A simple window
A mirror of reflection
I see a balance of tension within its creation
The morning nature arose in its fresh tree pine
Shining itself upon the window's shrine
What do I see?
I spy with my little eye
A sea of independence
And a faction of world pride
Leading forth its beauty
A crack is present on the glass
What could this mean?
Was destruction awake in its past?
Was it a breach of war in its latch?
Or just a simple pile of rough, rocky ash?
A window's future
A glass stain, a mark on impermeability
To be recovered?
Could this be the open solitude of infinity?
Deer with long tracks sheer the day
Upon its past age
Or was it just a present revelation of roadkill...
That subdued its inward rage?
People withstood many triumphs, and
Most filled with anger
Some responsibility taken
Others with pain and no hope to salver
A mirror is worth an antique
Of power and immortality
Not the glass type, but
Our own view of sanity.
This was the first personal poem I ever wrote back in 2009. I definitely had a vision for this piece as I was writing it. It holds a very special place in my heart, although I may have edited a line or two for it to make more sense, lol. Always room for improvement! I hope to build upon each of my poems until they reach their final versions in a poetry collection of mine one day. That would be awesome!
Koel’s song merges with
Musky scent of mango bloom;
My heart lunges up!
Eternal silence of sky
the house in middle of nowhere
with lamps on.
The atmosphere brings
the only thing one finds missing
is the sudden background music
and some work of levitation,
to make the boring atmosphere alive
make things turn creepy.
— The End —