I walked through storms with nothing but fire,
Dreams grew heavy, but lifted me higher.
ALL MY SHADOWS BECAME TEACHERS OF LIGHT,
I turned my bruises into courage at night.
I carried burdens that bent my back,
Still built bridges where the ground was crack.
BENEATH THESE HILLS, MY ROOTS HELD STRONG,
Even in silence, my spirit sang long.
The world tried caging what I could be,
But destiny whispered: “Fred, you are free.”
COURAGE REQUIRES WOUNDS TO FIND ITS SONG,
I wore the pain and still walked on.
From protector to leader, I carved my name,
Through trials and scars, I mastered the game.
DESTINY IS WRITTEN IN UNSEEN HANDS,
Yet I rise daily, to claim my own lands.
I AM THE ARCHITECT OF MY OWN CAGE,
Building freedoms eternal, from age to age.
their gulf stretches in a chalice
with a bouquet looking into glass
Fine face is a mirror, A good smile is its arc, Courage is its armour, Emotion is its architect
The Ghost Inside My Head
I see you when I close my eyes
I hear you when I sleep I night
I miss you when the morning comes
I try so hard to bury you
Yet you never seem to stay dead
I try, I try to run from you
The ghost inside my head
You left me when I needed you
But it was impossible for you to stay
You shattered the windows and changed the locks
All so you can get away
You took away my peace of mind
So when I lie in bed
I find myself haunted by
The ghost inside my head
With lucidity comes memories
Of days with you long past
And dreaming only brings the things
I know could never last
My mind is as a home left empty
Where hurt accumulates like dust
And the foundation of my heart still stands
Only because it must
I wish I could say goodbye to you
Keep you just a memory instead
But youre forever living on as
The ghost inside my head
What causes one to feel this way?
lack of control over every emotion, like you’ve fallen from a cliff
out and in goes the air through your lungs as you barely breathe
vexed heart rate – feeling like you’re experiencing arrhythmia
every whisper and flutter is seen, even if it’s just you in the mirror
Don't you know?
You’ve already read the answer.
My heart reflects the silver of the moon;
your golden love, it bathes my dreamy swoon.
A poet writes from what they see,
From stories told, from memory.
Not every line is their own pain,
But borrowed clouds, or gentle rain.
They speak in ink, not spoken word,
They catch the cries that go unheard.
Yet people think each verse they weave,
Is just the life that they believe.
A poet shapes both joy and strife,
Not only from their inner life.
They hold a lantern in the dark,
And light the world with but a spark.
But poetry is a mirror’s art,
A crafted song from every heart.
It holds the world in shaded light,
And turns our shadows into sight.
Their craft is more than flesh and bone,
It sings of all, not theirs alone.
A mirror held to every face,
A written song, a timeless trace.
I had blood on my face. Dirty. Gracious. And… disgusting. Blood dripping on my face. Didn’t know it. It just smelled bad.
When I looked at my face in the mirror, I thought… that the mirror had the blood.
I kept cleaning it. Cleaning it. Rubbing it. With my arms. With my palms. With my fingertips.
At the fatigue, I could get in my fingertips until that blood dripped from my face onto the mirror.
And now I understand that I had a problem. Who caused problems on both me and the mirror.
Now I can clean the blood on my face. But what about the mirror?
The vet had been sympathetic in his demeanour
as I gently placed my beloved Shih Zhu
on the sterile stainless-steel table amongst the fumes of disinfectant.
My emotional support pet was shivering uncontrollably with fear.
It took him two days to pass away peacefully.
He was two days in passing—reluctant to give up the good fight—
brave as always when I had supported him during past emergencies.
Life is not lived in a sterile environment—perfumed with expectations—
at times my Shih Zhu had tested my love for him with his antics.
The vet had been clinically detached in his assessment as I hid my fears.
It returned at night,
with fangs out and mouth open.
A fierce need to feed,
camoflauged by a tame face.
Mind every empty mirror.
The crack in your heart is as wide,
As the crack that's parting your hide.
Just part your cheeks in the mirror,
Your crack will reek so much clearer!
At the vanity I sit
While my radio plays hits
A blank canvas stares back
Time for some beauty hacks
I hope the gods can hear my pleas
As I sit here and try to tweeze
An eyebrow shape that isn’t messy
Not too shabby, not too dressy
Some mascara and primer
And just a little bit of liner
A swipe of cherry lip gloss
I apply it in a cross cross
Dab, cover up, and powder
I turn my music up louder
It’s not just habitual
It’s a daily ritual
A repetitive task
Just to put on a mask
But it makes me feel good
Quite more than it should
I squeeze into a skinny dress
Beauty is a pain I guess
Even so, I’ll still impress
I’m not even gonna stress
Because even when I’m a mess
I gotta say I still look blessed
Just need a bit of setting spray
And I’m ready to take on the day
Eyeshadow specks gracing the floor
Glitter and gemstone diamonds galore
I glance at the mirror as I walk out the door
I’m looking my best but who’s keeping score
I peer in the pond
to see how nature sees me
a pure simple face—
but the image there is blurred
out of focus and disturbed
drops drip on the pond
my image quivers to rings
shaking what's seen there—
a dark shadow of myself
disturbed by faint puffs of wind
pond refuses me
a still life true reflection—
like a photograph
taken with flash-freeze device
for I'm incomplete not fixed
when the ripples fade
when the wind abates briefly—
what I see has changed
it's bent twisted distorted
by frustration and distrust
A black boy stands in front of a mirror
Practicing how to address an officer
"Yes officer"
I promise I'm good
I won't cause no trouble just because I'm from the hood
I won't make a noise
I won't make a sound
I'll make sure to leave the hood of my hoodie down
No frown on my face
You dont need to tell me I already know my place
You dont need to remind me of my race
"Yes officer"
I am in school
I also have a future I'm looking forward to
No I don't sell drugs
I'm just playing football
And yes I live in this neighbourhood
Black people can be rich too
"Yes officer"
My father is around
Never been to prison but is the mayor of this town
As for my mother she is a lawyer and that makes me proud
We aren't on food stamps
In fact we are the type of people to give back
And yes we can afford to do that
"Yes officer"
I'm black
But that doesn't give you the right to attack
sometimes i stare at the mirror for ages ~ and see nothing at all
only to hear an inner voice saying ~ you are being self absorbed
By
David Kavanagh
Specific Types of Mirror Poems
Definition | What is Mirror in Poetry?
Poems Related to Mirror
speculum, reflector, cheval glass, gaper, hand glass, imager, looking glass, pier glass, polished metal, seeing glass, exemplify, represent, depict, imitate, echo, typify, mimic, personify, epitomize, embody, follow, symbolize, illustrate, show, emulate, double, image, glass, simulate, take off, act like, make like,