En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Showing The True Color

when i wake up this early morning
she was not already beside me.

i do not want to rise and fold the blanket
and go somewhere else.

or read the papers, or sip coffee, there is
this laziness that infects my bones, a disease

of meaning, another slow day, the routine is
eating me, and i behave

in a manner that i am like a lame duck being
aimed at by all the bystanders

i am opening my eyes, and the ceiling is off
white, it has been that way ever since i got married,

why did i leave it that way? i have the money to have
it painted pure white, like a very clean slate where

i can write what i must mean, but i didn't, i let things
that way they are from the beginning, and perhaps

they will still be at the end. This is what i do next,
always always i do this: i rise from my bed, go to my

circular mirror and look at my face, they also do it,
and then i touch my cheeks and chin, feeling the roughness

of the beard, how they have grown long and so untidy,
the razor is ready, and the soap and water, but this time

i will do what i cannot do the other days of my life,
i will not trim the unruly ones, i will not wash my face,

i may slap myself, and then i give the mirror the grin
of the man that is used to all these doubts and shame.

i will tell it, i am now myself.And then i will the bathroom
another tune for my whistle, nobody, nobody but me.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Bathroom Door

this early morning
you are depressed
you face the mirror
when she left
and you tell yourself
this cannot be true
you rehearsed yourself
again
to a line that you have
long wanted to say
years back
but just the same
you fall short of the courage
that all gentlemen
are said to still posses
you wash your face
with a handful of cold water
and slap your cheek
with that usual perfume
that makes her
love you more

you forget the lines
and promise yourself
to say it some other time
you give the mirror
your silly grin
and leave the bathroom
half-open.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Daily

you wake up early
you wash your face
you use soap and water
you wipe your face with
a white towel near the sink
hanging
you dress up
you take breakfast
you chew your food
you drink your coffee
you read the papers
hear the news on tv
you go to the garage
warm up your car
you open the garage
and speed your way to your office
you read the whole day
you talk less
you take your lunch
and you cat's nap
you work the whole afternoon
you read a lot
you write
you are tired and ask your driver
to drive you home
you open the door of your house
you sleep with your shoes on
you sleep for some hours
you are hungry
you go to the kitchen and eat
the food made ready for you
by your housemaid

you are alone in this sequence
you turn on the tv
and the whole night you feel
you are the lookout
for something that is about to happen

you ask yourself, what is this all about?
you tell yourself, you do not know, it is just your daily routine
for years and years, and it goes on and on and you have no
way of stopping

they call it life

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Uncle's Shave.

Uncle’s Shave.

You used to watch Uncle
shave in front of the small mirror

propped on the edge
of the kitchen sink,

his face lathered
in white soap,

his cutthroat razor
held just a short distance

from his skin
by his right hand,

as the other hand
held the skin taut

in preparation
of the razor’s slide.

You stood behind
fascinated,

your young eyes
searching the mirror’s world

of Uncle’s face
and the performers start.

Uncle watched you
in the mirror,

his lips breaking
into a small smile,

the razor held
just above his ear,

his eyes staring above
the shaving foam,

taking in
your fascinated gaze,

the open mouth,
your hands copying

Uncle’s motion
in pretend shave.

Uncle drew the razor down
his cheek in slow motion,

the face becoming visible
as the soap gave way,

the hand dipping
the razor in water

to rid of foam,
to begin again,

more soap removed,
more skin revealed.

You copied Uncle,
but not so skilled.

poem by Terry Collett
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As Old As

