what i think when i think about myself

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the unembellished glass on my window
is not of a reflecting kind, it changes color
with the sun’s brow, disguised by its own
retention of what hitherto it did beget –

when i think about selves, i mirror
the glass of my window, and pluck apples
from my eyes to taste the sense of sight,
and single out every experience in its own light,

when i think about lives, i snigger
like the loony bark of the mutt outside, and push
into the so-called oblivion, a thought to right
the wrongs of being one of a kind, of this plight,

when i think about you, i am triggered
by your mirror of my own life, and try to pick
from your eyes, any sign of a comic relief, to indict
myself for subsumption of an egotistic delight,

when i think about myself, i quiver
like the potent wine of the sky outside, and pull
out from my own self, a torn thought to site
every memory, to extinguish into the night.

.

For Poets United Midweek Motif

Photo edited through Instagram and Prisma

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*Linking with dVerse OLN

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frozen

snow like petals
line the path to twilight-
a crystal like sky

~

polished-
the mirror reflects again
the moon at night’s door

.

Image source

Written in consideration of Carpe Diem Encore # 15

This is to be counted as Poem # 6 for my 30 Days, 30 Poems Challenge. I am really tired and sleep deprived; I am thus not able to write a verse poem. Though these two haiku took a lot of my energy as well.

Deceiving Mirror Eyes

through into the mirror world,

his eyes search for his lost reflection,

that he saw disappear, on the iris

of the reflection of his being,

he looks for it, shadowed by it,

finding his way, losing it

in the reverse reality, his fingers

deciphering the codes, on

the walls inverted, plains elevated,

blindingly searching for his self,

that resided in the wide expanse,

where lifeless lives drift into one,

and coalesce with each other,

into an amalgam of shadows,

he appraise them all but it was

not to be found, what he had come

looking for, and then he reaches a portal,

a door that leads to nowhere,

and on the other side, he finds it,

looking into his eyes astounded,

he stays put but it disappears

in the iris of reflection of his eyes,

he has gone and he has come by,

it is unknown what he is, what he was,

a material, now reflection,

reflecting back, disappearing in one,

and yet materializing in another, looking

for the eyes and the empty iris,

where he disappeared once

.

Image source

Linking it up with:

1. Poets United Mid Week Motif- Mirror

2. Imaginary Garden Prompt: In the Eyes

Bruised

 

She was bruised.

“You have come so late. Where have you been?”

She silently drifted towards her room without answering and latched the door. And there she fell at that very position on her knees and the tears welled up in her eyes. Her mouth gaped open and a muffled voice of shock escaped her mouth. She bit on the curtain so as to prevent her wail be heard by anyone.

She was retching. She ran towards the washroom while bile rose up in the back of her mouth and she puked her miseries out.

She couldn’t believe what had happened with her.

“It is my fault.” She wiped away what was left of her mascara and lipstick and rubbed her papery white skin. The tears had dried out. She clawed at her face.

“It is my fault.” She faced the mirror.

“I am bruised and it is my fault.”

* Written in response of VisDare 27.