Long Mirrors Poems
Long Mirrors Poems. Below are the most popular long Mirrors by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Mirrors poems by poem length and keyword.
speak gently
of those tender traps
they that walk like wayward angels
in the poetry of purgatory
there you sit untainted
this is what you think
but at your feet
steps
down or up
up and down
down and up
up and down
and back again
which way do you think?
to steer?
doors closed
like rooms of Bluebeard
shutting out all noise
but, oh the want to fresh openings
like new appointments
the waiting room
for interview
awaits, ‘tis full,
heads hung
speak gently
of those tender traps
they that stand
in front of you
with shiny eyes
like mirrors to reflect
behind they stalk
like memories
sharp knives at your back
like memories,
the better to forget
Candide Diderot. ‘24
Under the shadow of the ancient moon and whispering stars,
Through the valley of thoughts where our secrets sway,
Thus begins the translucent tale, hidden beneath the veil of the evening,
A saga of longing, woven into the woman's heart, that wandering pearl.
The woman, this enigma who does not bow to fate,
Watches as love unravels and is stitched together, moment by moment,
Like leaves that dance in rhythm with the wind that carries them,
And in the lap of silence, a murmur of melancholy gently rolls them.
Allowing herself to be bounded, not by the grass of endless fields,
But by the enclosed courtyard of the heart, where the echo of desires lies,
An ancient fortress, with walls lined by hope and sadness,
Where the sea of remembrances breaks its waves with noise, on the cliffs of regret.
Men, in search of embers to ignite the flames of longing,
Encounter the woman with an abyssal heart, who keeps the mysteries,
With the calmness of waiting, with a gentleness shaded by silence and dreams,
Like the sun that rests in the arms of the sky, unhurried.
Their eyes, mirrors of the nights that tirelessly weave fate,
Bear in their souls the echoes of a love, gentle and endless,
A serenity that does not ask, does not claim, does not fight on the paths of fate,
A murmur that simply is, within the quiet rhythm of the beating heart.
And so perhaps the heart may finally comprehend, the secret of love,
Not the blind search, nor the devouring desire, but the simple existence,
Women, robed in grace and finesse, discern this teaching,
That in true connection, the essence is not to have, but simply to be loved.
Sally's wiping the walls
and the walls are wailing out.
Ripples from within them
shouting clean and clout.
Surfaces seen shining;
glaring they're looked after,
from one small tiny rag
with Sally as it's Master.
Echoes round the roomside
Sally's tamed with cleaner.
Scents invade your nostrills
as cleanliness got meaner.
Oasis's reflecting
in glass around the room
as images and mirrors
merge as if to bloom.
Squeeking little wipes
as Sally rubs her rag.
Music in the air
and joy from in a drag
Smiles surrounding Sally.
Her clean from in her cloud,
with radiating beauty
and Sally standing proud.
I remain…
I remain…
What is this cane? What is this pain? I remain.
Within my house, mirrors complain; I remain.
My spring gone by, summer was dry, and now what?
The winter cold, my life disdain, I remain.
The sounds are dim, the sight is gone, the grey hair.
Nothing feels right; crying like rain, I remain.
My nights veil fear; the end is near, so is death.
Within each step, a major strain I remain.
What is this life? Suddenly changed, mere lies.
The things I loved never sustain, I remain.
My youth is gone; the thing is left is called pain.
The life of pain is so mundane, I remain.
Nothing seems real, bitterness reveals, and so
What else can do? If you explain! I remain.
Tell me “Haloo” from this life, what should I seek?
It’s only love that will remain; I remain.
3/13/2016 Haloo
Give me a Ghazal poetry contest
I know, darling, that there is no answer,
To our love, nor in the time that hurts horses,
That there is no answer to shooting stars,
That we must protect our rivers, our oceans,
I know, darling, that there is no answer to our love,
That we must cross the sand deserts of imagination,
That we must cross the white ice-caps,
That we must cross the polar nights, the equinoxes of the heart,
The sparkling mirrors, the madness of the mountains,
I know there are no answers,
Left, right, in the eyes of people,
In the eyes of children who are amusing,
That there are no answers in the gardens, on the rotating rides,
Neither in stone nor in pink granite,
There is no answer at the Gare Saint Lazare,
Nor in people too hasty, perhaps in laziness,
There is no answer in schools, in the uniform,
There is no answer in Karl Marx,
I know there is no answer in our love,
Nor in grandma’s closet,
Neither the military and their guns, nor the Russians,
Nor in the dim glow of the candle,
There are no answers, that’s why I kiss your lips
That’s why I’m talking about Picasso or Manet,
That’s why I eat chocolate, sweet figs,
There is no answer to our love, that’s why we love each other
That we like silence... That sometimes we doubt our love.
From the Heart to the Cross
The burden to carry on a journey slated
Weighs heavily on an outcome known to be ill- fated,
When Faith is the belief in hope for deliverance
Where humanity’s destiny hangs in the balance.
In mirrors dwell prisoners’ angst and desperate rot,
To lay their heads in the bosom of Madonna.
One way leads to the Saviour, the other does not.
Be it by choice, from the heart to the cross.
Comfort and joy. God will provide sanctuary
The God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.
Though Mary mourns, her anguish is temporary.
Unbelievers throw stones, yet His Word lives on.
His last hour on Golgotha shook civilization.
Angels triumphantly trumpeted the Lord’s salvation.
A madman with a hammer thrashes the Pietà1
To eradicate the metamorphic rock sculpture from history
That Michelangelo chiseled out of Carrara marble2—
Who made the seated Madonna larger and profanely stronger,
While cradling Jesus (whose appearance projects frailty)
As if having been chastised for allowing crucifixion.
