Inner Self Poems | Examples
These Inner Self poems are examples of Self poems about Inner. These are the best examples of Self Inner poems written by international poets.
When folks accuse or blame you,
just stay calm, keep quiet.
They run the world, it seems,
and there’s really no winning against their words.
So just keep going forward.
Give them the price they want.
Let go of whatever makes them mad.
Step back when you need to,
stay out of their sight and reach.
That’s the reality—if you’re open enough to see it—
ignore the noise,
heal the peace they once broke inside you.
Understand.
Forgive.
Move on.
They might think they own the world,
but you don’t have to stay connected.
Love yourself,
protect the peace inside,
and take care of your soul.
“I have journeyed within myself,
Scanned rumblings of the inner self
Lent my ears to the inner chime
Within grasp of the sands of time.” By author.
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The Journey Within
The journey within, for diverse souls,
Begins at diverse stages of life,
For some since early days of childhood,
Goaded by parental mentoring,
For others during the course of life
Driven by coincidence or a quirk of fate.
For some it`s an insightful journey
Shining with light of enlightenment,
A straight-line excursion to top of a mount,
For others a nebulous trip shrouded with haze,
Veiled with dark doubt and deadly dread,
A sporadic trek ceasing at foot of a hill.
My journey within glowing since days of youth,
Sparkling through exposure and learning,
Has been deeply anchored with quest to know myself,
To find who I am and my goals in life.
Storms of life sustained from fate and men
Have propelled me to scan deeper within myself,
To treasure peace and bliss in solitude
At the shining lake of my inner self.
Deep in to the shivering waves of mood,
have just met the other me,
through hundreds of inner layers,
unbeknown to myself
they swarmed like thousands of prayers.
A lifetime of constant spirited battle
where tumultuous emotions can not be settled.
All those other exhibited faces that have me defined,
yet many of them still non-obedient in being refined.
Now, my character with several shapeless sides,
will remain yet again on stranger tides.
Tomorrow is an obscure wonder,
where yet again,
another new me awaits to subsequently wander.
What shades of colours do we paint
while walking on this earth?
Do we leave behind a masterpiece?
or a squiggle with no worth?
Will the colours that we choose
look vibrant, - do they shout?
Or are they like dull grey lead lines
so easily rubbed out.
Are all the brush strokes that you paint
precise, done with finesse?
Or are they like thick crayon scrawled
on paper in a mess?
And will you hang upon a wall
admired by the best?
Or stay unseen and never shown
Remain an unfinished sketch?
The colours that you choose in life
portray your inner self.
So, are you rich, red, powerful paint
or a shade left on the shelf?
You could be bright and beautiful
in orange, yellow, green.
Or does your glossy outer fade
and quickly lose its sheen.?
Are you a calm and turquoise- blue
just like a tranquil sea.
Or do you live with black or grey?
that’s all you’ll ever be.
The colours in my life are prime
though that can be changed.
to any shade I choose to be
if mixed or rearranged.
Seek out the artist in your life
ensure he paints you true.
Be one to stand out in a crowd
there’s only one of you.
Is it an eternal furnace of coal?
Is it the murky dark night of my soul?
Is it a fathomlessly hollow well?
Is my ego as perilous as hell?
Is it power and strength in their fullness?
Is it existence in its absurdness?
From this coffin, could I ever return?
Herein, would I perpetually burn?
Are days in ego unendingly nights?
Does affliction, herein, like serpents, bites?
Is it the inner self's whirlpooling sea?
Is it an insidious trap in me?
I muse on ego and find no retort.
I find no way out of this self-built fort.
Cruelty wears a crown in a cloaked place,
cold-blooded grins behind mirrored faces.
Remorse walks the halls bartering tattle while I fracture.
They crowned me in shame, but
within a queen still rises.
They buried me in a fire of hell,
But like ash-gray smoke, I rise and swell.
I am the silence of the crown,
gone through ups and downs
stumbled in the dark multiple times
but my spirit still my heart and mind.
I am a teacher, a child, a guardian and a shadow behind my past.
But a strong woman who will still rise from the stillness of darkness.
Inside of me multiply like smoke and breathe:
into silence of forgiveness and hope.
Yes, still I rise, a whisper stitched in storm-
a sovereign spirit-fearless and warm.
The tortured self becomes the flame
not burned but lit beyond their shame
like the shimmering star, shining bright afar!
This is me, a version of being a woman in time and forever be!
Inner Self
Inner self
For ever
Is my elf
Everyday
I meet it
On the way
It leads me
To right path
Hassles free
They asked for a piece of my mind—
so I offered silence, wrapped in gold.
