Introspective Poems

Drowning in Sorrow

I’m so tired of spendin’ nights alone

The test of time has left me like a stone

Drinkin’ time—I feel it in my bones

Feel so numb, I can’t pick up the phone



Drownin’ in sorrow, can’t find my way

Lost in the darkness, day after day

Tears fill my eyes as I silently pray

For a glimmer of hope to guide

knows nothing more

A woman sitting in an old house herself,
counting paper clips.

Every day, was a creaking workday
that reminded her addiction was in freedom—
meanings of being young, being old,
being in love with the back then.

She’s not a fan of
not being a fan of new movies.
But who can blame her
for blaming herself?

A helicopter that flies
over the barren desert land

corners

corners

i have walked around corners
when i should have stood still
driven fast in slow zones
and sat at the apex of silent
stone walls

i've said words i meant when i was high
and regretted when i was low
twisted sentences until they were wrung
too dry to matter
and left paragraphs drowning for want of a word
 
my soul aches at midnight
and

Purple At Best

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

Roots Beneath My Soles

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

Whispers of Her Prayers

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

God of the Black Flames

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.

The Crow

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

Poet Haiku

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

As Clear as Daylight

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

Wet River

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.

Inevitable

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

Skipping Necessary Sleep Due To My Introspective Thoughts

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,

Ansgt

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

Introspective Reminiscence

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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