Best Mirror Poems

The time will come
when, with elation
you will greet yourself arriving
at your own door, in your own mirror
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Beautiful is the 'thank you'
Wrapped with gratitude,
Offered to peace prone people
Who offer what is real-themselves
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A young spring-tender girl
combed her joyous hair
'You are very ugly' said the mirror.
But,
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And a poet said, 'Speak to us of Beauty.'

Where shall you seek beauty, and how shall you find her unless she herself be your way and your guide?
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Mirror mirror on the wall
Could you please return our ball
Our football went through your crack
You have two now
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Unwillingly Miranda wakes,
Feels the sun with terror,
One unwilling step she takes,
Shuddering to the mirror.
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The moon in the bureau mirror
looks out a million miles
(and perhaps with pride, at herself,
but she never, never smiles)
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Once, at night, in the manor wood
My Love and I long silent stood,
Amazed that any heavens could
Decree to part us, bitterly repining.
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Lord, said David, since you do not need us,
why did you create these two worlds?
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...

Not from this anger, anticlimax after
Refusal struck her loin and the lame flower
Bent like a beast to lap the singular floods
In a land strapped by hunger
...

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
...

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

It will not always be like this,
The air windless, a few last
Leaves adding their decoration
To the trees’ shoulders, braiding the cuffs
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Did you ever notice, in 'funeral', the much smaller word, Fun?
If there was a funeral for me, who would 'from it' and who would 'to it' run?
At 64 I'm overdue perhaps; why should I any longer stick around?
In our big paper dictionary, many as young or younger than I have died, I've found.
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If I make the lashes dark
And the eyes more bright
And the lips more scarlet,
Or ask if all be right
...

As silent as a mirror is believed
Realities plunge in silence by . . .
I am not ready for repentance;
Nor to match regrets. For the moth
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See the waters of the Yellow River leap down from Heaven, Roll away to the deep sea and never turn again! See at the mirror
in the High Hall Aged men bewailing white locks - In the morning, threads of silk, In the evening flakes of snow. Snatch the joys
of life as they come and use them to the full; Do not leave the silver cup idly glinting at the moon. The things that Heaven made
Man was meant to use; A thousand guilders scattered to the wind may come back again. Roast mutton and sliced beef will only
...

Days I enjoy are days when nothing happens,
When I have no engagements written on my block,
When no one comes to disturb my inward peace,
When no one comes to take me away from myself
...

. . . . . . . .
Hope holds to Christ the mind’s own mirror out
To take His lovely likeness more and more.
It will not well, so she would bring about
...

No matter what life you lead
the virgin is a lovely number:
cheeks as fragile as cigarette paper,
arms and legs made of Limoges,
...

I divested myself of despair
and fear when I came here.

Now there is no more catching
...

When someone broke my heart,
One never knew one was sitting in my heart,
I am not picking broken pieces of my heart,
I am picking pieces of someone,
...

The night is taken by the rain.

Someone came out of the mirror
in my lone bedroom and said:
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May I never cease to wonder:
At the cascading crystal blue waters
Of the waterfall; at each new dawn's
Sweet sunbursts of flesh pink magic.
...

QUEEN GULNAAR sat on her ivory bed,
Around her countless treasures were spread;

Her chamber walls were richly inlaid
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Introduction: We don't really think deep enough about 'What A Poetry Actually Is', the obvious question which we all know but don't think how to really elaborate on. We mostly see the story, depth and the purpose it delivers. Well, here's one a little bit different this time...
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...

I plucked my soul out of its secret place,
And held it to the mirror of my eye,
To see it like a star against the sky,
A twitching body quivering in space,
...

There’s a mirror likeness between those two
shining, youthfully-fledged figures, though
one seems paler than the other and more austere,
I might even say more perfect, more distinguished,
...

NOT that I love thy children, whose dull eyes
See nothing save their own unlovely woe,
Whose minds know nothing, nothing care to know,--
But that the roar of thy Democracies,
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One face looks out from all his canvases,
One selfsame figure sits or walks or leans:
We found her hidden just behind those screens,
That mirror gave back all her loveliness.
...

