Who Is She?
She put on her makeup,
lipstick and blush.
She did up her hair
with comb and brush.
She looked in the mirror
and what did she see?
Someone all made up,
not someone who was she.
For she was a plain gal,
always had been.
She was covering up freckles
and a scar on her chin.
She made up her mind
to become who she was.
Threw away the cosmetics
like a plain gal does.
She undid her hair
and let it flow free.
Looked in the mirror.
What did she see?
Someone who definitely
couldn't be she.
poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
The Mirror...
I Looked At The Mirror
Mirror, Looked Back At Me
I Asked The Mirror
What Do You See?
The Mirror Smiled
“Same As You See”
I Touched The Mirror
The Mirror, Touched Me
Pressing To Break Thru
Glass Vanity
For Tho’ Eye To Eye
Sometimes I See
Mirror’s Right
Is Left To Me
And My Right Side … Made Mirror Left
I Got Perplexed At Imagery
And I Turned Away From Mirror
And Mirror Turned From Me
Our Backs To Each Other
Exposed Rigidly
But, Both Turned Back To Face
And Touch Same Place, And Be
Contained and Content
In Each Other’s Space Respectfully
We Shattered The Barrier
Between Mirror and Me
Back To Reflecting Our World
And The Same Things, We See …
Oh … Mirror, Mirror …
Reflecting You … Seeing Me …
poem by MoonBee Canady
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Shattered the Mirror
I kicked the mirror with my boot,
Then I finally saw how different I looked.
I loved looking at me.
So I kicked the mirror again,
I looked ever more different,
Just the way I wanted to look.
This time, I kicked the mirror,
Till it made sounds of sharp shattering.
I looked gorgeous now in front of this mirror.P
I wanted to be shattered again!
Post shattering, I screamed hooray,
For my shattered look became me and I smiled.
The reason I shattererd this mirror,
Was that this mirror was my own self-image,
This mirror showed me bad,
So the self-improvement,
Was a happy thing not sad.
poem by Vera Sidhwa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Fantasies Of A Mirror Part-1
The mirror gasped as she stood in front of it with her tresses flowing longingly
The mirror looked in her dark brown eyes
The mirror admired her almost perfect lips
The mirror gazed longingly at her perfect hips
The mirror took her in its arms
The mirror embraced her reflection in itself
The mirror ran its fingers through her soft hair
The mirror kissed her lips a thousand times
The mirror bit her slender neck
The mirror whispered a thousand nothings in her ears
The mirror …..The mirror ……The mirror
The mirror left its love bites all over her soft warm body
poem by Leonard Rebello
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Mirror Mirror
Mirror mirror
You tell lies
Who put crows feet
Round my eyes?
Mirror mirror
Hanging there
Who put that grey
In my hair?
Mirror mirror
Is that me
Is that really
Me I see?
Mirror Mirror
Stop your fun
That's not me
That is my mum
Mirror mirror
Don't stare back
For it's bad luck
If you should crack
Mirror mirror
On days like these
When what I see
Doesn't please
Mirror mirror
My mood this day
Will ask you turn
The other way!
poem by Stevie Taite
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Going Grey
I woke up late this morning
And looked into the mirror
But the woman looking back at me
Had a grey streak in her hair
Where did this grey streak come from?
It wasn’t there last night
How did it get into my hair?
My god I looked a sight
I washed and I washed my hair 3 times
And washed my hair some more
But the grey it would not come out
And I was getting stressed for sure
I grabbed the phone to ring my friend
And said get your arse round here
I have a big problem that you need to fix
And bring all your hairdressing gear
Half an hour seemed like a life time
Before my friend was here
She said what’s all the fuss about
I sobbed and wept oh dear
I removed the towel from round my head
Well I didn’t want anyone to see
Look I’ve got greyness in my hair
And I’m only thirty three
She sat me down to have a look
And said don’t worry dear
We can soon cover all that up
With hair dye, so don’t fear
She put this dye upon my head
And then made me a brew
He had to wait for ages
Until the colour did come threw
So now I feel much better
And don’t need to get irate
I don’t have any grey streaks now
And my hair looks really great
poem by Lynn Cowman
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The Mirror Struggled
The mirror struggled; reflecting beauty such as hers
Prescribed a glory in the challenge – a fairytale
Or such as like! To shimmer back hypnotic hues
From auras of her skin – how do mirrors cope?
