"retrospection" poems
"Why one writes is a question I can never answer easily, having so often asked it of myself. I believe one writes because one has to create a world in which one can live. I could not live in any of the worlds offered to me – the world of my parents, the world of war, the world of politics. I had to create a world of my own, like a climate, a country, an atmosphere in which I could breathe, reign, and recreate myself when destroyed by living. That, I believe, is the reason for every work of art.
...
"We also write to heighten our own awareness of life. We write to lure and enchant and console others. We write to serenade our lovers. We write to taste life twice, in the moment and in retrospection. We write, like Proust, to render all of it eternal, and to persuade ourselves that it is eternal. We write to be able to transcend our life, to reach beyond it. We write to teach ourselves to speak with others, to record the journey into the labyrinth. We write to expand our world when we feel strangled, or constricted, or lonely … When I don’t write, feel my world shrinking. I feel I am in prison. I feel I lose my fire and my color. It should be a necessity, as the sea needs to heave, and I call it breathing."
('The New Woman', 1974)
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Freedom At Kannyakumari
“The destiny of India is molded in her class-rooms”
Kothari had no confusion; no vision on the fusion-
of the East and the West, as Swami Vivekananda’s vision,
“The comingling of the East and the West will dawn a new Era”.
As tissue culture, transplantation or cloning
we Indians imbibe the Western Culture;
or as G.M cotton or brinjals,or tomato
Indians are produced, transmuted
destroying the very indigenous genus for material growth.
Ayurveda is preserved not in Sanskrit but in English letters, now !
Followers of Lord Maccaulay as obedient servants,
by experiments,bring up Indians only in blood and colour-
in every other respects-Europeans
(using imperialist - capitalist media);
poor sycophants ,for a visa,
the Indians: now , turn to the West for light,
leaving the bright light under the Urn;
cry for a way of progress, safety and food;
and beg:once self reliant nations as cells of a body
No retrospection or introspection,
only putrefaction, hence , no resurrection.
On August 15th ,at Kannyakumari beach , beside me,
a bare body of a woman(my sister?) lay asleep;
I witnessed at the starry cold mid-night:
the surging sea spitting frothing snow
upon the black rocky *******
protruded, greasy, mossy. bare but fair ,
ever young at the feet of Bharat-matha.
Wet in the salty breeze , from the foul smell of death,
I walked and walked searching shelter,
but no room for a single son with meagre wealth.
The tourism net -workers with the thirst of mosquitoes
hummed around me with highly rented room offer-
source of tourism exploitation- I bargained,
till, morning red balloon rose up in the Eastern horizon
cleaving the vapours of the sea,
when , thousand tongues chanted Gayathri;
then , the locals thronged around the woman on the shore;
somebody among them, staring blear eyed
as the police jeep and the ambulance arrived , bewailed
“O! Gayathri, my darling, O! Gayathri…” Unsoothed.
The chanting and the yelling dissolved in the breeze
that passed by the Vivekananda rock, afar, south
Sep 12, 2012
Sep 12, 2012 at 3:50 AM UTC
We set out from our homes
With aspirations bright
A bag pack of skills
And a sceptre of perfection
A potion of blessings
To keep company
We are complete.
Through the low nights
And during the blazing noons,
Through the hard needles of showers,
Until we reach the land of flowers,
We unravel
Secrets of the deep and the dark
We gain and yet sometimes loose
We fathom
Through the layers wise
And make our axioms
On a quiet night however,
When we plunge in retrospection
A star shines bright
Connecting and completing the picture
We are but one glowing dot from the many
And the canvass completes
With the treasure of family lineage
All encompassing and strengthening
A synecdoche of life.
Jan 10, 2013
Jan 10, 2013 at 7:44 AM UTC
Confliction,
Deception,
Introspection,
Retrospection,
Contraception,
Reflection,
Who art thou?
Who am I?
Who are you?
Bicurious,
Heterosexual,
Bisexual,
***********
Demisexual,
Asexual,
Homosexual,
Alone,
Joined,
Separated,
Unison,
Loneliness,
Together,
Rambling,
Scrambling,
Galloping,
Struggling,
Basking,
Scattered,
Are My Thoughts.
Jun 8, 2014
Jun 8, 2014 at 12:14 AM UTC
886
These tested Our Horizon—
Then disappeared
As Birds before achieving
A Latitude.
