Squinting Poems | Examples

The Mirror

As a youngster
I used to pull faces – 
‘just because’ – 
and practiced it in front of the mirror.
This morning the mirror took revenge.

At the rebellious age of thirteen,
I sneaked eyeliner past my mother;
squinting for ages in front of the mirror
to get a fine line in equal lengths.
Now I squint to put in my contacts lenses. 

I practiced how to say ‘No’
in front of the bathroom mirror – 
just in case the ‘wrong’ guy
should propose to me.
The fly marks on the mirror don’t come off.

I inherited the cracked mirror
on the bathroom cabinet
when I moved into my flat
after the divorce.
I own seven years bad luck - one more year to go.

My eyes change colour
depending on my mood:
it is deep azure when I’m happy,
but grass green when I’ve been crying.
The mirror tells me my eyes are jade green.

I grabbed a towel 
to clear the steam off the mirror
from the refreshing shower 
after my gym session this morning.
I would not do that again in a hurry.

It is my birthday today
and I need to spruce up a bit
for the occasion
as the children will be here soon.
My mother looked out at me from the mirror.

Beholden Kowtow is Beautiful

a crack lets light in
so squinting with eyes half-closed
highlights kintsugi ~
showing the view beholden
kowtow is so beautiful

Dysmorphed

I, looking in the mirror yesterday,
witnessed distorted eyes replacing mine;
and, too, the lips and nose, as if a sign,
seemed bent crooked, misaligned in some way.

And, as I, squinting, gazed on that display,
an unheeding hand groped at the outline
of the coldly reflective glass confine.
I watched it slowly mangle the red-clay

body which, lifeless, answered my dead stare.
Tearing tripe from  stomach, and from breast
the heart, those fingers worked maliciously,
dismembering each inch of skin less fair.—
I know not who it was who flayed my chest: 
I? or that demon called Society?

Crooked Crossroads

Standing at a dusty crossroads,  
The sun brutally beats down  
Upon flesh left for dead.  
High noon mingles with midnight;  
Diminishing reality becomes increasingly threadbare.  

Brittle tumbleweeds drift tragically away.  
Beady-eyed vultures swoop, circling.  
Gravity's pull feels increasingly heavy  
Against unrelenting waves of sorrow—  
Karma's come to collect its dues.  

Squinting in due south’s direction,  
A dilapidated shack instantaneously appears.  
An invisible pull propels me;  
Fate’s hand opens the door.  
Forward I march toward uncertainty.

Thrust in the Center of the Storm; All I Could See Was You

turbulence unrelenting 
despite sand blown eyes
squinting 
all I could see was you…
tossed around 
slammed to the ground 
dazed and confused 
still
all I could see was you…
hope eternal
in the midst of furious hell
upon me that fell
still
all I could see was you…
as I drank from a bitter cup 
of tears and fears
my vision transfixed 
all I could see was you…
mind bent
knees skint 
still
all I could see was you…
locked in my sight 
giving me the might 
to not give up
through the darkness 
into the forgiving light
I made it through
you were my beacon 
shining bright
through it all
never losing sight
I kept my eyes on you….

The Halfway Glass

A city block vendor chimes pleasantries prouder
than Muzak or an unseen crow in the background 
elevating alarm clock music in the caws
uncredited and angrily growing louder.

A walkway narrows between the vendor
and a building. I teeter between both
as I pass by her grill
parked beside the vape shop. A blistering warmth

whitens piled pink hotdogs and tickles my ribcage.

A parakeet on her shoulder
is flaking off the sun and feathering the moon.

Steamy sundowns moisten her saucer eyes.
One dog pops sausage through its skin. She fans
the minty menthol. I pay the price
for squinting. I've dropped my glasses. Splitting

off-key shattered glass,
the containment of what used to be
bits of me shows up digits-bloodied.
Long after the initial sweep up,
little jagged cuts still happen.

The Dinner

I set the table; I did not.
The pourer did. The poor did not.
The seats are cold; merlot is warm.
The pourer asks; there are replies,
sips, guzzles, sighs, manners.
I am satisfied as each one’s drunk.
The pourer leaps from spot to spot,
wincing, squinting, craving approval.
I smile; I nod; with each intonation, accent,
sound of a lady and a gentleman.
The table is set quite elaborate; each course,
choice: salad, pork, dessert.
The hour becomes late;
drunkenness from each glass poured.
I am satisfied by the pourer; rich
with the scent of merlot and more.
He’s the only one left of my friends.
The seats are cold; he is warm.

From the Outside

I can see you by the window from the outside 
Squinting, smiling through the sunlight
You could see me in the corner of your eye
But I'm miles away from the sight
What’s the news, how is your blood glucose
How did you sleep last night
You can’t hear my voice I suppose
You’d appreciate how hard I have tried
You don’t hear me, but I can see you
All your worries are over and done 
On the leaves glints the fresh morning dew
Garden flowers bloom out in the sun.