Caught -- the bubble
in the spirit level,
a creature divided;
and the compass needle
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Music, like an ocean, often carries me away!
Through the ether far,
or under a canopy of mist, I set sail
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Religions are poems. They concert
our daylight and dreaming mind, our
emotions, instinct, breath and native gesture
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Oh! Mirror the most loveable, cunning queen
You reflect in mostly whatever you have seen.
Face is the mirror of the soul
Literature is the face of the society as a whole
...

Telling you all would take too long.
Besides, we read in the Bible
how the good is harmful
and how misfortune is good.
...

No man should stand before the moon
To make sweet song thereon,
With dandified importance,
His sense of humor gone.
...

Your scent is in the room.
Swiftly it overwhelms and conquers me!
Jasmines, night jasmines, perfect of perfume,
Heavy with dew before the dawn of day!
...

It is a matter of a black cat
On a bare cliff top in March
Whose eyes anticipate
The gorse petals;
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To Emily Dickinson _
my etemal sister

The horror of the shattered mirror,
...

Caught in the bright eye of encroaching sun,
The music falls in windfalls of white fog.
Bird feather tracings of suggested flight
Hone moments to the sharpness of pale skies.
...

Beauty is truth's smile
when she beholds her own face in a perfect mirror.
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Interior of the hand. Sole that has come to walk
only on feelings. That faces upward
and in its mirror
receives heavenly roads, which travel
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Mirror, Mirror on the wall,
Surly you do lie.
Mirror, Mirror on the wall,
We don’t see eye to eye.
...

The mirror held your fair, my Fair,
A fickle moment's space.
You looked into mine eyes, and there
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The black snow runs down from the rooftops;
A red finger dips into your brow;
Blue snow flakes sink into the empty room,
They are a lovers’ dying mirrors.
...

Like in a mirror, there's shade in the heart
I'm bored alone - and with men…
Slowly drags the light of the day
From four till seven!
...

Dear heart, why will you use me so?
Dear eyes that gently me upbraid,
Still are you beautiful -- - but O,
How is your beauty raimented!
...

Mirror, mirror on the wall,
Why do I look in you, at all,
For all I see is the same old me,
And not how I so want to be.
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And night and distant rumbling; now the army's
carrier-train was moving out, to war.
He looked up from the harpsichord, and as
he went on playing, he looked across at her
...

The dropp dies in the river
of its joy
Pain goes so far it cures itself
...

Come Spring...

I paint my little room
all yellow
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Down inside this grownup
lives the child that used to be.
When I look in my mirror,
she stares right back at me.
...

She smiles at the mirror, eyes blue as the sky
Dreaming of Paris and faraway places
Of people she’ll meet, their stories, their faces
Wishing that time would quickly go by
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My life is almost over; that's a fact
Statistically derived but simply true;
I look into the mirror, but it's cracked
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In my young years I took pride in the fact that luck was called a lady. In fact, there were so few public acknowledgments of the female presence that I felt personally honored whenever nature and large ships were referred to as feminine. But as I matured, I began to resent being considered a sister to a changeling as fickle
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That mirror
Which makes of men a transparency,
Who holds that mirror
And bids us such a breast-bare spectacle see
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Black house roofs are a mirror to the smoke.
The cloud mood makes a backdropp for good-bye.
You lift me parallel to chimney stacks
And make me dizzy with your old world kiss.
...

By circumstances fed
Which divide attention
Among the living and the dead,
Under the blooms of the blossoming sun,
...

Mirror, mirror on the wall,
Where are you hiding me?
That face is not the one I recall.
It’s not the me I seem to be.
...

She sat on the chair,
Half inclined to turn and run,
The white reflected in the mirror
Her tresses golden and amber.
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Let go of your worries
and be completely clear-hearted,
like the face of a mirror
that contains no images.
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Love is in the air

Colours of myriad dreams sprinkled by hearts
...

I'm not the girl I used to be
That girl has gone away.
Where did she go? I do not know,
She simply went astray.
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Look not in my eyes, for fear
Thy mirror true the sight I see,
And there you find your face too clear
And love it and be lost like me.
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I was rear, and by the window
She was front, and by the aisle
I saw her reflection
Her face was moonlit
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Mirror, Mirror on the wall
Will i take that fall
Should i try or would it b better 2 say good-bye
Mirror, Mirror on the wall
...