Our Retrospection of Them
A fixed Delight,
But our Anticipation
A Dice—a Doubt—
3.4k
I ended up at the wrong time,
in the wrong place,
carrying a dead flashlight
that instead of shining,
offered me an elusive shape—
a spectacle of shadows.
What was a hand
became a dog barking on the wall,
or a ghost-rabbit
vanishing into nothingness.
My rational “I” still asks why,
and I have no answer.
I just smile with sadness:
that was the script,
that had to happen.
Bittersweet medicine,
already swallowed,
the side effects dissolved.
And I boarded another train.
Writing?
I only wanted an ordinary life,
with some humor
and a pinch of self-irony.
Saturn joined,
Saturn divided,
at 8:18 a.m.
Maybe we humans
don’t have the stillness
to break free from the pattern
of silver rings
made of dust and ice,
imposed by an ego.
Maybe we prefer
the safety of the shadow,
ice melts in daylight.
My story:
a new-old flat,
my imperfect poems…
Really?
For this, I was made?
I’m not a poet.
I’m a living voice,
taming incomprehension
convincing myself
that dawn is near,
and I’m strong enough to rise,
not looking anymore
for cold mirrors.
Jun 20, 2025
Jun 20, 2025 at 4:45 AM UTC
in the shadows of retrospection, a somber truth unfolds, draped in the shroud of honesty. it's a reality i must face; it's better off this way.
you were already broken, a fractured soul wandering through the desolate corridors of existence. yet, you made a choice, a cruel decision, to shatter me as well. it's a harsh reality to digest, for nine months seemed too brief a span to bid farewell.
but now, looking back, those nine months appear as a mirage, a deceitful illusion. the person i thought i knew, the person i fell in love with, was nothing more than a phantom masquerading as reality.
our late-night rendezvous, the echoes of our laughter lost in the void, our spontaneous road trips to escape a mundane world and the culinary escapades that once ignited our senses - all of it, mere fragments of a fabricated tale.
our weekly staycations, where the world faded into insignificance, replaced by the universe we created, now reduced to the ashes of fiction. it dawns on me that it was all too good to be true.
in this realm of disillusionment, i find solace in the brutal honesty that it's better off this way. for sometimes, darkness unveils the most profound revelations, and in this darkness, i must find my light.
Sep 6, 2023
Sep 6, 2023 at 2:29 PM UTC
1289
Left in immortal Youth
On that low Plain
That hath nor Retrospection
Nor Again—
Ransomed from years—
Sequestered from Decay
Canceled like Dawn
In comprehensive Day—
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A pool with no walls in
An ocean with no souls
Has no choice.
Fate is the tyrant,
The trident even Poseidon controls not.
You cannot drown if you’ve never breathed air.
“Be no one like everyone,”
She laughs, “Equality 7-2521.”
My mouth remains frozen in the frown,
Brows furrowed down.
Disgusted by sheep, I never wear wool.
The fibers stick, **** suffocate,
Even when dry.
No one else minds it. In fact,
They say “baa” and wear the same masks.
“Bah,” I mutter into ripples.
Witness myself in reflection, introspection,
Retrospection: the id is omniscient;
Individuals are conventional, rarely exceptional;
Explanations are like Time,
They wound and heal.
Truth is disposable, honesty opposable.
Disillusionment is discovery,
Disgusting, discarding, disregarding,
Disblahblahbinizing.
Splash the water, pause the thought process.
Steal fate’s trident, bend it
Into a bubble wand.
When dawn dawns,
Daintily dip the stick in.
A big, blue bubble is born
With each breath, with each blow.
I enter the bubble, in peaceful pace,
Gently lay down,
Knees kiss my face.
Sigh with relief, rebirth, rediscovery.
The ultimate revolution ending
In victory,
In magnificent realizations,
In my last gasp.
