Long Introspections Poems
Long Introspections Poems. Below are the most popular long Introspections by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Introspections poems by poem length and keyword.
Birth of a pearl on a stelliferous night.
Amidst, shimmering iridescence, crepuscular morphing light.
Beautiful fireflies dancing to the tune of “aye!”
Dressed in white, gracefully gleaming bright.
Queen of gems, quietly arrives,
with ultimate sophistication to rule the sky.
Showering amplifying mystical powers.
Silver rainbow of your purifying light,
Steeps into me and make me glow.
Bestowing equanimity and self-control.
Ripples of your vibes, ignite my soul.
You and I entwined with a beautiful tie.
Silent converse and profound insight.
You control the rhythm of my tides.
Healer of my wreak havoc emotions.
Guiding my intuitions and introspections.
O! Ruler of the Oceans!
Accept my boundless devotion.
06/03/2019
Liquid Luna Lace Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Chantelle Anne Cooke
Much like the ocean,
peaceful and serene,
transitioning tides,
turn calm to chaotic.
Influential pull,
consequently shifts,
roaring with rage,
colliding waves crash.
In search of a source,
to brighten my path,
I offer reflection,
should light ever strike.
All the while, I dance,
mad in my mystery,
banishing secrets,
deep in my depths.
Gown of the moonlight,
draped on the surface,
sways with the ocean,
a sky and sea waltz.
My thoughts are the waves,
they come and they go,
capricious cadence,
of mind's melody.
I fear a disruption,
in this ocean moon rhythm,
should my thoughts cut in,
or sing out of tune.
Yet the glowing reflection,
of the flowing moon gown,
moves with the waves,
intact and unchanged.
I search for what's hidden,
in this glistening ocean,
shameful of greed,
unfulfilled, I remain.
I hunger for truth,
I crave to know meaning,
deeper than the ocean,
brighter than the moon.
Angered introspections,
it should be enough,
frustration thunders,
storm rumbles within.
Will I know satisfaction?
on the cusp of a wind storm,
then a wave washes over,
to quiet my questions.
I realize the ocean,
vast canvas of blue,
radiates an illusion,
by source of the day.
The night's shining sea,
painted with moonlight,
Is work of reflection,
from an artist beyond.
I'm humbled once more,
a mere mortal in awe,
of the ocean and sky,
and their cosmic connection.
For the master of night,
mirrored by the moon,
igniting the ocean,
is the faraway Sun.
*Image of New Level of Morality by CharN.
The March of Us
A time that possesses my introspections,
contributes a pastime,
noting parents made donations,
~The March of Dime.
That coinage seemingly flipped from then to now,
new technology prime,
trials social media vow
~The March of Time.
Hollywood legends are noxious, paid, and made
silver screen pantomime,
chaos begets morals decayed,
~The March of Crime.
Protect the innocence from the innocent,
offbeat nursery rhyme,
as to culture spiral descent,
~The March of I'm.
The motivation for our rebelliousness,
increased in our lifetime,
reversal roles to righteousness
~The March We Climb.
2023 January 22
*RZ & HMS; following Constance format
P o e t r y fills my heart
with lyrical acrolect:
slowly swaying
my fingers
to outstanding octaves,
through
ecstatic
liberated librettos,
uplifting in a
medley of
melancholic motions.
I n k is bleeding
in nocturnal nouns,
composing charismatic
choruses in
eclectic shades~
of
violet and vermilion,
and quiet quill
is still searching
for a
sentimental serene serenade,
every letter
meticulously moonwalks
between lines
of silver and grey,
engrossing beats
of a heavy heart
in subtle
soulful synonyms.
In a dynamic
world of word weaving,
poet’s depict a
choir of chronicles
from
mellifluous escapades,
merged in
magnetic metaphors
and synchronized similes,
glamorizing pain
in heavenly
harmonious juxtapositions,
whilst singing tales
of oxymorons,
ranting through a
rhythm of rhymes,
forming sonorous sonnets
with sensitive syllables.
But these are
encrypted musings
of my citrine heart.
In realms of a reality
that dreams breathless~
behind a
terrain of tercets
and porcelain prose.
For life as
an abundant artist
is a premature platform,
where e m o t i o n s
are expressed through
introverted introspections
once hidden in
the hush of hours.
In the silent embrace of mystical twilight, I lose myself in deep introspections,
Looking inward, feeling the silent barriers stretching around me,
While the outer world buzzes with a feverish intensity,
Echoes and rages reverberating through streets adorned with flags,
Drums sounding loudly, calling the fevered minds of the crowd.
Something has gone awry.
I feel I no longer belong.
I seal my door tightly, draw the blinds to keep out the chaos of the outer world,
Fortifying the sanctuary of my home with walls of scrolls and ancient tomes,
They have invaded every quiet path where I once walked,
Covering beauty with strident signs and unresolved disturbances.
Something has gone awry.
I feel I no longer belong.
Out there, value seems lost unless tied to a fervent cause,
Tribal voices hurling insults across the widening chasms of division,
Their gods enlisted to preach an authorized and bitter hatred,
Disturbing the harmony of every dream and whispered thought.
Something has gone awry.
I feel I no longer belong.
What can my weary heart do but murmur with fragile hope,
Dreaming of what was or what might still be possible,
In the twilight hours, finding solace and defiance,
In the enchanted, melancholic verses of Bacovia.
