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He looks in my heart and the image there

He looks in my heart and the image there
Is himself, himself, than himself more fair.
And he thinks of my heart as a mirror clear
To reflect the image I hold most dear.
But my heart is much more like a stream, I think,
Where my lover may come when he needs to drink.
And my heart is a stream that seems asleep
But the tranquil waters run strong and deep;
They reflect the image that seems most fair
But their meaning and purpose are otherwhere.
He may come, my lover, and lie on the brink
And gaze at his image and smile and drink
While the hidden waters run strong and free,
Unheeded, unguessed at, the soul of me.

poem by Lesbia Harford
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O' Mirror

All day long roaming around
Sometimes I stand before the mirror,
See my own image looks at me,
Yet I'm puzzled not to find my `self' there.

I see the quiet nature depicted on my complexion,
And I know my `self' is veiled by a humane mask.
In the mirror my image looks like any other human,
My hand-face-eyes all are normal and intact.

Yet behind that intact wall
How many wounded memories, how much pain of loss,
And emptiness lives
Only my heart knows.

Where does my heart live?
Nobody knows that, even the mirror does not.

Still I look at with deep wonder
To find where in my heart
Inconsistent pain and imperfections are;
In the outer shell of mine I find only indifference.

This mirror shows very strange image;
It does not find my own world, -
My emptiness, frustration, the heart breaking emotion-
It does not show me anything.

Only those impassive eyes look at me,
How much tribulation of heart it hides!
In the outer quiet nature none of that be found;
O' Mirror, show me the image of my heart, if you can.

poem by Riffat Samad
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Mirror, Mirror On The Wall

Mirror mirror on the wall
You reflect the image of how far we fall
from grace as we consider the face
we believe ourselves to be.
Is that all that most of us see?

We are fooled by that looking glass.
And yet we glimpse at it as we pass
all of our imperfections we carry around.
But inside our eyes what is found
is the soul that accepts all of our flaws.

Mirror, mirror on the wall
I must always try to recall
who I am and always shall be.
It's certainly not just what I see.
For I am more than my image shows,
more than my figure, my height, my pose.

I am who I've always been,
not this body that I find I'm in.
I am the earth, the sun, the moon.
I am the morn, the night, the noon.
And so I say to my mirrored wall.
'You can't ever reflect me.
For you don't know me at all.'

poem by Edwina Reizer
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To The River

Fair river! in thy bright, clear flow
Of crystal, wandering water,
Thou art an emblem of the glow
Of beauty- the unhidden heart-
The playful maziness of art
In old Alberto's daughter;

But when within thy wave she looks-
Which glistens then, and trembles-
Why, then, the prettiest of brooks
Her worshipper resembles;
For in his heart, as in thy stream,
Her image deeply lies-
His heart which trembles at the beam
Of her soul-searching eyes.

poem by Edgar Allan Poe
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Your Image

In my madness
Transformed agonies
Existential leanings
Yourself because of me
I hold your image
In my eyes
Like after death
The snake is burnt
As he carries
The image of his slayer

In my own circles
Like a mirror in palm
While you do your eyes
A reflection always
As you shatter me
Into dust
But like the snake
Ye shall burn me
To escape thy image

And by then
Ye shall see thine image
In thy soul
27/2/2009

poem by Sadiqullah Khan
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Remembrance of Collins

Composed upon the Thames near Richmond

Glide gently, thus for ever glide,
O Thames! that other bards may see
As lovely visions by thy side
As now, fair river! come to me.
O glide, fair stream! for ever so,
Thy quiet soul on all bestowing,
Till all our minds for ever flow
As thy deep waters now are flowing.

Vain thought!--Yet be as now thou art,
That in thy waters may be seen
The image of a poet's heart,
How bright, how solemn, how serene!
Such as did once the Poet bless,
Who murmuring here a later ditty,
Could find no refuge from distress
But in the milder grief of pity.