No rage, no clamor, no thunderclap,
just breath unbroken when the world turned cold.
Peace of mind isn't a destination,
but a pact with storms I’ve learned to outlast.
Not the absence of chaos—but grace,
in the moments I choose not to cast judgment, holding fast.
It's the stillness behind my steady stare,
the fire I tame, not the one I unleash.
It’s walking away when anger flares,
letting go of what I can’t reach, finding release.
I’ve stitched serenity from sorrow,
threaded calm through countless sleepless nights.
Peace, to me, isn't some distant tomorrow—
but daring to rest in fractured lights.
So if you want a piece of my mind,
you’ll find it in the way I pause,
in how I fold my fears like paper,
and whisper “soft” where there was “because.”
I’ll speak not to conquer, but to mend—
peace isn't passive, it’s power, my friend.
I'm not feeling at all myself today—
I see a sea of selfies.
adrift in a mirror maze,
floating as reflections that are lost
in a hall of posed intentions.
Each face is a practiced smile.
a seance of polished poses,
looped like circling carousel horses,
whispering secrets they pretend are mine.
I forge new versions of myself daily,
crafted to echo what strangers crave,
me to be, or to become, not what I truly am,
hiding in the hollow eye sockets of the masks.
As for me, I feel more like I'm becoming.
A be, yet to be; a question still unraveling.
I'm a stem cell of identity.
Not yet fixed, not yet become,
with a fluid potential to be everything,
or just a little bit of nothing,
all in the same breath.
My shadow lingers behind me.
Faithful, yet mute, and blind—
unable to speak or swim,
or survive the spotlight’s glare.
It hides my darker inner self from me.
That none of my selfie reflections,
in the mirrors ever want to see.
Inhabited by check and counterfoil,
my head is full of squatters – what a mob!
One Michael’s eager for his daily toil:
another Michael can’t abide his job.
There’s one of me who’s frugal, prudent, wise,
and one you wouldn’t trust to walk the dog:
one version tries it on with petty lies,
while one’s as stable as a fallen log.
One talks like Robin Williams on a high,
but one’s as muted as a manatee:
so how can I my inner self descry?
Establish which, of all of them, is me?
in the heart of the absolute
an intent arose
to manifest as a soul seed
then see how He grows
hiranyagarbha: cosmic egg
shaped like head ovoid
was the first manifestation
pure and unalloyed
both immanent and transcendent
Self as living light
crystallised then as body-mind
where ego blurred sight
earth life’s real and yet a dream
twirled by gunas three
yet light innate cannot be caged
silence sets us free
knowing this not, we pray to gods
concepts we’ve been fed
adept at brainwashing ourselves
truth’s as good as dead
in a state of inner conflict
head and heart apart
God smiles at us when we choose love
that’s the way to start
boundaries blur when love awakes
pheromones mingle
in samadhi we transcend mind
our soul’s eye single
the seeker who sought disappears
Self alone remains
this is the way, weary hermit
to shed ego chains
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Lost
The sun sinks low, the shadows grow,
No moon is out up high,
A chilling breeze begins to blow,
With stars up in the sky;
I wearily wade my way in vain
Across serpentine lanes of a forest,
Speckled with thick thorns and thickets,
But each time tumble at the same spot;
My heart is sore with seams of strains,
I feel lost in the night,
My feet are tinging with deep pains,
No pathway greets my sight.
Most of the trees seem to sneer at me,
Some to snarl like wild woeful winds
Treating the spot as their enclave,
A guarded setting of their own;
A voice soon whispers in my ears,
A voice from inner self:
“Move straight without a grain of fear,
And steer ahead yourself.”
Inspired by The Beatles song “Let It be”
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So Let It Be
When darkness of night shrouds my life
And I cannot sustain my strife
My inner light comes to rescue
For the path in life to pursue
Along the rightful road to walk
And the virtuous goal to stalk,
So let it be, so let it be,
The inner light as guide to me.
I always had that inner quality of putting others first
I'll become anything needed from a mom to a nurse
I'm so busy with others that i don't get what i need
I think it's about that time that i just focused on me
Venture out and go places and see more sights
Enjoy my own bonfire along with the night star light
There's many things that i wish I had personal time to do
Putting myself second is the reason i don't have a clue
If the other people were happy was always my concern
Self help before helping others is what i have to learn
It's ok to be there for others but you have to be happy too
If others are content why would they think about you
I have helped others and have done many good deeds
I think it's about that time that i just focused on me.
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.