Hoary tales of pretty adolescent buds
Could never hope to match the tomes of dreamy
Pulchritude apprising us of such a belle as she.
The mirror shone; and as it worked itself, a moment –
Did it overlook the hidden melancholy?
Were melting eyes bedewed–? Florid lips imbued
With mournfulness? The hindrance of the silver glass!
Oh! to seek – to know the meaning of the sorrow!
She (with tearful hair, an image out of heaven)
Never opened up her heart. The mirror struggled.
Copyright Mark R Slaughter 2009
m irror mirror mirror - mirror mirror mirror
mirror mirror mirror - mirror mirror mirror
mirror mirror mirror - mirror mirror mirror
mirror mirror mirror - mirror mirror mirror
mirror mirror mirror - mirror mirror mirror
mirror mirror mirror - mirror mirror mirror
mirror mirror mirror - mirror mirror mirror
mirror mirror mirror - mirror mirror mirror
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Mirroring
I looked through the mirrors
And saw my reflection
What I saw was darkness and suffering
It could chase any bright life away.
I looked through the mirror of death
And saw myself burning in hell
Screaming out in sweet torment
Enjoying this immortal condemn.
I looked through the mirror of hate
And saw myself taunting my enemies
I enjoyed my foes pain and smile in shame.
I looked through the mirror of happiness
And saw myself in love; Laughter filled my face with these
With these wrongful feelings.
I looked through the mirror of envy
And saw myself resentencing my friends
Cracking their hearts open with my words.
I looked through the mirror of fears
And saw myself hiding under a hollow tree,
Not even He could shelter me.
I looked through mirror of sorrow
And saw myself buried in pain,
Having a knife at my wrist,
Ready to end this game
poem by C.F Francis
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I Went To The Mirror
In a voice soaked with euphoria:
I went to the mirror this morning
I looked in the mirror instead
The first thing to come into focus
Was a face wrapped all around my head
Theres something sticking out of the middle
I guess its my nose (I suppose)
I just dont recognize those eyes
All these years Ive been watching from the other side
The voice is now one of brutal stupefication. the underlying question is - if
You went crazy, would you know it?
Uh oh, here I go thinking them crazy thoughts again.
Who is that there? you mean I been walking around
In that all these years? whats it all about?
Wheres it all at? I dont want to get heavy but
What am I doing here? uh
My lip has a dark spot upon it
(the voice of a mature adult whos comprehensive
Capacity has suddenly been reduced to that of a
Cherrystone clam)
My teeth look like plastic in chips
And there on my chin I discover
One lonely red and arrogant zit
I went about my business this morning
You got to get out of bed and make that bread
But try as I may to get away
I wont forget what I seen in the mirror today
Boogie on out to a brand new day.
Get off your back and dance!
I seen my eyes. I seen my nose. my lips. my teeth.
My, my gums. I seen my gums! I looked all the way
Down my throat! I looked at my ears. I looked real
Hard at my ears. I looked at my hair. I think Im going
Bald. I had hair all over the sink or something...
song performed by by Todd Rundgren
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Boy's Trials
When I was but a little lad
One thing I could not bear,
It was to stand at mother's knee
And have her comb my hair.
They didn't keep boys' hair as short
As it's kept now-a-days,
And mine was always tangled up
In twenty different ways.
I'd twist my mouth and grit my teeth,
And say it wasn't fair-
It was a trial, and no mistake,
When mother combed my hair.
She'd brush and brush each stubborn curl
That grew upon my pate,
And with her scissors nip and clip
To make the edges straight.
Then smooth it down until it shone,
While I would grin and bear,
And feel a martyr through and through,
When mother combed my hair.
She'd take my round chin in her hand
And hold it there the while
She made the parting carefully,
Then tell me with a smile:
'Don't push your cap down on your curls
And spoil my work and care;
He is a pretty little lad
When mother combs his hair.'
I'd hurry out and rumple up
That mop of hair so thick-
A vandal, I, for she had worked
So hard to make it slick-
And wish I were a grown-up man
So nobody would dare
To put a washrag in my ears,
Or comb my tangled hair.
Heigho! now that I'm bald and gray,
Methinks I would be glad
To have her smooth my brow and cheeks,
And whisper, 'Mother's lad!'
