Hope
Our lives, discoloured with our present woes,
May still grow white and shine with happier hours.
So the pure limped stream, when foul with stains
Of rushing torrents and descending rains,
Works itself clear, and as it runs refines,
till by degrees the floating mirror shines;
Reflects each flower that on the border grows,
And a new heaven in it's fair bosom shows.
poem by Joseph Addison
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Related quotes
Mirrors…..
Take a look in the mirror and realize what you see..
Is it really you or someone you cannot be..
What you say in the mirror, is what the mirror tells..
Then why your own mirror, reflects some one else..
Every mirror has a story, it does tell a tale..
It reflects joy of success, and your tears when you fail..
The mirror never lies, it reflects what is true..
If you yourself dont know who you are, how can it reflect you..? ?
You may look perfect in the mirror, but take a look inside..
There are things unsaid, untold, now your eyes fail to hide..
Watch right through your soul, make sure it's not haunting..
Never realized who you are, your self-esteem still taunting..? ?
The mirror reflects a question mark, that is it really fair..? ?
You failed to live for others, for yourself only you care..
Look in the reflective gaze of glass, try finding your mistake..
Move close, Gaze into the lie and realize that it's fake...
Ask the mirror to reflect the facts, and to show the truth..
Wrongs you did in your life, right from childhood to youth..
Stop wishing for more, the mirrages will never be true..
It may be close to perfection, but it is just not you..
Make your soul your mirror, one that doesn't lie..
Make it pure and crystal clear, say a prayer up high..
Your heart reflects the person you are, so there's nothing to hide..
No mirror reflects you better then the one inside..
poem by Abhijit Surve
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Moments of Vision
That mirror
Which makes of men a transparency,
Who holds that mirror
And bids us such a breast-bare spectacle see
Of you and me?
That mirror
Whose magic penetrates like a dart,
Who lifts that mirror
And throws our mind back on us, and our heart,
until we start?
That mirror
Works well in these night hours of ache;
Why in that mirror
Are tincts we never see ourselves once take
When the world is awake?
That mirror
Can test each mortal when unaware;
Yea, that strange mirror
May catch his last thoughts, whole life foul or fair,
Glassing it -- where?
poem by Thomas Hardy
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Mirror mirror…
A mirror reflects all but lies.
Reflects the things
Everyone denies.
Reflects the way
You shaped yourself.
Reflects the things
Complex, simple, hidden and obvious.
Reflects the things
We have done in our lives.
Reflects the things
We don’t want to see.
But it has never reflected
Me.
In darkness and alone
I sit at the edge
Of icy cold black water.
Mirror mirror…
I sit their staring at no reflection
Thinking of the things I am,
Daughter, student, sister, lover.
But it does not define to me who I am.
I see all the things
I don’t want to see.
Perhaps than there is no “me”?
I do not exist in my reflections.
I can not find me in those titles.
Mirror mirror…
Perhaps then it is fact
Am I nothing more but that?
So should I satisfy with the things I see?
Is life’s lesson then that you should “just be”?
Is there nothing more then the endless time passing?
Mirror mirror…
Perhaps it is why it is never said
That a mirror holds an answer.
poem by Zarina Binda
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Mystery's Mirror Rhyme
Mirror's muse reflects
as mirror recollects
on mirror which reflects
upon mirror which reflects
upon mystery of light.
Mirror thus protects
mirror which projects
reflection which reflects
on mirror which expects
historical insight.
Mirror interjects
texts, textures and contexts
which chance elects, selects
then checks and double checks
for infinite delight.
Mirror's light directs
life's mysteries, neglects
naught it interconnects
as cause links to effects
exciting to invite.
Mirror then detects
mirror which deflects
mirror which rejects
history of night
when mirror role reflects
Mirror thus connects,
collects and self respects,
perpetually perfects
externals it bedecks
with inner meanings' might.
poem by Jonathan Robin
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My Little Flower White
Out of my little window, In the green meadow
Grows there right, my little flower white
Be it sunlight or the moonlight
My little flower white, always shines bright
Red or blue, rain or dew,
My little flower white, I love you
poem by Titus Menezes
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The Flower That Shattered The Stone (Reprise)
(HenryJarvis)
The earth is our mother, just turning around with her trees in the forest and roots underground. Our father above us, whose sigh is the wind, paint us a rainbow without any end.
