Introspection Life Poems | Examples
These Introspection Life poems are examples of Life poems about Introspection. These are the best examples of Life Introspection poems written by international poets.
Life’s a lucid dream where we are in trance,
so we reflect on musings created,
in imaginary realms where we dance,
our roles shape shifting, stooped stance sedated,
at times sorrowful, at times elated.
Having not made love and light our mainstay,
our dreams betray that we have lost our way.
Started reading an interesting book on ‘ Life’
Very vivid introspection dealing with all aspects,
as Challenges , Struggles , Happiness, Sorrows.
Success to access, Failure to endure,
Enthusiasm and despondency …
excavating mind - brain - soul.
At the end reached last chapter titled ‘ After Life ‘
That’s all writing ‘To be continued. …..
But Nothing Else.
Eternal Question was unsolved,…..
A dawn chorus of unfamiliar birdsong woke me before first light. I had slept well despite the night sounds of a nightjar and the heavy breathing of unseen animals beyond my tent. Before exhaustion finally claimed me, a feeling of inevitability had washed over me.
we can't change circumstances
embracing moments
taking stock
we are either the hunter or the hunted
what part do we play
in the dance of life?
The rising sun was crimson;
The setting sun was rose;
Am I traveling east or west?
My compass doesn’t show.
The North Star was high in the sky;
The Southern Cross was low;
Am I going North or South?
Nobody seems to know.
I travelled for a thousand miles,
Ending in the same place where I did start;
Nothing really left to show for it,
Except my tattered, broken heart.
The circumference of my circle of life
Might be two-pi-r-squared;
But the only equation that I really care about is
With whom will I be paired.
My words make no sense to me;
They haven’t for a long, long time.
What really challenges my hold on sanity,
Is the fact they always come in rhyme.
Poetic breadcrumbs
Tossed into the air
Blown about by errant winds
Pecked at by bloated pigeons
Debated by chattering squirrels
And yet I sit with crumpled bag
Knowing I will return again
Replenishing the hope
That what little I offer
Is a gift for us all
The words are arguing
A mock debate
No rebuttal
A juxtapositional comparison
Of mirrored images
Seeking definition
The days weigh on me
An aged rudder struggles
To maintain a fading course
Yellowed sails doubting the breeze
Tremble as the shallows near
The landmarks seem more distant
The destination less definite
Joy remains
Yawning in the shadows
Sighing as it listens
To the chatter of life
Dancing in its memories
So much like we, a life that caught the rain,
in storms that tested all our will to live,
and shook until our grasp could feel the pain
in angry squalls not ready to forgive.
Amongst a million souls now what are we
~ just leaves the autumn wind has blown to die,
'twas simply fate and always meant to be,
and wasted months and years that wonder why?
Yet something shuffles on the forest floor
where ashes and a lonely leaf was cast,
to be the end of life forevermore?
To lie among the long forgotten past?
But, mortal life becomes what nature knows.
A fertile soil where newborn leaves can grow...
(“The Particle in the Wave”, 2018, original encaustic)
Without a doubt Life is absolutely filled
With moments of the sublime
Moments which come from somewhere
And somehow never ever really disappear
Even when something else comes along
Something coarse and loud
Able to drown out everything before
The sublime is still there
Patiently waiting, unflappable, nonjudgemental
Waiting till the room stills
And its own light can be seen again.
Yin and yang you may say
Or something closer to home
The mood swings of a child
Or anxious broken hearted lover
But still only the passing phases
That make a life not only interesting
But sublimely worth living.
(7/25/26)
Let the gaze fold, softly shut,
a moment held—
a slow tide of breath that enters and leaves.
Within you, gently,
not demanding or rushed,
who is left there to judge?
For in this stillness the past can hold no claim.
Is it your imagination,
or the drift of fallen leaves
like papery whispers outside the door?
They gather, dry and scattered,
smelling of dust and worry—
magnetic forms of the lower mind.
You have been here before,
cloaked in yesterday’s echoes,
ruminating on the creases of time
carved like ancient riverbeds
onto an aging, fragile face.
Look out to the unveiled skies
and see the light moving across
without apology—
this endless flow where truth is found,
and the ego’s frantic season
is stripped away as illusion.
having come of age no dark desires rage ~
why then do we yet feel life is a cage
Ah, to dust
To seek the nooks and crannies
Of mysteriously clustered history
To pursue the fleeing dust kittens
Cleanse the demon ‘neath the bed
Run a finger over the door jam
To peek into the silent corners
Of a creaky home’s history
Uncover faded initials
On jack knife carved hearts
And wonder
Ah, to dust
Knowing you will leave your trail
Atop a now too high to reach bookcase
Behind that always crooked picture frame
On the cover of a never finished book
Upon a phone that has forgotten how to ring
Ah, to dust
To wonder
Where it came from
Where it will go
And why it always returns…
A POETIC PERSPECTIVE ON
IMPERFECTION AND PERFECTION
The wabi sabi
Of our lives today, reflect
God’s healing grace:-
Perfection on earth
Must never be desired here:
This is not heaven:-
Being the best you can
Here on earth, just may send you
Up to heaven’s door:-
LOST AND FOUND:
AN INTROSPECTIVE FLASHBACK
Lost and in despair,
I sat in abandonment:
Self-belief found me:-
Glory be to God
For my self-introspection,
And His healing grace:-
To not know yourself,
Can really be horrific:
Not seeking to, worst.
I walk alone on silent cobblestones,
Deep in a darkness that is mine alone.
The thoughts of past years cannot slow my stride,
With nowhere left to run and nowhere left to hide.
The wraith of a silhouette is all my own,
Dragging its chilled ghost of flesh and bone.
No breath in the air, no whisper anywhere,
Just hollow shadows fading in the winter glare.
Grey-light breaks to warm my heavy steps,
Marked deep upon the frozen stone it cuts.
I marvel at the leaves, all aimless blown,
As morning wakes the ancient, silent cobblestones.
there’s someone who needs to be met
for business to be transacted
tension mounts but we do not fret
in this dream by God enacted
LIFE’S JUXTAPOSED TIME
My time being here waxed;
My time remaining here wanes:
Life’s juxtaposed time.