Now let us, as we float along,
For 'him' suspend the dashing oar;
And pray that never child of song
May know that Poet's sorrows more.
How calm! how still! the only sound,
The dripping of the oar suspended!
--The evening darkness gathers round
By virtue's holiest Powers attended.

poem by William Wordsworth
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Mirror Image.

i've met my mirror image,
lost in his hazel eyes,
loved my mirror image,
till my heart exploded with colors,
hated my mirror image,
with a fury even satan would cringe,

I've met my complete opposite,
lost in his inner beauty,
love my complete opposite,
my heart burst with colors every secong in his arms,
want my complete opposite,
till our souls leave for somewhere better.

poem by Sabrina Seriva
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Mankind will not believe it,

Mankind will not believe it,
Mankind will not believe it when the Glory come's,
The Image is defined and we are all free,
Upon the Image Iam not losing that Taste of the Infinite,
Meaning is all Clear and Image well defined,

Mankind will not believe it when they see the Sign of God,
His Love is the Liberating a Soul and a Remedy,
Teach me Grace that I may Flow with these Words,
When the Kingdom of God hast come Mankind will not believe it since they all be Commiting Felonies.

poem by Maxim Muyu
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Sleep

I can't describe the feeling when
I'm in my bed asleep and then
I wake up with a vision blurred
And all my efforts are detered
To reconstruct this image lost
There're certain things my mind must do
and even though they're very few
The image glistens like a gem
Repairing is not one of them
So I'm awake though in my mind
The image thats so unrefined
is calling to me from the deep
and tempting me to fall asleep

song performed by by Phish
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lady At A Mirror

As in sleeping-drink spices
softly she loosens in the liquid-clear
mirror her fatigued demeanor;
and she puts her smile deep inside.

And she waits while the liquid
rises from it; then she pours her hair
into the mirror, and, lifting one
wondrous shoulder from the evening gown,

she drinks quietly from her image. She drinks
what a lover would drink feeling dazed,
searching it, full of mistrust; and she only

beckons to her maid when at the bottom
of her mirror she finds candles, wardrobes,
and the cloudy dregs of a late hour.

Translated by Edward Snow

poem by Rainer Maria Rilke
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The Image of a Friend

As I look through the window of friendship,
I see in the gentle wind,
The whispered breeze of an angel,
It is in the image of 'friend'.

This friend has a heart of compassion,
Caring that comes without end,
The giving of love to others,
Characterizes my dear friend.

This friend has hands that carry,
The load of your burdens with ease,
Hands that will hold others' problems,
Grasping with love, not to cease.

This friend has eyes, understanding,
That see to the heart of a soul,
Eyes that are never condemning,
But rather see new ways to grow.

This friend has ears that listen,
And hear the call of a friend,
Ears that will cherish the moment,
And take the time to lend.

The image of friend described here,
Is the picture I see in my mind,
When I look through the window of life,
Your image is what I find!

poem by Jean Penner
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Green River

When breezes are soft and skies are fair,
I steal an hour from study and care,
And hie me away to the woodland scene,
Where wanders the stream with waters of green,
As if the bright fringe of herbs on its brink
Had given their stain to the wave they drink;
And they, whose meadows it murmurs through,
Have named the stream from its own fair hue.

Yet pure its waters--its shallows are bright
With coloured pebbles and sparkles of light,
And clear the depths where its eddies play,
And dimples deepen and whirl away,
And the plane-tree's speckled arms o'ershoot
The swifter current that mines its root,
Through whose shifting leaves, as you walk the hill,
The quivering glimmer of sun and rill
With a sudden flash on the eye is thrown,
Like the ray that streams from the diamond stone.
Oh, loveliest there the spring days come,
With blossoms, and birds, and wild bees' hum;
The flowers of summer are fairest there,
And freshest the breath of the summer air;
And sweetest the golden autumn day
In silence and sunshine glides away.

Yet fair as thou art, thou shunnest to glide,
Beautiful stream! by the village side;
But windest away from haunts of men,
To quiet valley and shaded glen;
And forest, and meadow, and slope of hill,
Around thee, are lonely, lovely, and still.
Lonely--save when, by thy rippling tides,
From thicket to thicket the angler glides;
Or the simpler comes with basket and book,
For herbs of power on thy banks to look;
Or haply, some idle dreamer, like me,
To wander, and muse, and gaze on thee.
Still--save the chirp of birds that feed
On the river cherry and seedy reed,
And thy own wild music gushing out
With mellow murmur and fairy shout,
From dawn to the blush of another day,
Like traveller singing along his way.

