Long Self discovery Poems
Long Self discovery Poems. Below are the most popular long Self discovery by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Self discovery poems by poem length and keyword.
Too Much to Handle**
These days, I find myself captivated by TikTok, spending hours scrolling through its endless stream of content, even more than I indulge in writing my poetry. Ouch! It feels like a betrayal to my creative spirit. My body is not merely flesh ready to be consumed; it’s a sacred vessel, a fortress to protect. Each harsh word affects me deeply. My body is my temple, a sweet Floribbean honeydew, yet tonight, my room feels suffocatingly crowded.
Thoughts of past relationships swirl around me like unwanted guests—those side thoughts, the ghosts of exes, and looming large, there you are… John Crow, an unwelcome reminder of what once was. I remind myself that my poems serve as messages, heartfelt whispers from me to myself. This evening, I’m finding calm that rivals even the most tranquil sea. The Pacific Ocean may be fierce and tumultuous, but tonight, my inner peace feels stronger.
Writing about my pain extracts the rawest emotions, breathing life into my work. It’s interesting how deep suffering can propel one into a profound journey of self-discovery. In love, though, I often lose sight of my true self, questioning, who am I really beneath the layers of affection?
I feel like I flick between different versions of myself, switching from a past that was less than inviting, wrapped in my own illusions. I once believed you were the king of my castle, my protector in a world of chaos.
Tomorrow, I plan to rise with clarity, sober from the wine that never touched my lips tonight, and then, I hope to navigate the adult decisions that await me with newfound wisdom.
Tires rang against the road in my eyes
The grinding of whetted knives
Tinnitus rings in my teeth
Threats are thought, silently
Back sores scream and swamp
Ass creeps through the carseat
In the beauty of County Mayo
I am it's tourist blemish
This trip was a supposed celebration
A turning of a page, a grasping of roots
Some sort of self discovery but I
Have always known myself
It rained at the peak of Eask Tower
The hag I feared had lived there
Stayed slumbering, or may be waiting
To follow me back to America, plotting
Stepping past the scattered sheep
Stumbling down muddied emerald hills
I was baptized in the petrichor
Wandering my way back to Dingle
Confronting my disharmony led
To a roundabout road to Bray
Climbing the crucifix hill to escape dread
As every life lived is just a single day
chrysalis
by michael r. burch
these are the days of doom
u seldom leave ur room
u live in perpetual gloom
yet also the days of hope
how to cope?
u pray and u grope
toward self illumination ...
becoming an angel
(pure love)
and yet You must love Your Self
Keywords/Tags: Angel, Angels, Human Angel, self, self discovery, self help, self-worth, low self esteem, self harm, depression, hopeless, hopelessness, agoraphobia, doom, gloom, cloud, dark cloud, hope, recovery from, cope, coping, illumination, enlightenment, ascension, love, pure love, true love, self love, angelic, heaven, heavenly
In the misty realm of being, where thought finds rest,
There lies an ancient corridor winding with longing,
Concealing at its end the door to an unexplored, mystical room,
Upon whose walls echo the secretive chant of a spring's source.
This door, untraveled, scorned by the rust of time,
Stands still, guarding over a garden of quiet wanderings,
It finely discriminates between the thicket of sorrowful delirium
And the fervent self-discovery that beckons from restless hearts.
Mystical keeper of the porch where light and shadow play,
It whispers a call to set aside the masks deeply embraced,
The metaphor of the door remains poised to unlock the temple's dare,
When the bolt is broken, the chain of fear shattered, falling aside, distanced.
It, a gate without locks, splits the two worlds, stretching as a bridge,
Beyond which dwells that silence, mute, untouchable, eternal,
A mirror devoid of silver, reflecting only those who've learned to heed themselves,
And to traverse fearlessly, through mysterious lands, with only the soul external.
O, seeker amidst the soul's arcades, through paths hidden among leaves,
Lift your gaze towards the door that's been closed to you daily, yet ever open,
Gentle eternity awaits beyond your wall of dreams and excuses,
Where everything begins and ends, in your hand, the key is unseen but promised.
In passing through the shadow of this world of shifting facades,
The door swings wide, effortlessly, silently, threshold-free,
And within you, in the summer of the soul, where time is but a fluttering leaf,
There lies the sanctuary, the chambers of silence, where you are everything and nothing, a droplet and an entire ocean on the brink.
Leading The Way With Your Blessed Amazing Grace!
Inspiring blessed God: "Trinity of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit."
Inter-connectedness of the most gracious Triune Creator of life.
Good Friday to Easter Sunday requires rolling the stone away
Erasing life's sting with everlasting resurrection inspirational grace.
Judas symbolizes Goliath to many in opposition of their faith
We believe in doing all things through Your omnipotent strength.
Doubt was never meant to be an aversion in Your kingdom
The shining path of light illuminates the way to Your holy ground.
An inspiring vision of not turning back stimulates enhancing spirits
Removing dark clouds for the arriving golden sun rays at dawn.
Darkness only last for a moment in time for resting the body
Gathering valuable thoughts of great news to share along the way.
With love, self-discovery, and stimulation of the senses, we embrace
You’re leading the way, and we're abiding with Your loving grace!
Author's Notes: This "Blessed Trinity" poetry form meets all the requirements. It displays a foundational thesis. The theme is evident. It surpasses the octave length of eight lines and is written in a sonnet format. The rhyming scheme is absent. The trilogy is evident with the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Hindrances are defeated, and the journey ends in abiding grace!
