Mirror Poems | Examples of Mirror Poetry

When I look in the mirror, I don’t see me; I see who I used to be. A little lost girl who was so abused and so misused, so ashamed of who she was, so helpless and so selfless. Yet somehow, she refused to give in...refused to give up on life. Even though she tried. She used her books to...

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In the depths of silence, when I gaze into the unseen mirror of my thoughts, I wonder what it truly means to contemplate one's own nakedness, is it the absence of something that should be, or just an illusion of the mind? Reality is merely a spectacle unfolding before my eyes. It is here, right now, in every breath...

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Africa, the land of first breath, Where the sun kissed the soil and diamonds wept from the womb of the earth. A continent dressed in gold and green, Where rivers write scriptures and mountains sing freedom. You gave birth to the world — and the world gave you shackles. Your lakes are endless, your waters fresh and sacred, Your belly pregnant...

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Hello friends, makeup is a skillful art, Do you agree or not, it is real, ...

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My hair is enough, my eyes are enough My lips are enough, my face is enough My legs are enough, my hips are enough My skin is enough, my body is enough I am me, I am me, I accept all that I see, all that I see I am free, I am free just to be me, just to...

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a blank page when I awaken and walk barefoot across the carpet and when I embrace the song of nothingness it wants more a cool breeze through the window breathes new life onto the page in front of me and the sun peaks through the window as I sit at my laptop and slide my feet under the desk I love my muse and learn to let...

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I stared into the mirror too long And it finally broke beneath my gaze Not from age, neither from accident But the weight of truths I dared not face. I saw a childhood in pieces stitched together with borrowed faith smiles that were survival and joy that never quite fit. I tried to imagine someone else a better version but the cracks revealed more than...

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I asked my shadow to swim on the surface. I didn’t want it to sink in fear, from the ripples pulling it down, fading into gray below. I asked the silence to hold a chord until it could resonate. I wanted echoes to break through the empty spaces where sound had once lived. I asked the silence to...

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I told the truth and still, someone bled. Silence would have stitched us shut, a delicate, rose-gold lie— woven into the wallpaper of a bedroom left sketched. I thought I was choosing clarity, but the mirror fogs each morning. Future—blunted, gray— looms like wet brick pavements. No signs, only echoes of footsteps— taunting like the choices I regret. This morning, I climbed the roof before the city stirred. The...

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The mirror copies— life responds. Inside a mirror you are frozen. A stasis oasis. As if you’ve entered a black hole— and God took a screenshot. Paused, at the last real still frame. Everything else…A timeless story. There is something sacred about a mirror world. And it’s that you remember the light before it was refracted. Because that echo— the silent director to...

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You claim that we live in a just society One where law comforts the innocent And justice punishes the victim But that's not true is it? When in reality it's the opposite of that Especially when you are black For us We live in an alternate reality Where this doesn't happen Where we the innocent are falsely imprisoned...

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mirrors take on a new life at night when the lights go out and the house gets dark spirits are attracted to the silence they tiptoe to the edge of the mirror and check out the house peeking at the furnishings they dare not look at during the day For fear of being spotted and revealed, for they are hidden Psychically...

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A Hall of Mirrors ill conceived With dark reflections to deceive From front or back and side to side Each look impounds what time proscribes Were you looking in or looking out When Alice voiced her final shout A dozen clonings a thousand views The glass your jailer — in silver hues (Dreamsleep: June, 2025) ...

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Before a misty morning mirror above a half-filled basin such cold water was I braving simply to lave my face in but the coldest cut of all and it only hurts when I smile I severely slit myself while I was busy shaving but did my frozen fingers fumble or was it just a rusty razor which sorely needs replacement that figured in my defacement as there...

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Each petal cuts me in my sleep— you call it soft, but I bleed every time I touch it. The mirror doesn’t cry with me anymore. Only the fog stays. It hums like a swallowed scream. ...

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