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Akhtar Jawad

Gold Star - 16,157 Points (8-2-1945 / Gorakhpur)

The Mirror

Every morning every evening,
She stood, all alone,
In front of a mirror,
And combed her hair,
Checked her turn out,
And liked her image,
Up to a certain extent,
But not too much!

When someone told her,
You are beautiful,
Your hairs are silky,
Your complexion is milky,
Your deep brown eyes,
Like that of a deer,
Your soft pink lips,
Are buds of roses!

Your cheeks are rosy,
And a mole on it,
Is to protect the innocence,
Of your untouched beauty,
Like a lovely talking doll,
When you speak to me,
My heart listens to,
A tune of flute!

Your face is a moon,
And your rounded arms,
With bangles in your wrist,
A garland of flowers,
And your ear rings,
With tiny diamonds,
Are the shining stars!
You are nature's work of art.

Your charming body,
Like a milky way contains,
Many hidden suns and moons,
And when you walk on earth,
It appears to me,
A wave is moving,
A mermaid is swimming,
In an ocean neat and clean!

Nature has provided,
The wealth of attraction,
The worth of appeal,
A shy smile,
And an age in which,
All girls look fairies,
The only thing you lack,
Is a ring in your finger!

The shy girl, next morning,
When stood for combing,
She said to herself,
It's not my mirror,
It cannot speak,
And, describe me,
My mirror is the boy,
I met yesterday!

Submitted: Thursday, August 28, 2014

Topic of this poem: mirror

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Poet's Notes about The Poem

Love is ego, nobody loves anyone except himself.

Comments about this poem (The Mirror by Akhtar Jawad )

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  • Bronze Star - 6,774 Points * Sunprincess * (8/29/2014 7:41:00 PM)

    ..............your poem's imagery is perfectly described....and you painted the picture beautifully.... (Report) Reply

  • Veteran Poet - 3,421 Points Savita Tyagi (8/29/2014 10:26:00 AM)

    A woman's beauty pleases a woman most. Of course boys have different angle! Lovely poem enjoyed it very much. (Report) Reply

  • Gold Star - 12,300 Points Valsa George (8/29/2014 12:13:00 AM)

    Your imagination is making a kick start! A real connosseur of beauty, I must say! The poem closes with some really interesting lines;

    She said to herself,
    It's not my mirror,
    It cannot speak,
    And, describe me,
    My mirror is the boy,
    I met yesterday! ...............Enjoyed! ! (Report) Reply

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