Self Portrait Poems | Examples

Patterns, Self-Portrait

 I never know my body has rotten
 until it appears through the wall mirror
 these remains are heaped upon an autan
  next spire takes a hearer turn for queerer

      now urban commercial cores of gulag
      I am a particular         schlockier
     for signs which are cheap to erect as clague
      extensions can be found from that nearer 

    some convergent, others conflicting stun
    I suspect having to do with my craag
    this penetrates deeply into a gun
     into the family         into dague

         extreme lengths to which I loosely spun
           remain a shadow in place to slither

Self-Portrait with Flightless Bird

I gave myself the body
of a secretary bird—
long legs like accusations,
a face too sharp for comfort.

But wings? I borrowed
from a taxidermied dodo:
soft, irrelevant,
stitched to the wrong century.

In the background,
a sky I did not earn.
In the foreground,
a foot poised to crush a snake
that looks suspiciously like me.

Self Portrait

Unpredictable and volatile--
morose and quiet one moment,
he is laughing heartily just after a while
at whatever excited his mirth, 
his high thin loud laugh strange
from a person with a grave mien.

He would often be in deep thought,
as if engaged in contemplation 
of a philosophical question.
You’d think he is not given to humor,
but know him well and you will divine 
he is not averse to jests even at his expense.

You would view it with some misgiving 
he delights in fairy tales, children’s books, toys,
movies with superheroes or fantasy themes,
colors, flowers, and childish games, 
but perhaps you would forgive him
for through circumstances not of his own doing
childhood had somehow skipped him.

SELF-PORTRAIT ART ekphrasis

SELFIE PORTRAITURE

ego
on show

SELF PORTRAIT: APROPOS OF A FLASHBACK

I'm a dark-hued poetic mind
           Writing mine:
Inking navel keloid words
            Water-broken
           From pregnant
               Thoughts 
          
                   YES

But even these I want to share
       For sharing is caring:
         About love
           About peace
             About freedom 
                About babes
                  About bombs
And about lumbering shadows of life
       Silhouetting hungry death

                YES 

I'm a dark-hued poetic mind
          Writing mine
 A cranial reservoir dripping
      Spear-tipped words 
   Dripping cognitive flows
           Conjuring
             Cosmic
         Consciousness
            Defying
        The cryptic
      Void of silence

Self Portrait

"Self Portrait"


My Picasso pro
Boscis only
Knows

Pinocchio 
Lighthearted
Lies laying in cubis

Tic
Isms
Of truth

ART of SELF PORTRAIT id ego REVEALED

not
     a reflection
or
     a picture of perfection

So,what is my goal?

merely a sur-real

glance
        into the looking-glass
of
   my soul

with id & ego
 
                  on show

Self Portrait

In the drawing.
Flat paper on the coffee table.
I’m in it.
Crayons? Markers?
Shaking in my hands.
Sadness confined to a rectangle.
My mom looks over and wonders.
I’m not crying, it’s just marker on paper, see?
I like to draw tears.
And myself, no one else is allowed.
I don’t cry in real life.
I’m not annoying like that.
When she calls me down for dinner-
I’d rather draw.
When she calls me down to go outside-
I’d rather draw.
To get better at drawing-
The prettiest tears in the world.

I WRITE

if I am unwell
bring me parchment where I lie
if I do not answer
put a quill in my hand
my lines will speak for me
the ink will form the thoughts
from emotions that fill my head
I beg you decipher the strokes
that I attempt to write simply
but if the markings seem like riddles
make sense of the whole
by embracing the abstract you see
the patterns and rhythm will reveal
a  portrait of my naked self

Sartorial Self Portrait

bomber jacket, dark glasses 
blown out hair,
faded jeans that fit me slim,
brown leather belt and shoes,
a dangling cigarette between lips,
is how I would fancy look!