It’s early January
Early morning
My feet are cold on the bathroom tile
And that’s not my face
Staring at me from the mirror
An older face than the one I went to bed with
Puffy skin wrinkles I don’t remember that
One gray hair does not belong to me
I am not this old man
The song of youth still
Plays in my skull my heart my
Bones ache
Eyes blur
After long day working
Hard to keep them open and
I sometimes nod off
To the late news or Letterman just like
My dad did when I was a boy
And I would look at him and think
He’s old and I
Will never be
Am not as old
As that face staring
From the mirror on this
Cold January Morning

poem by Tom Foster
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I Leave To Give You Sweet Memories

there is not enough time.
it fell out of me like some
water from my fingers from the faucet
that i want to wash my face
i get wet and rub my face with
a white towel
and open my eyes and see for once
myself, this man, abandoned by time
so quickly
like yesterday and today
and tomorrow
all mixed in a second
white locks of hair
bony cheeks, and
serious eyes, looking through
the mirror
wanting to find if there is yet
another me
that i can live with
for another more time
to be reborn
and use the youth
that i have wasted
without much thought.
i see, i am melting,
i see, i am air.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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See Me In The Mirror

Do you see me standing here,
locked up inside your mirror?
I watch you every day,
standing here inside your mirror.
Why can’t you look over here
at your mirror and see me floating,
waiting to be heard.
I talk to you for hours but
you never hear.
Your mirror keeps me bound
here, unable to touch, stuck in here.
I see you look around nervously,
as if you can sense my presence in here.
I shout, I stomp, I scream and yell.
You turn, quickly, to your mirror.
Your eyes widen with fear.
No! , I yell as you turn away.
Please don’t leave me alone in here.
It’s cold and lonely, please speak to me.
Your shoulders stiffen and
then relax outside your mirror.
Finally, you look at me and speak.
You ask me why I’m here and stay.
I tell you I don’t know.
I’m just stuck standing in your mirror.
You poor thing, you say, feeling sorry for me.
It’s alright, I say, you’ve kept me company all day.
You come closer and stand nearer to your mirror.
You raise your hand to the glass, and I raise mine.
A vibrant burst of beautiful light emanates from your mirror.
Real. I feel your hand touch mine.
I feel the roughness and the smoothness.
Free at last, I am finally real, to come and go as I feel.
To touch and be touched, and to give and take.
I kiss your cheeks and your mouth.
Thank you, I tell your shocked face.
Your rough hands cup my shocked face.
You return my hesitant kisses with your assured ones.
You are mine, girl in the mirror, you tell me.
I am yours, boy outside the mirror, I tell you.
Finally we are together.

poem by Brooke Harris
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Who Discovered The Mirror?

Who discovered the mirror?
We don't, at all, remember.
To show our faces beautiful,
How much it's really useful?

Above the wash basin
The glittering teeth clean
We see first every morn,
Before the day starts on.

The curly hair to comb,
The mustache to trim,
The oily face to foam,
How it helps at home?

Is there any beauty parlor,
Or a fancy dress store,
Or a modern shop tailor,
With no full size mirror?

Inside the ladies hand bags,
Or the gents coat pockets,
How the tiny mirror hides,
For their face-touch up uses?

To see the distant stars,
Or to find the tiny microbes,
How it serves a giant telescope,
Or a small but sharp microscope?

Mirror, mirror everywhere,
With our life for it to share,
Thanks to the unknown discoverer
For this all-time useful mirror.

poem by Rajaram Ramachandran
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Mirror To Mirror

Written by gerry beckley, 1994
Found on hourglass.
I havent seen forever
Dont even know her name
I call on dreams and other schemes
To try and win that game
Now that its over, darling
Look into my eyes
Seein your own reflection
Much to your surprise
Were seein mirror to mirror
Face to face
We look but we cannot see
Mirror to mirror
Seems to trace
What happened to you and me
And though we tried in earnest
The distant silence yells
We call on wings and other things
To try and break that spell
Now that its over, darling
Truth in the common cause
We stare at our own indifference
By seeing the others flaws
Were seein mirror to mirror
Face to face
We look but we cannot see
Mirror to mirror
Seems to trace
What happened to you and me
Oh, mirror to mirror, mirror to mirror
Mirror to mirror, whats come over me
As we look inside, theres nowhere to turn
Theres nowhere to hide
Now that its over, darling
Look into my eyes
Seein your own reflection
Much to your surprise
Were seein mirror to mirror
Face to face
We look but we cannot see
Mirror to mirror
Seems to trace
What happened to you and me
Oh, mirror to mirror, mirror to mirror
Mirror to mirror, whats come over me
Mirror to mirror, mirror to mirror
Mirror to mirror, whats come over me

song performed by by America
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Makeup

