Long Introspectionwords Poems
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I wake up in the morning and have to decide which side of the bed I will get out of today – it
doesn’t really matter, because there is no one there to block my exit on either side.
I turn on the TV, not to see what’s on, but just to hear another voice in the kitchen other than
the one’s inside my head reminding me that I am having breakfast alone once again.
I once thought that working from home, through the internet, for myself and by myself,
would be a wonderful thing – but, that was when I used to change out of my pajamas at
some time during the day.
Now the keyboard sits there mocking me in my loneliness. The monitor acts more as a
mirror to remind me I haven’t shaved in weeks than it does to display words of a manuscript
that I should be working on.
How lonely am I? I actually called my mother the other day. Rock bottom.
I watch out my window for the approaching mailman so I can open the door as he is
depositing bills I can no longer pay into the mail slot on my door. He says he likes my
Spiderman pajamas the best.
If I had a reason to do so, I would probably take a shower. But then, I have become
accustomed to my own stench and there is nobody else around to offend, save for the
mailman, who I noticed doesn’t hang around to talk much any more. Could be related, I
suppose.
I don’t even please myself any more. My imagination is not sharp enough to fantasize about
things I haven’t experienced for real in such a long time.
There was a time when I would not answer my phone when an 800 number was displayed on
the handset. Today I do. Talking to someone bemoaning that I am late with another
payment, again, is, at least, talking to someone.
Stop mocking me Qwerty!
I have given names to the inanimate objects in my apartment. At times, they talk back to
me. I think today may be my birthday; the dishwasher was smiling at me. The dirty dishes
inside now have mold on them.
The mailman didn’t come today – perhaps it is Sunday. I wore my Spiderman pajamas for
no good reason.
I didn’t write anything again today. These words are just floating around in my head. I am
pretending you are a stranger reading them to make me feel a little less lonely. You
believing you are that stranger is just further validation that I am, indeed, crazy.
written by:Brandee Augustus
It was something I thought I would
Never get over. I mean, think about it, how do you get over the pain from the words of
someone you considered
A friend, if not your best friend.
With it happening twenty-five years ago, it's a wonder why it plagued so
Heavy on my mind and waking thoughts.
It was just just four little words, "You're mom is ugly."
Seeing yourself in your
Precious mother's
Eyes can make you believe that you are this distorted creature who could never be loved or
beautiful; however, I grew to learn that the
Real "ugliness" was in the person that said the words and have learned to listen to a heavenly
whisper that keeps my mind free!
written for the "Why oh Why" contest
sponsored by Constance~A Rambling Poet
originally written June 6, 2009
Somber is the color of the day
Prisms of lamplight reflection
On darkened window glass
The rainbow of color seeping through
Stained glass puzzle pieces
of a pewter lamp of old
While quietly, I sit, and ponder, my pen in hand
Upon cold shoulders, woolen sweater pulled closer
As varied thoughts so far away.
My mind is lost in wakened dream
While trees are tossed about in winter winds
And leaves are dead beneath the snowy mounds
A fire glows, the storm that keeps me bound.
One shard of light, from neighbor's home
Across the hill, a distant mile
The dimness as a room from winter sighs
I write the words of heartfelt lullabies
The day is sadder than the words I've found
So somber is the day that keeps me bound
An old mad sitting alone
No friends or family comes to see him
He shares his space with his only true friend
A typewriter he used for so many years
Together they created
They wrote a million words
Words that came from his twisted mind
Came also from a heart long ago broken
A heart that was never repaired
Writing about love, death, war and peace
A million words that people read
Some were read and thrown away
Others were remembered and shared
Still others changed lives in ways he never knew
With all that no one knew his name
He knows that time is coming to an end
Searching his mind he tries to find the right words
Words that express just how he feels
His mind strains as his heart weakens
Key by key he strokes his friend
Letters appear on a blank white page
The old man looks at what he had written
He smiles as he takes his last breath
The typewriter seems to smile back
There are only three words written
Three words that expressed just how the old man felt
“Go to Hell,” was all he wrote
Maybe, just maybe those were the right words
Maybe they are the words that will be remembered
Now that the old man is gone
“You may say that I’m a dreamer”,
With bold presumption in my youth
Beyond school age, but hardly saged
Turned loose, we hoped to use our wits to change the world…
And thought we would…and thought we could…
We declared to fight, what seemed so right
Those days as we leaned so hard against the wind
The plight of man’s predicament on earth, we mused
The breeze just caught our spouted words
And tossed them where it would
We feared our crystal world would splinter
Would shatter without our spin...
"Never knowing who to cling to, when the rain set in”
But that was then…
So naively in such innocence
Thinking we could see a world at peace
Hoping to make our dreams come alive
From thoughts we shaped on winsome days
Imagining, ….if you please
"It doesn't have to be that way!"
And now with logic’s eyes, I do remember
How changeless is a planet
Glimmering in search of answers
And still not wringing answers from the slightest sound
And words we spoke, with vigorous shape
Our hopes expressed, still looks for guidance…
Are uttered yet, by other voices…
“My words like silent raindrops fell,
and echoed in the wells of silence”
Lyrics From John Lennon “Beatles”
Elton John
Jim Croce’
Simon and Garfunkle
For Chris Matt's ---'Contest Favorite Songs and Lyrics'
You try to keep me locked up from day to day
You wont let me write what I want to say
You say your worried avout my mind set
My words come from my heart and I have no regret
Cant you be happy with what I write and what I have said
I think its just jealousy rearing its ugly head
If you try to steal my words to gain a reward
You will find my pen is mightier than any sword
I can see you trying to get the glory as you put me down
How would it feel to have a fake poetry crown
When you hold me back does this fill you with glee
I need to release my inner feelings to be truly free
Before,
all I could see was dark-side
it was a comet
that wiped my gaze
cleaning the muck
from my eyes
this was no Kleenex moment
this was an Epiphany
(of sorts)
It doesn’t matter
what I do now,
for my pages have been
all, but written
it doesn’t change a world
if my words turn into arrows,
and my stanzas
into grenades anymore,
my words are mere
microscopic scratches,
in the clockwork of time
covering my hands
(ink)
it will never be the same again
that moment that turned on itself,
consuming all the darkness
in one foul breath
with the release of hounds
and a head running free
to not mattering
well it just doesn’t
does it?
After,
all I can see is sparkling
in the radiance of webbed
worries,
as it washed away the pain
Forever More
As I remember my past reading the pages before me
Emotions from a time long ago forgotten
Flood back through my veins, through my heart.
Was I always this afraid of the unknown
Of what I was capable of even then
I made my bed, and lay in it now.
To live, to survive, channel my energy
Once upon a time I was someone else
Now I have changed again, adapted.
Change can be good, if you embrace it’s power
To make a difference, if not with actions
Listen to my words dance off the pages.
When my emotions course, so do my thoughts
My thoughts bounce around till it’s time
To etch my words forever more.