That fairy music I never hear,
Nor gaze on those waters so green and clear,
And mark them winding away from sight,
Darkened with shade or flashing with light,
While o'er them the vine to its thicket clings,
And the zephyr stoops to freshen his wings,
But I wish that fate had left me free
To wander these quiet haunts with thee,
Till the eating cares of earth should depart,
And the peace of the scene pass into my heart;
And I envy thy stream, as it glides along,
Through its beautiful banks in a trance of song.

Though forced to drudge for the dregs of men,
And scrawl strange words with the barbarous pen,
And mingle among the jostling crowd,
Where the sons of strife are subtle and loud--
I often come to this quiet place,
To breathe the airs that ruffle thy face,
And gaze upon thee in silent dream,
For in thy lonely and lovely stream
An image of that calm life appears
That won my heart in my greener years.

poem by William Cullen Bryant
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Almighty, Please Give Me Beautiful Heart!

When I look into your eyes,
Reflected image of my being,
there I found my eyes,
My eyes found themselves in yours!

When your eyes shine,
How can I believe myself,
When my image is so small,
What growth may make me,
great in your eyes?

I imagine what may be my size,
if that small lens capture half world,
Is image large when you are so near,
your image cover whole world,
I can't see anything but you,
My eyes are blind to world!

But you look at the world,
how much I can be In Your eyes dear?
I was able to lose myself,
Trying to find myself in you,
Is it love or simply a madness,
Am I mad with my own desire?

Your eyes captured my image,
But with eyes you captured my soul,
By being is lame,
It can't walk,
Only sit where it is,
Absorbed in own calculations,
Absorbed in dreams and expectations,
My soul is not where it should be,
Gone out of my body,
It goes wherever you go,
Trying to measure your footsteps!

Strange enough, you are unmoved by me, Moved my soul,
like unmoved mover of souls,
Is it love? If it is, then what is use of this love,
Is it only to make me feel strain?
is it only to add more pain?
Why can't Almighty,
Give that beautiful heart,
Which can see and feel beloved within?
Please, Almighty, give me a beautiful heart!

poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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Like water which can clearly mirror the sky and the trees only so long as its surface is undisturbed, the mind can only reflect the true image of the Self when it is tranquil and wholly relaxed.

quote by Indra Devi
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Image In The Mirror

That image in the mirror
Is another girl
I wish I could be
That image in the mirror

Is so skinny
So pretty
That image in the mirror
Is the ME
I WANT to be

poem by Courtney Welden
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What Is This 'Image

What is this 'image'
We have been blessed to reflect?
If we are not, indeed...
Born into a physicality,
From a spiritual realm...
Where deities of power,
Reign over our every step.

What is this 'image'
That the Sun feeds,
And the Moon all fluids direct.
What are we and who is it...
We pray to and confess.

What is this 'image'
We have been blessed to reflect?
If we are not, indeed...
Born into a physicality,
From a spiritual realm...
Where deities of power,
Reign over our every step.

It is much more complexed,
Than our perceptions and concepts.
If we are an experiment,
Of a divine test.
And...
Why do some seem to pass with flying colors?
And some of us can not digest.
Or comprehend,
That message yet.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Elegy X: The Dream

Image of her whom I love, more than she,
Whose fair impression in my faithful heart
Makes me her medal, and makes her love me,
As Kings do coins, to which their stamps impart
The value: go, and take my heart from hence,
Which now is grown too great and good for me:
Honours oppress weak spirits, and our sense
Strong objects dull; the more, the less we see.

When you are gone, and Reason gone with you,
Then Fantasy is queen and soul, and all;
She can present joys meaner than you do;
Convenient, and more proportional.
So, if I dream I have you, I have you,
For, all our joys are but fantastical.
And so I 'scape the pain, for pain is true;
And sleep which locks up sense, doth lock out all.

After a such fruition I shall wake,
And, but the waking, nothing shall repent;
And shall to love more thankful sonnets make
Than if more honour, tears, and pains were spent.
But dearest heart, and dearer image, stay;
Alas, true joys at best are dream enough;
Though you stay here you pass too fast away:
For even at first life's taper is a snuff.

