Long Introspectionlife Poems
Long Introspectionlife Poems. Below are the most popular long Introspectionlife by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Introspectionlife poems by poem length and keyword.
In my eighteen wheeler rolling, I am like a salmon fish in the rapids shoaling! Spawn’s flowing
next generation’s showing! Black smoke a rolling from smoke stack.
I am laid back, I don’t snort crack, I take time to stop and get some java black, and hit
sleeper sack! I don’t let my mind get out of whack!
Even my cb handle is, ‘Laid Back’, I acquired the name way back, in driving school, I live
good life jack!
“Laid Back”, my cb handle on the radio, and my 460 Cummins an’t slow, she’ll blow and go,
she climbs Cabbage mountain in a snow, “good buddy, come back!”
I hear drama queen, playing her scene, on cb radio, her sultry voice saying, “I am Back!”
Inviting me to stop at a TA travel stop, telling me what all kind of food they got, I tell her I
am already late, can’t stop!” Been there, done that, all they got is slop!
Again I hear drama queen, cussing a stream, saying, "you’re the lying-est S.O.B. I’ve ever
seen." But I am not mean, I just don’t make this type scene.
I pull over on shoulder to miss lost tire tread called an alligator, as a 40 pound possum, runs
under my trailer, meeting his alter meta.
A beautiful dream, the trucker scene, all the world I mean! I’ve not been mean, I am laid
back. And I don’t let my mind get off track! Don’t smoke dope! Don’t get on that slope!
I am laid back! I stay on track! I am Love, I live, that’s what I give. So if you want to live,
Love is what you give.
To live laid back, you must stay on track. And out of drama queen’s sack. For she has that
knack, to draw you back, into a life of your mind that’s cracked, a life minus Agape fact.
It’s time for humanity to pull over and rest, from a mind of fest. This trucker wishes you all
the best, be Love’s guest. For of a mind of fest, your life can become a mess. Be laid back,
keep your mind on a reality of Love’s fact! I am drew back ,“I am Laid Back!”
Placed #4
He’s puzzled again to the how’s and when’s; why people get relentless;
Is this but charades, in the darkness of shade; and that’s why it seems so senseless.
It’s like the jockeys on lawns; that a dog will go on;
And personally to him, its plain once again; that seems its only purpose.
He’s came and he’s went; when He left some were bent;
To some he’s a jerk, but of what to his work; will there be no comments
It’s a hopeless position; an undo condition;
All reasons to build those fences.
These words that we write often thought of at night; is it just a dating game?
When does it end; can you tell him my friends;
And how does this bare to all as poets?
Some words that he reads; can touch him indeed; but is he not to show it?
Life Makes No Sense
It’s hard to believe the taste that it leaves; like soup that’s soured by grief;
Actually he knows; and it’s always showed; it’s life with its comic relief;
When people have needs; their expectant indeed; is it all about that I;
They want it now, don’t fail them somehow; or they’ll wish that you might die.
He’s often reached out, in spite of his doubts; even beyond himself;
Isn’t that it, if not we should quit; keep our writings on the shelf;
When you’re looking at me, is it pretty you see (they ask); and it’s hardly even new
It’s not about he; it’s the words don’t you see; it isn’t even you;
Forgive the intrusion, but its time for conclusion; and now to a defense;
When you see a disguise; there might be surprise; that just could be intense;
Inside what is hidden; could be pleasures forbidden; but to open takes some time?
Life seems a shame but it’s nobody’s blame; but those poems still spark his mind
A reply, to a request for information, in an e-mail I was asked, “How can I write a
cool story?” This was my reply to him and my reply to you.
Sir, I apologize for my thoughts of ignoring your query. If you truly want to know, I
shall tell you. The cost is dear let me make that clear, but there is nothing we should
fear. The road seems hard, as inches we must travel. I do not know if this will help
but it is the truth.
Passion: I will make an assumption-something I hate to do- and assume you are
young. I will tell you true what you must do if I may be so bold. For I speak from the
ages of wise, wise sages, as I grow ever old.
