Long Looking glass Poems
Long Looking glass Poems. Below are the most popular long Looking glass by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Looking glass poems by poem length and keyword.
Beautiful
Through the looking glass I can see
All the things I dream can be
A beautiful day
A heart opened all the way
Nobody with a day wasted
All have love, at least tasted
A blue sky
No one with a reason to cry
A hand to hold
To be told
As you grow old
Your loved like no other
Everyone can forgive their brother
Someone to hold
See beauty untold
A smile in the heart
A new start
Love in mankind
Some day they will find
That hates a waste
Leaves a bitter taste
Takes life the wrong way
Take time to say
I truly love you
So be true
Be kind
You'll really find
Love will win
I tell you again
Don't give in to hate
Such a horrible fate
You must join me
And together we can see
The start of something new
It begins with you
It's true
It may take awhile
But we can make all smile
She gazed at the looking glass, but the mirror refused to grant her a preview of what might happen, a clear picture of where she had been and if she existed at all, the spectre of the moment seemed to be disguised from inspection. Coming to terms with having absorbed and condensed too many of society’s norms and demands had seemingly been her duty and the prism of requests on her image of beauty had failed her inner Self. She drooled onto the spitting image of nothingness and the slobber ran down to the frame that upheld phlegm and contempt before it trickled down onto the baseless floor founded on hardcore delusion. Diet pills and dark shades had not relieved her from a succession of errors of reason and emotion and when she had blindfolded herself, the blinkers tore deep into her misrepresentation of surrender and cosmetic denial.
scanned in revulsion
vacant echoes burst the sight –
shards of glass splintered
So many fragments pierced into her eyes, that dry tears covered the pulverized viewing and heart-blood sprayed all over her soul. A point of no return, because if she failed to stem the flow and bandage the wounds, gangrene would set it soon and salving the lacerations would only speed up infection and purulent grime. The wall in front of her blurred out of proportion and there was nothing she could do about it other than retrieving bristles and paint from the storeroom and gloss over the shiny remnants of disrepair. And therefore, she entered into a journey of the unknown, drew rose petals and thorns onto broken canvas. Before she knew it, she decoupaged disintegration and fractures, glued a mosaic of imagination to mirror what should have been there in the first place. Sweat dripped from her forehead and smudged aquarelle shades which reassembled self-worth and confronted demons and abuse. An inner voice shouted, ‘all you need is a mantra to caption the artwork which you truly are.’ That is when she wrote her first poem and became free of doubts, oppression and cynical critique.
blame discredit reproach
failed to appease me in vain –
reflections can change
26th March 2021
So I sit here in the infectious waste, wasted effort, waste of time.
Wasting away my youth, my livelihood, my hopes and dreams,
How am I supposed to handle this?
( * * )
Ok fine, I look up and I do see it,
A brilliant white ball of glass,
as massive as the sun,
telling me one message, one message, one message...
Holy freaking crap!
Way too bright man! Waaaay too bright..
Stain that glass with my sins, make it darker! the light! I can't...not right now.
I don't think I can handle this.
( - - )
Ok fine, I look back down and stare at my reflections.
Two arms, two legs, two eyes,
Multiplied by billions.
Phew, that's better.
Keep my head down.
The devil's in the details, details, details.
No one can see me anymore...not even you.
( * * )
These people are Heaven's messengers, all of them angels, but not to me.
I overlook the obvious on a regular basis...I overlook love.
It's just sooooo much easier that way...
You tell me then...how am I supposed to handle this?
( 0 0 )
Really? Why, who are all these people?
Do they come from the ball of glass?
Do I?
The glass, the stains, the light...
Why is it so bright?
Why is it so bright?
For the Love of God, why is it so freaking bright!
...oh wait...
Ok fine, have it your way.
The warden’s bewildered, the keeper’s amazed
as the gate gapes behind us, a hole in the haze.
Our steps seem uncertain, the cobblestones crazed,
pearly stars burn above us like pinwheels ablaze.
Though lanterns hang vacant in streets staring blind,
broken paths paved in puzzles compel me to roam,
I’ll not leave you behind.
The cannons keep calling, the piccolos shriek
and the druids drift, drumming, while pale pagans speak.
They’re urging me forward, my senses they’ve mined,
and the trail is erupting, come hie to the hills
I’ll not leave you behind.
The looking glass glistens, a firefly glows,
and the brownies leap lightly on tiny tip toes
for the twilight’s collapsing, which serves to remind
that as dusk turns to dust, with no time for farewells,
I’ll not leave you behind.
The ponies of plunder prance, passing nearby,
as crusaders on stallions cast stones from the sky.
The figments they’re facing have paid them no mind,
but our broncos are bolting. Corral what you need,
I’ll not leave you behind.
My visions are swirling, they flash from the crown,
from the rainbows of summer, the tinsel in town.
While the compass wheel’s spinning, the minutes unwind
inside evening’s auroras – so cling to my cape,
I’ll not leave you behind.
Drooping droplets of wax adorn pinched candle wicks
while the vampire steeple’s cathedral clock ticks
of the terrors in tombs where fagged flames lie reclined
with their flickers fast fading – abandon the glim,
I’ll not leave you behind.
