Selves Poems - Poems about Selves

in stark wilderness to our own selves we confess should not seek redress...

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Birth in a world of drama, fear, chaos, and confusion Which dominates the masses to cast a sickly illusion Looking pass, beneath, between, beyond and above Deciphering the codes of life that left out pure love Seers see it all; its not about gifted to see the the future Seeing through the veil what I labeled the...

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Adrift in sweet reverie while composing my journal I sense myself wandering streets in solemn austerity 'Tis such a blunt shift from my usual musings nocturnal To what do I owe this odd disturbing disparity? In this vision I plod narrow alleys austere A familiar dream within I-him I'm now aware Presently it has become abundantly clear We are one, he and...

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Don’t let the darkness sink in Within a blaze of pain and of fire You will be ridiculed You feel how we feel Hot and yet unbearably cold With limited sense of remorse No-one will arrive You are your own messiah You are your own You yourself are your own judge Your own jury You are complacent Yet you do not know what it means You...

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To soothe the cornered inferno Consuming a sanctuary abandoned Spider's silk like snow kissed ground Walls caressed by a nurturing moss, A mausoleum of birth The detached ruins we carry A firefighter's hose spouts curses To cauterize a ghastly flame The fire fights itself separately So the lever pullers on the dispatch Call into the ears of a healer To douse themselves in gasoline There is no...

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Breathe deeply my legacy, My mysterious abandonments My asylums of the dead. So many forgotten dwellings Now boarded up and cold. I once wore them and shed them Like snakeskins. All these mental spaces, What was their meaning? What visitations did I encounter? So many giant houses of horror, Gothic crumbling, rotting mansions of ruin. There, I was imprisoned In solitary confinement self-imposed, Like a rodent feeding on garbage, I...

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Many in me are pure hate and wrath. Others, just peace and detachment. But nothing emerges lucid and effective that reconciles all that I am. In the afternoon I throw myself in pieces from the top of my endless abyss. At night, I silently piece together the puzzle of myself. I keep my selves in a dark and rusty box...

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Between heaven and earth is so much more. You and I are for instance, but before. There is, we were; of two above will be; The imprint of who will be you and me. The glow of moon is not but with the sun. The beautiful blue cloud shines from the sun. You and I are meant...

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Man has... One body, And one soul, But two versions of self. One that the world sees clearly; A smiling, all-is-fine mien; A face unmasked. One side of self Brimming with confidence And compassion. The other, hidden From the outside world; Cold, Cynical, Judgmental. A pained face, concealed with lacerated wounds unseen. A face behind the veil of self-doubt and insecurity. A self, a face hidden in the shadows, afraid to turn around and...

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For two hours the Amish noticed the funny fowl dance Delighting that the rooster and guineas attacked the mirror The Amish women laughed as they hung out clothes to prance Some were called to look with a slick, “Hey! Come over here!” It is strange they think it is another like them, none think it’s a ghost. The rooster was...

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as we grow we change we start to feel comfortable within our own skin we start to trust ourselves we slowly stop seconded guessing every single little thing we do or don´t do we learn that there is no such thing as perfection so we eventually stop striving for it and in the end we just start...

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My true nature, I’m told, I must seek. I’ve been daft, I’ve been bold, I’ve been meek. I’ve been angry and slow. I’ve been high; I’ve been low. So my "self-seeking" prospects are bleak....

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...No longer could they blame it on others, or chock it all up to society, their losses, their failings, due to their choices, a hard truth, and many were not ready. Some would see what parallel selves had done, then find a gun, take a handful of pills, others would set out to remake their lives, convinced it was all a question...

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Like the author my name is David Welch, I write this poem as a warning to you from a universe that was like your own, so identical that it would confuse. An infinite number of realities, yes, the multiverse really does exist, I see you are going down our same path, and I am begging you, do not persist. You see my own...

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Folding in to convention, Sealed in creases of acceptance, Maligned and misled By the false promises Of a stolen heart, We chase the white whale Of validation Into waters of denial… ‘Fury—the rallying cry of our vengeful spirit Hate—the jilted lover of our fated selves’ (Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2016)...

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