A shattered image of myself in pieces at my feet,
my vanity strewn all around left mirrored in my mind.
My outer shell self centred too, lived in real pretence
created pictures of me gone, all broken left in shards.
Cast down in anger in defeat, how will I find myself
by looking at one tiny piece, the real me see in there.
Could it be this tiny mirror shows my real reflection?
If I gaze without pretension take off my mask of fear.
Strip off my painted makeup, fresh face I am not lost
begin again my truest self, the mirror of my soul.
You need not remind me of my mortality,
The evidence is reflected in the mirror.
But then you smugly preach about morality,
Come back down to Earth, maybe you'll see things clearer.
Our true existence is in a subtle realm
and as above, so below, we here in form,
with the voice of conscience always at the helm,
having chosen with laws of God to conform,
do not let cravings of ego overwhelm,
invoking in its place, a benign bliss storm.
The trick is to connect with our higher Self,
sans desire letting life just flow by itself.
When you look at your soulmate they should be a mirror image of all your dreams
I saw the picture and it definitely is not the same
Is it someone new?
It’s not what I saw in the mirror as I got ready for public view.
The reflection tells me, “Ok, not too bad.”
I’m old, yes, frumpy, but no reason to be sad.
I see a youthful spirit, fluffy, but not too fat.
I think of my age and remind myself that
People change, no one stays exactly the same.
My outfit is not trendy, but not out of style.
Sorta classic, as I see it, in style for a while.
Later, I see event pics posted online.
Who is seated in my place
And why is she so wide?
Her face is in profile;
It’s sagging and old.
It’s odd to think she’d be so bold
As to come out like that,
Wearing a top that doesn’t hide fat.
Her ponytail isn’t smooth,
And look at those chunky old lady shoes!
What was she thinking?
Did she even try?
And suddenly I realize and let out a cry.
She’s sitting with my husband.
Who could she be?
And then I notice sadly, the she
That is me.
~ Judy Bausch
It's me starring back
green eyes longing for answers
to all life's problems
What manner of man are you
What do you see in the mirror
Does your inspection shed a clue
Does your reflection seem clearer
Is your image worthy of pride
Is it all you hope it would be
Do your eyes glimpse the truth inside
Or see what you want them to see
Soft-shelled things by their sources laid
On spots assuring them no raid:
In my poultry picked up by maid,
With care handled or her upbraid
“Boiled or Omelets but with bread,
For my breakfast do as I’ve said!”
I’d quip: Mirror Image of Earth!
As birds live, we’ll record no dearth,
In shape completely the oval -
All Eggs and The Earth are global….
Egg-laying time the hen cackles,
With man’s presence: rising hackles!
Snakes wouldn’t want you to come near;
Once you do, for your heels I fear,
That of Powerful Eagle rare:
Sure, The Eagle won’t seekers spare!
The glad choice of some shrines and gods;
Extend them and they’ll drop their rods;
You won’t again be hit like pods;
From then a life of happy nods…
When dropped or found on the ground: eggs
Time to carefully drag one’s legs;
Why each week in my abdomen?
Not its yolk liked: it’s Albumen.
Scared by the one
You see in front of you,
The one not like you
That always tries to be
But it is never right
You don’t like the one
Who tries to be your
Reflected image
But you have to deal
With them to the end
You feel uncomfortable
In their binding presence
You hate them because
They remind you of
Your undying pain
You try to change it
To your own liking
But it still isn’t right
And feel the pain in
Your head as you
Can’t deal with them
Not being exactly like you
Because your mirror image
Should be you in every detail
Not a random person
That is not you,
The person in the mirror
That you try to make you
Is never going to be
The mirror image of you
Written on February 17, 2020
consciousness is a
fleeting reflection
of...
time-space being as
a three dimensional effect
of...
fourth dimensional causes
abstractly hidden by our 3d input
being as...
the causes themselves are just leftovers
from past effects continuing potentials
as...
that abstracted mirror form of
the fourth dimensional self
stan sand
Who Am I ?
By George W. Clever-----12 June 2020
Who am I? I’m just a nut.
Patch on my eye. Big ears to help me fly.
A Weird kid in school. So they all say.
Mother had me tested. Never received the results, I guess.
Life has been busy. A smorgasbord of interests.
How could I choose but one? So I filled my plate with all it could hold.
I’m looking in a mirror,
I’m window shopping
For what I used to be.
I’m closing my eyes,
I’m letting go,
Trying to see.
I remember when I was a child
I often let my imagination run wild,
I’m clock watching now,
Pray it’s not stopping, how
I am longing for you to come home.
I can see from your exterior
You think you are superior,
But you don’t hear the tunes I hear
Or see the sights I see,
I might ask you to my dominion,
Even ask for your opinion,
But don’t you ever patronise me.
No! Don’t you ever patronise me.
I’m looking in a mirror,
I’m window shopping,
For what I used to be.
The image in place
Has an old face
With a history.
Tears fill my eyes,
As I realise
I am you
And you are me.
Yes, I realise
I am you
And you are me!
What happens when you look in a mirror
Does the image give you the finger, make you bitter
Does that freak you out
Make you wanna shout
Your image is supposed to reflect a duplicate critter
Most
folk
never
do get out
of this life what they
put in, unless satisfaction
of what one puts in is in itself life’s sole reward.
Some just keep on trying to give away kindness but it only keeps on coming back
© Harry J Horsman 2019
above horizon
grace abounds abyss waters
whiff of coming storm
6/29/2017
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