Long Introspective Poems
Long Introspective Poems. Below are the most popular long Introspective by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Introspective poems by poem length and keyword.
In the live network of intricate design,
layer on layer, the mind is stratified,
the strata of innate awareness align,
unique sagacious patterns are unified.
Many attributes of sole distinction gain
access to the fold of secret psychic recess,
transcend undefined limits of joy and pain,
senses merge with absolute consciousness.
I reach within as introspective explorer’s entity,
discern the enlightened soul in the bay of bliss,
suffusing me with supreme essence of divinity,
I get liberated from the depth of dark abyss.
That’s the individuality of mine people see
behind the screen of singularity, for I am me.
________________
January 12, 2022
For A Brian Strand 1095 Contest
In the imagery network of intricate design,
layer on layer, the metaphoric mind is stratified,
the levels of innate awareness are aligned
with the unique perspective patterns unified.
Many elements of the singular identity secures
access to the secret sanctum of psychic recess,
transcend the timeless thresholds of joy and pain,
as senses merge with the supreme consciousness.
My metamorphosed mind turns into an inventor,
makes a mirror with the luster of mirage for me.
I look into it reaching the self-aggrandized oasis,
where it is only me as Narcissus I always see.
The blow of tormenting time breaks the mirror,
my ethereal essence transforms it into a window.
I see the twilight gleam shimmer in the horizon,
beckons me to start a new journey before sundown.
I travel within as an introspective probing voyager,
perceive the eternal soul in the alcove of bliss,
suffusing me with the absolute aura of divinity,
I get liberated from the hold of mortal abyss.
________________
March 7, 2023
Contest : Break The Mirror
Sponsored by : Unseeking Seeker
Expedience Of Blank And Block
Peculiar Particles Advance
Blank is observed out of context
Things go faster than light
As part of nature’s plan
Block likes spaces that occupy themselves at the same time
Erratic perplexing specs of light that can’t abide sight detection
Blank lifts itself in like manner to perpetual inclinations
As they are not there and don’t exist
Particles are very precise unknowables
Block takes science to other levers in critical manner
Balances them there in introspective specifications
Immeasurable yet tamed by nuclear forces
Resonating in the void
Blank takes on new meaning not in and of itself
Devices, instruments, technological eyes quell
That matter stored and stopped in place
Equivalent is the stare of Blank to that end
Block is on the side of reason in speculation
Particles never harm the edge of their universe existence
The expedience of Blank and Block meanders on
In countless computations
This morning is dangerously close to truth.
The sunlight is in bold print,
the figurative blocked out in black and white.
The under-brain
(that sleepy chameleon with diamond eyes),
blinks at a high-rise concrete reality,
eschews poetry for a stark reportage.
The summer blooms and hummingbirds
are not wooden, yet their picturesque
mien and dress
belong in a less brazen realism.
Nothing much flies in more subjective skies.
Beneath an introspective sea
just a few fanciful thought-threads
dangle loosely from misty metaphyseal squids.
The mind must turn to arcane myths
for unobjectified mysticism,
however a short-sighted ground hog
dismisses these inner reflections
as it eats an existential
bright red geranium.
John Keats - I continue to adore Keats's lush, sensuous language and his odes to beauty, nature, and love, which can deeply resonate with some of my own poetry's yearning and delicacy.
Emily Dickinson - Dickinson's quiet intensity and exploration of death, eternity, and inner life has appeal to my introspective side.
She and I share a fierce independence of spirit and a love for solitude.
Edna St. Vincent Millay - I admire Millay's bold, feminist voice and her exploration of desire and independence.
Millay's mastery of sonnet form and ability to capture the fleetingness of passion has after multiple readings come to resonate with me.
Pablo Neruda - Known for his passionate love poems and deep connection to nature, Neruda has come to enchant me with his visceral imagery and emotional honesty.
His poems about the natural world might feel like kin ship to me, my own.
Mary Oliver - I feel at home in Oliver's reflective, nature-based poetry.
I have come to love Oliver's reverence for the world, finding in it a continuation of her own themes of beauty and spiritual communion with nature.
Sylvia Plath - I would definitely appreciate Plath's courage in delving into the complexities of self, identity, and mental struggle.
While my tone of poetry has now through evolution grown more gentler, I feel a kinship in Plath's exploration of one's inner life.
Rainer Maria Rilke - With his mystical tone and contemplative exploration of love and solitude, Rilke would be a poet that I have come to admire.
His 'Letters to a Young Poet' would also resonate as advice one might give to aspiring poets.
Louise Glück - Known for her somber tone and introspective lyricism, Glück would fascinate me with her exploration of loss, longing, and family dynamics.
I admire Glück's precision and haunting imagery.
Langston Hughes - I would appreciate Hughes's musicality, social consciousness, and exploration of personal and collective identity.
His poems on love, hope, and perseverance would feel to me like hymns of survival and resilience.
Ada Limón - I would likely be drawn to Limón's modern voice and her intimate, conversational style that draws readers into an emotional landscape. Limón's poems of self-acceptance, connection to nature, and resilience would feel like a refreshing evolution of the lyricism that I have come to cherish.
