Reflections Poems - Poems about Reflections

Somehow, the deluge of cloudburst unwraps my flesh pallid, as if to spill holy water--maybe thickened dew—just to give a name to lapses of my unheard cries, while an insolent breeze fails to listen as I howl in utter despair of life's requiem: The thistle of wet soil chains my feet anchored unto the swell of memories' bend; remaining distant in an...

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Our destiny chooses who we are Yet still we wonder Turning, spinning In the dark, in our graves And then the dawn comes, As it always does, And it’s time to rise And shine again With the dew From that grave, pulled Without a choice To Life. (5/27/25)...

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Moving on, but I can not I can't help looking back Retrospectively Oscillations Nostalgic past reflections Creating a sweet sour affections Longings on empty mosaics With indescribable scenarios Lost in a mental haze of illusion Nostalgia on past reflections Bubble gum and candy wraps Long forgotten comes to fore Childhood memories loading I am lost in a daze of plays flooring Hide and seek;...

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I'm just enjoying the bells of Venice ringing (almost incessantly, but beautiful nonetheless) and admiring the way my friend snores to the tune of We Will Rock You It feels so easy to see beauty in the world that I'm even contemplating eating the airport lounge croissant I've had in my bag since 4am yesterday just...

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The brothers may have said it best You've lost that lovin feelin But I've managed to convince myself My own righteousness is why I stay Every effort I make Every swing I take Misses the mark And comes up empty It still haunts me now and then Some nights far more than others Opportunities foresaken Yesterday's regrets last to today I know I'm far from...

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I'm in reflection again a rear window spy in the solitude of speechless silence at this hour, we are a poem, a cloud, no, prints in the sand, where we went when us was awakening like the mercies of a brand-new morning. Across the brown beach, tiptoed, as burrowing crabs dived, evading the wading birds- mostly egrets, and the tides flared their nostrils with the...

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Poetry is written with reflections of dreams, pregnant with thoughts born from openly emotional hearts. Nurtured by a poet's experiences and whimsical musings, charmingly penned. Sometimes vivid imaginations run wild, scribblings as if a child. Casualties crumbled on the floor. But flexible is the quill and ink continues to spill. Poets often sit in shadows, and locked behind closed doors. Aborting verses they haven't rhymed, frequently losing track...

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Reflections and Perceptions BY Joshua Otieno Angasa I hope our daughters will love me as much as you guys love your Aabo. That sentence-simple, but it lingers like a shadow at golden hour, soft, honest, unfiltered. See, I stare at mirrors and moments, trying to trace the outlines of a father I’ve never met-yet somehow must become. Trying to shape love from echoes, build trust...

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Sparsely lit streets added suspense to stories I listened as a child, dad used to point towards stars making up stories for each one awesome fairies, angels visited me in colorful imagination He taught me one secret -'truth is your ultimate friend' his punchline Mother taught me ways of girl-child household chores, art of sewing such likes to this day these teachings are the good ones...

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When I think of all the things my mother taught me and all the things my father said I am really glad that some things, went by the wayside while other things aren't dead ! As I recall my mother bold and headstrong the way she coached me until the very...

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The sun is up the sky is blue today is beautiful and so are you inside this April morn, the angels are sending you kisses that you don't have to earn... The day has risen dawn is here, bright lit like God's chandelier within your heart there is a prayer , ready for the blare you...

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Faded memories litter the walls, as anniversaries coincide together with zero regard for one another, the simple beginnings are barely visible and yet the complexity of wrong choice after wrong decision are very prevalent. Isn't that how it always ends up though, in the end anyways? Hastily cultivated 'wonderful' ideas are laid to ground, only...

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I celebrated my father's birthday this last April 4th, 2025 He would have been 75, Yet 7 years ago, a white butterfly laid him to rest, with the rest of his family around his casket, And my face playing masquerade among the living corpses giving me their condolences, Not of any fault of their own, Just that, my own brokenness...

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Long Past to memorize. Short Future to vaporize ...

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"It wasn't always like this, of course. Money didn't always exist. Previously, people labored to eat. However, they WORKED for joy." The concept of happiness was absent. When money was introduced, The Pursuit of Happiness was too, In which case people labored for money. However, humanity was warned; "The love of money is the root of all evil." Why would that be so? Because happiness distracts...

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