Filied with her love, may I be rather grown
Mad with much heart, than idiot with none.

poem by John Donne
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In The Cup

There is grief in the cup!
I saw a proud mother set wine on the board;
The eyes of her son sparkled bright as she poured
The ruddy stream into the glass in his hand.
The cup was of silver; the lady was grand
In her satins and laces; her proud heart was glad
In the love of her fair, noble son; but, oh! sad,
Oh! so sad ere a year had passed by,
And the soft light had gone from her beautiful eye.
For the boy that she loved, with a love strong as death,
In the chill hours of morn with a drunkard's foul breath
And a drunkard's fierce oath, reeled and staggered his way
To his home, a dark blot on the face of the day.

There is shame in the cup!
The tempter said, 'Drink,' and a fair maiden quaffed
Till her cheeks glowed the hue of the dangerous draught.
The voice of the tempter spoke low in her ear
Words that once would have started the quick, angry tear,
But wine blunts the conscience, and wine dulls the brain,
She listened and smiled, and he whispered again.
He lifted the goblet: 'Once more,' he said, 'drink,'
And the soul of the maiden was lost in the brink.
There is death in the cup!
A man in God's image, strong, noble, and grand,
With talents that crowned him a prince of the land,
Sipped the ruddy red wine!-sipped it lightly at first,
Until from its chains broke the demon of thirst.
And thirst became master, and man became slave,
And he ended his life in the drunkard's poor grave.
Wealth, fame, talents, beauty, and life swallowed up,
Grief, shame, death, destruction, are all in the cup.

poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Mirror Image

I get up this morning, forget about all my plans
Think about my vacations with my latest man
Everything I did, what I shouldve done
Why I didnt stay why I didnt run
Only I hold the key to unlock the door
I might make mistakes I made them before
Think I hear about my life as a book
Think I rather forget but they forced me to look
Chorus:
(mirror image, mirror image)
If it isnt in black and white
(it never happened)
(mirror image) reflection of me
Do you see what they want you to see?
Looking at my life through mirror image
Mirror image
Must I confess everything that Ive done?
Cant a girl go out and have herself some fun?
I dont wanna be judge I dont want the blame
Living for the day is how I play the game
There always a dream theres always a stage
Somebodys looking now its on the front page
Through my rear view mirror I can see where Ive been
I forget the beginning and I cant see the end
Chorus
Only I hold the key to unlock the door
I might make mistakes I made them before
Think I hear about my life as a book
Think I rather forget but they forced me to look
Chorus x 2 (ad libs)

song performed by by Cher
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Don't Be Surprised

My love,
Don't be surprised,
If early in the morning,
After no being able to sleep at all,
You find yourself in front of a mirror
And see an image that resembles me,
Don't think, for a moment,
That it is a distorted image of you,
But a clear one of me,
Reflected in that mirror
Which is tightly fixed in front of you,
Letting you know that I am still
Living within your heart and mind...
You must understand
That there are things in life
Beyond your total control,
Natural feelings that still persist,
Sweet memories of the time
When, unconditionally, to you,
I surrendered my soul,
But love it is not your fault,
If our lives ended up
With totally different results....

©All Rights Reserved-2010

poem by Romeo Della Valle
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Be In My Heart

What did I ever do for you, that you should die for me
And what did I ever give to you, that you should live in me
Now and forever and always true, your love has found a way
As I was, I am and always will be, will be
Be in my heart, be in my head, be in my soul tonight
Live in my words, let it be said, live in my life tonight
Pray that I never take in vain, the name I hold most dear
His love in very heart of me, casts out all doubt and fear
Now and forever and always true, your love has found a way
As I was, I am and always will be, will be
Be in my heart, be in my head, be in my soul tonight
Live in my words, let it be said, live in my life tonight
Tonight we shall sweetly sleep
Tonight by still waters deep
Tonight for my soul to keep, still waters lead me to your
Still waters, I need to drink of your still waters
Now that I know the kind of love that comes to fill me up
Fill me anew with love from you and overflow my cup
Now and forever and always true, your love has found a way
As I was, I am and always will be, will be
Be in my heart, be in my head, be in my soul tonight
Live in my words, let it be said, live in my life tonight
Still waters running deep
Still waters my soul to keep
Still waters its your love flowing over me

song performed by by Cliff Richard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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