A longing for the care-free days
Doth take me unaware;
To stand, a boy, at mother's knee
And have her comb my hair.
poem by Jean Blewett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Looked At You
i looked at you,
and saw the fugitive
in my mirror.
i looked at me,
and saw the child in you.
i looked at God,
and saw the stranger waiting.
i looked at the stranger,
and saw my brother in need.
i looked at freedom,
and saw the bars of the cell.
i looked at the bars,
and saw my spirit walk free.
i looked at anger,
and saw forgiveness waiting.
i looked at forgiveness,
and saw the hands of love.
i looked at my body,
and saw the bird leaving the nest.
i looked at the nest,
and saw a world made of straw.
i looked at today,
and saw the scars of yesterday.
i looked at yesterday,
and saw the dawning of tomorrow.
i looked at the seed,
and saw the plant in fullness.
i looked at fullness,
and saw emptiness the seed.
i looked at you...
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Unfaithful To Myself (Beware. Beware!)
When I ran away,
I thought that I would stay...
Where it was,
I chose to be.
When I ran away,
It was from myself...
And,
I was not that able...
To remain unfaithful.
I looked in the mirror and my heart stopped.
I saw the anger there.
I looked in the mirror and my heart stopped.
Beware. Beware!
I looked in the mirror and my heart stopped.
I saw the anger there.
And I knew,
It was me who had been untrue.
When I ran away,
It was from myself...
And,
I was not able...
To remain unfaithful.
Oh, when I ran away,
I thought that I would stay...
Where it was,
I chose to be.
But...
I looked in the mirror and my heart stopped.
I saw the anger there.
I looked in the mirror and my heart stopped.
Beware. Beware!
I looked in the mirror and my heart stopped.
I saw the anger there.
And I knew,
It was me who had been untrue.
I looked in the mirror and my heart stopped.
I saw the anger there.
I looked in the mirror and my heart stopped.
Beware. Beware!
Yes,
I looked in the mirror and my heart stopped.
I saw the anger there.
With a feeding of myself wrong beliefs...
That other people made me bleed.
But it wasn't other people it was me.
I looked in the mirror and my heart stopped.
I saw the anger there.
I looked in the mirror and my heart stopped.
Beware. Beware!
Yes, I looked in the mirror and my heart stopped.
I saw the anger there.
And I knew,
It was me who had been untrue.
And I had been unfaithful to myself.
I let my woes go,
When...
I looked in the mirror and my heart stopped.
I saw the anger there.
I looked in the mirror and my heart stopped.
Beware. Beware!
And I knew,
It was me who had been untrue.
And I had been unfaithful to myself.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Bathroom Barber
I'm not a bathroom barber I've learned
gave myself a hair cut with my own two hands.
When all of a sudden I heard a loud noise
which took my mind off what hair to cut I had.
Then SNIP, it went off my head!
a large patch bald of hair is missing.
The dog looked at me puzzled and barked
and the cat raised her back and was hissing!
I must admit I looked a fright
with that large patch of missing hair.
When I got up nerve to look in the mirror
I even gave myself a scare!
I was only trying to save a buck
and give myself what looked to be so easy.
But with this patch of hair now missing
my head feels a bit more breezy.
I guess I'll have to spend the money
go to someone, where to them it isn't harder.
And never again will I pretend, to be a Bathroom Barber!
poem by Linda Winchell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Art Will Show To Eternity Your Soul
I am a woman, using a mirror everyday,
Like all of you, i'm seeing my reflection into it,
Even i am sad, happy, tired or bored,
What i'm seeing in my mirror it's my physical reality, my own truth.
I combed my hair and looked into my mirror,
I felt so delicate, unique and simple,
Having a smile on my face today,
My mirror will smile me back as feedback in same way.
I am a painter, i adore art,
In everything i'm painting it's life,
In each painting and spot of paint my brush does,
It's a history of great ideas my minds holds.
