Learn more about other poetry terms

Haunted by an inescapable sense of waste... In the throes of striving to be chaste. Watching youth erase without trace... At a pace that fails to win the race. Giving one's years to one who is cruel...
TO THINK:--------the frequent mangling thoughtful tanglingfactuation intensified by the love of the wise, is no wiseman at all, buta commoner sequence going on and on. resplendent is the word, complex is the verb.
TO THINK:--------the frequent mangling thoughtful tanglingfactuation intensified by the love of the wise, is no wiseman at all, buta commoner sequence going on and on. resplendent is the word, complex is the verb.
Psychopathic mind-state, with the heart of a pacifist God forbid my will breaks, else you learn the devil exists Liked a wolf in a sheeps guise walking around with a clever disguise
Been looking for affection at a rich man’s resurrection found plenty of gold but little introspection His friends cry crocodile and the family’s lamenting
The third and last poem in my final project assigned under the ELA 12 poetry unit. Dated 10/22/2019  
I am from the cold worries of winter, From that gnawing permanence  And the rejoice of warm spring. I am from the two venus violets. (Mulberry to Sunset Orange,
Drawing out my pains in Thursday morning when I've found my world Crashed and still bleeding, but I'm alright, I'm unscathed Or rather, my world has found me Chosen me today
A moment gives life Twists us to pain Grants us reward Redemption A moment strips us of dreams not yet had And sure enough we can all fall in collective defeat
Inquisitive when caged And indifferent outside a debt Why haven't I taken over the world yet? Thrashing madly on a stage Without an audience, a band, or set Why havent I taken over the world yet?
I can be the dyed rose petals scattered on your bed Whispering of love's lost chances, piercing veins instead Now we've scattered too, like them, who've long since lost their voice
brilliant and inflaming a pyro’s plastic milk container is wafting at the peak of fire the sunlight dripping makes a hinge and rainbows start their leaking in
When she smiles, I smile. When she laughs, I laugh. When she loves, I love. When she thinks, I think
I’m a little too much of the same thing I run on the railway lines That roll as straight and narrow As the razor-sharp wire I Am constantly using as a tightrope
The field lay, sad, cold, brown stalks rising rigidly and meaningless from blue snow in footprinted rows dark in the light of the orange sun
Space- truly the final frontier it is limitless and it's expanse unreachable, unmeasurable, unknowable... Still, we are a curious species, full of questions wanting to understand,
I’ve heard memories change each time you recall them, as if each is a set of two facing mirrors where both panes have sprinkled in artistic license. It reminds me a bit of history,
I’ve heard memories change each time you recall them, as if each is a set of two facing mirrors where both panes have sprinkled in artistic license. It reminds me a bit of history,
Waltzing through my mind mansion Naked save the tie about my wrist                    (Was about my eye                    but the front door guy                   bid me to remove it)
Within human introspection comes a price, A revelation to the darkness of the mind. Venturing inside requires the roll of the dice, Are you ready for something not so kind?  
Cutting it close to losing my clarity, seeing all the damage I’ve done. Watching what I saw in the mirror, the monster in which despised.
Dear pen,   We’ve been together for years Changing with the seasons And yet our character is still the same. Across thousands of pages,
I'm not sure how it happened, but I woke up one day to realize I haven't aged in a very long time These bodies don't define who we are
Sometimes I wonder,  if what I write becomes reality? In some distant universe my blunder means catastrophe.   But if that is the case, then what happens when I erase?
A part of me feels guilty.  
If I died, I’d cry But if I didn’t, then I’d never be alive I think I’m sad sometimes But other times I think that I’m just lying I like to sing out loud about death And feeling bad, and never being their yet
Why are we people subservient to the self-servient nature in us? We need to set our minds on each other and fill our hearts with trust So that we can maintain our grassy plains, Cultivate creativity, 
I don't want to stop you Please enjoy your time here Just know you are affecting me We are taking from eachother, in the time we have spent together.
There's a ghost who lives in the house next door. I wonder what she's waiting for. Every third day and every fourth night She glimmers softly, like candlelight, wistfully staring
My soul is overflowing. My brain is overwhelmed. My heart is bleeding. Filling my veins and pouring itself through my fingertips. Mixing with the ink on the page. My words staring back at me.
Without it I do not exist I cannot breathe i cannot eat i cannot sleep without it I am nothing  I am not human  I am not animal  I am not living I am not an object 
Come away with me to a far away land where we'll stroll on the water and wade through the sand, And together we'll rest in sweet company yourself and I, I all alone since you're me,
     hide quietly enough             and maybe just maybe   you can creep up        on your thoughts             ambush them           and capture them  
My fingers wildly compose literary sheet music of emotions. Scaling keystrokes somehow translate my inner entity and immortalizes it with words. 
