Long Introvert Poems
Long Introvert Poems. Below are the most popular long Introvert by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Introvert poems by poem length and keyword.
The tongue has always power to exert,
acting, reacting and interacting
if not extreme introvert.
Function of tongue
is to voice your thoughts :
Whether you want to honour
or to make love or to console
somebody, even if like to abuse
someone, prompt way to use
power in your tongue.
You are free to use power of tongue
in a polite way or can be rough or tough
becoming arrogant.
You can utter syllables in humourous style.
It's upto your choice, how you will voice !
Tongue is in romantic mood to express love.
Tongue of political leader is ready
to impress audience.
Revengeful person uses tongue being cruel and crude.
Tremendous shock makes tongue unmovable.
‘ Be frank and open-minded to unveil yourself. ‘ - Poet
UNVEIL
I swim and sink
in ocean of your deep emotion!
I wish to drink
your dormant desires .
Why inertness shown?
Supernal elegance you own.
My sweetheart.
Why wobbling!
Unveil your heart.
Your amorous urge
surging in your heart!
Yet, acting introvert !
Your bubbling blood
to flow in flood.
Why hesitant!
Act vibrant.
Feelings not to let chilled.
Unveil your heart
My sweetheart.
11/06/22
Second place
Writing Challenge ‘Unburden - A U-word’
Contest by Constance La France
I love those who sit in my silence
Silence I seem to carry with me
It crowds around my shoulders and kneck
It stifles my words
I thought it would someday be filled
By promises to myself I can’t uphold
Living vicariously through
Those who march forward
Without choking on their words
I'll keep my eyes fixed on you
My mind catching every word
Like a hovering shadow
That you only turn to
So your words can fall freely
Without thought of the listener
Some days I feel my own weight
It bears down on me
Whispering sneers of disappointment
The fogginess in my head of unspoken words
It fades their meaning
Nights driving alone
Small snowflakes collecting on my windshield
Muffled echoes from the day
Are suddenly lifted and cleared
By the warm glow of the porchlight
That was left on for me
It lights my way to the door
Remembering small things I said
Bringing me back
From webs of lies in my head
You lay your jacket over my shoulders
I one day hope to give others
The care you’ve given me
Autumn Leaves
A children’s chorus opens with “Get Your Kicks
On Route 66” bringing some to smile or lip lyrics.
Others, of fixèd gaze, showing no signs of reception,
Are unmindful of the on-coming destination.
Shuffling among the audience is a woman, shoeless,
Muttering. Any unwitting eye invites the press
Of her ever more desperate pry:
“Have you ever been to Lamoni?”
How like a box of keepsakes whose key
Has gone missing can a life of memories be
Without recall; to live in the moment solely,
Apart from one's yesterdays is unwholey.
Stares introvert now to the folds of inner space,
The mind’s eye probing for the soul’s place,
As the yester-world slips from reach
And an ebbing tide completes the breach.
The psyche again unshielded in its simplicity
Awakens to the call of an ethereal authority,
Beckoning, as from a cave beneath a waterfall,
“Come, there is life beyond this veil and pall.”
Copyright Paul Thomson 2018
A lone prisoner of my own making,
a cocoon confined within introvert isolation,
I see all the familiar faces recede nowhere,
leaving me stuck in the maze of acuity.
In the weed-webbed wasteland within
piles up the wreckage of life unlived.
My mystique mind turns into Nemesis,
makes a wilderness of mirrors for me,
reflecting the pernicious perception of anguish,
an emotion engulfed by intuitive foreboding.
The sane sense losing the route to perpetuity,
disappears in the miasma of lonesome reflections.
The marooned psyche meanders in desolate darkness,
trying to find the deluded traveler, instinctive me.
Enshrouded by despair I turn into a dead wood,
afloat on the turbulent flow of the ordained strife.
With secluded mind I drift in the time's eternal flow,
and on the move, I don’t remember where I started from,
for like mirrored driftwood my memory has no memory.
MIDNIGHT ROMANCE
The artist captures porcelain features.
Distinct - her eyebrows drawn with charcoal arch.
More beautiful then all of God’s creatures.
A cerulean splay o’er wedding march.
Refined ash of roses speckles irises.