In the dark alley of time the thoughts of being wanders
with the sliced life stumbling on the pitfalls of blunder.
The frailty of the indistinct fragile future
casts the shadow of despair on the intrinsic nature
that dissipates in the tormenting darkness,
turning the spent spirit into mundane nothingness.
The search for a glittering highway to escape
and to carve for the split self’s egoistic entity shapes,
configures the facets of essence with contrasting elements,
chasing the migrating mirage of illusive opulence
until in the mended mindscape sprouts sagacious sense,
not to be allured by imperial impermanence of duality.
Detached from the confused life’s thin binary threads,
awareness sinks in the depth of eternal singular psyche
where time is consumed by the timeless deep silence,
where the joy of living dances in resonance
with the pristine perception that rises from abyss.
The soul then is the supreme thought of sublime bliss.
With the final fusion of duality with infinite euphoria,
the spiritual passage across the perception stratum,
achieved by the introspective amalgamation
of the fractured notions through transcendence,
merges the division of outside-in and inside-out,
as innate harmony integrates the multiplicity of the self.
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, i expose myself to a cold, uncaring public
my strength rebuilds off the inspiration of the general population that keeps on walking
i was praying for another small space for conversation and genuine concern
what i ended up with this time was scrapes all over my already sore body with clotted cuts that will forever burn
i decided to keep my self....to myself....
Random chain of events
preceded occurrence re:
guarding existence of me
interminable fits and starts
concerning self destruction
inherent within one measly
self important species.
Yours truly synonymous
with any chance reader
(of course inclusive those
untold past multitudes,
who trod upon this oblate
spheroid preceding one
anonymous groveling,
middling sniveling modest
*****sapien) pursuant
upon unknown destination
giving contemplative,
introspective, speculative...
pause every now and again,
asper bajillion prior
bipedal hominids, whose
individual deliberate or
random natural biological
impulses wrought sons
and/or daughters, whose
subsequent call, sans their
wild procreative proclivities
unwittingly begat the
unique chromosomal
combinations inscribed genes
imbuing each of us with
transient occupancy to revel,
relish, reckon very finite
number of orbitz around
nearest star, how longevity
(till mortality – leisurely
and/or vocationally)
expended, yet anatomically,
biochemically, physiologically...
linkedin with avast
gamut incorporating
unknowable determinants sole
fully cobbling wide, whirled
webbing, (albeit skein
microscopic) comprising
resultant Deoxyribonucleic
amalgamations, combinations,
emulations...throughout
untold generations eventually
giving (swell pregnant)
rise to healthy progeny
predicated on an uneventful
tragic mishap in utero
preceding parturition, which
miraculous seminal fertilization
regarding series of
fortunate events delineating
quintessentially strapping
robust tot destined (years later)
to continue human
species, thus I ponder
tremendous steep odds (analogous
to drawing winning lottery
ticket), when reproductive
processes diploid propagating
one after another ongoing
generation, yet in retrospect
every cellular T-Mobile
chance coupling attendant on
haphazard spontaneous
buzzfeeding circumstances
promulgating prolific primal
precedents begetting each
individual necessitating tenuous
fluke (worm hungers) engaging,
engendering, engineering...
(similar to science experiment)
endowing penultimate on the fly
fusion between two haploid cells
impossible to explain convincingly,
(asper in my mind) the notion
predestination intervenes
likened to invisible hand.
I want to touch you, but you’re too late.
We promised one another we would stop speaking.
To make the distance easier.
For months, there was the occasional text exchange.
But that was the extent of it.
At first, I thought of you constantly.
Dreamed of you, thought of you, stared at pictures.
But as time and distance worked against us,
I made the decision to stop waiting around.
Emotionally speaking.
Why was I crying myself to sleep over someone who wouldn’t even compose a text message?
“If they wanted to they would”
Well, I sure wanted to and didn’t so why do I hold you to a different standard.
Perhaps you thought of me too.
Perhaps I kept you up at night.
From your perspective, I haven’t given you a second thought since that oh-so-casual goodbye.
I find myself wishing we’d hugged, kissed, cried, screamed.
But, maybe it’s better this way.
Maybe then I’d have held on for longer.
Now, you’re a somewhat fond memory.
Too fresh to forget the feelings deep in my chest, too far off to remember the bad.
Seeing you now, I can’t decide what the feeling in my chest is.
If I weren’t feeling introspective, I’d say desire and leave it at that.
But I believe it’s something more.
I hope we can speak about it. I hope you feel the same.
Things are always easier that way.
Tonight you step outside.
Out where the fireflies alight
on unseen eddies of air;
out to where the stars lend their light
and a breeze caresses your hair.
You sit on the step and you wonder
how a time so dark ever seems so bright;
you drift in reverie and you ponder
just where our souls go at night.
Not while your dreams take flight
behind eyes closed and blankets warm;
but while your sleep loses the fight
to the muse's ceaseless storm.
Where do our spirits flee to
when the sun is long out of sight;
why does rumination find its cue
after most have said goodnight?
Why does this hour make thoughts unite
and scrutiny of life reach full speed;
why is it so much easier to feel and write
when the moon from its daily chains is freed?