When you wake up in the morning
And you put the makeup upon your face
Do you try to cover up the age and lines
Or only the sins and deceptions and the disgrace.
Do you try to place on a happy smile
By putting bright lipstick upon your lips
Or do you try to cover up your own hard life
Something that someone like you never forgets.
And as you look into your mirror
Do you powder the many lines upon your face
The lines that has stretched from years ago
Unto the present days of your life and waste.
Do you try to cover up the bags under your eyes
From all the many restless and sleepless nights
The nights when you cared not where you went
As long as you went and held on to someone tight.
Do you place the powder upon your cheeks
To make you look so cheerful and so very nice
But as they say you cant judge a book by its cover
And if they knew you, they need only to think twice.
And as you are preparing yourself for the day
With your makeup in front of you and on the shelf
Does it take you a little longer to put it on each day
As you try to cover yourself up and become someone else.
The makeup you have will you pass it along one day
And then show someone else how to cover up their lines
Maybe your sisters or even maybe your daughters
That is though if they need to cover up their lying.
And do you ever step back away from your mirror
Do you ever try to look at yourself as a whole
Does it ever bring tears into your heart and eyes
Do you ever wish that you still had a soul.
So as your prepare to start your brand new morning
With your lipstick and powders and so much more
Do you ever wish that you could just wash your face clean
And never have to cover up your ways and lies from the nights before.

Randy L. McClave

poem by Randy McClave
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Tearful Eyes

The mirror laughed; it gleaned my thoughts
And saw me cry my want:
Synthetic views - pathetic clues
To how I tick - and now you taunt,
You bleeding mirror, jibe another!
Just because I dream…

To be the mighty hero wise!
And perch atop the sodden hill
Of blood and pungent death,
To lead our race from sure demise.
Let's regain, collect, and rest
Before the battle slams
Our dauntless nerve. And now to rise!
Come follow me - we'll slay the foe!
See my cloak unfurl.
Through screams and wails, he fails and dies.
Look! he falls across his minions'
Path. I laugh aloud.
My warriors hold me to the skies.
Overhead the clouds recede,
Thinning out the black.

And then I fade in pallid lies.
Returning back to conscious state,
I let the mirror slate me:
Fathoming my remote disguise,
Reflecting back my hopeless lot.
Oh to smash the thing!
If I could see through tearful eyes.

Copyright © Mark Raymond Slaughter 2009

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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The Magic Mirror

Mirror … mirror on the wall,
Who’s the fairest fair of all?
Mirror … mirror on the wall,
Who’s the smartest head of all?
Mirror … mirror on the wall,
Who’s that girl standing tall?
Mirror … mirror on the wall,
Who's to hold me when I fall?
Mirror … mirror on the wall,
Why are you not answering my call?

Oh mirror...

The lines and the scars you do not hide;
My scattered thoughts you would not guide.

Me myself and I; the gap so wide.
Oh mirror; you make me look inside!

You show me a girl against the tide,
By the rules she would not abide.

Within your frame, a caged spirit am I?
By your name, what voice have I?

Oh mirror … can you hear me?
My mirror is deceiving me!

I will show you my smile... will you let me?
A star in my eyes... will you get me?

I will show you a happy face... please let me!
A shelter from myself... please get me!

Mirror … mirror on the wall,
Do not show me her face;
I have killed her and left no trace.

Mirror … mirror on the wall,
She shall never stutter;
With a new voice, words she will utter.

Mirror … mirror on the wall,
Her fear you shall never show;
Fearless she is to know.

Mirror... mirror on the wall,
Do not point at her scars;
It hurts... not her scars.

Oh mirror...

There is no Santa but tell her not;
Dreams are dreams but wake her not.

She will give in... tell her not to.
She will give up... tell her not to.

Cruel mirror...

Why show me a figure so broken?
Why tell me words unspoken?

My mirror...
Every time I look at you
I miss a line in her face.

Every time I come to you
A part of her I erase.

