Long Self analysis Poems
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Yes, introspection- a soul-searching quest;
deep self-analysis explored throughout.
Sincere reflection, which gets put to test;
discovered, judged- may sometimes offer doubt.
Of virtues found, lamentable or grand,
this self-examination's tough to do;
perhaps because conclusions will demand
we must amend the faults that come to view.
With deep perusal- reckoning may show
inequities of self- down deep inside;
and so, addressed or not- we'll truly know
the weaknesses and strengths that coincide.
But, sweeping out the darkness, lessens strife;
casts light upon more happiness in life.
October 28, 2020
~3rd Place~
Premiere Contest: Inward Reflections
Sponsor: Chantelle Anne Cooke
I spent the early part of my life
Giving little to no thought of my
Father and what he meant to me.
I later discovered by self analysis
That I'd subconsciously shut him out,
Thinking of nothing positive about him.
But there came a day when I was 54,
At a family reunion, a younger sister
Shed some light on our dad. On that
Summer day in Oklahoma, my entire
Attitude toward my father was forever
Changed.
He was no longer just an angry man
Who smoked and drank heavily; who
Verbally abused any who stood aversed
To him; who seldom smiled and was hard
To please.
He died when I was 13, and I reconsidered
That had he lived longer than 58 years, we
Would have gotten to know each other better
In spite of there being 11 minor children.
I tell you, I rethought a host of things and
Began to write about him and the treasure
of his brief life.
Today, please allow me to say in a few words
One item from daddy's treasure chest. Daddy
Provided a modest livelihood for mother and
Us, NEVER LEAVING US UNTIL THE DAY OF
HIS DEMISE.
A milling crowd (aren't they all),
I call my name
then try my real name
then a made-up name.
The crowd separates reluctantly,
A man with an ever changing face steps forward.
I intently recognize myself,
a self of many ages, some even before birth.
I am emotional, this is a cathartic moment
my eyes are pinballs being flipped
in a lit-up cosmic game.
The person is my personal
imago/, amigo, avatar,
my part-time impersonator.
This is no time for self analysis,
I take him by the hand
lead him into my mind, claim him,
show him as I am now
in the eye of a cracked mirror.
His face has stopped fluttering through time,
his eyes are now moth orbs
as golden as an astronauts visor.
I reflect upon them like the sun.
He tells me that all of his personas,
all of his faceted me-ness
revolves around an inner star,
then walks absent mindlessly
back into the crowd.
I turn to look at the rest of the world,
it is a radiant carousel painted upon
an endlessly nocturnal canvas.
The canvas and the painting
were created by an unknown artist,
one still waiting to be discovered.
A Sensitive Man
He was the finely spun, hushed type
his character often folded up;
inside pocket rather than on display.
He felt different but followed the rules:
school, college and then work.
Politeness escorted him courteously;
his kindness was always considerate.
In early years, his words seemed slight and shy,
he felt the playground of life swamp him
so he shrank, creating a gulf of distance,
away from noise and the carnival of people.
He was aware of the room’s ticking clock,
the pavement through the soles of his feet,
the quality of the fabric next to his skin,
the need for companionship of calm and quiet.
He valued his imagination when looking at life,
learning to read situations and people.
He was called shy, or sensitive, when young
but others, more astute, thought him gifted;
he just thought of himself as …different.
Some sought to bully, causing internal distress
but he rarely backed down, until after the event,
whereupon he suffered scrutinising self-analysis.
As he aged, ‘sensitivity’ was something he polished,
not a weakness, no, in fact… a valuable strength.
He no longer felt flawed, however he did feel pity
for others living a life on the surface of existence,
never in tune with the depths of the arts
or indeed the nature of nature.
He shrugged away shyness, removed remoteness
and learned how to breathe
until finally he had a respect for himself,
an understanding of others… and that gulf diminished.
He now smiles as he thinks back through the years
at the metamorphosis he has undergone;
a young boy into how he now sees himself
……….an assertive, inquisitive butterfly! Ian Souter
Introspection is an “I care I search” quest-
Needed self-analysis from inside out,
Towards clear reflection of what makes me whole.
Rumination of a deep and thoughtful kind,
Of those feelings that serve well or not.
Self-examination- difficult to do,
Perhaps because the scrutiny brings pain
Especially when I am not aware or
Can't address those things that I must change.
Through contemplation, deeper thoughts will show
Internal weaknesses and strengths that flow.
Observation of myself from deep inside
Nourishes my heart and soul for better life.
Passing up the sunny days.
Wallowing around in the gray.
Banking that a change will come.
And fortune will finally let me have some.
