|Lady in the Mirror
I walk behind a laminated lady,
deep inside the mirror’s glass.
She does not let me pass in front
nor catch one glimpse,
her wanton face veiled
by stale cigar smoke,
billowing out from the patio chintz.
Fumes that mar her features,
are reflected through a thickening fug.
I step beyond herbaceous borders
to tug her lace parasol.
She ignored all I implore or tell,
throws gaudy baubles offered
down the wishing well.
Tabitha dabs with one paw,
claws lured to languid movement.
I call her from the kitchen stool
as the lascivious lady coolly disappears.
Morning sun soothes
the steam saturated glassy sheen,
smooth as a dreaming lake,
except for the gleaming submarine,
chasing its own wake.
4 Apr 08
Rated 8 (8) by 2 users.
Active (2): 7
(define the words in this poem)
(789 more poems by this author)
(1 user considers this poem a favorite)
Add A Comment:
I like the imagery in this piece and love the last two lines. Just one small pick. Should'nt line nine read "....through a thickening fog?"
I Love You.
Laminated threw me a bit - mirror are not laminated, are they? I am also not clear on 'patio chintz." Chintz being a type of fabric; if it's billowowing smoke, is it on fire? Thickening fug? You mean fog? Don't need a comma end of that line.
I think ignores would be better than ignore, as it fits the tense you've set.
I am not able to capture what it is you're saying. You have the lady in the mirror, a wishing well, a cat, morning..perhaps you have too many things in this so that nothing comes forth strongly as the main thought.
Okay, Larry, give it up, help me out, the remedial reader of PC.
LOL. I'll provide an explanation of sorts but for now its Friday nite and I want to spend it snuggling up to opel while reading Joey's poems which i have printed off for close analysis.
Larry micro land lark
Oh, man, you and Opal are going to have way more fun than I am this week-end. If my daughter and son-in-law ever move to England, I'm coming to find you two.
That is real cool as i am looking for a mature woman who can kinda ease me into the real world
Larry just 17 you know what I mean Lark
This poem is about the mirror that hung in my parents patio room which led out into the garden and had the image of a woman wearing a long dress and carrying a parasol beneath a broad brimmed hat who appeared to be heading out into a garden in its bottom left hand corner. Fug is the right word as my father frequently smoked his pipe just outside the back door and the smoke used to drift across the mirror.
Larry Herr Kapitan Yellow submarine Kark
Tell us near the time and maybe we can sort something out.
Larry secret travel agent Lark
DRar pp love
Thanks, and i love you too
Larry its all you need Lark
some person you atr broadcasting a woman's age for all to see
Larry etiquette Lark