Reality is something else,
and what I look is more like this…
A T shirt straight out of wash,
never seen the underside of iron,
crumpled to show how the machine spins!
trousers broad fit that struggle to stay
at the waist, with a belt that fails to grip,
the colours of these never match,
and the shoes are ones that were 
quick to reach, and the result is a
riot of disagreeable colours!
who cares!!! That is me!
When I walk, my wife walks with me
separated by a hundred feet,
with her impeccable attire that 
compliments every fraction of her,
with lipsticks to match!!
Style of clothing do not make a man
but they seem to make a woman!
Reality of life is mismatch of things,
that we learn to love and to live with!
That is why we have been married years!!
our distances in clothes is bridged by
our deep understanding and love for
each other! And when this love really
gets to work- we often discard our clothing!!

Sartorial Self Portrait Poetry Contest

What's this we have here?
Second hand?
No, worn out? Eco friendly.
Sure, the color's fading some
But for the grade
It's not too spendy
And it's versatile
Though it doesn't change
Not affected much by where it hangs
Around
Been through the wash a couple times
So I bet if you take it down
You'll find the fiber's tough
Despite the gentle feel
Threaded thick enough to warm you
While being cool enough for mass appeal
And thus often a-ddressed
Though I think you'll find it’s just as satisfying
To give it a rest
(And I'm sorry for the rhyming)

Sartorial Self Portrait

Solid denim
torn at the knee
dark hues of cotton
comfortable as can be

tears from the loving
of horses' gentle pull
stains where
children's hearts were full

A hint of reds
purples and greys
eclectic and simple
depends on the day

Easy the flow
strong are the seams
a small touch of color
smell of lavender when cleaned

Fancy it's not
though dribbles of strife
wares of this wardrobe
express a simple life.

SARTORIAL SELF-PORTRAIT

SARTORIAL SELF-PORTRAIT

Even as a young man,
I dressed just like my dad.
‘Clothes are what defines you,’
Was a saying my mother had.

But now I’ve retired from the city,
Perhaps it’s time to break free.
So I’m looking through my wardrobe
To find out what defines me.

Here’s a row of pin-striped suits,
Three-piece, in the main.
With waistcoats with a pocket,
For a watch on the end of a chain.

And now the shirts, all white of course,
With collars that detach.
Long sleeves with fancy cuff links
And a smart tie pin to match.

There’s a lingering smell of moth balls
As I move along the rails.
Especially in the section
Where I keep my top hat and tails.

Even at home I wear a tie,
Though, to help me to relax,
I have a long-sleeved cardigan
And a pair of well-cut slacks.

But, right at the end, in a cover,
To make sure it doesn’t fade,
A memory of a brief interlude,
When I wasn’t quite so staid.

A reminder of my salad days,
When I lived life with a passion.
I’ve kept those flares for fifty years,
In case they come back in fashion.

SELF PORTRAIT

A skin, bit rough, and brownish fair;
A rounded face and short black hair;
Fine vignettes on a wide forehead 
that seems to think the ways ahead. 

Cherry red lips, thick and pouty;
Two big ears, a nose that's humpy;
Big black eyes with flickery wink 
seem to fathom the way you think.

Self portrait poetry contest 
7th place

Self-portrait

I faced this man, looking like a portrait, 
I heard him whisper from heart straight. 

You’re bold and flagrant frank,
voice vibrates with cadence of confident airs,
you’re logical, at times tangentially crank,
eyes encase dulcet dreams, at times tears

In the latent lattice of intricate design,
layer on layer, your mind is stratified,
the sanguine strata of all assorted hues align,
unique psychic patterns are unified.

Many aspects of singular distinction hide
within the network of your mind’s cipher layers, 
can’t be decoded by the world outside,
the reticent sense of silent self never cares. 

An insular captive of your mental making, 
you’re you, an inimitable loner,
in your lane you see the aliens walk forsaking,
you’re defined by your essence sober.

These are the entity attributes of you people view, 
different from the rest around you, for you’re you.

I looked at the portrait somewhat closer,
saw this man stare at me from the mirror.

• Short Self Portrait Poems
• Famous Self Portrait Poems
• Best Self Portrait Poems
• Read Self Portrait Poems
• Long Self Portrait Poems
• Self Portrait Quotes