Reflections Poems - Poems about Reflections

reflection in a shop window - suck in my stomach that face in the mirror - always much older than I am slowly swallowing itself - setting sun ...

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Reflections That Reside Innumerable Cumulus clouds gather just up o’er the green hill Considerable quiet lathers the air as my heart begins to fill Formidable resolve tethers me to the place I’m lingering on the window sill Forgivable sins repeat the circuit and relieve me of my iron will A small repentant afterthought claims it’s steak...

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dream state to waking state frying pan to the fire we thus live on in dreams freed only when we tire no one comes, no one goes heart seeks satisfaction save debts of love soul owes there’s no cause for action sans thought we yet remain standing outside space-time by cleansing our soul’s stain heart feels love’s bliss beat chime...

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through my long-stemmed glass red & white stripes, blue with stars merlot reflection muted-purple silhouette prolonged sips, flag pole on porch...

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M-an's E-motional D-efense Y-ields D-eep I-ntrospection, O-nce N-ew E-ncounters D-issolve A-gony ©bfa061125 Monocrostic (Birthday of Medy Dioneda)...

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we are the all let bliss squalls rise God calls; listen...

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The skiff chug's along toward the end of the lake where the tall peaks are. When I cut the outboard high snowcapped mountains dived down into the still water, below, eagles flew under the hull. A panoramic sky rolled under me. my red and yellow float became briefly entangled in a high white cloud. A fat trout slipped around a deep sun. No way to catch that....

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You would pardon insurrection -freedom to mob, good people; while pouring ICE on immigration -Free rides National Guarded Rebellion Breached Vigilante Patriotism Rebellion Protest Discontent Nonviolent Rebellion While pouring ICE on immigration Free rides -National Guarded, you would pardon insurrection -freedom to mob, good people ...

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A cycle is a circles reflection, Heading in it's intended direction, A repeating projection, Dissecting each section, A careful progression, Creating perfection, Repeating, Needing no correction, The cycle a reflection, A connection you can't see, Energy exists eternally, Circling internally Running through each entity, Life was meant to be, Expressions of the Galaxy Experiencing our own reality, Growing a...

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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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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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