Kaleidoscope

Beautiful shapes to look at
(that’s the Greek etymology)
cylinder of imagination,
childhood companion,
hours spent squinting and twisting,
magical mystery machine,
a carousel for the eyes,
never the same pattern twice,
akin to snowflakes or human faces.
If the world were a kaleidoscope,
I’d twist it round and round
discerning the beautiful facades
of places, people and peculiarities,
a prismatic eye-feast
restoring hope in humanity’s future.

End Of August

August rain: the best of the summer gone, and the new fall not yet born.
The odd uneven time—Sylvia Plath




End Of August
             
The end of August is oh so near                                                                                                     
Yet, another day of golden sun scorches 
Another day with ruby rays that sear
Wild brush burns like fiery torches
No not an exaggeration, a flambeau
Blistering heat blankets my tawny skin
Sweltering August, I bid you adieu
Foliage dry and brittle; sunken in     
Squinting eyes, blinded bright
Awaiting shadows that stretch and deepen                                                             
Sun flowers once vivid, lost in a haze of light
Autumn creeps in imperceptibly subtle, sublimely                                            
Ablaze are the arid western skies
The evening west's sun takes its time, rashly, untimely
Yellow aglow, settling sights of fires belies                  
Lingering sun setting its rouge rage lust 
Harbinger of the season to come 
Equinox heralds a sign,
in the end of August

A Poet's Eyes

Seeing — Unseeing
the words drift away
far into the current
of what’s left to say

Passing my cortex
and into the void
where blind recognition
awaits to destroy

Familiar or foreign
once stopped in their tracks
new meaning escapes
with no looking back

The Poet’s eyes squinting
as light filters out
transcendence recaptured
ascendance remounts 

Through slivering darkness
a vision appears
and mocking the order
old images clear

Those words once discarded
reform juxtaposed
through eyes resurrected
— released from the flow

(Septa R5: July, 2024)

Art Festival

It’s not like we are hiking through harsh terrain.
But it feels desert-like.
We see mirages of the lemonade and ice cream stands. 
We keep walking.
The streets become busier.
Not with cars, but with people.
I see people walking back to their own cars.
They are carrying t-shirts, ceramic mugs, and jewelry.
Jewelry that reflects the sun so it is unbearable to look at without squinting.
The festival is today.
Otherwise, we would all be inside, eating boring store bought ice cream, and listening to the fans.
I just wish, we had paid for closer parking…
I know when we get there, I’m going to be mesmerized.
But first, to the food court to replenish my strength!

Roosters From Another Creek

Urban jungle roosters,
born-again scarecrow,
to untutored city eyes,
tawny pipit stonewall  nester,
jet black Inca dove bereft,
of dovetail on a croque monsieur,
idle bone grub crawl,
mother hen to sandy brown,
and velvet bill gazer,
from an nearby creak,
recent rural migrant now,
a tree house side kick,
chickadee a late date sitter,
on this air flock beaky natter,
or tweet between the  ice float,
edgy grey day species wield,
their sprightly ruffled  feathers,
as an orthopaedic surgeon,
and their spatula when  scraping,
rancid bark off windmill elm trees,
gastric bugle trenchermen ahoy,
while ogling a fellow common redpoll,
oh these tummy rumble diners,
will zoom in on every gourmet,
tangled wire mesh feeder station.
round and round they’ll  fly,
on zesty mission beetroot,
a cock-eyed scavenger‘s delight,
are they siblings of  a  noble  order?
white tale mountain bluebirds swopping,
habitat for granite boundary  habit,
off key off discordant choirboys,
six sided snow bird chorus,
ear splitter for tardy wakening,
they cheep religiously as if,
their only  valid  creed  was,
window squinting  prayer meets

Circling Graphite

When silence speaks
Nothing is heard.
Our breathe is a like a secret
Window, hotly working.
You squinting at a friend and
Trying not to giggle.
Or writing long exams in a room
With circling graphite,
Scantron sheet after scantron sheet.
Or in Mass,
The death knell of silliness,
Leave or lose your wind bag.
Or in your mind,
Be still your mind.
This is the fifteenth line.
Please be still your mind.

CLIMATE BEGS ON US

CLIMATE BEGS ON US!
Hearing nature groaning 
In wild fires yawning 
With storms mourn roaring 
And mother’s arms opening 
To consume self painfully panting 
Through landslides and floods washing 
When her rich children nesting 
On the porches and coaches 
Made from mother’s beauty stitches
Debating bills that owe them ravages
I wonder who hears mum’ anguishes
Empathetically and concerning 
Perhaps the unspoken offsprings 
Dwell upon heat waves wailing 
Or innocent ones being scorched 
Into ashes and those wilting 
Unless those ones thirst to death squinting 
But not us, speaking beings.

• Short Squinting Poems
• Famous Squinting Poems
• Best Squinting Poems
• Read Squinting Poems
• Long Squinting Poems
• Squinting Quotes