As the river runs freely, the mountain does rise.
Let me touch with my fingers, and see with my eyes.
In the hearts of the children, a pure love still grows.
Like a bright star in heaven that lights our way home, like the flower that shattered the stone.
Sparrows find freedom beholding the sun, in the infinite beauty, we're all joined in one.
I reach out before me and look to the sky, did I hear someone whisper, did something pass by?
As the river runs freely, the mountain does rise.
Let me touch with my fingers, and see with my eyes.
In the hearts of the children, a pure love still grows.
Like a bright star in heaven that lights our way home, like the flower that shattered the stone.
Like a bright star in heaven that lights our way home, like the flower that shattered the stone.
song performed by by John Denver
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Flower That Shattered The Stone
(joe henry/john jarvis)
Earth is our mother
Just turning around
With her trees in the forest
And roots underground
Our father above us
Whose sigh is the wind
Paint us a rainbow
Without any end
As the river runs freely
The mountain does rise
Let me touch with my fingers
And see with my eyes
In the hearts of the children
A pure love still grows
Like a bright star in heaven
That lights our way home
Like the flower that shattered the stone
A sparrow finds freedom
Beholding the sun
In the infinite beauty
Were all joined in one
I reach out before me
And look to the sky
Did I hear someone whisper
Did something pass by
As the river runs freely
The mountain does rise
Let me touch with my fingers
And see with my eyes
In the hearts of the children
A pure love still grows
Like a bright star in heaven
That lights our way home
Like the flower that shattered the stone
Like a bright star in heaven
That lights our way home
Like the flower that shattered the stone
song performed by by Olivia Newton-John
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Let go of your worries
Let go of your worries
and be completely clear-hearted,
like the face of a mirror
that contains no images.
If you want a clear mirror,
behold yourself
and see the shameless truth,
which the mirror reflects.
If metal can be polished
to a mirror-like finish,
what polishing might the mirror
of the heart require?
Between the mirror and the heart
is this single difference:
the heart conceals secrets,
while the mirror does not.
Clear...
nothing in my life
has ever been so CLEAR.
no more struggle, and no more strife,
as if i'm looking in a mirror.
a mirror that shows the opposite
of everything around.
nothing is the same here...
why is everything so CLEAR?
the stars,
the moon,
everything in that blue-black sky.
it's all so very CLEAR.
everything outside that mirror
is chaos and disarray.
problems showing up left and right,
nothing goes my way,
but inside that lovely mirror,
is a paridise by the sea.
inside that mirror it's...
CLEAR.
poem by Kenzie Lynn
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Fawnia
AH! were she pitiful as she is fair,
Or but as mild as she is seeming so,
Then were my hopes greater than my despair,
Then all the world were heaven, nothing woe.
Ah! were her heart relenting as her hand,
That seems to melt even with the mildest touch,
Then knew I where to seat me in a land
Under wide heavens, but yet there is not such.
So as she shows she seems the budding rose,
Yet sweeter far than is an earthly flower;
Sovran of beauty, like the spray she grows;
Compass'd she is with thorns and canker'd flower.
Yet were she willing to be pluck'd and worn,
She would be gather'd, though she grew on thorn.
Ah! when she sings, all music else be still,
For none must be compared to her note;
Ne'er breathed such glee from Philomela's bill,
Nor from the morning-singer's swelling throat.
Ah! when she riseth from her blissful bed
She comforts all the world as doth the sun,
And at her sight the night's foul vapour 's fled;
When she is set the gladsome day is done.
O glorious sun, imagine me the west,
Shine in my arms, and set thou in my breast!
poem by Robert Greene
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The Lost Carnival
The little one sees only life
Grows up turns away
Tentacles all over, even on the mind
A suffocating pain for the time left behind!
