, ready to dance
fingers drumming my convoluted tumbler to
halves; throwing tomatoes, cabbage and micro-
brewed beer bottles at my smiling face as it
develops, appearing as every God damn thing
you never could do; slowly, quickly emerging
hung on the next pin over.
O’ how you hate that photo!
The one where I’m smiling and you’re not.
The one where I know who I am, and you
don’t. The one where even though there are
two of me; there are, (at last count) 10,000 of
you. And if you could see your own face through
the wide V darkroom dusk looking back at
yourself, you would see that sometimes even
the best photographers get it wrong. Sometimes,
all there is, is shadow covering up the best parts,
leaving no room for light meters, fixer, or dull
graying clips clutching white Mickey Mouse fingers,
forcing the image still.
© Kristin Reynolds 5 7 09
I penned a couplet for you today.
Rather, a quill manipulated
my hand and scrawled mendacity.
The misanthrope's who read the ode
applauded with flippers on.
Such insight. Such depth.
Mussolini meets Monet and
the Mephistopheles Mambo mounts.
Call me a scribe and I murder myself.
Call me a liar and I impregnate your charm.
I purposely dislocated my arm today.
Rather, your tongue severed bone
and flesh was torn from my shoulder;
a needed braised boomerang
to stimulate my poetic prowess.
Such clarity. Such wisdom.
Lenin leads Lichtenstein and
the Lucifer Lindy is launched.
Call me a poet and I gnarl my fingers.
Call me a fabulist and I bow to a crooked smile.
A jellyfish swam through my veins today.
Rather, the tentacles of a tyrant
triggered a fabricated Tanka.
Maudlin stumbles when I laugh alone -
more comedic when we cackle together.
Such simplicity. Such compassion.
Bundy befriends Berchtold and
the Beelzebub Bossa Nova begins.
Call me a dramatist and I gag upon reflection.
Call me a simpleton and your wishes are granted.
I solemnly yearn to expire today.
Rather, a fool fires in a fury
and a mannequin lies in his casket.
The curse you've driven towards me -
a combination menu
when a lone Woolf inconspicously
devours a battered Browning.
Such diversity. Such nothingness.
Stalin seduces Seurat and
the Satanic Samba softly swoons.
Call me a parodist and I choke upon perfection.
Call me a realist when I'm sleeping on nails.
dreams tucked in my pocket as I journey through life
sometimes swept away by chilling breezes
but reach for them again, I will
recapture them
they’ve taken me this far
like a compass, they give me direction
lost I’d be without my dreams
pointlessly going through the motions
lifelong companions
dreams I will carry until my last day
*Entry for Leighann Anderson's "Free for All" contest.
Tears
(for A, I shed)
When I herd these tribes and fashion cities
With my words, you are what's missing.
- Mookie Katigbak, The Proxy Eros
I cast a brief look at you many a time,
Partly considering your noonday shadow’s silhouette a singular move far
As you pay heed in discreet agony to the old Angelus' chewed verses
and secrecy.
This dust-laden jalousie classroom spares me to steal quite a glance of you--
Trussed up in your chair, chin nesting on left palm
Time and again as against your emptiness.
Religious as your hair finger- combed in place all too often.
Seedless to say, before you’ll be hand in hand with your lover,
Whose teeth are those of metals,
On the following street to reach your home in Gusa ,
Let me tell you my itch:
If it is a misdeed that I travel from one antinomy to another,
Perhaps, you are the credo and the gospel on top of which
Of what I cannot write nor cite in the words of my poetics:
Drunk diurnal sobrieties, c(r)ooked metaphors
And jabberwockies, each verb I turn into flesh: darling, these are not
You.
If by chance, you’d come to notice the process
Of what I do and do all the time
Without my consent or other of a conscious effort,
Listen:
You are these paled viscid extracts
Resting lightly astride my lashes that are sure
Warmer than a breath and are yet to trickle down my cheeks.
*Gusa - A place in Cagayan de Oro City , Southern Philippines
Do not tempt me so with this life
I have left all behind
It was too much to be a perfect wife
It had become one big strife
The stone wheel in which my soul did grind
Do not tempt me so with this life
Amongst these mountains I do not strive
No chains are here that could bind
It was too much to be a perfect wife
Idle life, why do I yearn for a busy hive
I have left behind mankind
Do not tempt me so with this life
My raging mind in tranquil pool did dive
Peace and enchantment here combined
It was too much to be a perfect wife
My soul seems dead not alive
Oh why did I leave behind mankind
Do not tempt me so with this life
It was too much to be a perfect wife
"this poem is not about what is written,
but what is not written. . . "
Firmly rooted, I stand in this desert of nothingness
Facing your wrath and warmth with equal willingness
Life around me moves ahead, passes me by
Scorpions, birds and occasionally a butterfly
You gave me all the power to bear fruit, nurture and shade
Yet my entire life passes standing stoically in one place
The wind nudges me, taunts me as it blows
I still stand there unmoved, head shamefully bowed
The leaves that greened with me too flew away
Eloped with the breeze in autumn, left me betrayed
The fruits that I had worked hard to bear
The flowers that graced my wavy hair
With time, these too were snatched away from me,
No reason why I still stand barren and empty.