A painting is a gate to our inner side,
Through it vibrates the universe to our hearts,
A mirror will always show your face reflection to the world,
But art will show to eternity your soul.
poem by Cristina Teodor
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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While Hair Brushing
Juliette drags the brush
through her hair you have
to brush it at least one
hundred times her mother
had said years ago and say
a prayer each time you get
it through and maybe God
will bless you and as she sits
and brushes her hair she
remembers her mother standing
over her when she was a child
and the hair was as long then
as it is now and oh God she
says how I hated it the knots
and tangles and the number of
times I used to cry each time
she pauses in front of the mirror
the brush held mid air sometimes
when she brushes her hair and
stares in the mirror she sees him
there looking at her as he did back
then watching her every move
his dark eyes greedily drinking
her in and once he placed his
hands around her waist and kissed
her neck how she cringed his spittle
still there her uncle his breath his
hands touching always when she
was alone and once when undressing
he came in and stared and said he
thought she was becoming a beautiful
young girl now she brushes her hair
again the brush stiff and heavy gripped
in her hand and as she stares into the
mirror heavy with times and care she
thinks she sees him still staring still there.
poem by Terry Collett
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I look my best after an entire hair and makeup team has spent hours perfecting me. When do I feel my best? When I haven't looked in a mirror for days, and I'm doing things that make me happy.
quote by Anne Hathaway
Submitted by Diana Frone, MTTLC
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Image Of Me
I looked in the mirror today. I stared at myself and could not look away. I seen several things within myself. I seen my fears, my mistakes, and my sins. I am unable to see the good within myself. I am only able to see my faults. The only reason i looked into that mirror was becuase of you. There is something about the way you look at me. your eyes are like swords that peirce my soul. They cut me and search me. They have scanned and only found the good in me. they did not find what i found when i looked into the mirror at myself. I wonder why i can't see your image of me when i stare into the mirror.
poem by Andrew Ryan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Mirror, Mirror, Bloody Fibber
Mirror, mirror, on the wall,
Can't you show me tall and slim?
Mirror, mirror, on the wall,
Must I look so bloody grim?
Mirror, mirror, on the wall,
You're distorting my poor waist!
Mirror, mirror, on the wall,
And why the heck am I defaced?
Mirror, mirror, on the wall,
Why have I a double chin?
Mirror, mirror, on the wall,
And what's the stupid, goofy grin?
Mirror, mirror, on the wall,
Pointless asking ‘Who’s the fairest? –
More bloody likely, 'Who’s the queerest? ’
Now look, I paid a big bucks for thee,
So why can’t you be nice to me?
Mirror, mirror, on the wall,
Who’s the fairest of them all?
Me, you say? Ah, that's better –
Mirror, mirror, bloody fibber!
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2009
Mirror mirror bloody fibber
Mirror mirror mirror ribber
Mirror mirror mirror mirror
Mirror mirror make me slimmer
poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Best Way to Comb the Blonde Hair
Years is the worst unforgivable hairstylist
He cuts my hair short;
shorter than our short story..
He cuts my hair off;
off the last relationship..
Now it's 4 sharp in the afternoon,
i, wooden, seize the comb, wooden.
Mirror does not tell lies
age can only climb high.
the comb runs through my hair
my hair flows through somewhere
more strands of hair are gone..
more worries are born
I forget how I combed hair
back in those years..
A young blonde is coming..
and i gonna ask her this question.
poem by Garland Jodie Jeen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Someone Inside Me
I looked to the mirror,
It still me, only me,
Not young, not old,
Just always be me..
I touch that scar,
Look worse than before,
Make me shame,
Want to die,
I can make it hide,
But it out when the memories come,
That misery, that cried,
Out of my eyes, come to tears,
But it come,
'She' who make me strong,
Make my step go on,
Not to hide again that wound,
But erase it from my soul,
I looked at the mirror,
But still me, look so tired,
Full sadness, no smile,
Nothing but hate,
But deep inside,
Someone scream,
It tell me that 'she' is the truly me,
Told me 'bout the truth and beauty,
I try to get out,
thinking it's just a dream,
Finished in just one night,
So I crush that mirror,
Hit it until bleed,
I realize, I won't live in that way,
I'm a beautiful woman,
Not just staring at the mirror,
But also someone who loved myself...
poem by Kaede Rirunaru
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Once apon a time...
Once apon a time
there was a girl
she was so innocent
but one day she looked into the mirror
and was shoked by what she saw
the person in the mirror seemed nothing like her
her hair and clothes were different then before
she left her old friends for a new crew
and when a guy would come along
she left them too
everyone said she was fake
but she did not belive them
now looking into the mirror
she asks herself
'how could this be?
this girl seemed so different and opposite
from me
but all along this girl was me.'