Love is the building of moments; making each one unique.
Love I am here, like the feeling of air; unseen but near.
Love you pulled me into your arms, now I feel you with just a thought in my mind.
Love you are like the rain, you wash away the old and make me feel new and refreshed.
Love you are like the sunrise, you make the day feel alive, you fill me with your warmth and love with just your smile.
Love you are like butter on my toast, you make me feel sweet and crisp and delightful each morning.
Love you are like a brisk walk, you make me feel like moving and getting all my thoughts on track.
Love you today and always, my love.
Lifting prayers to God, today and always.
Late spring light drifts across the room,
a cornflower wash that settles on everything
the way dust settles on keepsakes
no one means to forget.
You lift the mirror,
its edge still cool from the windowsill,
and the glass catches a glimmer
that doesn’t stay still~
it f l i c k e r s, almost shy,
as if deciding whether to show you
what it remembers.
Your reflection w a v e r s,
not dramatically, just enough
to remind you that memory
rarely arrives in straight lines.
It comes in small echoes,
soft ones, the kind that lean
toward you when the afternoon quiets
and you finally have time
to notice what stays.
lifting
softly
from the
pond’s still
mirror—thin
threads of dawn
unspooling into
quiet air, rising
in a pale column
of breath that learns
how to become light
as the forest listens
to morning begin again
The Tenant
I gave the darkness horns so I could point at it.
I gave it a face that was not mine,
a throne outside the skull,
a name to curse when the night went wrong.
But look at where it sits:
inside the gold curve of my own head,
close enough to whisper,
one clawed hand cupped over the eye
that would have shown me everything.
It never crept in from outside.
I fed it here. I called it enemy
so I would never have to call it mine.
Every blame I handed off to hell
came back by morning, wearing my voice,
the same old flattery, the same old fear,
the same small pride that could not bear
to be the one who did it.
The eye keeps burning through its fingers.
It has always been open.
It only asks that I stop looking away.
So let the horns come off.
Let the mask slide down to a mirror.
The thing I feared was never at the gate.
It was the hand that wrote the story of the gate
and sat here all along, still holding the pen.
Do you know who I am?
We see each other daily
Your face looking at me
Often wonder what do you see in my reflection?
Do you see only my outer and my inner?
Hope, Fulfill and Determined seems to come out
Being Accomplished, Established and Committed assured
Successful runs through your heart
More than a reflection
Seeing the creation
Up front introduction
Revealing spirit
Open discussion
Own presentation
Mirror Mirror that knows all
You told me and didn’t stall
Mirror Mirror, thank you after all.
Broken shards on her
Like a shattered sawblade
Stuck deep in her body
Deep enough to reach beyond
And hurt her "was, is and will be"
Yet she chooses the light reflected on her
Instead of her mutilated image
Glass on me , but-
Am I a sculpture in glass?
delicate to touch
Fractured just from the fragility
Or molten sand poured on skin
Like a bandaid
Covering my burned skin
Fragile or Masked
Wounded or not
I may never know
Cause my glass never allowed me
To see myself as a whole
Saw meets me
For its reflection to see
Shards may dig her flesh
But the beauty in flesh still clear
She hugs me-
It hurts to share the shards
Like spears impaling both of us
For once pain was not only hers
For once I had real glass to blame
classic cran companion tunelessly twirlingly retiring
noiselessly in normalcy ,
lambertia on the glowing stairway
and whispering sunberry reflection
with prim parallel pass .
(Weekly Magnetic Poetry Challenge • September 14–20, 2026)
I have two mirrors.
One images the exterior.
One images the interior.
I use both of the mirrors.
The first mirror is of the type
That most of us commonly share.
The second mirror is mine to choose.
For me, that choice is the Bible.
If I'm not pleased with what I see,
I have the option of alteration.
Alterations with the first mirror
Are easier to master than the second.
The mirror of the Bible is much more
Revealing and exposes the inner me.
It also offers me a recipe for change.
Some recipes are less tasty than others.
It makes no allowances for choosing my
Own recipes. The recipes of the Bible are
Designed with me in mind and has no additives Nor man- made ingrediences. It is perfect.
silver spring light drifts
across the mirror’s quiet face;
I watch myself change~
wonder rising in its place.
When the mirror shattered it took my vision
Eyes cut so deep my tears were red
Broken and despaired no light reached my eye
Reflecting on myself without a mirror
Appearances cost so much
Broken glass everywhere all I can feel is silver
I hate the fake me but they just want more
Silver ain’t good enough, they only want gold.
Said I was special but secretly despised me
Projecting their flaws onto me
I can’t blame them
Clown is a clown no matter how funny
A Carnival of carnivores
Eat the meat discard the bones
Wish someone would toss me some
But I am beyond repair
My name is mirror man
But not anymore
Who am I now?
Just a man?
Five senses are given at the time of birth
and sight is one of them
But all work together when one is blind
to feel the sense of space-
And slowly learn to dance by other means
instead of eyes that steer
The ears can hear the music's rhythm well
transfer that joy to feet
As sense of sound and touch will intertwine
and bodies swing and sway.
A miracle our senses work that way.
¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ Miranda wakes,
Feels the sun ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ unwilling step ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦
Shuddering to the mirror.
¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ Miranda's sight
Is old and gray and dirty;
¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦
This morning she is thirty.
Shining ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ star,
¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ twilight shining,
Haunted ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦
Miranda is a-pining.
Silly ¦¦¦¦¦ silver girl,
Draw ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ toward you;
Time ¦¦¦ makes the years to whirl
¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ he adored you.
¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ timelessness for you;
Calendars ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦¦¦¦ a year, or thirty, to
Loveliness made woman?
¦¦¦ Night will not see thirty again,
¦¦¦ soft ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ Miranda;
Pick up your glass ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦
How old is Spring, Miranda?
(Blackout of A Lady Who Thinks She Is Thirty by Ogden Nash)
In a looking glass world
Everything looks about right
But is in fact backwards.
Now tolerant modern liberal societies
Are taken over by backward tribalists
Who call for the death of their hosts
While those few places
That still preserve their borders
Are called xenophobic and racist
As their populations simply live in peace.
Increasingly men think they can be women
And women men.
There are even some socalled conservatives
Who think they are conservative,
And best of all are the many liberals
Who actually think they are liberal!
The delusion runs deep
In a looking glass world
Everything appearing real and true
While it is only a mirror image.
(8/29/26)
The sun slips away
without saying anything,
Leaving a crimson smile
in the mirror of the river.
In the dark,
fumbling for the lost face.
the mirror reflects old eyes that stare
a reflection of for filling dreams and the coming nightmares
these days that went from no-where then into every-where
once opulence and good fortune was fed
now its no more trips into eden and into babylon
and the lust and rage of youth is long gone
the eyes see no more sunshine upon the rising dawn
for the sands of time say theres no time to dwell upon
as today they only see a future with a coming storm
the eyes remember the true tales-the ones wholly robust
but the eyes now only see the memories floating in the dust
much like the prayers of the innocent who souly trust
for the days of youthful freshness is now long lost
like the winter tree naked and bare in the bitter frost
lifes expenses now has become a cost
Mirror Categories
Definition | What is Mirror in Poetry?
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.
Related Poetry Forms
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,