Words come in torrents
Innocence distilled mirror
Reflects only the cloudless sky
But it arrives, bids fountain goodbye!
On its path, one after one killed
Hated but strangely self-willed
Helpless in the face of destruction
It stands, not one, not little
Amidst the ruins of the mirror
With the fragmented reflections
Gone forever beyond retrieval
Time to bemoan the lost carnival!
poem by Pradip Chattopadhyay
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Perpetual Motion
What (said the poet) should we care
For all this mad world's phantasies,
For rumours rife upon the air
Of terrors looming overseas?
If so, the soul were plagued alway
With far-fetched grieving, what of mirth?
For somewhere sorror broods all day;
Yet laughter, too, inhabits earth.
For the sun shines and the grass grows,
And the ferns nod above the stream
That down this placid valley flows;
Then let us rest a while, and dream.
For the grass grows as the sun shines,
And the stream flows and sings a song
To chide the sad heart that repines
Ah, summer, summer, linger long!
What (I gave answer) badgers me
Are not the tragedies of earth.
Despite your gay philosophy
Of seeking joy and claiming mirth
For boon companions as you go,
Oft times these very joys oppress
And suns that shine and streams that flow
May be a source of weariness.
For the grass grows and the sun gleams
To sear the grass and, where they flow,
I must bring water from the streams
To make the blinking grass to grow.
And the sun gleams and the grass grows -
Indeed I know it well enough;
For as it springs where water flows
I've got to cut the blasted stuff.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Nature's Rose
As the vast nature
blinds the eye by its beauty
the trees grow taller
the grasses grow greener
The animals grow more peaceful in their natural habitat
But none grow as beautiful as the red rose
As the red rose grows day by day
I walk by it desiring to pick it
Sitting and waiting for the petals to grow more mature
To grow and show off the beauty of the rose
Years go by and the rose is almost grown
This special rose is different from the rest.
Others grow, beautify, and die
While this one grows year after year
The blood of the rose is pure
as it flows up and through the beautiful flower
But the rose has not completed its growth
I run my hand down the body of the beautiful flower
Shedding my blood from the sharp thorns
I grasp the flower and thrust it from the ground
As my blood drips, the blood of the flowers does so too
The red of both mix and mature and fall to the ground dropp after drop
The smell of the flower overtakes the pain
This is Nature's Rose
Song of songs
It’s early morning
and the sun hangs like a large orange
Just above the hillocks
Three teenage girls
undress at the clear water
of a Brooklet.
The are shy for others,
but like to bathe together and walk
with bare feet into the rocky little stream.
Everyone of them is still young and pure
and splash and frolic while the sun
shines hotter and brighter.
The water is still cold
and their nipples are hard and black
on their round breasts.
While they wash each other
it sparkles shiny and rows of drops
are on their brown skins
The water runs of in little streams
down arms, stomachs, hips and thighs
and they stand and talk and laugh.
Something quivers in the reeds where is grows in a thicket
deep into the stream and they see
a dark green water monitor going into the water.
They run screaming and stark naked
and try without any clothes, to get direction
to the shacks of the village where they stay.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Know You The River NEar To Grez
KNOW you the river near to Grez,
A river deep and clear?
Among the lilies all the way,
That ancient river runs to-day
From snowy weir to weir.
Old as the Rhine of great renown,
She hurries clear and fast,
She runs amain by field and town
From south to north, from up to down,
To present on from past.
The love I hold was borne by her;
And now, though far away,
My lonely spirit hears the stir
Of water round the starling spur
Beside the bridge at Grez.
So may that love forever hold
In life an equal pace;
So may that love grow never old,
But, clear and pure and fountain-cold,
Go on from grace to grace.
poem by Robert Louis Stevenson
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Looking-Glass River
Smooth it glides upon its travel,
Here a wimple, there a gleam--
O the clean gravel!
O the smooth stream!
Sailing blossoms, silver fishes,
Pave pools as clear as air--
How a child wishes
To live down there!
