MAP #291-2 Featured Poetry Supplement Theme: Mirrors and Reflection Pools
Featured Poetry Supplement
Theme: Mirrors and Reflection Pools

Upcoming themes:

#291-3 Back to School
#291-4 Yo-Yo Ma Gets Down and Dirty on his Cello

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My oh my you poets have an abundance of "Mirror" and "Reflecting
Pool" poems, so many that there is not enough space to include them
all in this supplement. Forgive me if you do not see your poem among
this week's selections:

1. "Mirror Play" by Judith Pittman
2. "Ripples on the Surface" by Ross Clark
3. "Across the lake" by Sanjay Kuttan
4. "The Many Faces of Hell" by Sim Sutterby
5. "Mirrored Light" by Susan Jaescke
6. "You Mock Me" by Art Moore
7. "Quiet Conversations" by Casey Abaraonye
8. "These Eyes" by Mada Plummer
9. "Reflections of a Shattered Soul" by Rev. Wyrdsli
10. "My Country" by Ingeborg Carsten-Miller
11. "The Woman With Braids in Front of a Tilting Mirror" by Lyn
12. "The Stone Face" by Ric Williams
13. "Prayer Beads" by Cheryl Latif

1. Mirror Play by Judith Pittman

A forever look in the
bedroom mirror
holds my youth.
I am the beautiful woman
of the house.
In this clockless time,
I recite secrets
no one knows.
Who will dare ask?
Who will brings roses?

© Judith Pittman
2. Ripples on the Surface by Ross Clark

I read the skyline, right to left,
peruse corrected proofs of cloud,
breathe syllables in frosty air,
call the names of God out loud.

I watch the creek flow, left to right,
and negotiate three stepping stones;
find shapes in clouds beside my feet,
hear cicadas' trunk-fast drone.

I sing my bonesong, knuckles, ribs,
spring lightly over water-sky:
a pebble meets the great world's mirror,
but cannot choose where it shall lie.

© 2003 Ross Clark
3. Across the lake by Sanjay Kuttan

you are my past now
I am my present
as I gently glide forward
across this subdued lake
creating the final ripples
that move away
in its own time
own direction
into secret hiding places
the turmoil within
is settling
as the heart slowly
resign to a future
without you,
wishful thinking blows
caressing the surface
of a tired and hurting heart
creating some disturbances
which painfully subsides
as we move on
to different ends
across the lake.
We'll share the same sky
the same sun and stars
the same moon in all its forms
maybe the dream
for a fleeting moment
but not the same lake
where the reflections
of our friendship
will remain
our precious memories

© Sanjay Kuttan
4. The Many Faces of Hell by Sim Sutterby

Mirrored perception
Diffused in reflection

Numbered recollections
In the prism mind

Duplicitous inflection
Deceiving to find

Room to room
Image unchanged

Sunup to sundown
Simplicity is the maze

Fettered to delusion
Bound to the end

Drawn to the light
Around the bend

Soul's search
Through the haze finite

Discernment shrouded
In smoked glass plight

This endless night

© Sim F. Sutterby, Sr.
All Rights Reserved
5. Mirrored Light by Susan Jaescke

Closing my eyes to solicit sleep,
breathing deeply to silence thoughts,
I relinquish my days' woes for a spell,
giving the reins over to dreams.

While my body relaxes into easy stirring,
my soul awakes to romp invigorated
with abandon and frolic along the rim
of dreamland's mirroring pools

Ahhh, glimmering images wink back,
reflecting the light of my soul --
unrestrained by incarnated bonds
to structures claiming to be reality.

© 2003 SJaeschke
6. You Mock Me by Art Moore

You flat, fake, reflected mockery!
Your gray, scarred imagery is all I see
That shows me as one dimensionally! --
Quick of wit and eye, I'm hot blooded me!

Sexual - though dead to innocent eyes,
I still snare my share of slower flies.
Why do you taunt me with your lies?
Not fuzzy cheeked; I'm youth, grown wise.

Your witchery gives them near immortality.
Fair-haired deceit. Eye-lash wizardry.
Suddenly - they're half the age of me!
Show me as I really am, in 3-D, externally!

You - you - X-Rated
- Cursed - Abnormality!

© Art Moore
7. Quiet Conversations by Casey Abaraonye

This glint, your slant
The glossy coatings we put on our nothings
Their sheen providing a shield
We have found a form

From the unpublished collection
Dance Between Two Armies Vol. I
© 1996-2000, 2003 K.C. Abaraonye
8. These Eyes by Mada Plummer

Eyes walk into a cold Wall Street glare,
"Get outta my way, n_ _ _ _ _"
I shoot my own dark glance
"I pity the breasts that fed you."
In a moment we divide night from day.

Eyes judge the gavel when it falls
"Guilty" as charged even as,
Innocence confirmed by DNA hangs
In the air like radioactive clouds.