A mollification for theological credence,
Neither reinforced nor inspired by biblical writings.
By appeasement, the sculptor admits conspiracy
With dogma, misrepresenting Christ to the living.
Mary’s demureness as she looks upon the contorted figure
Supports the illusion of her lordly stature.
***
Notes:
1 Pietà: The “Pietà” is a sculpture by Michelangelo (1475–1564) depicting the Madonna cradling Jesus after His crucifixion. The sculpture was completed in 1500 and is housed in St. Peter’s Basilica, Vatican City, Italy.
On May 21, 1972, an Australian citizen vandalized the Pietà with a geologist’s hammer. The individual was not charged with any criminal offence but was hospitalized in Italy for two years and then released and deported back to Australia.
2 Carrara marble: Carrara marble is stone quarried in Carrara, Tuscany, Italy. The three most common types of Italian marble are Carrara, Calacatta, and Statuary (aka Statuario). Michelangelo is reported to have said that this was the most “perfect” block of stone he ever used.
Competence is seldom loud—yet confidence often is.
A charismatic smile may persuade a crowded room that wisdom has arrived,while judgment quietly waits outside.
Psychopathy,hidden beneath a layered mask,borrows the language of empathy without carrying its weight.
Its mirrors reflect only what others long to see.
The victim,neither wholly believed nor wholly forgotten,drifts between the sea and the sky—where truth dissolves into distance,and horizons become courtrooms of uncertainty.
To the practiced eye,the mask is never the face.
Charm is not conscience.
Persuasion is not integrity.
Performance is not compassion.
The sea remembers every foot print washed from its shore.
The sky remembers every silence that no witness heard.
And some where between them,where evidence struggles against illusion,stands the fragile human soul,waiting for perception to surrender to truth.
The chase begins the moment we enter this world,
and it continues till our last breath.
Toltec wisdom says life is a dream, and
we are all walking mirrors—
Everything we think and feel is reflected back to us
through the great dream mirror of life.
Some dreams are bigger than others, and
our biggest dream is who we think we are,
which contains all our other dreams,
we chase through life.
The chase is born into us, and
so are the cosmic butterflies we chase.
The ego is a giant volcano, spewing millions of cosmic butterflies,
filling our lives and giving us more things to chase, and
making us believe we are getting somewhere, and
that we are becoming somebody.
But it’s all one big dream mirror playing tricks on us—
Making us believe that the cosmic butterflies are real.
Some break out of the dream,
but not without breaking the mirror.
Most continue to chase their cosmic butterflies—
Even the special butterfly that chases away all the other butterflies,
making us believe he is the only real butterfly we need to chase.
The only way out is to break the mirror.
Job lost. Marriage over.
No work, no love: no hope.
Yet none among us hates
like the font of fetid scorn
in your mind's abyss.
We are gargoyles
who blur and sharpen
in your suicidal eye.
But demons are fictions you've invented
as you you've reinvented yourself:
so often you can't find among your selves
the real one,
no trail of bread crumbs to your gingerbread heart.
Seeking truth in others' faces
is to court the eye of madness.
And if our one thought is to kill the pain,
we must be careful what we wish for
lest we kill ourselves, too.
Now you must walk backward through a hall of mirrors,
realizing in the jagged rush
there is little strength in scrutiny,
less for perseverance.
But persevere we must.
If you've no work, make you your job.
No love? Send yourself valentines.
And if there's no hope
tell yourself it's a lie, just as everyone hated you:
we've love you always,
only you didn't see.
Make peace with your enemy;
you share his heart, mind and bed.
In those gray hours
when you can't discern an image
in the shards of desperation
it is temporary;
if night is real
then so is morning.
The cold chambers of my mind
Lacks happiness and a sense of belonging – I’m feeling soar
Under the snow is where you’ll find me
For, I’m snowed under by your heartless remarks, giving me the impression that you
used to envy me possibly
Under the water is where you’ll see my body
You can’t save me from drowning, so don’t make me change my mind…I’ll do the
impossible and I’ll do the opposite of what you tell me to do – let me go…help me,
somebody!
I loved you, girl…you were my darling angel
My dreams are broken because you abandoned me…carelessly…tactlessly…we used to
lack hands like two grand lands in agreement with each other – we’re those lovers
embracing each other lovingly and without a care
I’m all alone…I’m all alone…without a care…
I’m on my own…I’m on my own…everyone starts to stare
Can you look the other way someday?
Am I that attractive to you all? I’m sorry – I don’t roll that way!
You lead me to another lane…you knew where you were driving
You knew the course from the start; now, we hit a dead end, still surviving…arriving
undone
You ran me over heartlessly
You knew that I’d meet my fatality
You injured me inside and out
You hurt me badly without a doubt
Condescendingly, you burned away one of my favorite times of my life
I did the same thing to you, except I gave you space to regret everything you have done
to me – making me victim to your sinister strife
No apologies accepted…all will be rejected
In the long run, you’ll feel infected…
You are gonna be that orphan, all alone without blankets to wrap yourself around in –
having no time to commit even one childlike crime
You marinate and engorge in your abominable sin…spiraling from deep within you – where
have you been? You were my faithful kin once upon a time
Let me whisper in your ears
About how many times you’ve neglected me – for many years
You didn’t even noticed I have wept a thousand tears or more…you never reflected upon
me like mirrors
Don’t freeze my heart with your malicious, merciless words – its sole purpose is to harm
than do any good
How did you view love? Like a game?
Didn’t you feel this shame without a shameless name?
Don’t strike me with your perilous love…stop making me feel pity!
Don’t play rough! Play fair and please don’t neglect me…
Please don't neglect me once more . . .