In the twilight of youthful dreams, where shadows danced with whispers of hope,
He fled at eighteen, with a heart full of wanderlust, despising the confines of his small town,
With a smile etched on his lips, freed from the frown of familiarity,
The world called to him, a vast canvas waiting for his touch, a realm of endless possibilities.
He traveled through the landscape of his desires, in improvised and bold ways,
Hitchhiking on the highways of uncertainty, sneaking onto trains like a phantom,
And when desperation called, he hid in hidden corners, a fugitive from convention,
Often drenched by the gusts of rain, the sky weeping as he chased the horizon.
For two years, he pursued his dreams, a vagabond on the path of self-discovery,
With each passing day, wisdom blossomed within him, revealing life's true visage,
A tapestry neither peach nor cream, but woven with threads of joy and sorrow,
And slowly, a sigh for home and hearth whispered through his soul, an echo of belonging.
The journey brought him back, to the door he had left behind, a prodigal son in search of solace,
But when he knocked, the resonance felt foreign, the essence of "home" transformed,
The place he had left had changed, just as he had, in the tide of time and experience,
And there, in the twilight of his quest, he stood, a mosaic of dreams and reality,
A soul forever marked by the dance of shadows and the pursuit of the mystical unknown.
Never Safe
I’ve never felt safe, if I may be so bold,
No warm shelter from nights so cold
If walls were strangers, far or near,
This silent place was built from fear.
Their smiles were teasing, sharp and sly,
Their hug a blade, an unspoken lie.
I’ve had to breathe without a sound,
Hid my tears, kept pain unbound.
At night I whispered to the skies,
That storms were gifts, not lullabies.
No answer came—just shadow play,
Ghosts in the light that wouldn’t stay
I held my own hand in darkest time,
Promised myself to rise and climb.
Not for anyone—just for me,
To prove to myself I could be free.
The days were heavy, nights were worse,
A silent cry, a muted curse.
Though never safe, I’ve grown quite strong,
A warrior with a quiet song.
I can feel silence cursing my ecstatic moments!
Alienating my soul from assembly of love,
Driving me deep to the bleak countryside
To be entertained by untamed minds
Feeding on wandering spirits
Trapped without dignified souvenirs,
With secrets manipulating their miseries
As they roam within cryptic circles
Coming alive to realize, that…
Silence is a vicious force,
That holds folks within hollowness,
Resembling souls caged in the wilderness,
Senses colliding inside alien terrain,
Sorrow flipping its wings,
With nerves tingling unmanageable
Making one feel awful and disgusting
Mystic images floating in one’s thoughts.
Past judgements revolting,
Stretching the chasm between one and his heart,
To sense dark days coming down,
Fearing if demons are becoming victorious,
While hoping for humanitarian gesture,
To cure infinite sleepless nights,
Unlock doors for lone adventurous voyage…
A chance to chase plaguing solo dreams,
Grasp the journey of self-discovery!
To unplug silence tunes,
That could aid me seek life sailing through the light,
To reveal my presence with fresh mandate,
And experience moment of glorious amelioration
Feeling I’m back home where I belong.
I have always had an urge to write_
have something to say- something to tell
words shake the ocean of my sleep . . .
and I must let them pour out so, I put pen to paper . . .
(or fingers to keyboard these days) and tap my creative potential
with time have found my inner voice- writing is music to my soul
it fulfills a need in me nothing else can . . .
from my innermost thoughts I pen poetry of life, grief and sorrow
with beauty and imagery I express my feelings
I write of the scars on the roadmap of my soul- the shadows on my wall
like a letter to the world I expose my broken heart- it is my obsession
its a voyage of self discovery . . .
my writing is a legacy to be left when gone
writing came to me a guest unbidden- I am not sure why
the power of the pen for me it is like breathing . . .
I write, I weep at what I have written
but cannot stop this writing obsession
and will not till I can no longer hold a pen
then, I will write in my head
until my mind fades away . . .
In the cosmic silence, under the rain of stars dreaming in deep abysses,
My soul travels through the veil of a universe of shadows and lights,
With each step in the night, when the whispers of ages caress my ears,
When the wind brings echoes from beyond time, of forgotten longings and lost dreams.
In a world of shattered mirrors, where illusions intertwine with truth,
I float over rivers of memories flowing underground, in search of the eternal,
And in the silence that resounds like a bell in the desert of my heart,
I seek my place among constellations, among myths and unfinished stories.
Words are incantations, opening doors to unknown mysteries,
Each syllable, a step in the sacred dance of self-discovery,
And in this intoxicating dance, I feel how the void becomes an ocean of meanings,
Where time is nothing but a circle of smoke, a dream that is born and dies endlessly.
The game of life, a chessboard where pawns are souls thirsty for light,
And kings are shadows watching from corners of the void, silent and still.
In the search for meaning, I look into the eyes of destiny, reflecting in chaos,
And from chaos, I create melodies of silence, a symphony resonating in eternity.
In the slow rhythm of time, night butterflies dance through my dreams,
And the sky opens like an old book, written in stars and unfulfilled longings.
And in this prayer of the heart, I learn to love the lost echoes,
To embrace solitude as an old friendship with the divine mystery.
So my journey continues, on paths where only the soul travels,
In a universe of lights and shadows, where I find peace beyond words,
And in this dance of eternity, I seek answers in the silence of the stars,
Waiting for life to reveal its secrets, while my heart sings.