In these mystical twilights, where shadows blend with lost light,
I weave my thoughts like a delicate thread through the chaos of existence,
Seeking solace in the silent whispers of ancient pages,
And in the quiet, silver embrace of the moon,
Absorbing the world’s discord as distant, passing echoes,
Creating an inner sanctuary, a realm untouched by time,
A sphere where magic and melancholy dance in silent, eternal grace.
In the gentle embrace of the ethereal twilight, where shadows intertwine with the fading light,
I anchor my soul in the unseen, where the ephemeral whispers of lost worlds dwell,
Living in the old and wise pages, resonating with the voices of times gone by,
Finding my refuge in the realms of moonlit dreams and starry silence.
Quite far we have traversed, in pursuit of goals we chose,
Through troubles and trepidations of seasons in throes;
Sometimes reveling sunshine, sometime in glum of shadows,
Always together~ on barren terrains, or verdant meadows.
In albums of yore, we ruminate now, turning pages of life,
Banishing anguish of feelings-forlorn, fuming in strife;
Reminiscing in moments passionate, of love sublime,
Treasured in memories-beloved, accumulated over time.
Harboring wisdom, inlaid in life’s waning phase, as we age,
In realms of reflections, insights-sapient, now we engage;
Learning from knowledge gained, from choices we made,
Accepting with grace, laments of secrets, as yet unsaid.
Regrets unmitigated, voice remorse of unuttered sigh,
Seeking empathy from goodwill of repentant goodbye;
As life tallies good versus bad, that introspections confide,
Eying a tranquil state of mind, devoid of hate and pride.
It’s time to reflect, it’s time to mend, it’s time to befriend,
As journey of life, beaming content, approaches its end;
Living final days in covenants revered, humbly we penned,
Elevating self, in peace of bliss, to heavens we shall ascend.
imagery&rhyme
&
symbols of sound
in the poetic
found
in childhood memory
assonance&allusion
a fusion
embodied
blended
perceived
received
as
a
human experience
an inward
quality
to colour
forever
indelibly
frozen
imprinted
unerased
introspections
spots of time
of
yours&
mine
I,I,I,I, don't know what got me here.
My soul is impacted with heartbreaking despair, and logic is dim and unclear.
Should I have?
Should I have stopped him from walking out the door?
Should I have expressed my feelings more to the core?
Was I?
Was I too intrusive or hollow during his moments of introspections?
Was I beastly in measuring his fervor revelations?
Now I.
Now, I sit and stew and contemplate if we ever were compatible.
Now, I think that maybe I grazed his tender brow on how a relationship should work, and I think; is my demeanor implacable?
Was I?
Was I on a collision course to destroy the nature of such an acquiescent and loving man?
Was I less attentive during our talks and more distrait and that, maybe that's how it all began?
Many days befuddlement has siege my mind rendering me illogical and blind.
Many days I find myself standing in front of the mirror, bare of any wanting to make anew.
Many times I tell myself that it was my phlegmatic spirit that causes our love affair to fall through.
Many days my brooding has no resolution, potion, or notion.
Maybe.
Maybe the situation is not as complex.
Maybe he will call or maybe he will text.
Maybe my state of mind is too devoured, and I care less what happens next.
August 6, 2021
In my poems you will find
Introspections from a worldly mind.
Some are pensive, some are kind,
But they helped me pass my time.
I hope that you’ll enjoy my wit,
And don’t consider me a twit.
By the time you read my poems all through,
You’ll find that I am very much like you.
In my poems, you will see
Life’s dominant personalities.
As words poured freely from my mind,
These personalities slowly were defined.
Some thoughts are flippant, and some are tender,
Some are distant, but still rendered.
Most are harmless, but some are lethal,
And some were borrowed from other people.
Some poems are passionate, yet filled with strife
And though not pretty, they’re part of life.
Some will leave you open-eyed.
So, buckle up for a sentient ride.
Detective Laura Norder wouldn’t recognise a border
Her jurisdiction knew no bounds when there had been disorder
As the toughest girl in town she always won the day
The cells were crammed with criminals that she had put away
Laura Norder stood her ground if she should be confronted
By vicious thugs who’s I.Q. seemed to be a little stunted
She never failed to face them down and see it all as fun
But then she never failed to tote a fully loaded gun
Laura Norder went downtown, her senses they were tingling
There were people all around with whom she could be mingling
But all those people scattered when a knife man blocked her path
She grinned and left him battered in her bloody aftermath
Laura Norder had no way of knowing his connections
And later she would still indulge in zero introspections
A mobster aimed his gun and said, “You gonna soon be dead.”
A blur of motion left a bullet lodged inside his head
For Laura Norder, highly skilled with weapons or unarmed
Left the foulest gangster prone and she herself unharmed
She always had the upper hand; she’d see minute inflections
And spot the tiny details that belied their next intentions
Laura Norder wasn’t someone anyone crossed twice
Treat her decent and I guarantee she’d treat you nice
But leave a greasy fingerprint or shoe print in the mud
And you’ll be lucky if you’re breathing… in a pool of blood
For Laura Norder walks a line that’s almost tightrope thin
She’ll skirt the very edge of law to bring the felons in
So, run a mile or run a thousand, she will hunt you down
And you had best be ready… she’s the toughest girl in town
Laura Norder isn’t butch, she’s pretty as can be
But that and what I tell you must remain with you and me
I found her sobbing in her car beside a busy road
And when I asked, “What’s wrong,” she said…
“I think I squashed a toad.”