Open Poetry #8 |
one morning |
dr tung Member
since 2000-07-01
Posts 55singapore |
i woke up one morning in the mirror staring at me i couldn't believe what i see yes, it's me but not what i wanna see gone is the innocence and purity that once was so true in me here a sinful man i see yes that's me but not what i wanna se i promise myself that very day that good old me to see again watching every step that i take those bad mistakes i mustn't make along the way trials i meet often stumbling to my feet "stand up" , "never give up" "sort this out" , "straighten up" now the image although blur slowly clearing up i see again it's that old me in the mirror coming back still a little faint awaiting the day i wake to see in the mirror staring at me once again the good old me that me i wanna see... |
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ma miller Senior Member
since 2000-07-11
Posts 806 |
dr tung ... well put ... one of the hardest things to do to oneself is look in the mirror and be completely satisfied ... if you don't mind, i'll include one i posted here a week or so ago ... similar line of thought, but maybe a little different outcome ... NEW DAY'S STRANGER ... The normal reflection of myself in mirror's glaze; Never thought to see him greet with such cheer. Always a serious, ponderous, scrutinizing face; Finding every flaw in every crevasse, I fear. A changed approach to our daily rites of morn; Slow no more to react to my hurried motion. "Missed a spot", came his alert like a horn; Razor's begged forgiveness -- a forgotten notion. Maybe his wife found him favorable last night; That must be it -- No better reason for his mirth. Shaking his head with disappointment of slight; His speedy reply for me to unearth. "Lost weight?", to catch my pleasant surprise; My elation to find someone who would agree. Significant congratulations are mine, I surmise; From his reaction, wrong again -- But, to what degree? Sparkle the teeth and poof the hair, so I proceed; As I stall for time to solve his vexing riddle. Douse the pits with good smelly stuff; And turn to leave a morning's piddle. Consider our silence, as we stood with grins beaming; What has happened in my life to raise such a specter? Was it something I've eaten to cause visions seeming? Or, my time to face life's ultimate inspector? From this perplexing new day's stranger, a direct recitation; From my profound new day's stranger, this bold oration. "Focus of life be family and friends -- Give of your gifts to behold"; "Meaning in life be loves gentle touch -- More than riches of gold." M.A. Miller 06.06.00 My calling before me, let quill be my offering; For to be called poet, no greater gift to receive. M.A. |
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