I see under myself,
In the acrylic mirror.
Expressionless portrait
Of sorrow and wonderment
Artistic beauty of self expression.
Picasso-ish,
Contemplations of self
Breathing out obsessions
Unspoken words being heard, and
Thoughts being felt.
Between the lines I see
A façade of Truth
Contrast and color,
Painting the knowledge within.
Withering traditions,
Confessions tell
Of being strangers to ourselves.
Great poem and very haunting pieces. Sometimes I start at the image in the mirror and wonder who this is. The truth is hard to define each of our truths maybe falsehoods to others, Loved the lines ''Withering traditions Confessions tell Of being strangers to ourselves'' 10/10 BB : O)
Alfredo, this a very haunting piece of self analyzing. I liked it. The last line 'Of being strangers to ourselves.' really summed up this whole poem. Brilliant. Top marks and thanks for sharing it my friend. David
you've captured that strange alliance and intimate dialogue we often have with ourselves, especially as we engage in expression. strong work, Alfredo. -Tailor
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Write comment. Such a nice poem, Alfredo. Read my poem, Love and. Thanks