I have butterflies in my chest  I thought I could put them to rest  stop their flittering, fluttering panic.     a day ago  a week ago  a month ago  a year ago   forever ago  
Tonight feels like foreverWith your anger; my concernsThey seem bigger than beforeWe both yell out our fableTo diminishing returnsWith every answer begging more  
I wield a fist that has shattered glass, leaving in its wake Shards strewn across the crimson splatter lining the sink where I weep sinking, sinking, sinking down into
I am. I am AshleighOr so it says, I am from the Ash Tree.I am the thousands of words written in the darkness in hundreds of other poems, some just like thisI am the photos that plaster my walls 
I am about as young as I will ever be the beard is looking thin but the mind is a lifetime of memories like remember? When I was thirteen? Skateboards and bursts of energy
God can judge me if he wants, And so can anyone else The only verdict I value Is my judgement of self The reactions that I draw From my actions and my flaws
I have these feelings trapped inside that cannot be put into words.
I am told I should see each of my deeds As items to cherish, tokens of pride.
1) Don't ever depend on others if you don't have to.2) I miss the fall leaves. I miss how I shivered in snow.3) I don't know what to say to him.4) I have bad ankles because I never stood up for myself.
Were love only for delight,
Nostrils flared, fists clenched, fingernails digging into my palm, teeth gritting together so tightly I fear they might shatter into a million pieces; my inner demon overcomes me.
All this time i thought we Were playing childhood games. You were the husband And i was the wife, tending To all the loving children we Bore together. We knew This was all make believe .
"Would you be like the others?", I pondered. It began with art and a hint of hesitancy. This was my thing. Our thing. And now you are here to share it. With us. One of the most magical days of my life
Further down the rabbit hole,into myself into my soul,knowing myself seeing the others,embracing the fact they are me, we are brotherswe've been hurt by our fathers,
Can I ask a million questions, half expecting a million answers? Should I try to learn all I don't know but should've learned when I was young Basic human interactions, I must've not been listening
One moment I merely stood, listening to everything and nothing, when there you suddenly were. Small, unimportant, fragile, and utterly beautiful.  
I drove with the windows down To feel the air upon my skin To watch the sunlight kiss the trees To figure out what sleeps within  
I do not know who you are or where it is you come from, but I want to know you.
Conservative flifloppers tackle warmth, Declining hugs and scratching their heads. Are you mad? Directly checkering and victimizing isolated grasshoppers. Gone AWOL, walk to the bus,
Tick. Tock. See the clock.
I was going to start a poem about this topic But seriously fuck you if you think I write for anyone but myself I am
Mighty is the mind that gives voice to the soul: To me, thoughts are mere pieces That echo my "whole". Separate so weak, Together so strong, One's will manifested Within abstract form.  
How can I take flight when the weight of the world  rests upon my shoulders?    I pray that a second wind give rise to an effortless glide all the while  knowing the absurdity of my actions. 
One,Two,Three,A child counts with glee,I count my pain,Hoping feeling will wane,I ask,Can I maintain?My voice sails into the wind,My ship has left the shore,
Two faces, one soul A diamond or a coal, Defined by day or night, Is he fight or is he flight, Is he silent or does he say,
  Selfishness, pride Her ego, her snide Bright blue eyes, Shiny hair Something more lies under there. Happy and giddy, Her grin wide with glee She’s got the sharpness in tounge
Deep in the confines of her mind is kept away her fears and insecurities - but once the night falls and she lays her head to rest, the doors open.  
I'm lost within the sweet  Lull of silence in the dark  I fall back into thought and retreat  Escape from the world and embark  Into the journey of introspection  Diving into the deepest depths of me 
Abysmal contemplation consumes my focus on the actuality of my fallacy. The facade amidst the looking glass fails to cast authenticity. Judgment overshadows the meadow.
  for love, for hate, for the broken-hearted... for your tears, for your fears, for all you've ever wanted but could not win for the man you are but cannot really show for the woman you pretend to be
High, high is the way, a slow, smooth continuum unfurls through oil black clouds, flush as memory, dense as it is tangible. Your emerald green eyes pause,
Orange light passes slowly on; as a slow brook passes an even slower traveler on his melancholy way through life.
The landscape of a soul is A valley of uncertainty Beneath a mountain of woes, A river of doubt Carving a path between A desert of despair And a forest laden with shortcomings.
“There is no honor amongst thieves even less with trailer-park debutantes”
I am a spiritual man. I believe stuff. I have read a lot, lived a bunch, experienced much, seen and did things
Subscribe to introspection