Glass

My Mirror faithfully reflects  
then, having pondered shows aspects  
of self unseen in other's eyes  
ah, but then, my glass never lies.  
                            ii  
I gaze into that scene within  
with me without and looking in  
wondering what might come to pass  
it two were there seen, lad and lass.  
                            iii  
I angle for another look  
and find not self but Eastern Suq  
no painting this, but moving frame  
of Eastern Delight, of worldly fame.  
                            iv  
At first in two dimensions seen  
then glass, like water dripping clean  
away, till all surrounds my sight  
ear and nose with Eastern delight.  
                            v  
What magic this has my glass done  
to place me under Eastern sun  
my pallid features, winter clothes  
amusing now, an Eastern beau?  
                            vi  
Sound and clamour surround us both  
buyers, sellers, bargainers loath  
to pay full price, all uncouth joy  
but dimly heard by girl, by boy.  
                            vii    
Neither as yet far into teens  
unburdened by unfulfilled dreams,  
and each from each took proffered hand  
in that far away, romantic land.  
                            viii  
And I in thick knit trews and brogues      
amid ten thousand folk in robes  
flowing cloaks and sandaled feet  
many miles from Regent Street.  
                              ix  
But I can feel the quickening blood  
in calm acceptance where we stood  
acknowledgment that each had found,  
a twin soul on common ground.  
                                x  
We wandered quietly, hand in hand  
at peace with each on desert sand,  
and of the many stalls passed by  
here, in frames, glass, for all to eye.  
                                xi  
And there I saw its blackened back  
hanging, twisting slow, that same crack  
it slowly turns to show my face,  
framed in frigid room, not market place.  
                                xii  
In an instant it is all gone!  
the torrid heat, the wail of song,  
and at my back a freezing room,  
reflecting silence to this loon.  
                              xiii  
With leaden heart but quick hand  
I pack a bag for desert land  
my only spur a reddened brow,  
and eyes that mirrored, mirrored vows...

 
I enter the labyrinth
where everything is broken mirrors
where everything is demolished walls
in the labyrinth that I penetrate...

I see my face in a thousand shards
I outline my prismatic tears
section of the surreptitious landscape
my dark brown glass eyes.

yours are green like jealousy
like the slime that desires what it does not see
on the stones of the glass walls
and the mirrors of the bad luck of the years.

I penetrate the labyrinth and forget
what is the contour of the reflection of my face
I forget the stars that inhabit
the sky reflected in the mirror of the eyes.

I accept the labyrinth as a reflection
of what I don't know how to see in the mirror
broken into a thousand pieces of glass
dark like my honey brown eyes.

 
you always steal my senses
you chant your mantras
opposite image of that
that is not in the mirror
hovering over me
you always cloud my ideas
you pray the rosary and
the sidewalk stones
recite your name
deafening
I beg love
let me paint
the sky of another color
(mirror)
My beauty didn't cry*
the eyes of the beholder.
* Verb that, because there is not,
I make it exist to offer
don't drown in pitchers
the marine look
from someone who doesn’t want me…
my non-ugliness crown
queen of a country
of wonders,
the apple of the eye
of those who read me!
I stumbled into a room
of shattered glass
Where every shard is sharp
and stained with red
I see myself in pieces,
torn, aghast
a collage of the wounds
that I have bled
I try to escape, but I feel
only more pain
that cuts and heals
they tell me what I did,
or what I lost
but never the truth
that has a cost
I wander through
the pathway of glass
where every wall
reflects a different face
I see myself in fragments,
broken, vast
A poem
that I cannot end or erase.

For years they let us see the view
through any type of lens,
for portraits or landscapes anew
and fashionista trends.

The key design ingredient
was pentaprism glass
which rendered more expedient
a route for light to pass...

for when the shutter blocked the scene,
in previous designs,
we also knew the focusing screen
helped us sight the lines...

and by that screen glass we could see
the scene unlike before,
with new optical liberty...

photographers adore!  

My window is a vision  
a doorstep away  
I gently gaze out,  
see tomorrows & today  
 
Across the street,  
their young family resides  
Man, woman, child  
hiding their family inside  
 
One day the woman  
birthed a new baby boy  
Expressions were clear,  
completely filled, overjoyed  
 
Weeks turned to months,  
I've watched as he's grown  
only made possible,  
as I work now from home  
 
Infant to toddler,  
the little one now walks  
windows were open  
amazed how he talks  
 
He leaves in the morning  
mom drives him to school  
time and life intertwine  
soon, I’ll be an old fool  
 
The boy has seen me,
doesn’t know me too well
Will he look through his own window

to share in this story I tell