! ! ! ! ! ! Mirror Poem by Rema Prasanaa

! ! ! ! ! ! Mirror

Rating: 3.0


Mirror
Rema Prasanna

Mirror on the matt finished wall
reflected me in real
The carved wooden frame from
an antique collection
replicate my image in factual
masures
Is it me I wonder in anguish?
The same mirror not long ago
cheered me up in mornings
where I see now only a mirage
an image of over tested age
and one forgiving hand note
a few alphabets from conflicting
dictionary of life
a façade I describe in mindless
anticipation
Synopsis of life ruled out a
remote control scroll back
to tune it all again afresh
Certain objects only move forward
in self assurance I confirm it as
the transpiring mirror of life

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Kee Thampi 27 April 2008

I feel not a philosophical but a drizzle of of love and life An image of over tested age And one forgiving hand note A few alphabets from the conflicting Dictionary of life A great message from the real lovable life.....

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Usha Pisharody 18 May 2008

I really admire the way you use your metaphors, and express through them lucidly. It brought to mind shades of Plath's 'Mirror'... :) A fine poem!

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Subbaraman N V 22 May 2008

That is life- the message well brought out!

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Jeannie Ann Clark 08 June 2008

Nicely written; clear expressions. Thank you, Jeannie

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Sathyanarayana M V S 26 June 2008

'the transpiring mirror of life'...very fine ending.

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Ashraful Musaddeq 21 September 2008

A moving composition, wonderful. Love it.

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Jayaprakash Panicker 10 July 2008

mirrors are minds they reflect what they see. they have no discrimination, rather they tell you that you are what you actually are. mirror is timeless, but everything that get mirorred are bound by; time. including you and me and all.. good poem indeed. jayaprakash

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Shikha Khurana 09 July 2008

Amazing poem...! luved it!

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Onelia Avelar 04 July 2008

I like this poem - it lacks the usual female vanity by facing the mirror and offers more profound and philosophical insights...

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C. P. Sharma 02 July 2008

There are two mirrors: inside and out, Everyday they have a bout; The outside mirror just turns about, When inside reflects us stout. As the body decays in spirit we grow, And the fruit of bliss we mow.

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