There, that's it, it's all been said.
Just hoping for a little heaven before I'm dead.
Cause I'm afraid I'm gonna drown in my sorrow.
Lost here in today,waiting for tomorrow.
I used to believe in the common man's dream.
But hope and reality aren't all that they seem.
Some hearts don't heal and the sun doesn't shine.
And now someone else has what used to be mine.
Self analysis is the only friend I've got.
I'm tired of the lies and my nerves are just shot.
Pretty maidens see a different view.
They look straight at ya,but they don't see you.
Like a mirror, I see myself in my mothers eyes.
When I feel pain, she's the one who cries.
My truest joy, is to make her dreams come true.
Because for me,there's nothing she wouldn't do.
Today I seek the sun,
it's gentle painless play-
words of winter warmth
spur me on my way,
away from death wish,
daily things gone wrong.
Today I seek the sky -
empyreal blue bowl
that stretches thoughts so high
above an endless flow
of clouds caught carrying
this season's rain and snow.
Today I seek the earth-
created solid, oh so sure!
each grain linked to birth,
to death, to my clay feet
ferrying everywhere
life's sublime design.
Today, I seek the sight
of eagles and their wings-
let insight be given free flight,
not as instinct, but free will,
And still find a resting place
in conscience, human limits.
Today, I seek wild ways
of nature, just out of grasp.
Human natured though I am,
God's finger binds mind- heart in clasps-
flesh and blood married
to spirit's inclination.
Today I seek creation -
space, earth, created ploys
designed to bring me back on course -
marvellous designer toys -
The Almighty's mind in miniature
creates in me a purpose.
Today I see my self
earthbound, then soaring -
albatross escaping safe
from earth's dust bowl arena,
from humanity's wild roaring
freed, to search for peaceful dreams.
Today, I seek tomorrow -
a hope beheld, faith's make-me-believe
as bone producing marrow
makes vital force live by my blood,
so heart-man, blindly pumping,
can try transcend the dust of death.
Today I sought my self,
living soul, dying past -
yesterdays given up
form mortal man's newfound mast
supporting eager search for truth.
And then I'll live - at last!
23/12/2019. Repost.
Notes: Soul: a human being - "SOS=Save Our Souls." "Old King Cole was a merry old soul..."
"Strong souls live like fire-hearted Sun's, to spend their strength in further striving
action." - George Eliot.
"Soul" ="Self" = The person considered as a unique indvisual.
"The inner chambers of the soul are like the photographer's darkroom.Like a
laboratory. One cannot stay there all the time or it becomes the solitary cell
of the neurotic. Anais Nin.
"Soul Search" = anxious self analysis regarding one's beliefs, motives, moral
qualities, etc.
Howard ...
I wish I'd known you
But then ... maybe I DID
Choices, tastes, motivations, obsessions, demons
(Ah yes, demons ... with no damned respect for protocol)
Near perfect reflections of my own, finish-to-start
Like fate put flesh on a hanger for tomorrow
Pressed in cellophane with a number tag
Every bit I've learned and heard
Leaves me with a shaking head
For it is as familiar as my own, unsullied
They thought you strange ... hermit, recluse
But that was pain, nothing less or more
The dark revenant that blooms in suffering's shadow
They never wore your shoes, but tongues wagged just the same
I know it all ... the endless thoughts, spinning
No quiet, even in your own head ... even in dreams
The same torturing self-analysis and fault
Nerves afire, aching for relief
The horrid sickness of body and mind that replaces it ... forever
I do not envy you your sorrowful, lonely end in the least
But I DO begrudge you your fate, ultimate
For the spinning has stopped ...
Mine ... goes on.
an
essential focus
self-analysis
of the
instinctive urge
a contrast so stark
explicit
invisible
as
explosive
exploits are portrayed
a mantle
of a perogative
whipped
manipulated
yet so delicate
in self-satisfaction
self-irony
to the fore
sensibility
so friable
lacking solidity
as
fluidity surfaces
the immediacy
pauses &contrasts
as formal
tension
is magnified
THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE without grammatical symbols the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' & so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and respond thus making the form a two way interplay and often a unique interpretation by the enigma so derived
Self analysis
& motive
imultiple functions
erupt
tradition
chiselled
in reality
distorted
by self perception
folds of skin
furrowed brows
surround
the anatomy of eyes
indentations &
peculiarities
crystallised forever
by self-awareness
in the existential
NOTE:THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE using spaces&breaks without grammatical symbols ,the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' & so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and responds thus making this enigmatic form a two way interplay & interpretatIon unique to the moment& changing according to mood is inherently variable.
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