i kneel beside my bed
a third of me asleep
another third muttering
words to the unseen
or maybe to myself
the smell of coffee lingers
or maybe i mistaken it
for the smell of fear.
i lose my predictions
as i find myself.
yes, i find who i really am
in this river so deep so wide
i find out who i really am
and the mirror lied
this river so deep so wide
i find out who i really am
this mirror lied
this river so deep so wide
i find out what i am made of
texture thick yet frail
and things don’t make sense
the mirror lied.
i find out what i am made of
this wrinkled sheets of ageless leaves
never lied. but who believes
i found out what i am made of
the mirror lied
but someone’s words never did
i break this mirror
12 comments
O.o the mirror got broken? *gasps*i kneel beside my beda third of me asleepanother third mutteringso what is the other third of you doing? This poem is not about you ….Texture thick yet so frail? Stay strong ore mi, luv ya 🙂
Yes o… I have learnt never to believe the mirror
I agree that there is a testimony truer than a mirror. Nice one and congrats on your nominations.
the intangible realm between the spoken and the unspoken, somewhere therein the truththe mirror always lies…
The mirror lied, but someone's words didn't.Deep!
at least you found out who u are
Hmmmmm, Too deep even for you my friend!
Dear Friend,The mirror never liesThe mirror presents to us Our shattered dreamsIllusive selves It tells of AFternoons spent eating cake and wishing we were dead.Of evenings drinking booze and hoping he was there. The mirror, my friend, is the recordIt makes notes of all the promises brokenThe dreams shattered by times cruel neglectThe mirror, records our sins and then superimposes them on our retinas…that is the nature of life. We look in the mirror and it tells it all. However, The mirror only tells the present…and the past.The future, dear friend, hides in our eyes…and our souls.Babies not born yet…Lifes not lived yet…Mountains not climbed yet…Tears not shed yet…We must always look in the mirrorWe must look past the pot bellies, and the shrunken eyes, and the tired hands, and the disturbed hearts…Perhaps you could look into your eyes…Because when I do…Oh its so Glorius…Oh so glorius…Ok bye…:)
Does it really! No man ever looks at himself in the mirror and beholding what he sees that it is not good, but walks away without changing it.Just because we do not like what we see, doesn't mean the mirror lies. When we look at ourselves in the mirror of God's word, we should be able to identify images which differs from it and make changes. The mirror of God's word doesn't lie.I like the poem though.
@Debbie: There are one plain in which man can stand. In that plain, he's a mirror in which he reflects only himself. It's only a fool that reflects himself and is relaxed in it. You described in your comment, what I referred to in line 24.@temite: Thanks for the poem!!!!! My comment is this- you say the mirror tells us about the present and the past. I think I'd rather look into the future. Also you say, "We must always look in the mirrorWe must look past the pot bellies, and the shrunken eyes, and the tired hands, and the disturbed hearts…". I don't think I want to ALWAYS LOOK at my pot bellies or look at my shrunken eyes and tired hands. I will like to look at a script that gives me a better future. A script that tells me the truth of what I am and not what I have become.@HappyBBB,@MissMetropolitan@Harry: @JayceeMy point exactly@2cute4u: 😉 My wink once again@MissFlyHigh: You always had sharp eyes. You noticed a third was missing. And yes, it was inspired by me…maybe not about me. @MyneWhitman 🙂 Thanks
MissMetropolitan lol. I like the fragments that were left in your mind from my blog title… ;)Just wanted to add, I don't think a poem is necessarily about oneself…they might contain some personal reflections but when I write poetry anyway isn't always about me, it's about observations that I make@temite, wow great free flow
It finally breaks: Lovely… Loved your response to Temite's comment.
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