My Love In A Mirror
She stood there
looking at herself...
at the beauty God bestowed on her
in front of this mirror
I stood behind her, wrapping my soul around her
my dark brown arms against her pale skin,
covering her nakedness
in front of this mirror
Our bodies stirred, feeling the fire
remembering our lovemaking earlier,
and previous times we have stood here
in front of this mirror
Like this very moment, her eyes
arresting me, her soul possessing me,
the warmth of my body against hers
in front of this mirror
poem by Pablo Loves Life
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Related quotes
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
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In the steps of Rumi 86: The Mirror
This mirror.
She has stood in front of it for many minutes;
this; that;
finally asked the mirror silently
its opinion.
The mirror agreed with the perfection
that she saw in herself now, in front of it..
Now she leaves the room.
The mirror has nothing to reflect.
While it’s reflecting nothing,
steal up to it from the side,
admire it. Maybe praise it
by polishing it. Wonder, how it is
that it has an in front of it,
yet no behind it.
Wonder how it is
that it never lies,
always tells the truth,
yet agrees with all we see in it..
Wonder too, how it brings
all who stand in front of it, to silence..
bestows this rare blessing upon all,
which is beyond the ability of men,
of books..
Somewhere where ideas emerge
from nowhere into somewhere,
then roam anywhere and everywhere,
mind and mirror were given a secret which they share.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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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
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
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I Lost My Inocense..
i lost my inocense
This morning i woke up
i saw the mirror
which worked 4 me as a window
it showed me a little girl
runing behind his dad
asking him to take leave
the mirror said that was you
but i cudnt feel a sense of me
coz i still run behind some1
bu not 4 love or relation
but i run 4 simply me
then the mirror showed me another grl
joining hands in front of god
may b 4 his brother to get well
with her inocent eyes tears fell
the mirror said that was you
but i cudnt feel a sense of me
coz i still join my hands in front of god
but not for others
but my clever eyes cry just for me
the mirror then showed another grl
she stood alone, all alone, realy alone
and the mirror asked me to recognise her
i cudnt find who was her
the mirror closed its window
now i cud again c myself
but i looked the same as her
then i realised that girl is me
i lost my inocense i agree
poem by Sushmita Tripathi
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The Mirror
Standing in front of the mirror,
The reflection tells me to look behind.
The focus of the mirror is myself,
And also what lies behind.
I can move to the left,
I can move to the right,
But to the mirror I am always within it's sight.
As are things past.
I look out a window,
It tells me to see what lies ahead.
In the window, I do not see myself.
I see others.
I see nature's beauty unfolding.
I know I am there,
But I am just merely a part of the surroundings.
To the mirror, it is all about me.
The mirror tells me to worry about how I look.
The window tells me to worry about how the world looks.
The eyes are the window to the soul.
Not the mirror.
The mirror deceives.
To the mirror, everything is backwards.
As I look into my own eyes.
My soul becomes filled with self.
As I look into the eyes of another.
My soul becomes filled with life.
While the mirror holds my reflection.
It is the window that holds the truth.
poem by Ryan Lee Morris
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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
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Ardency...
ardency...
one day..
while she were in front of her mirror..
she saw another woman in that mirror..
standing and sharing her the same mirror..
got very angry to that woman whom shared her the same mirror..
gave up to her anger...
to smash so hard that mirror...
to fly apart many pieces of that mirror..
she realized then...
that she got alot of women...
poem by Hazem Al Jaber
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Mirror Mirror
Mirror mirror lie to me
Show me what I wanna see
Mirror mirror lie to me
Why don't I like the girl I see
The one who's standing right in front of me
Why don't I think before I speak
I should have listened to that voice inside me
I must be stupid
song performed by by M2M from Shades Of Purple
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To The Other World
try standing naked by this mirror
see yourself to every detail
look closer to your eyes
count the waves of your eyelashes
open your mouth and see how many teeth you have
all white, pure white lining up on your pink gums
feel your lips with your fingertips
feel the pulp the flesh of the lower lip
to the upper lip
touch your hair
do not imagine them all black
closely they are not at all
move a little bit closer and see your body
this beautiful human body
flesh, contours, curves, some muscles
the whole of your skin wrapping
everything in your body holding them all
nothing falls, on this erect body, this
god before you, standing steel-like with dignity
in front of the mirror
do not claim you have seen your soul with your eyes
do not lie
be honest to yourself now,
alone, you are alone, do not imagine
any god, any soul, any spirit,
just be honest,
touch your body with your hands
feel the joy of having this body
your body, pinch a part of it to feel
not pain, but just to feel that you are alive,
do you ever ask what made these parts stay as one?
look again at the mirror of this stature
your body, it is you, touching your body
take a hammer, and destroy the mirror
shatter everything to pieces
this is the world without a mirror
there is nothing to reflect you now
nothing to imagine, it is you, the real you
do you ever ask now, where is that other world?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Mirror....
it is the one that shows
the back of my back,
and the front
of my front,
it is not the normal mirror
that you see
that you can buy anywhere
or just have somewhere
it is the mirror of art,
the pathways of the subconscious
the credible lies of the
obvious
it is art, it does not die,
neither does it live,
it just slips away for no known
cause
there is no need to explain
it only demands
a little
feeling.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Looking Glass Reflections
When I was a child
the glass on the wall
was a mirror of me.
