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Passions in Poetry

the mirror does not lie

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Irish Rose
Member Patricius
since 04-06-2000
Posts 10553


0 posted 02-14-2001 09:32 PM       View Profile for Irish Rose   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems   Click to Submit your Poem to Passions  View IP for Irish Rose

I lay my hands against the mirror
and pray for solitude.
There, captive echoes scream-
No warming rain
no mist of love or cooing sound
just vocal hell.

"Let me out, Let me out"
her palms meet mine-
we shatter.
No longer formulating compromise
for I am stronger now.
This is my way, my way,
no one else. Only me.
Connecting veins partner there;
reality freezes
ire meets strength

I open my palms to warmth
from the one
who only wanted beauty to radiate
through every pore
sustaining, pressing, moving
that beauty begins to travel through my
skin to reach her own.

The warmth begins to fire the glass
particles fly,
my heat replaces the blue
cold

To meet the scream, I pause, remove
one soul and place it close between
her reflection and there, it shadows her.
But it is in soft, whispering tones
and loving grace,
scarcely heard above mocking profanity
that I cry-

" Believe in yourself! Believe in yourself!"

I repeat it over and over again until
my pulse quickens
and my breath dries, my eyes dilate
and I begin to say it
louder "Believe in yourself!!!!!!!!!!!!"

At that moment when I believe in little else,
I begin to see the images in my mind,
those who stand around me in true form
Fear is a synthetic fantasy that suffocates
and forever is contaminated with re-run phrases,
that worms my skin and nauseates me.
I scream "I believe in me."

She fades but not wholly
she will return again in
another horrendous encounter
and I'll rest my voice
to repeat again, those words
"I believe in me."

And to those who turned away
in pity, or stayed from fear,
shaking their heads, lying,
sparing a few
condescending platitudes,
slicing through my emotions
and draining my insides
bringing more suffering in fluid repulsion
It is then I realize
they had no reflection
and I never saw them,
They were not true,
because the mirror does not lie.



"When red-haired girls scamper like roses over the rain-green grass,
and the sun drips honey."
Laurie Lee

© Copyright 2001 Kathleen - All Rights Reserved
Martie
Moderator
Member Empyrean
since 09-21-1999
Posts 28608
California


1 posted 02-14-2001 11:46 PM       View Profile for Martie   Email Martie   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems   Click to visit Martie's Home Page   View IP for Martie


I repeat it over and over again until
my pulse quickens
and my breath dries, my eyes dilate
and I begin to say it
louder "Believe in yourself!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Powerful writing, Kathleen...
Poet deVine
Administrator
Member Empyrean
since 05-26-99
Posts 25869
Hurricane Alley


2 posted 02-15-2001 12:02 AM       View Profile for Poet deVine   Email Poet deVine   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for Poet deVine

As long as you keep looking into the mirror, you will see the strength that's coming to you again. And don't look at the shadows of others...they don't matter...
Dopey Dope
Deputy Moderator 1 Tour
Moderator
Member Laureate
since 08-30-2000
Posts 15536
San Juan, Puerto Rico


3 posted 02-15-2001 02:23 PM       View Profile for Dopey Dope   Email Dopey Dope   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for Dopey Dope

I liked this......very well written.
Once again, the talent is apparent.



I was born myself, raised myself, and will continue to be myself. The world will just have to adjust.

I'm in love with my shadow
I admire it daily
Lone Wolf
Member Ascendant
since 03-16-2000
Posts 5900
Lansing, MI USA


4 posted 02-15-2001 09:28 PM       View Profile for Lone Wolf   Email Lone Wolf   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for Lone Wolf


They were not true,
because the mirror does not lie.

So very true you are. The mirror is the ultimate test and it cannot be fooled. Nice writing.



Poetry should surprise by fine excess...it should strike the reader as a wording of his own highest thoughts and appear almost a remembrance. -J.Keats
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