Continued in Part 2
Ill-tempered Elfin Queen, would bully
and demean everyone she'd see
an unruly brat
nasty tricks thought daily that
when on her throne she sat sadly
She had to force her head in a sack
precaution she must engage to hold back
to gaze in a looking glass
so she could surpass
or the magical mirror would crack
Casting curses became her fame
enticing elf’s was her daily game
maidens that were shrouded
and barren were allowed
in her kingdom was her aim
But to her shocking surprise
all of their bellies begin to rise
the Elfin Queen was livid
she had been smarted
was blinded and they criticize
For she hadn’t for saw that right
when the sun goes down and the lights
go out humans are smart
love comes only from the heart
beauty is only skin deep, that brings sight
© 4/29/2015
You have been running around the world looking for a diamond girl; You have been running around the world making unfair investment and driving the interest right up to heaven.
You have stolen the gold from off shore and bury it beneath the dirt; you have crossed the line and interfere with the divine. The world is one big mass spinning around in a looking glass, it can see you from every angle and when the sun goes down and the moon rises up you will see your shadow on the wall.
You have been running around the world from Bahrain to Kuwait, knocking on every door and spilling oil on the gulf shore. You spend time romancing in the UAE in expensive hotel and mingling with young boys whose puberty is wrapped in keffiyeh on top of their head and marrying them off to innocent girls whose Virginity is stacked underneath their bed, and the old men seducing the pauper at gun point, with black tea and a jar of ice.
This morning I stood between the line and the divine piecing together the mystical trail that will get you over the rail, there is no imaginary line and I keep telling you that from time to time you have got to find the mouth of the cave that run through my grandfather land and track the connection with the gulf
.A tunnel is manmade but a cave is designed by nature to provide human shelter. It begins somewhere in Qatar and ends somewhere in the great mosque of Mecca, oh what great tragedy lies at the foot to the cave.
From the beginning of time the Arab were bold, they were skillful men with beautiful women and they had their work cut out for them. They were the best traders in town and they could build a castle on top of the mountain with a hammer and a stick and they could sweep you off your feet with their indigenous barging techniques.
They were skillful fighters and strong mountain divers; they knew the mountain like the back of my hands and they could run up and down the mountain in seconds and find peace in heaven but something went wrong when the Europeans invaded the Arabs.
They give them fifty-three for fifty-two and got a brand-new pair of shoes.
You have one more assignment to do before the mission is complete.
Looking at the mirror
What do I see
A shadow looking at me.
With wondering eyes, crazy thoughts
Silent whispers, faint voices
Crafty hands, wicked ways.
How I hate this gaze
Its like I am in a daze
Going through a phase.
I am not at all amaze
Wicked ways never pays
I have to escape from this maze
Before I set myself a blaze.
Looking in the mirror
I can't believe this is me
Mischievous heart, heavy burdens
Crafty soul, I need to get a hold.
Before I loose my soul
I need to aim towards a goal
I need to take control
I don't want to be on parole
Nor find myself buried in a manhole.
You are not solely the substance within,
You are simply a soul once part of the Holy Spirit.
You are aware, not of reality as you see it,
But of the Truth which eternally dwells
Outside of the bottle in which your heart swells.
The glass you see, only but a barrier for reality,
A prism in which light transmutes through.
Again, you are not only the being within,
You are simply a soul longing to become Enlightened.
You shall soon become so aware then:
You are not just a human projecting reality,
You are part of the source any form was once itself.
Though we may seemingly be coloring our reality,
The truth is we have always been coloring our Higher-Selves.
Indeed, we are not simply these grains of sands,
Rather we were once part of what the hourglass is composed of.
Finally when the time comes, you shall see beyond the boundary.
You are not only a Genie within the bottle,
You truly are the reality in which the bottle is centered.
All that is through the looking-glass, is all we see,
As we gaze upwards towards Heavenly stars,
Unknowingly, they are only but reflections of our Souls.
I rinsed my paintbrushes in the Rideau River
Watching a kaleidoscope of colours
Dance with such an intensity
It was the first time I
Saw
Acrylics come to life
Among the minnows
I am Vincent Van Gogh,
I am
Coated in
Deep Crimson Reds and
Rich
Olive
From the Green
I was using for the mountain tops
And
Owl City Soundtrack
Is resounding all around me
Without any essence of a concern or worry
I spent an afternoon floating directionless on The Pelican
Turtles worshiping the sun as they raise their heads as I pass them Slowly
The Heron
Soars under the heaving clouds
The leafs whisper excitedly
Fall is approaching,
As the sun sets over the
Sandcastle Shores
I am fashioned with Waterlilies
Adorning my hair
My campfire perfumed Hoodie
Water that has become my Looking glass...
it
Is so calm, it looks like glass
My wind strewn hair
And
Sun Kissed Cheeks.
In this dream like state
Of reality
I am freed.
Who can walk the road I've traveled
though not yet so far,
but me?
Who can compare what all I've seen
to piece together the reflections in me,
but in the looking glass,
we contrast,
when only I have.
Who can say they've done the same
when the task is but one to another game-
and this I've lost,
and this I've gained.
No two could recognize the same
When they have not.
And who can share the well
from which my emotions flow,
though as yet reasons are discreet
unless I tell them where to go?
So when we at a crossroads meet
so do the paths proceeding-
wind and blind,
how you perceive
the light at the end of the road I keep.