Her crimson hair, on fire - the nose smells smoke.
The obsidian sky lured with french kiss.
Ivory skin lights up love’s leaning oak.
Adrift with life, she sparkles in white gown.
The artist touched by sweet hands of glory -
An introvert, she drew his smile from frown.
A writer, henceforth, she writes his story.
Absinthe quickens the sable eyes of groom,
As moonlight drifts inside the artist’s room.
10/31/2017
Moonlight Sonnet Contest
Sponsored by Dale Cozart
14 lines/Iambic Pentameter was optional
Syllables per line 10/checked by howmanysyllables.com
Who says Love-braising is easy
Growth and affinity
crave
An elusive trigger
A split second of blast
Courage to proclaim. Mindfully. Courage to launch
Courage to ache
Courage to apologize. Awakening. Courage to accept and respect
A long walk to forgiveness
Without my consent
It hurts
Dismantling a dam Inside fatherhood
Ouch
It hurts
Surprise attack dismayed extrovert and introvert
Tune In, QQ
Again
Tune In
Pace self-resilience
Allow vulnerability
But
never mistreatment
Ouch
It hurts
Pause on the edge of open sea
Oh, my darling compassionate man
Painful at times, yet
Surprisingly liberating
Wisdoms slay inner obstacles
Honor and duty endow survivorship
Clinging to cherish deep feelings
River of energy flowing unobstructed
June gloom
Astonishingly spoken
‘I love you’
Love-braising is an insight job
Tune In
In my life so far, I have suffered pain,
been overcome with emotions of anger, hurt;
silent, I never did complain,
I just became an introvert;
I was detached and flat.
Then, one day I became a wildcat,
I was so tired of being a doormat !
I became full of fury and wrath, and rage,
a warrior fierce and in war I did engage;
until in deep anguish- I was in a locked cage.
An emotional cage of hurt and anger,
my spirit shattered- my heart aching;
I went still and took a breather,
the path I was on- crumbling;
then, revenge inside me faded,
I did not want to be the thing I hated
so all the hurt and anger I halted.
The effects of careless words last a lifetime,
but instead of fighting back, I take downtime;
and since I let go- I dwell in the sublime.
_____________________________
November 28, 2017
Poetry/Rhyme/'I walked with hurt and anger'
Copyright Protected, ID 17-9670-08-0
All Rights Reserved. Written Under Pseudonym.
Written for the contest, Emotional Anger and Hurt
sponsor, Lewis Raynes
Fourth Place
Minds stratified in complexity
The layers different in all living
The psyche forms unique entity
On alien parasites it won’t cling.
In deep layers many secrets hide
Search of sub-conscious can’t find
Probing calls from world outside
Echo, can’t enter the closed mind.
A lone prisoner of own making
A cocoon in introvert isolation
I see all the ugly faces receding
Me stuck in web of self-adulation.
My clouded mind turns Nemesis
Makes a mirror of mirage for me
I look into it reaching the oasis
It is only me that I always see.
In self-adoration, a mad perception
I see a Narcissus in me lonely lurk
A secret morphing into obsession
Lies buried, insulated in the dark.
Written : December 4, 2017
Contest : Strand Select J, Any Form, Any Theme
Sponsor : Brian Strand
“I want to be alone… with someone else who wants to be alone.” – Dimitri Zaik
I was born an introvert,
misplaced in an extroverted garden.
Mother's cocoon,
which once kept me safe and warm,
now left me exposed to
green-eyed predators,
who stole my fluorescent fragility.
Is it any wonder that in adolescence,
my heart resembles red glass,
which can shatter at the slightest betrayal,
bleeding in crushing, harlequin drops.
In between the silence of heartbeats,
there was a demonic darkness,
plaguing the scent of my honeysuckle aura—
making me feel an imperfection of ugliness.
Until a vision of a celestial silhouette,
appeared in evergreen ethereal tones.
His smile glistened like tender
pearls of white, seducing
my senses speechless.
I am like a drop of rain upon
his petals of orchid glory.
I know there will be monsoon seasons,
erratic elements harassing my presence,
among his poetic prestige,
yet, I yearn to be
the one,
who is forever enthroned by
his emerald eminence.