Eyes feel the equatorial heat of
Razor sharp organized lies that
Bypass drywall and
Move untouchable through
Corporate corridors,
Congressional chambers, and
Stand, stare unnerved
Flag-waving proud at every corner and
Scream "I want blood and tears to flow like rivers.
Give them guns, drugs, HIV then let them eat cake!"

The truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the
Truth, tears the air in futility.
The stench of inbred hostilities constitutionally
Pass on through genes like a scepter, swearing to
Fortify the fence that
Looms upward like a jungle wall to
Widen the chasm between
"Them" and "us."
"… Protect and … Serve" high-powered predators but
Grip and maul the powerless like a toy to blood thirsty pit-bulls.
Rev your voice like a motorcycle's roar …
Someday your sons, your sons' sons, your sons' sons' sons
Will feel my Eyes upon them.
But for now, through eerie green goggles
Peek-a-boo and
Shame on you.

© 2003 Mada Plummer
9. Reflections of a Shattered Soul by Rev. Wyrdsli

I walk along in these streets of fire
Living nightshade dreams of lust without desire
lust without desire
I walk along in these shadows of pain
Knowing life won't ever be the same
I'll never be the same
Then I see the dying eyes
that answer me from the mirror,
In horror I behold
Reflections of a shattered soul

I stomp along like Man o' War.
I survive but I don't know what for.
I don't know what for
I talk to shadows alive with cries
Accusing me of crimes I have conspired
Then I hear the crying child
that calls to me from within
In horror I behold,
Reflections of a shattered soul

I talk along all night sometimes
Hoping to remember sweeter rhymes,
I remember better times
I march a line in this valley of fear
Gunshots and funerals are distantly near
ever distantly near
Then I hear the Sirens cry
I want to climb through the mirror
and be a body without a soul

I walk alone in these streets of fire
Singing nightshade songs of
lust without desire
Then I hear the wailing moan of the
virgin torn,
In horror I behold
Reflection of a shattered soul

© Rev. Wyrdsli
10. My Country by Ingeborg Carsten-Miller

You are the reflecting pool
of all our whims and bad behavior,
the mirror we hold
but neglect in thoughtlessness.

You are too patient
of foul play or misdemeanor.
All this you take
and throw it back at us.

You are the country
that made us and all our generations.
What we build you accept,
what we forget you make known to us.

You are the reflecting pool
of all our whims
bad behavior.

© 1996 Ingeborg Carsten-Miller
11. The Woman With Braids in Front of a Tilting Mirror by Lyn Lifshin

at some angles
all it reflects
is the moon or
the dark blue
surrounding her.
If there's a
hair brush you
can't see it.
Or where her
eye looks. Or
if she's even
looking. Just
a bed, like a
bird in a
Chinese land
scape, the
details less
than that,
framed as it
is, it will not
fly away

© Lyn Lifshin
12. The Stone Face by Ric Williams

The sheets of limestone step long to the valley floor
Creek beds dry as bone, the view across the hills
Gives the impression that god tied a rope
Around these lands and cinched tight
The skin cracked, flaking brittle
What prisoner of pride languishes here
No wind, no rain, no clouds
The air itself as sharp as mesquite thorn
The deer hooves clack behind the short cedars
Even the green of the scattered oaks has a grayish hue
Fear is a common thing among wanderers and those who cling
To the side of a blasted place where god has cinched the waters
She looks at the skull of a once wounded deer
A little further lies a stone face carved by an ancient river
How long did it lie there with four streams of water
Pressing the same points until it grew two eyes and a mouth
Until the river cut its throat and sent it tumbling to the floor
Waiting these ten thousand years to find a human hand
To be seen for the thing it has become
She kicks at the skull and calls a name that sticks at the edge
Of the creek bed, tangled in the mesquite thorns
Asleep she dreams of light tapping slowly in her bones
Carving a valley a mountain a place where hands curl softly
In a water catching light that dreams a deer on a ridge
Ropes of light streaming from its antlers
The rock shimmering in her hands
She places it on her kitchen table
Stares into the bathroom mirror
Until she sees where the light
Is carving its exit wound
Rings up her friend who needs
A ride away from here
Let's go, she says
Let's go right now

© 2003 Richard Lance Williams
13. Prayer Beads by Cheryl Latif

i am quiet, like the sky early
morning, anticipating birdsong
unsure about the sun

this stillness is pilgrimage

at the reflecting pool of memory
i kneel, drink in your visage
mindful not to disturb the surface,
alter the spell with even a ripple of need

you leave gifts at my door.
i cannot decipher them without you, these
bits of song; slightly faded photographs;
pages torn from an unfinished manuscript;
untitled maps

i have caught you like rain on my tongue
released you in beads of sweat
returned to the quiet again and again
to light candles, burn sandalwood
remember what i know

in pools of light i hold your words, a rosary,
feel your desire in the smooth roundness
of each bead, cast prayers of strength,
wait for a sign.

© Cheryl Latif
Grateful thanks to all who contributed.

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