A man, I once thought wise, he bravely said it so. In life and strife there is a path
with but four ways to go. For in life you see four ways to be, work, hustle, steal or
deal. For a long time I thought I had been taught insight true and real. We were
both fools that day, as I heard him say these words of lost dreams and schemes.
For only one can bring the fun of reaching for our dreams. What is that way you ask
this day, so I must truly say? Work is the word so often heard and applies to all we
see. The goals we choose, we must never lose if some day we ere be free. So listen
close and I shall disclose all that needs to be.
Passion is the road to take if ever we are to see.
Do not let life pass you by, do not prejudge...experience and feel. If writing a cool
story is what you passionately want to do then write of that passion. Write of a
man whose only dream is to write. Write of that need to write. If your passion is the
cloning of mice write of that passion, and lastly if you have no passion, get a job
Form:
I have loved and been loved
Luckier than most I guess
Someone said that "We learn from our mistakes"
Perhaps, but what do you do when you are
making them?
Everyone has an opinion on this subject
and with great respect I would like to say
Love is not a bicycle you may get back up on
Nor are there other fish in the sea.
Well, maybe there are however these words
are harsh and devastating to the person who's
heart is breaking. I think it is hard to know
what to say when someones life has been torn apart.
One's heart is wounded and your soul feels darkened
The only thing I can or will conclude for sure is
that there is a grieving process. Who knows for how
long or what fate has made ready for you.
Each of us must endure our tomorrows no matter
what they might bring.
For me personally my life is visited by shadows now
I feel caught in that moment between what was,
what could have been, and what should be.
I think we lie to ourselves when we say "I'm all right
it doesn't bother me anymore." Of course it bothers me!
Feelings are feelings no matter how you disguise them.
If there can be any good news in all this soup
filled with Grief, Sadness, Heartbreak and Loss
It is as the song said " You can only cry so many
tears"
I cannot keep returning to the ending, I know now
that I must indeed start looking for a new beginning.
So what if you must re-visit and start things again
Perhaps the next time I will get it right.
Maybe, just maybe it takes a lot of yesterdays
to make a great tomorrow...
Like a restless wind that blows across our lives
Our souls search through doors only to find boundless sighs.
Always seeking, but not yet finding
Answers to questions that never stop hiding.
Many souls are always searching
Following the restless winds of life.
Like companions on a journey all seek to find
Unknown answers to questions that have no sign.
Not a stone unturned, not a road not traveled
Always looking as though with a common thread binding
This band of travelers seeking, but not finding.
A restless wind blows across our lives
Like the universe that never ends,
Searching, searching never growing weary
For the chase of an answer that life won't send,
Not too far, but yet so far, we run about
On a quest for life that has no end.
Quite a band of travelers are we
who seek to find, but yet cannot see.
Always searching, like a restless wind
Blowing across our lives
On another chase to send.
Who can be satisfied in a world of known
When there is so much to seek,
That is like the wind that has blown.
Always seeking, but not yet finding
Answers to questions that never stop hiding.
Dedicated to James Kavanaugh, whose writings of "There are Men Too Gentle to
Live Among Wolves" gave me the inspiration to write this poem. I too am a searcher
in life.
She spent
her evening with a
friend named Jack. Jack
stood out like a volunteer, making
no apology for himself (though he forward
marched through her life like a
soldier's foot-stomp parade,
minus pomp minus
circumstance).
Jack always
took his possessions at
first ever impulse, that is
to say he was the type of
man who could "carpe diem" with the
best of them. She agreed. "Play
the horn play the drum", she
thought, while given
to him.
Jack always
left his possessions at
second glance. He was the
nothing-to-show-for-it type of man.
She did not want him to return. She did
want him to return. He did not
want to come home. He
did want to come
home.
She spent
her evening without
a friend named Jack, who
steals the thunder. Jack sat on the
shelf like streamlined vodka. Apologetically,
he backward marched a Saint Louis
funeral-in-reverse. She
then nursed a wound
to remember
him by.
