Share/Save/Bookmark
Home Just In Communities Forums Beta Readers Dictionary Search Login Register Extras
Poetry » Life » The Simple Things font: B s : A A A . width: full 3/4 1/2
Author: admiral realson
Fiction Rated: K+ - English - Mystery/General - Published: 11-14-07 - Updated: 11-14-07 - Complete - id:2438278

I wrote this poem to express how one can look into a mirror and see nothing. It is not possible to see nothing in a mirror for that is its purpose, to reflect the things before it. But say you could look past the image it mirrored, what would you see? This is what I believe could be seen and what could not be seen. Enjoy and please review. I know it needs more work. Do not forget to scroll all the way to the bottom. Enjoy! )

admiral realson

The Simple Thing

Oh! That simple shaped thing,

But come and let the light describe it

And name its whispering simple name,

Tall it is in stature, broad and finger thick,

Polished very smooth,

Seen in its bottomless depths the very doors of Nothing,

Yet suddenly it changes, as if it was a whim

To change from deep to shallow,

As quickly as the tide,

A dark shape is now seen fluttering,

Hovering it seems,

On legs of darkest power and feet of brightest dream,

Now see the skirt of dark robe,

For now the image, moving

Are two white folded hands, carved against the cloth,

And now for arms of marble pallor,

The chest robed in black,

Flowing up the graceful neck, ending at the chin,

Now paused the image it would be,

Frozen as by time,

It would to be forever, the mystery of Fate,

Who stood before the simple mirror?

Who was the black robed woman?

For now it seems she’s walked away and left no path to follow.

It is always the simple things that bring the most confusion,

Not always the deep dark ponderings of the earth,

The simple forgotten image, the simple hidden face,

As Pan’s lost love, the nymph Echo

Who faded from her sorrow,

Each thought lost is compared with,

Dark things that have no name,

Whispers hardly heard, yet strained the ear to hear,

Even the soft echoes of lost time,

Lost in Earth’s great hamper,

Mixed with all the garments thrown out by imagined maidens,

The collection of great treasures, never to recover,

An angry bull’s last dying bellow,

The growing child’s playful shouts,

The small dove’s gentle cooing,

Seen once on the lips and beaks

Of man and animal,

Heard or said yet only once.

There, you finished it. Please review it! (drops on knees and clasps hands together) please!



© Copyright 2007 admiral realson (FictionPress ID:587432).


Return to Top