Feb 13, 2010
Feb 13, 2010 at 8:59 PM UTC
roaring fiery flames
fill the empty void
inviting colors of ambers and golds ablaze
the room animates
different atmospheres of coziness
sitting back in retrospection
flickering fire entertains
with each crackling octave
creating peacefulness and calm.
whilst the flames aglow
playing Chopin
sipping cognac
burning scented candle of pine and rosemary
watching the felines and canine
congregating together harmoniously
mesmerized by flames
coruscating shadows on the walls
flames succumb catatonically
embers retire for the night.~~lorilynn
copyright*lorilynn 2010
Nov 30, 2010
Nov 30, 2010 at 6:23 AM UTC
what's all this commotion
why so high on emotion
take the leap of faith into the unknown
drop every held notion
step out of this false identity
these passing clouds are not here to stay anyway
it's all skin and bones
take a leap of faith into the unknown
why so high on emotions
entangled hopelessly in these false relations
witnessed enough so why let if fool you down again
it's all an endless circle of sunshine after rain
time to give a second thought in retrospection
to make second impressions
about these emotions
we're not here in vain but for a realization
divine intervention
so why all this commotion
take a leap of faith into the unknown
into the kingdom of stillness within
to witness the silent sound's reverberation
it's here the treasures are to be found
not outside in any relations
drop all your notions
follow the soul's guidance
to the eternal radiance
the mind wil trick you down
don't hold back take a leap of faith
you'll land safe 'n sound ~
Jan 26, 2015
Jan 26, 2015 at 8:24 AM UTC
Brown eyes,
Soul as she
Trudges through
These Demi-Ichorous lagoons
Of romantic mire.
Suspened tear-shaped vessels
From which sorrow
Bares down on soul's
Amber gated soil;
And memory,
Upon memory,
Upon memory,
Entrenches her feet.
Time immobile,
Despite vague recollection
Of retrospection.
Rain in anguish endured,
Devoured by these russet shoals,
And yet still remains this marsh-like nostalgia.
Branchless wasteland,
A collection of Earthen mounds
In sienna hue -
Barren in sky's womb
But God save the oak tree!
Hope's ne'er forsaken pillar
Kept a constant distance
Absent the stronghold of grasp.
Some circle of brown-eyed hell
I suppose,
Keeps the satisfaction
Of soul's salvation
Just beyond reach.
Aug 15, 2012
Aug 15, 2012 at 6:15 AM UTC
The tea cup clouds were reason enough.
Reeling, the clock hands spun on an axis wobble
noon flirted with night
and I broke into a run
as the sky opened its maw
and screamed.
Even the suits scramble for burrows.
Retrospection always has a punchline.
Hide away, slide away
Stop looking at my ******* please.
Now watch wide-eyed behind
public glass, with a
sitcom gang of affable protagonists
who are now late for their respective chapters
Staring at their phones, willing the weather
forecast to telepathically change.
The light strobes, the bricks quiver sympathetically
and I riddle a fourteen year old pantheon
as they sway, as they jaunt
ankle deep in charged water
daring each other and daring the sky
daring the noise with headphones still around necks
like defiant plastic boas
Clothes plastered, mouths open, rain-drunk
feeling **** revealing secret intimate shapes,
feeling sheepishly exposed next
to crushes who will kiss them at the next movie.
I am aware of each nerve as I drip and shiver
I'm terrified of storms, my reasons are mine
but even this fear
can cat-stroke my skin
hyper-sensitized, electric
and make me feel
**** too.
Jul 31, 2012
Jul 31, 2012 at 3:58 PM UTC
Oh! yes, I will own we were dear to each other;
The friendships of childhood, though fleeting, are true;
The love which you felt was the love of a brother,
Nor less the affection I cherish’d for you.
But Friendship can vary her gentle dominion;
The attachment of years, in a moment expires:
Like Love, too, she moves on a swift-waving pinion,
But glows not, like Love, with unquenchable fires.
Full oft have we wander’d through Ida together,
And blest were the scenes of our youth, I allow:
In the spring of our life, how serene is the weather!
But Winter’s rude tempests are gathering now.
No more with Affection shall Memory blending,
The wonted delights of our childhood retrace:
When Pride steels the ***** the heart is unbending,
And what would be Justice appears a disgrace.
However, dear George, for I still must esteem you—
The few, whom I love, I can never upbraid;
The chance, which has lost, may in future redeem you,
Repentance will cancel the vow you have made.
I will not complain, and though chill’d is affection,
With me no corroding resentment shall live:
My ***** is calm’d by the simple reflection,
That both may be wrong, and that both should forgive.
You knew, that my soul, that my heart, my existence,
If danger demanded, were wholly your own;
You knew me unalter’d, by years or by distance,
Devoted to love and to friendship alone.
You knew,—but away with the vain retrospection!
The bond of affection no longer endures;
Too late you may droop o’er the fond recollection,
And sigh for the friend, who was formerly yours.
