Introspective Poems - Poems about Introspective

I can only hope to find something so deeply hidden inside myself that it is beautiful enough and terrible enough to strike your interest, scribbling it out in a fiery passion for you to shriek back at your own life’s claws But I fear I cannot do that today For that would be red, you see And I feel something purple at...

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Resilient I am, to be here, to stand as tall as a sunflower. I can hear the cacophony of cicadas outside my window sing with me through my grief. Their trill reminds of blooming chances. As sunlight slips through, rays of gold ripple over my skin like a whisper of comfort, their warmth sinking into my...

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How long have I been holding my breath? How long have I walked this path? It's winding turns make no sense. One after another. There is no sense in this madness, only an interrupting voice asking where I would like to go next. Right, left, up, down, and through. The wisps of my thoughts drift...

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Silent sentinels rise from the tide, bones of steel, nourished, refined. Like Canti, a lord forged from the mind, bound to the earth for the ones who cry. Painted for the hymn of adults— swinging a bat for freedom of lies....

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I looked to the trees and first saw the crow When it called out it’s voice sounded coarse He stared for a second, but then flew away And I followed on foot because I could not fly I hurried after that small speck of black Along a tiny woodsy path But I soon had to leave the path If I wanted to...

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Always the Poet Writing on beautiful things Ne’er to be the poem ...

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Sometimes we can go all our lives seeing something without really having any insight into what we are seeing. For instance, hands in prayer position. Because they are praying we assume people will put their hands flat together. It looks very neat and reverent but beyond that not another thought, until recently...

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Hey wet river. Hello dry bones. Feel the rhythm? Hear the tones? Wet, wet, The river gives. Wet, wet, The river takes. Walk along the brooks and streams, Run along the ponds and lakes. Close my eyes, I hear no more. I will exhaust, I will explore. Through the forest, I run, I run. Fear for when My time is done. Kick up your feet, Enjoy the shows. This is where the Rabbit goes....

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Blind squirrels and broke clocks Take short drinks for long walks. Death is a rite of passage, Whether you are ready or not. No, wait. Never mind. I forgot. There I go again, Lost my train of thought. The perpetual sunlight hurts my eyes, Nowhere near the pain of lies. Hid behind their false disguise, Lady bugs and fireflies. Apple bottoms, cherry pies. All the things I ever loved. All...

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i decided to keep my findings to myself life moves in different directions for all people likes and dislikes are both similar and contrasting i was hoping to find a small space to breathe in the neverending movement what i ended up with is a migraine with nausea on a pavement with hungry ants when i hurl on said ants,...

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In mental stasis, I remain, Moving restlessly, never inane. Nomadic actions, thoughts immobile, A dichotomy within, deeply hostile. Self-pity offers a deceptive release, A dopamine hit, a false sense of peace, Clawing at myself, seeking the thrill, Lacerating tendons, a need to fulfil. Red-handed, pale-hearted, I stand, Distanced, departed, to the unknown land. Uncharted, unguarded, my soul's domain, Discarded, disregarded, from my own disdain. That started from...

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What’s needed now is pure honesty. Transparency, please transparency. What good is there in an illusion? It will lead to a false conclusion. Must I inquire of you like a sleuth? To ever hope to receive the truth. Even a near truth is still a lie. A change is needed before we die. Keeping secrets from one another, Leads to conflicts when they discover, The...

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He got lost in the maze of his own past He stands after an indescribable adventure Massive man, a storyteller, with tales to share His tone is realistic, and his words scatter Fear His memories ring real to youthful ears It's a peaceful fresh day outside On a majestic high hill where angels dwell The grief that was once false is now...

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Insecurity. Bled me dry. The seed. Root. Ghosts in my soul. Invasion. Laughter at speakeasies. Bubbles in the champagne. Surfaced, too quickly. Whether on my right, Or, left of you. You let the Bubbles rise to your Unthoughtful Head. None the less....

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Is it me that I want to explore Just me I would implore I don’t show it all So you won’t see me or recall What was me inside Maybe something not to abide So passive when you look A huge flicked through book Where you see the glossy prints That you haven’t seen since And the small print never read A secret less useful...

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