Every time I need you
I abandon her grace.

So my mirror..

Where is the little fat girl that you used to show me?
Where are the frightened eyes that used to look at me?

Is she still hiding her smile with her hand?
Is she still looking for a magic wand?

You loved her not;
You loved me a lot!

Mirror … mirror on the wall,
What have I done?

Mirror … mirror on the wall,
Where has she gone?

Mirror … mirror on the wall,
Which way do I run?

Yes mirror...

How I wish I could give you my back
and never look at you again.

How I wish I could leave you on a rack
and never fall for your tricks again.

Oh mirror... Why can’t you lie?
Why don’t you tell me that I am the fairest fair of all?
Why don’t you tell me that I am the smartest head of all?
Why don’t you let me stand proud and tall?
Will you at least be there when I fall?
Oh … Mirror … mirror on the wall …
Why are you not answering my call?

poem by Marwa Rakha
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On Freedom

In a dream I'm no longer in love. I breathe deeply this sense of freedom,
and I vow never again to seal myself in, but I am reminded it is myself I love
also and that too is a kind of sealed condition. I am committed to taking
care of my body and its home accommodations, its clothes and neat
appearance that I admire in the mirror, yet I would like to know what it
would be like freed of brushing my teeth, washing my neck and face and
between my toes. I'd like to know, as I neglect to move my bowels, and
stay away from food that could sustain my health, and do not change my
underwear, and let odors rise from my crotch and armpit. I stick out my
tongue at the image in the mirror showing me my ragged beard and sunken
eyes and hollow cheeks, free of my self-love at last, and I sink onto the
bathroom floor, feeling life begin to seep out of me, I who haven't eaten
since last month. I'm dying and I'm free.

poem by David Ignatow
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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
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I Am Mirror

The function of the psychoanalyst.
Lead vocal: leo sayer
Suppose i were to tell you that the meaning of dreams
Is not all that it seems and the ultimate truth is a lie.
And you are just a puppet who can dance on a string.
Do you feel anything?
Would you laugh? would you care? would you cry?
But the meaning of life is a mystery, how can anyone disagree?
And the music is a symphony which we play in a minor key.
I am a mirror. i am a mirror. looking at me you see yourself
I am a mirror. i am a mirror. every face is someone else.
Look at me smile and you're the clown. and if i dance you turn around.
Look in my eyes and see your tears until the music disappears.
So if you are confused and don't know which way to go.
You will certainly know. from the moment we're living we die.
And if it's all a crazy game you don't want to play
Tell me what you can say.
It's a joke. it's the truth. it's a lie.
But the meaning of life is a mystery that we don't understand.
And the music is a rhapsody if you're happy the way that you are.
I am a mirror. i am a mirror. looking at me you see yourself
I am a mirror. i am a mirror. every face is someone else.
Look at me smile and you're the clown. and if i dance you turn around.
Look in my eyes and see your tears until the music disappears.
And the meaning of life is a mystery though we live it from day to day.
But the music of live should be harmony so that anyone here can play.
I am a mirror. i am a mirror. looking at me you see yourself
I am a mirror. i am a mirror. every face is someone else.
Look at me smile and you're the clown. and if i dance you turn around.
Look in my eyes and see your tears until the music disappears.

song performed by by Alan Parsons Project
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A random morning~not a poem

How many people like what they see in a mirror? How many times do we strike a pose there trying to look better? The best changes are brought by a straight posture and a smile. See? Look how different you are. All the things you hate at yourself are not so hideous as before, now you learn to live with your big nose those new wrinkles or freckles or rebellious hair or wide cheeks or whatever else is. A light, it comes from the inside. Close your eyes, smiling. Let Kindness grow, to cover all of your skin. All of you. Think of a rose. It has a lot of beauty but also thorns. Try not to sting with your thorns but enchant with the beauty of your smile. After you've done that in the mirror, and within yourself, you are ready to face your day. Good Morning! Chin up, keep your smile, feel free to face the world trying to have a happy day! No matter what, no matter how the day ends the least, this morning, I have tried, right?