We can see our colored faces
Floating on the shaken pool
Down in cool places,
Dim and very cool;
Till a wind or water wrinkle,
Dipping marten, plumping trout,
Spreads in a twinkle
And blots all out.
See the rings pursue each other;
All below grows black as night,
Just as if mother
Had blown out the light!
Patience, children, just a minute--
See the spreading circles die;
The stream and all in it
Will clear by-and-by.
poem by Robert Louis Stevenson
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Lanii (little flower)
little flower
ur petals grow brighter
u shy from the worst
and protected by the best
little flower
dont worry
he'll never disapear
he'll protect u
little flower
hes ur light
hes the sun that shines
u r his to love
but listen little flower
if he goes away
if he shines no more
i hunt him down
little flower
u r sweet
u can love
ur not weak
but little flower
ill kick his ass
ill make him bleed the light
hes ur protector little flower
hes bound to u
he can never leave
poem by Tionna Estrada
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Growth of a Rose
A rose has been planted in it's place
Waiting to begin it's life as a beautiful flower
A shower of rain falls on the rose
Awakening the rose from it's long slumber
Beneath the ground where this flower is planted
It's roots have started to grow out from the rain
Soon the rain has stopped and the sun shines
The warmth of the sun's rays help the rose grow
Seeing the bright rays shine from it's source
The rose begins to reach out to the sky
Finally escaping the cold dark place the flower was in
It has at last faced the bright world for the first time
Revealing it's beauty and experiencing the feeling of pure happiness
poem by Sarah Bruun
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St. Agnes' Eve
Deep on the convent-roof the snows
Are sparkling to the moon:
My breath to heaven like vapour goes;
May my soul follow soon!
The shadows of the convent-towers
Slant down the snowy sward,
Still creeping with the creeping hours
That lead me to my Lord:
Make Thou my spirit pure and clear
As are the frosty skies,
Or this first snowdrop of the year
That in my bosom lies.
As these white robes are soil'd and dark,
To yonder shining ground;
As this pale taper's earthly spark,
To yonder argent round;
So shows my soul before the Lamb,
My spirit before Thee;
So in mine earthly house I am,
To that I hope to be.
Break up the heavens, O Lord! and far,
Thro' all yon starlight keen,
Draw me, thy bride, a glittering star,
In raiment white and clean.
He lifts me to the golden doors;
The flashes come and go;
All heaven bursts her starry floors,
And strows her lights below,
And deepens on and up! the gates
Roll back, and far within
For me the Heavenly Bridegroom waits,
To make me pure of sin.
The sabbaths of Eternity,
One sabbath deep and wide--
A light upon the shining sea--
The Bridegroom with his bride!
poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson
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On A Drop Of Dew
See how the Orient Dew,
Shed from the Bosom of the Morn
Into the blowing Roses,
Yet careless of its Mansion new;
For the clear Region where 'twas born
Round in its self incloses:
And in its little Globes Extent,
Frames as it can its native Element.
How it the purple flow'r does slight,
Scarce touching where it lyes,
But gazing back upon the Skies,
Shines with a mournful Light;
Like its own Tear,
Because so long divided from the Sphear.
Restless it roules and unsecure,
Trembling lest it grow impure:
Till the warm Sun pitty it's Pain,
And to the Skies exhale it back again.
So the Soul, that Drop, that Ray
Of the clear Fountain of Eternal Day,
Could it within the humane flow'r be seen,
Remembring still its former height,
Shuns the sweat leaves and blossoms green;
And, recollecting its own Light,
Does, in its pure and circling thoughts, express
The greater Heaven in an Heaven less.
In how coy a Figure wound,
Every way it turns away:
So the World excluding round,
Yet receiving in the Day.
Dark beneath, but bright above:
Here disdaining, there in Love.
How loose and easie hence to go:
How girt and ready to ascend.
Moving but on a point below,
It all about does upwards bend.
Such did the Manna's sacred Dew destil;
White, and intire, though congeal'd and chill.
Congeal'd on Earth: but does, dissolving, run
Into the Glories of th' Almighty Sun.
poem by Andrew Marvell
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