I put on faces and hats
and spent hours imagining
When I was thirteen
I hated the mirror,
for it showed me
the spots on my face
I spent hours attempting to cover.
When I was twenty
I would look in the mirror
and create each new face
that appeared on the stage
for the evening performance.
When I was a mother
I sat with my daughter
and showed her
the 'girl in the mirror'
and told them both stories.
When my children were grown
I met an old lover, who said
I was sexy and stood me
naked in front of the mirror
and forced me to look.
Now that I'm sixty, the image
I see depends on the mirror.
I like the one in the bedroom
because it faces the window
and the light is flattering -
especially if I take off my glasses.
poem by Alison Cassidy
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Do It
make your confession alone
before yourself
'in front of a mirror
you man weak
with the will, and the act,
do it
make your confession alone
before yourself
without the priest
put the candle
and beside mirror
even rather small
clean your conscience
more lightly
for you will be
to die...
every your thought
direct
to God
not to people
and stop
already deluding yourself
don't search
at other
consciences
one's you put away
where? I don't know
try to find
make your confession alone
before yourself
in front of a mirror
poem by Maria Barbara Korynt
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My Mirror
The mirror and I have this relationship
complicated as can be;
sometimes my shadow it is
non-consequential.
But other times I gaze
for minutes on end
to see which me
lives there
gazing back at me.
Sometimes I wince
touching the tiny scratches
to see
if they are in the mirror
or in my skin.
I've looked naked into it
turning slowly
front back
and sideways
using my critical eye;
not so bad here
gravity winning there.
I have this relationship
with my mirror
complicated it seems.
But it lights up times
when I suddenly
feel your arm
at my shoulder's edge;
when your light
shines in my mirror's eye.
I want to keep you there
for this
and many years.
I have had this complicated relationship
with my mirror
uncomplicated
by you and all these
many years.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Trapped Within My Reflection
Standing here stairing into this mirror
My reflection stairing back at me
A tear dropp falls down its cheek
Wiping my face but nothing there
The mirror begins to cloud
My reflection starts to shiver
Placing my hand on this now cold surface
My reflection slowly places his hand against mine
My reflection breathes onto the mirror
As writting appears 'HELP ME'
My mind telling me its not real
But my eyes never fail
My heart beats faster
My soul trapped within this mirror
All along, here in front of me
Stairing me in the face
My reflection banging for freedom
Seems so real as the mirror shakes
Suddenly overcome with this strange feeling
I throw my fist to the mirror
Cracks begin to form
As my reflection stands still and smiles
Shattering into a million pieces
A sensation feeling travels through my body
Looking down i see my reflection
Tainted red as blood falls
A shard of mirror stuck in my hand
A message appears
'You Freed Me - You Freed Your Soul'
Eyewitness
Face cloth in one hand
and with the other
eyeliner goes to her
magical eyes.
In front of a mirror
she saw her facet
and the faceless.
It's a confusion
and an eye-opener.
She has witnessed
my soul in the mirror.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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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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Mirror of the conceited
Mirror, mirror on the wall
who's the ugliest of them all?
the geek in the glasses,
the girl who is shunned in the hall,
the cutter with razors in her hand each night,
the one who looks like a muffin,
or the one with the bra that's had some stuffing?
Mirror, mirror on the wall
who's the ugliest of them all?
what do you mean the one in front of you, the girl with
the too tight shirt and
conceited attitude.
What do you mean the prejudice prat?
Mirror, Mirror on the wall
I am the ugliest of them all.
poem by Courtney Bellush
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Narcissistic Solitaire
in front of the mirror
you go naked and rub
your body with the oil
from your bare hands
the room is humiliated
and the mirror is angry
the act is done and
finished and you become
the mirror and you are
as empty as the big
room and then you
sleep as it is the only
possible place where
peace can reside.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Haunting reflection's
Mirror
Mirror
I am a killer
Mirror
Mirror
I have a heart that merely beats
Without sound
Mirror
Mirror
I am cold
Mirror
Mirror
I am tearless
Mirror
Mirror
I am the devil in white
poem by Noorie Ali
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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
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
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