Mirrors Poems - Poems about Mirrors

the puddles of a storm in a wilderness of lies ~ I wonder, did cavemen ever see themselves as you or I can... stumbling upon a still pond, a prehistoric boudoir where reflections are someone they've never met like puppies perplexed by their own images? is the image real, is it friend/foe/truth/or deception? a bear in...

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Forest and mountains speak Like you are them and they are you Between the silver waters, you seek But it's always yourself in view At front and side and at your back You always see your reflection Whether you're in or out of track Your face is your perfection A wilderness of mirrors A face surrounded...

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What do I see, you are looking back at me. In my youth wearing a top of pink polka dots, with a skirt of green and orange fabric knots. As I looked-I laughed until I cried, every time the wilderness mirrors walk by. These very old mirrors are such a thrill, they love my fashion wear even if it is over...

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Crossing my bygone golden days tumbling in senile decay. Lost my well known vitality Youth bade by with dazzling sun rays. ...

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Sometimes it seems as if life is a wilderness of mirrors, the mirror being how you appear in someone's eyes I can tell when someone just doesn't get me and has no desire to get to know me better, it shows in their eyes, but I can also tell when I connect with someone and the reflection of myself...

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Life is a mirror and will reflect back to the thinker what he thinks into it." Unknown ************************************************************** A Wilderness of Mirrors Hurled in a wild wilderness of mirrors I know not the exit door for escape, All I can do is like birds to twitter, Light from the mirrors seems at me to ape. Where lies the real door I cannot...

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amid muck and mire of a storm swamp ~ shadows dance below chartreuse skies mirrors labyrinth stifles our souls quest; holding reflections of lovelorn dreams, maxims and myths that fall may wreck hearts ...and hope blooms as a fuchsia rose under rain; where valiant words weave in the wind ~ skirmishing to stave off light catharsis, a guiding star illuminates raw pathways; In the mirror, viewing my...

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Flowing from the river of love, I watch you dance in beautiful strides...like rolling ripples in my heart, you come to me along the river side A mirror of the vast wilderness, you reflect a calmness dwelling deep inside, to appear with the rising sun, lingering with a twinkling of your eye Of all the youthful dreams I...

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Within prismed images I was captured along with twilight as it tinted the sky. We were ensnared during a power struggle at the hour when sunlight wrestled the moon. Neither wanted to vacate the celestial throne. But I was the one fighting hardest to survive when beveled tongues along mirrored edges roared at me in the wilderness of life's jungle. Voices were...

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In the wilderness of mirrors, light unravels, names forget themselves, ghosts slither between shards. her maundering gaze ~ branches bleeding black~ finds the noir stitched in afterimages. every reflection a fracture, fault lines singing under her skin. she enters her body ~ narrow , widening, monochroming ~ a hush, a hurricane. we cradle broken glass, drink the mirage, offer our...

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The sun homes scars and flames of dusk, drizzling a rain of illusion, and you, the muse of angst~ tracing the cold rush of desires, to sear my tongue, ...

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Once I stumbled into a forest Where every surface shimmered like glass, Introducing me; a foreign tourist, To a world where every tree was endowed silver leaves. I peered anxiously into every leaf Hoping to see what every reflection thought of me; Whether the branches opened to my pleas, A nod of approval? Or a sway of animosity. Slowly I’ve come to see...

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Apparitions behind every mottled rock. Shaded countenance surreptitious like shadows. Fractured slivers and fragments boast - On wall, ceiling and floor. Splattered drop cloth - reflective dread. Fun house of Zeus, The zigs and zags - Thundering fakes, illuminated lies. She claws her face. Crags of wilderness. Deep etched drama. Whirlwind’s not glue. One face. One mirror. Truth ...

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An unearthly fog thickens nocturnal’s peaceful aura. Scents of lamenting petrichor mix with slick, decomposing leaves. A disharmonious death knell calls to me, Untying the red strings of fate from the celestial loom. My heart weighs heavy against a faltering ribcage, Standing in front of the wilderness of mirrors. ...

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You’ve read about the Victory of Pyrrhus, who said, “I beat them, but I’ll tell you flat: (he hadn’t seen this motor-bike with mirrors) we won’t survive another one like that!” I asked the rider why he needs reflection on such a scale. “You’d rather I rode blind?” Approaching cars, he told me, need detection: “I’ve got to know who’s coming up...

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