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Maria Etre Sep 30
I got used to broken mirrors
they show me different perspectives
from all angles
Norman Crane Sep 17
see the mirror mirror the sea
thyme scents sense time
me and you sleeping sleep in you and me
waves disquiet these quiet ways
and continents wear down down where continents end
barques dock while wild dogs bark
at oars or at
noon
redcurrants, sand beaches, beeches and recurrence
our morning mourning hour
terns whirled there / their world turns
The challenge here was to create a poem in which each line is itself plus its sonic reflection (see the mirror / mirror the sea). The theme was the seaside.
ibkreator Sep 16
Don't mess with the
mirror mirror on the wall

who is to fearest of them all
Nathalie Sep 7
The mountains echo
Hearts longing
To be heard
Through the symphony
In which the depth
Mirrors the rivers
Of emotions that flow
Through one’s
Connection to the oceans
Of this world

~Nathalie
Sally A Bayan Aug 19
_____
/\\\\\\\\


When alone
on rainy evenings,
mirrors surround me

it's when i see, i acknowledge
the colors of my person...the
black, white, the streaks of red,
blue, green and purple in me;
my indecision, my weaknesses,
my temper, my moods;
lamp-lit nights magnify my truths...

mirrors don't lie...in their silence,
they speak in volumes, flashing
scenes, of what could have been,
had i been stubborn...and persisted
on some choices and decisions then...

they remind me of stories behind
my wrinkles, scars, and gray hair...
they stay with me, when i feel, i am
levitating between sky and earth,
when overlapping doubts assail me--

did i take the right path?  
am i where i should be?

will i still be treading other paths?
or will i just deep-fry in this boiling,
restrictive atmosphere?...am i close
to that impending tunnel? or, will it
be a hot, muddy marsh for me?

on rainy evenings,
my thoughts start from puddles,
slowly turning to rivers that keep
me awake 'til early hours of dawn...
_______
/\\\\\\\\
Sally

©Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
August 18, 2020
nevaeh Aug 15
a while ago i wrote
about looking in the mirror
and not liking what i saw.

a while ago i believed
that i could only be
the things that everyone else saw in me
the woman she was.

but broken mirrors still reflect

every little sliver of glass still says, indefinitely,
"this is who you are"

so instead of breaking mirrors
i looked in them
and decided that if i didn't like what i saw,

well, i was just going to have to change it.
:) luv urself
Ssoho Aug 13
Battled chrome
I see the eyes of a man who is a ghost
The tears of a man who cannot escape
The past of the future
That has changed
The hours that deviated from the 24
It belonged to
In this place
Time is but a burden
Scars are just a reminder
Of the triumphs that never fully grew
Kissing the chrome
I see no one
I knew before

⠠⠍⠊⠗⠗⠕⠗⠎⠀⠐⠣⠍⠊⠗⠗⠕⠗⠎⠐⠜⠀
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⠠⠔⠀⠹⠀⠏⠇⠁⠉⠑⠀­
⠠⠐⠞⠀⠊⠎⠀⠃⠀⠁⠀⠃⠥⠗⠙⠑⠝⠀
⠠⠎⠉⠜⠎⠀⠜⠑⠀⠚⠀⠁⠀⠗⠑⠍⠔⠙⠻⠀
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IG @faithovrdiamonds
What I remembered with vivid clarity were your eyes. One eye represented the emergence of dusk after a magnificent storm, and the other the break of dawn over a tranquil sea.
Broken mirrors
Broken hearts
Broken minds
Like shards of glass
The patterns forming a work of art
Shrouded by demons of the past

The black cat saunters over
Tipping salt as he alludes
To the bad luck I can’t dispose of
Rubbing salt into my wounds.

I see an Orthodox priest
A ***** blonde with blue eyes
The people murmur as he passes by
Garlic, they cry,
To fight the psychotic presence
In order to eliminate
This demonic essence.

He blessed an expectant mother
In flat #43
He doesn’t recognise her folly
And leaves her in glee.

A young soldier
One among 3
Died after his cigarette was lit
From the same matchstick
As the clock struck 4
A constant reminder
Of its incessant tick-tock
In spite of the woe

The woman- pregnant no more
Comes to the cemetery threshold
Wishing her late husband
And stillborn boy cheerio.

I look at the sky
There they glide, the harbingers of evil
Thick billed ravens and crows
A symbol of one’s sorrows
Flying over the dead
In search of a feast of despair.

Leaving my new shoes on the table
I kiss my love’s forehead
And point at the rainbow outside
While thinking I’m the luckiest woman alive.
rhea Apr 25
As she applied balm to her lips
She couldn’t resist staring at her face
For what we loathe surely is attractive

I’m a mess, she thought once again
The words tasting bitter yet carrying the honey
Of presumed truth on her tongue

Her hollow eyes and nose
Thighs, arms, stomach and cheeks
Swallowed her with contempt

She wondered how the crowds around dealt with reflections
Did theirs brim them with glee?
Or shatter their hearts into a million pieces?

There are mirrors everywhere
From glasses and cameras
To people and individuals

And they all bite the same
caress the same
Hold the same
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