April,2012 Elena

poem by Elena Sandu
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Every Time I Face the Mirror

Every time I face that mirror
I see the face
The face of fear

Every time I face that mirror
I hear those words
I should have said

Every time I face that mirror
I see the eyes
The eyes filled with tears

Every time I face that mirror
I see the girl
The girl that is ashamed

Every time I face the mirror
I see the pain
The pain she faces every day

Every time I face that mirror

poem by Lost Sierra
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The Mirror Never Lies

The mirror once told me that
My face was smooth and cute
My chin as bare as the Sahara

As the Sun counted our days
The moon counted our nights
And seasons exchanged fortunes
The mirror told me something new

All the smoothness is gone
As if it has been different ever since
My chin has turned into a bush
The mirror showed me a total stranger
This morning!

1999

poem by Yusuf Adamu
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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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Tuning Into Something Wild

Key:-
"a" - anita
"r" - ray
A: tuning into something wild
A: like a comet from space
Like a slap in the face
You can feel it coming
Like a push in the back
Turning white into black
You're feeling something wild now!
A: you're feeling something wild now!
R: hey precious, hey burning child
Time to tune to something wild
It's new, it's hot, it's all you're not
Don't turn back, it's all we've got
You're breathless, you're out of step
Time to learn just what is hip
If you think you're in a jumble
That's the way the cookie crumbles
A: tuning into something wild
Tuning into something
A: like a comet from space
Like a slap in the face
You can feel it coming
Like a push in the back
Turning white into black
You're feeling something wild now!
R: wilder and wilder
A; you can feel it coming!
R: well, maybe so-- we're in a mess
World gone wrong but don't forget
There's a groove that makes you wonder
How the hell they sample thunder
It's glorious, it's boom, boom, boom
Bless the noise that shakes the room
If you think we're getting milder
Brace yourself for something wilder
A: tuning into something wild
Tuning into something
A: like a comet from space
Like a slap in the face
You can feel it coming
Like a push in the back
Turning white into black
You're feeling something wild now!
A: like a comet from space
Like a slap in the face
You can feel it coming
Like a push in the back
Turning white into black
You're feeling something wild now!
A: hey yeah
R: brace yourself!
Brace yourself!
A: tuning into something wild
Tuning into something wild
Tuning into something wild
A: like a comet from space
Like a slap in the face
You can feel it coming
Like a push in the back
Turning white into black
You're feeling something wild now!
A: like a comet from space
Like a slap in the face
You can feel it coming
Like a push in the back
Turning white into black
You're feeling something wild now!
A: like a comet from space
Like a slap in the face
You can feel it coming
Like a push in the back
Turning white into black
You're feeling something wild now!
A: like a comet from space
Like a slap in the face
You can feel it coming
Like a push in the back
Turning white into black
You're feeling something wild now!

song performed by by 2 Unlimited
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hold Hands and Blow Bubbles

Tomorrow I will wake to see you lying next to me and I will watch you sleep.

I will gently touch your face to wake you and cover you with kisses.

Tomorrow will be the first time we truly get to spend time alone together.

We can stay in bed as long as we want and watch the birds outside eat and play.

Tomorrow we will go for a walk in the park, hold hands and blow bubbles.

We will wash the car in the driveway and end up covered in soap and water.

Tomorrow you will hide the remote while I make your morning coffee.

We will make a dozen sack lunches and go down town and hand them out.

Tomorrow we will kiss every time one of us says ‘Um'.

We will have pie for lunch and skip dessert.

Tomorrow in the morning we will tell every person we meet what the current time is, in Afghanistan.

In the evening we will thank everyone we meet.

Tomorrow we will save water and take a bath together, with extra bubbles, planes and boats.

We will lie on a blanket and stare at the stars and tell one another stories.

Tomorrow night we will thumb wrestle to see who will be the outside spoon.

I will whisper in your ear, kiss your neck and caress you until you fall sleep.

Tomorrow night while you dream I will whisper all of my plans, desires and secrets to you while you sleep.

It be the first of the greatest days of our lives.

Today, I will search for you.

poem by Ronald Ragan
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