(Author: Chad Wood - This poem was entered in the contest "Create Your Own Form, Maybe
?" sponsored by Constance ~ A Rambling Poet! ~ Form: Call this the "In and Out" form. The
stanzas have ten lines each, which expand and retract, with subject matter about 'something
in life that comes and goes', can be as many or as few stanzas long as wished)
The days in my memory,
grow dim and start to fade,
but I’m trying to hang on to no avail.
I get the feeling there are dues,
that I have not yet paid,
but I hope to do so before my ship has sailed.
In the days when I was young a man,
every moment was so clear,
each second to be tasted and enjoyed.
The days all ran together,
as each day turned in to years,
paying heed I seemed determined to avoid.
I heard it said if you ain’t livin’,
then you’re surely gonna die,
and so it was with every breath I took.
But saying I was living,
was just another lie,
that I knew the Lord would write down in His book.
But the days will soon be ending,
my time will soon be here,
it does no good to try and change the past.
I can only hang my head in shame,
and brush away my tears,
as the day of my atonement comes at last.
I can only hope
that those I knew
that I may have brought upon a pain or hurt.
Know that karma never fails,
and is a cold and vengeful brew,
and I will come know my just deserts.
So if you ever think back of me,
and try to understand,
how a man could live a life so incomplete.
Know that an accidental person,
whose life was never meant or planned,
Any other life could never taste so sweet.
Ken Baker - July 10, 2010
I am born in this world, but I know not why;
Yet is a plan of mystery, a project in the mind of God.
He is holy and I ought to be holy,
I am His property, and He's my Eternal Designer,
He hath made me in His Image, and I ought to reflect His,
He hath made the world for me, and I ought to live for Him,
He's the ONE dwelt awhile on earth in flesh,
And I ought to know this mystery in which my credits lie.
His plan of redemption is the grand project,
And my life for Him ought to be my credits.
But where do I stand with my'credits'?
I have no virtues on my part as engulfed in desires,
I dream on earthly 'values' gripped in fear,
I lay projects on my own; but crumpled in debits.
I reap failures with my self-styled ideosyncracies,
For I deny the Truth of the Eternal Engineer.
How can I earn credits if I incline myself to myself,
And forget the statutes of the Maker of the Life Project?
My pains will turn joy if I add my projects to my credits,
My failures will turn success if I do my projects without debits.
What if my projects are done in selfish motive?
So, here lies the way to escape debits without Self, but with HIM.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
As I reflect for a moment to consider my content,
My soul is astonished to decipher a life well spent.
I hope it's not my mood that will soon pass away;
But rather, a truth that I will discover today.
You see, I have pouted for most of my existence
Despite a determination that kept me going the distance. .
Wealth has escaped me, and beauty has crept away
Struggle has been my partner as I've ventured everyday.
Being my worst enemy is an emotion I have mastered
While defeats overshadow my accomplishments ever after.
And, I've often declared that should I ever pass away,
It should be memorialized as being my happiest day.
So, I stand here bewildered by the notion I am teasing
I'm blindsided thinking that life might have been pleasing.
I have slipped on my journey, but never did I fall-
Maybe the universe has blessed my life path after-all
And if so, how could my thinking have been so corrupted
And, why is my mindset being so sweetly interrupted?
Whatever the reason and for whatever the measure
I welcome the enlightenment and delight in the pleasure.
Alone here in the night.
So many memories come out to play.
There's those that I hold near.
Other's I can't seem to wash away.
I tell you the devil like this game.
When I don't want to play.
I'm sorry for the hurt I have caused you.
This is all I have to say...
I know that I'm stained.
With the inperfections in my life.
An easy admissiojn to my guilt.
When I know I haven't done things right.
Yet I'm no longer ashamed.
For I know that I'm stained.
Left to my own devices,
I changed the perfect world which we had known.
Living on such a high.
To crumble right down to this low.
I know in my heart I love you.
As I feel it there everyday.
Without you, my life has become unglued.
Please understand these words I say.
Stained is the skin I live in everyday.
With time it will not fade.
Like a child it's the sandbox where I play.
I'm fine with living my life stained.
I know that I'm stained.
With the inperfections in my life.
An easy admission to my guilt.
When I know I haven't done things right.
I'm no longer ashamed.
Now I Can easily see now that I'm stained.