Introspection Poems | Examples of Introspection Poetry

If God is hateful explain where love comes from. If God is your equal, define the body and how each piece flows as one, and recreate it. If God is betrayal convince me your life is done, that you're not just undone, but unfinished. If God is pure punishment explain replenishment, recuperation and recovery. Your discovery of God is not set in stone and neither is mine. So give Him...

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In the chambers where thoughts are supposed to roam free, Foreign voices echo, not belonging to me. Words planted like flags on conquered territory, Thoughts that flower in soil not my own. I speak in tongues my ancestors never knew, See through lenses ground by hands I never touched. My dreams are shaped by stories I did not choose, Yet they...

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“Chirpy-chirpy-chirp-chirp-chirp,” catches my ear, wakes me up. Yes, I’ve been awake, but not like this for many days. “Chirp-chirp-chirp-chirp…” this conversation goes on. Makes me smile. Best part of my day? My best self, my innermost has been tapped …sappy …happy …maybe today will be a hoot I hope this is the root of the whole healing I need. Yesterday, Dad in aphasia no worries, lasts but a moment, but my leg’s been a drag...

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Unfit for the sunlit Visions once bestowed Guilt has me split Where reason once flowed Circles were brighter Now a hollow parade Knots draw tighter As thoughts start to fade Worthless endeavor Half-formed at best Tumbleweed untethered Cursed with unrest No spark to savor Just the same charade Endless vanilla flavor As the colors all fade No more to barter Encompassed in grey Rationale takes harbor As wishes drift away...

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The swish of heaven glimpsed beneath in girl's Winter eyes — this solo bird, she's large seen by blue. She beats me, with her song — memory streaks the air childhood, womanhood with her song, she beats on me. I also have wings, heartbeats. Beneath my ruin, feathers. We chase feathers — The bird say Winter's shadow where branches once spoke her tongue — she never lifts off...

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I emerge. I return. If our end represents forever, what was before? If it never started, how can it end?...

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Stirred. Blurred. Deferred. A haze of thoughts. In the raw. Unprocessed unpolished. Ethereal feral. Impulses really. I might drown. A sea of ambiguity. Random content in my private universe. At times, I want to scream and be heard. But all in time that can’t be rushed ~ Excerpt from Collaboration with Kirk Tierney, based on my poem 'Writing Is How I Connect'/ Painting by Suzanne Van Bebber AP: Honorable...

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mountains made of w a ...

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Let's see how this goes. A means of logical thought. Taking inductive first, What has been observed to make life worse. People are not having fun, Appear to be quite glum. Groceries missing from the shelves, What is...

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if we could shape shift each and every day who would we wish to be, as we so play what then would be value of outer form when all hearts tingle in the same bliss storm...

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In the halcyon hush of twilight meadows, a clown carves laughter from hydrangea elixir, his smile — a fuchsia epitaph, hidden behind a dazzling white glow. Sparkling countless orbs drift from his broken pockets, ghosts grow wishes in splotchy shade, each sangria song he sings splinters against the opalescent...

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Sun down in Death Valley It is to be The memory of white branded heat Falls away so fast Dissolving in flashes of sagebrush shadows The long flat bands of sand Submerged in desert darkness, the sky A wall of impassive indigo The moon a ghost, ancient When the sun was young To walk this vast Wind pricked emptiness Is to feel the grim beauty of nature As...

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He Is Risen (A Linking Pin Sonnet in the Spence Style) The stone was rolled—rolled far from death’s command, Command could not contain the Son of light. Light broke the tomb and touched the trembling land, Land kissed His feet, awakened by His might. Might bowed to love, for love could not stay dead, Dead gave way when life began to...

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A warrior mentality so to speak – donning our armor of daily fashion; tinted shades closing off soul-windows, concealing from prying eyes of inquisitive nakedness – we clothe fearing being disrobed truth, such privates far deeper than skin Gucci, and likes, the first line of Metropolitan Defense…. ...

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the moral landscape changes with new blood surfacing amplifying the flaws inherent in the collective psyche my ingrained prejudices bubble to the surface harming my interaction with my fellow man disagreeing with my elders ancient scripts based upon oral traditions faithfully handed down and embroidered upon to suit the occasion holding a mirror up to my heart I had to distil my own truth I refrained...

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