My bark reverberates with the melancholy of my soul
Waiting for lightning to wield its shining sword.
Afroze Ali
Contest name: 'The unwritten'
5th July 2011
From happiness to sorrow
from frustrated to pleased
another new tomorrow
and another emotion teased
Cheerful, loving, passionate
despairing, desperate, used
First I'm feeling confident
the next I feel abused
The words cannot express
the dilemma deep inside
and I cannot confess
although God knows I've tried
the feelings that keep taunting
through day and in my sleep
a feeling more like haunting
harried, scared and deep
Depression is the monster
that chains me in the dark
and makes me feel inferior
and silences the lark
Expression is the key
to releasing these dark chains
but I just don't seem to see
the light to end these rains
Someone smiled at me today
To that someone I smiled back
Have to say it felt real good
Felt like something understood
Took me out of my dismay
Brought my senses back on track
Watched as she walked down the street
Thought it would be nice to meet
Up I stood and walked away
Confident I had the knack
I walked slow and felt so cool
Nicer contrast to the fool
It’s amazing how this works
How a smile transforms us berkes
They constantly trample my dreams.
They hover over my fear.
They critisize my every stumble.
They scowl at my every tear.
They laugh and tell me I am weak.
They tell me to stop crying.
I beg for them to go away.
They tell me to stop trying.
And when I feel I will break
They try to make me agree.
But 'It's too late, I hate you now'
Is all they'll get from me.
Some will try to stop this cycle
But I know it can't be broken.
Can't you see the look in my eyes?
It's hopelessness unspoken.
I'll turn my tear-streaked face away.
I don't want your help or pity.
They nod with grim satisfaction.
'Cause this is MY forbidden city.
All this guilt, remorse, and fear
They make it so much nearer.
Why don't you fight back? you ask.
'Cause they are the ones in my mirror.
Form:
By the snap crack clackings of my thumbs
Something wicked this way comes
In robes of finest silk did it dine
and found our flesh most divine
A creature who wore the cloth
In life did it spit upon the cross
To eat the flesh, and consume the blood
And many have drowned in it coming flood
Long, lean and sheik
It's gaze can make many a man meek
Teeth of bright white
Polished to hide the deeds of its night
Upon my house did it knock
Pray sanctuary with the blessed souls
Standing beneath our clock
Did it ask the toil for it's stroll
Clad in its finest Black cloth
Book in hand and cross over chest
Did it read the Lord's Prayer over our broth
Little did we know it was our last Prayer under our family Crest
It dined that night upon the flesh
It suped our blood while it was fresh
I watched my loved ones dies one by one
Wondering when it's deed would be done
Awashed in chilling foresight
That this will be the first night of many to come
It approaches me and picks me up as you would a doll
Then rests me on the table near it's bowl
Smiling down to me as if it was in delight
It shows it blood stained fang enhancing my fright
It pets my head tiding my hair
Speaking to me as if it offered me life, does it truly dare?
Good evening, young Hostest.
One so full of life, should never be fearful of one such as myself
The table you set I must protest does not suit my palate so I took matters into hand
And as such I must offer more to you for going out of my way
would you join me and my merry band?
Let me be a guide for your weakened heart
And show you the warm sweetness of your own blood
I shiver and shake, lost in the dark
Do I tread the mud filled waters of this demon who took all from this fool
Now in all the ends of days do I ask
Did I die that night,
Or is it you that died?
Form:
Let Me Watch The Sun Go Down
Let me watch the sun go down
The end of a life giving day
The flowers tightly curl
Hiding their beauty until the light returns
Breezes slow and fade into stillness
The scents of the day drops onto the moist ground
Animals crawl into their lairs
Do they dreams of open fields?
Or do they watch the darkness
Eyes straining into nothingness
Looking for the moment of their deaths
Their babies cuddle beneath a dense thicket
Clinging close to their mother
Waiting, hoping for the morning’s light
Let me watch the sun go down
Watch its beauty as blue turns into gold and lastly black
Night comes and the world finally sleeps
And still I watch