For the present, we part,—I will hope not for ever;
For time and regret will restore you at last:
To forget our dissension we both should endeavour,
I ask no atonement, but days like the past.
1.2k
Thoughts fester and wallow in retrospection
Regret reclines upon your left shoulder
Gloom unforgiving sits upon your right
Prodigious and ever bolder
Attired in the colors of the night
Vacant is the once brilliant soul
It's path freely chosen
Ah unwelcoming heart bloodless and morose
Once pulsating with love and life now infinitely frozen
Indeed it becomes you
As glittering tomorrows metamorphose into yesterdays
Anger devours the futile effort
To unburden one's self of taunting shades
No words of this world shall relay to that which awaits
The unwavering constant confusion
When the moon grows dark on the wane
When Regret at leisure sits upon your left hand
Gloom hushed and brooding
Convenes with melancholy upon your right
Come the watching murmuring somber shadows
Provoking madness in the mind.
All Rights Reserved @ Tammy M. Darby July 27, 2017.
Jul 22, 2017
Jul 22, 2017 at 7:47 PM UTC
My imperial , stoic raptor standing watch over sun swept , dew infused dale .. Many thanks for kinship , service and timely Hill Country beautification , long days of valor filling weary minds and ear with noble ballads .. High above , camouflaged within the wind racked Pines , soaring warm Georgia air in quiet retrospection , filling hearts with passion and awe ..
Feb 18, 2016
Feb 18, 2016 at 11:03 AM UTC
Makes me pause to wonder why
I conjour thoughts to let them fly,
Float them forth as dreams do sing
Of hope's eternal leavening.....
Leavening the quiet subdued
Of retrospection's agate mood,
As still as glass in hidden pool
Soft utterings of maudlin fool.
M.
May 2, 2014
May 2, 2014 at 1:17 AM UTC
Ate a plate of whey, with the weight of the nation
on my shoulder blade, away from any destination
so underpaid, my paychecks archaic
not even a quarter to go to arcades with
it’s outrageous!
misery must be contagious
haven’t seen happy faces in ages
It may just be time to vacate
break out like rosacea to the golden gate
every swig of this whiskey brings me to a bolder state
like Colorado
i weighed my options and hopped in my Silverado
like a desperado full of bravado
with the bottle, feeling tipsy now though
singing in staccato **** an intervention’
time to get uncertain,
speed full throttle towards the intersection
laughing and swerving
through the red light cursing
and yelling interjections
with a bottle of bourbon
horns blaring, it’s deafening
my middle finger ascending
just struck a deaf person
no ***** giving
i’m out of my mind, livid
get hired and fired in 5 minutes
from any job i was given
i’m tired of living
no one even knew i existed
until i started whizzing through traffic
causing collisions,
now i’m forcing decisions
on residents w/ moral convictions
who’d rather see me oral constricted
then remain mortal in prison
got these ******* endorsing petitions
to have me executed by poison injection
shot, hung, electrified, the above all mentioned
and did i mention-
My backseat looks like a knife convention
there’s an array of switchblades i had since fifth grade’s declension
Sketching art on the desk while serving detention
some kind of wonderful, no eternal reflection
i’m reflecting as i smashed into a connection
and see my reflection in the water
as i’m descending slow motion like deception
my body is in all different positions of flexion
this is met with favorable reception
hear the crowd’s exhilaration
i’m unwilling to indulge in anymore retrospection
just waiting to hear the splash
and waves crash then….
Jul 14, 2014
Jul 14, 2014 at 5:18 PM UTC
* I'm trapped. Oh I mean it.
Giving such attention to things that could make me feel even to you.
But in reality it was such a horrible scene which is all a scheme of visions.
Malevolent feelings running and wanted to break in.
Wishing like a semantics for a vivid point as my head and heart whisper...
If only...
If only you could feel how my senses were in unison.
Holding up like it wanted to implode within my inner me.
But now, I'm like a "CalmdownMAchine".
Yes. Wondering of what you are up to
Yes. My mind were in circles when I'm hearing bout your name.
Yes. Im caught in motion to still care.
Yes. Gravity still involves why im falling back.
But It's always a big BUT's.
Still back to the ignorance is a bliss thingy.
Coz sometimes it's the best way to be.
Scowling. In such time where hate is still there.
Telling that imperious voice in my head to be still.
