Introspective Poetry Quotes

“As my summer draws to a close,
I drag my dreams behind me,
till all collapses back into light,
in a season without hours.

In the end, only you remain,
beyond the unfolded memory,
as I turn my only heart
toward the sunrise.”
― Monica Laura Rapeanu, The Void That Reflects Your Beauty

“What speaks slowly becomes bold.
What begins as a letter becomes a book.

Whoever crosses a line is a poet.
Whoever is a poet becomes a revolt.”
― Laura Chouette, The Willow Song

“Whatever I take from you,
Trust me, it is not enough
To build me back up.

I stare into walls you build
For hours on end,
Just to reflect myself in cracks.

A home built without love.”
― Laura Chouette, The Willow Song

“Poem with Adjustments

And I write out of worry,
I write out of fear,
I write for writing's sake,
And I drown in between these motives.

I become a poet,
I become a lover,
I become a human,

And still, I seek to become a writer.

I become still in the seeking.”
― Laura Chouette, The Willow Song

“Tears Above a Keyboard

The words you built inside a mind
One day destroyed you.

You became a single tear
Without the memory.”
― Laura Chouette, The Willow Song

“My Lines

My lines cross tragedy,
Hope, and love;

A mere poetry of life
Keeps anyone alive.

I may wander along,
Yet I’ll be a part of it—

Life—I seek.”
― Laura Chouette, The Willow Song

“All The Ink I Wasted

All the ink I wasted
Climbing up ivory pages and cursive titles
Of whoever asked to buy and sell -
Words and souls and hope and pain.

All the nights I spent
Crying out to the world what I thought
Or blaming myself for not hearing back -
Worlds are crashing inside myself.

All the fights I fought
Calming my strife to succeed and feel
Overwhelming hopes and dreams in spare -
Wondering if I write my fate or dare to seal.

All the wasted words
Counting each number up I tried to spell
Only to be reminded of despair once again -
Worth is nothing nowadays with a price to sell.”
― Laura Chouette, The Willow Song

“The Weight of Perception

I destroy myself by thinking about what I’m not;
And they who love me destroy themselves by thinking that I am.”
― Laura Chouette, The Willow Song

“The Tragedy of the Ordinary

The ordinariness is tragic—
Not because it happens all over again,
But when it doesn’t, it hurts every day.”
― Laura Chouette, The Willow Song

“Wasted Chances
I think life offers many chances,
And we waste most of them by never taking them—
(Just like untouched glasses of champagne.)”
― Laura Chouette, The Willow Song

“Unmoored

I set myself abound,
Like a new ship standing against the ocean;
The waves set free
By land of long imprisonment—
Alone.”
― Laura Chouette, The Willow Song

“Ireland

The land is scarred
by hills and roads of foreign.
Ways lead to false capitals
and answered calls of long-ago wars.”
― Laura Chouette, The Willow Song

“I Want…

I want to inhale life,
Not just exhale it.
I want to feel alive,
Not just go on living.
I want to exist,
Not just fade away.”
― Laura Chouette, The Willow Song

“Inside the Inside

In the cave I cower

Against walls and floor as stoney
As my heart
I gain comfort
In the chill seeping into me
In the aches
In the emptiness

But
Even with its vastness
I feel suffocated
Claustrophobic
In its crushing space

The entrance
Invited me
Teased me
Safety, it promised
Warmth, it said
Comfort, it lied

So now, in the cave I cower
The entrance now an exit
One I can’t approach
For the teases are taunts
The invites are insidious
The promises perished

A mountain of self-doubt
Erupted like a volcano
Stands between us

In the cave of my self-image
I cower”
― Shaun Allan, Pieces of Me

“...Do things become ghosts once we stop calling them by their names? And what of the disappearing tongue, the one we never learnt?

In my studio, I sit cross-legged on the cusion by the window. The wind fills the sky with pine needles, dead catalpa leaves...

When Houdini makes a pigeon disappear inside his mouth and spits out the feathers, how much sky does he swallow?”
― Samyak Shertok, No Rhododendron: Poems

“Vengo huyendo de nada porque nada queda ya de lo que alejarse.”
― Amara Muhurta, Momentos que se esfuman para crear otros