On Mirror Lake outspread for miles and miles,
The lotus lilies in full blossom teem.
In fifth moon Xi Shi gathers them with smiles,
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CLOUDS, lingering yet, extend in solid bars
Through the grey west; and lo! these waters, steeled
By breezeless air to smoothest polish, yield
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Not that it was beautiful,
but that, in the end, there was
a certain sense of order there;
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Whisker droppings in the sink,
moustache trimmed just so.
Spots of water on the mirror,
always in a rush to go.
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Hush my love, don’t fret and fuss -
now there’s just the two of us.

We’ll dream together, here below
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Identity is not what I promise others
Identity is what I do when I am alone
Identity is what I think of others
Knowing all the hatred they've shown
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Andromeda, by Perseus sav'd and wed,
Hanker'd each day to see the Gorgon's head:
Till o'er a fount he held it, bade her lean,
And mirror'd in the wave was safely seen
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Sleeping-bagged in a duplex wing
with fleas, in rock-cleft or building
radar bats are darkness in miniature,
their whole face one tufty crinkled ear
...

i love this world, when the world loves me
i hate this world, when the world hates me
Proudly i claim i've all the freedom
But are my thoughts really free from this WORLDLY kingdom.
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I swerved to avoid hitting a squirrel
in the center of the road and that's when
the deer came charging out of the forest
and forced me to hit the brakes for all I
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Your grief for what youve lost holds a mirror
up to where you're bravely working.
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(After Rilke)


We cannot know the indescribable face
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When Narcissus died the pool of his pleasure changed from a cup of
sweet waters into a cup of salt tears, and the Oreads came weeping
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Don't you care for my love? she said bitterly.

I handed her the mirror, and said:
Please address these questions to the proper person!
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A little girl clops in mommy's heels,
her dress, a floppy hat.
The borrowed pearls she's chosen
dangle halfway down her back.
...

The horns in the harbor booming, vaguely,
Fog, forgotten, yesterday, conclusion,
Nostalgic, noising dim sorrow, calling
To sleep is it? I think so, and childhood,
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With the face goes a mirror
As with the mind a world.
Likeness tells the doubting eye
That strangeness is not strange.
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tall poplars -- human beings of this earth!
black pounds of happiness -- you mirror them to death!

I saw you, sister, stand in that effulgence.
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I swear, since seeing Your face,
the whole world is fraud and fantasy
The garden is bewildered as to what is leaf
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Starting afresh, eyes awake and squinting in the brilliance of morning sunshine.
Through the anonymity of darkness, sun battles the elements to rise…..
Rise it does!
Through the open window the sound of the morning lark, trumpets a new beginning.
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Tomorrow is never be yours or mine
does future ever be enticed upon?
time when fails to meet mirage
today is still truth by the mirror
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Into the thousands
he flows and blends,
squeezes in a quick breakfast,
gets into his workshop
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The skin of light enveloping this world lacks depth and I can actually see the black night of all these
similar bodies beneath the trembling veil and light of myself it is this night that even the mask of the
sun cannot hide from me I am the seer of night the auditor of silence for silence too is dressed in
sonorous skin and each sense has its own night even as I do I am my own night I am the conceiver
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When I see the lark joyfully moving its wings against the sun's rays, and falling because of the sweetness that enters its heart, ah! a great envy comes upon me of all those who I see happy. I am astonished that my heart does not melt with desire.
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Sisters - look gently into the mirror
You are glorious - Oh yes we can see
Your complexions are so so beautiful
Your eyes are the windows of your souls
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Character
is a mirror image
of one's own self-
a true reflection
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We see you as we see a face
That trembles in a forest place
Upon the mirror of a pool
Forever quiet, clear and cool;
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He bought a mirror to check his appearance,
he went to great lengths to look his best.
when he walks out of his room now,
he checks himself in the mirror
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Sighting her in opposite mirror
Like a boundless poetic mirage
Finding no words I surrender
To the beauty unfolding its image
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A desert of weed and water-darkened stone under my western
windows
The ebb lasted all afternoon,
...

From the very first time
We wrapped ourselves
In a chrysalis
Of love and silk sheets,
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The rich house had in the hall
An enormous mirror, very old;
Bought at least eighty years ago.
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