Awaken me oh. . Please!
Just tell.. you needed me.. So please stay.
Guessing of tomorrow's tale
Keep thinking of what should i say or you'll say
Hope promised words shall never fail
For it's all a credulous act.
Maybe, time has read its fate.
I dont know what's your worthiness
Loving just to say and act.
I'ts not that enough.
You've been blind after all
Coz All you do is to follow what others tell.
Such a sad word to say but, I tell you
Risk is what it all takes...
and love is about to recline
Like Dots that needs to connect to its line...
Mar 26, 2013
Mar 26, 2013 at 11:36 PM UTC
All kinds of people,
what you'll find in life,
some are chasing steeples,
some chasing intellectual might,
and still others aren't chasing anything at all.
And still there is another kind of person,
they don't carry any particular banner,
still it's held high,
enthusiasm unfolding.
They have no need for organized religion,
no need for basic convention,
they simply know what is and what isn't,
no need for retrospection,
always moving forward.
They reject both philosophy and religion,
at least for now,
something is amiss,
no need for crowns,
philosophy,
pedantic,
religion,
self-righteous.
Still they fight,
they struggle forward,
doing what feels right for now,
growing without notice,
philosophy and religion constitute their heartbeat,
the subconscious without doubt.
They blend in today,
and tomorrow will furrow their brow,
funny how it works,
I like to think he's chasing the unseen.
Oct 20, 2013
Oct 20, 2013 at 4:00 PM UTC
*There is
a mountain,
a retrospection-capped mountain
amid desolate lands marred with despair.
A mountain enveloped by
gloomy nostalgic clouds
with the coldness of confusion
relentlessly swirling in the air
whilst brazen bells ring reality
to announce the conqueror dawn.
A mountain nothing but*
my head
Jun 23, 2016
Jun 23, 2016 at 11:49 AM UTC
<~>
Pradip Chattopadhyay:
“I think of death now, but more than that, the life I left behind.”
*this is like gray hair,
one day, just there,
lower back pain, joins the train,
this retrospection inspection,
seasonal,
neither spring summer or winter,
just a unique fall,
like gray hair,
appearing slowly,
surprisingly unsurprising.*
*there is no wisdom herein,
just timed capsule release
decay.
the weaker the eyesight becomes,
the squinting routine,
we see every moment,
through a rearguard retreat.*
did we win, or just
stalemate?
we cannot accept
the sense of lost,
so squint harder,
for looking ahead
is refused
for that is a neutral state,
facing backwards
is the only warranted
directive,
that you must, must
take to make hard
judgement.
Apr 10, 2022
Apr 10, 2022 at 8:58 AM UTC
Let's not trouble You with Me.
Let us squat on the lawn of disremembered things
and picnic the day away, cavorting in the sumptuous.
Deployed like balloons from another world-
More made of Grace than the grit
of our actual lives.
And be on
our way.
Weak in the knees, with solid steel prayers
I'll anchor my full disclosure to the Moon and a gnat.
I'll comb the halls of our misadventures
to find you blithering in the gorgeous
of your wonderful Self.
My love is like an unspoken jewel
that murmurs after your esteem.
You are the ring that binds the soil of my retrospection,
And the very thing that amplifies
the joy of my shipwreck
at Thee.
Feb 16, 2017
Feb 16, 2017 at 9:52 AM UTC
O why, O why, O why was I born in this non-laternlit world?
No!
O why, O why, O why was I born in this non-torchlit world.
What woe!
And try, and try, and try I do, to fulfill myself, all others, too!
And try, and try, and try I do, to remind myself, all others, too:
That it is not man's devices that light the darkness,
but the sun's brightness…
Jul 5, 2018
Jul 5, 2018 at 1:54 PM UTC
The darkness comes
and the sadness engulfs,
I stumble and fall with no direction
my heart is filled with an infection.
Still I crawl and crawl ,
no one knows why,
what is the reason that I still try?
I know it's to do with the retrospection.
My heart is still filled with that infection.
When I start to sink and gasp for breath
you are what I think of before my death.
soon it will become silent...
I open my eyes and see a reflection.
My sadness is a demonic deception!
From where do I draw my strength?
From your light is the answer they get.
You help keep my heart pumping.
You give me love that causes anticipation
Your love is my hearts infection.
~ Rainbow
Jul 11, 2019
Jul 11, 2019 at 7:24 AM UTC