Mirror Poems | Examples of Mirror Poetry

Hey, why are you copying me? Every word I say you just repeat. Lose the mocking attitude, please?! Look at you, you're even trying to be me! Overy and out, you're only just a tease....

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I have met you in my mind, You have been a reflection of my desire. I have worshipped you in my favourite mirror, You have been a quiet echo in others’ eyes. I never judged you inside the canvas, Never found you in my head, Never placed you on the stage, Never let you out of my heart. So many people to see, So...

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A hundred years passed through these halls. If you walk inside, you see ivy on the walls. But that one mirror remains unshattered. Even as the piles of clothes lay tattered. The door is open in this haunted space. A snake slithered around on the bookcase. A little raccoon made it in as well. So...

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in the wasteland of broken hearts shattered mirrors line gardens disheveled and neglected where sunrays seldom enter left to their own devices they piece together a false reality that’s fraught with sadness tangled with despair and cursed with loneliness yet somehow always manage ~ to carry on AP: 1st place 2025 Submitted on April 23, 2025 to contest A WILDERNESS OF MIRRORS sponsored by CRAIG CORNISH...

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I remember when I followed you in, looking for my mate. In this mirror land, I can't understand this confusing state.  At once, you appear, then you disappear in this mirror house, running and racing, losing and chasing, a wheel and a mouse.  Is it you and me, or knockoffs I see, none that I can feel, leaning and lurching, forever searching for ones that are...

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I am not the figure in the glass, Stiff and hollow, a shell of the past. When its reflection catches my eye, Hatred blooms, and I ask why. Fear ignites, a flame in my chest, My hand trembles, unable to rest. When red spills from my skin, I lift my head, yet cannot win. Pieces of me are always gone, The mirror mocks what...

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all seemed well in heaven’s cocoon then we sought earth life as a boon to feel contrast one became two male, female, the sun and the moon stuporous mind, but a cat’s mew of higher wisdom not a clue muddled further by senses five the web from which we must unglue why do we feel that we’re alive we know not who we...

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Where do I start? Ha! I've lost my cool. Do beg my pardon - I'm a blubbering fool. I'm here on behalf of the Soul Deep Express - To interview you in the hope you'll confess. Oh dear - well, at least I'm not being obscure. Tell me the superficial, then please tell me...

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As we consider others With more than a few objections Can we unveil Our own masked reflections? As we review our brother With an exaggerated disdain Can we become cognizant Of the true source of our pain? As we inspect our neighbor With ever ascending exasperation Can we give pause and question The root of our vexation? As we give the mirror Just one more searching glance In order...

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I’m really aging well they say But I really don’t care The older I get the less I’m afraid Of not fitting in My hair has yet to gray I’m old enough for it to But I guess I must wait For wisdom line and frosted roots I’m forcing myself to go out As I’ll stay inside happily writing But I know that’s...

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Leaden clouds sweep swiftly in from the north, Blanketing the sapphire skies in melancholy. Deafening, rolling thunder cracks As a mysterious chill sends a shudder up my spine. A faint knock rasps at my front door; Whispers circulate, ringing through my walls, Echoing my name ever so sinisterly....

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If Not For morning would be just morning the sun would hide behind clouds stillness would be without meaning the road would lead to nowhere the skies would be without promise my life an empty page ...

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I do desire we may be better strangers. — As You Like It, Act 3 Scene 2, Line 254; Orlando to Jacques She called it venting; I called it theater. On a loop, it was non-stop tragedy with no intermission. When I spoke of my dreams, she'd flinch, as if I had farted during her soliloquy. So,...

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One grain drops. Time begins, or keeps going— it’s hard to tell which. Necks pinch into purpose. Pressure makes the moment's weight— its glass throat narrows in, knowing: the longer it holds, the less it means. We reflect shapes only edges can name. We reflect edges only shapes can name. The longer it holds, the less it means— its glass throat narrows in, knowing pressure makes the moment's...

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3d music bot that makes hearts swoon Is what I’d leave melodies on the moon Notes that float fly and dance Or form pottery and art by hands Yellow notes would boast so happily Creating joy and hope as if laughing Floating souls like white water tranquility A kaleidoscope of colors moving dreams Notes that are heard with silver soul Like...

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