Each month, we compile a musical playlist that corresponds with our monthly writing-prompt theme. It’s our hope that you find a little inspiration in the lyrical turns, the rhythms, the musical nuance.
This month’s poetic-prompt theme is “Mirror, Mirror.” In reviewing songs for this month’s theme, I noticed a brooding, dark undercurrent running through many of the songs. Could it be that mirrors, as functional as they may be, show us the things we’d rather not see? Could it be our feelings are mixed about objective reality?
The brooding tunes continue one after the next until we reach Justin Timberlake’s song, “Mirrors.” I hate to admit it, but although I’m a bit of a music snob, I like Timberlake’s grooves. (Please don’t tell anyone.) And of course, we end this month’s selection with that classic Michael Jackson ballad.
Listen to this month’s mirror musical collection here at Tweetspeak, and pen a poem or two using a mirror. Write about a compact makeup mirror, a hand-held mirror, or a full-length mirror. Use it as a metaphor for self-reflection, a prop in a narrative poem, or an omen of broken or bad luck. Write about how you feel when you look into the objective reality.
Whatever you do, though, let’s pen some poems here together. Remember, like Jon Foreman says, “please don’t leave me alone; a mirror’s so much harder to hold.”
Poetry Prompt: Plug in your headphones, listen to the Tweetpseak playlist, and write. What do the rhythms and lyrics conjure? What words come? Pen your Mirror, Mirror poem and share it with us in the comments below.
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Tweetspeak’s Mirror, Mirror Prompt:
This month we’re considering Mirror, Mirror, and we’ll be composing poems around the theme. How do you participate?
1. Consider a mirror, whether a makeup mirror, a hand held mirror, or your rear-view mirror. Listen to our monthly prompt-themed playlist. What images, emotions, metaphors, or allegories do they conjure?
2. Compose your own poem around the theme.
3. Tweet your poems to us. Add a #TSMirror hashtag so we can find it and maybe share it with the world.
4. If you aren’t a Twitter user, or if you’d rather, leave your poem here in the comment box.
5. At the end of the month, we’ll choose a poem to feature in one of our upcoming Weekly Top 10 Poetic Picks.
Last month’s theme, “Swan, Swallow, Phoenix, ” produced some good poetry. My favorite from last month was this one by Ianstuart titled, “Midges.”
Grains of life
flung high into the air-
so insubstantial
that they hover there.
Born by the sun
and carried through the day
in shafts of light
until marauding swallows
bring the night.
I love this poem particularly because I’m a man who’s a fan of both midges and swallows. The imagery here is strong and paints a vivid image of the waning daylight hours. Thanks for this piece, Ianstuart!
Do you want to have your work highlighted here at Tweetspeak? Join us this month as we explore the theme “Mirror, Mirror, ” maybe we’ll highlight your poem in the coming months.
Photo by TschiAe, Creative Commons via Flickr. Post by Seth Haines.
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Buy a year of Every Day Poems, just $5.99 — Read a poem a day, become a better poet. In May we’re exploring the poetry theme Swan, Swallow, Phoenix.
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Troy Cady says
I read this poetry prompt with interest because I just wrote a poem on Sunday the 2nd concerning a fogged mirror and see the prompt is dated June 3…The poem still needs work but I just thought I’d share it here anyway.
Shaving
a poem by Troy Cady
Uncorrected eyes strain
to see
through the gripping
fog, sticking
closer to this glass
than shore
that wanes
to sea
that reigns.
Why am I
carried away
with my
self?
A towel cannot
wipe out
the clouds.
What I hold
is weaker than
what I cannot hold
is all around,
in front,
confronting
clarity.
Carry me away
for I can no sooner
clean myself than
claim my self.
Facing this steamed
gray mirror
I will be a faceless name
if you will guide my hand
but speed the day
when I shall be changed
to a nameless face
so I can be my undimmed self
and you can name me
as a newborn
gasping from broken water
Donna says
So much here… I especially like this part:
A towel cannot
wipe out
the clouds.
What I hold
is weaker than
what I cannot hold
is all around,
in front,
confronting
clarity.
Wow.
Seth says
Troy,
I like this. And the coincidence? Crazy!
Thanks for dropping in here and sharing it with us. I hope you’ll keep working out mirror poems this month! You’re on your way to a pretty good series.
Maureen Doallas says
Mixed Feelings
The saddest stuff
needs no mirror,
sees its own
passage through
a cavity of grief
to come out unchanged
on the other side.
What stings long
enough also lulls,
like memory feinting
a love that moves
on after a last look
back in cloudy glass.
We hold up a collage
of sorrow, every piece
of glued-down paper
bearing the one word
– forgiveness –
we’ll favor in the ritual
aftermath of reflecting
what pieces together
so many mixed feelings
we want to tender so
tenderly to remember.
Maureen Doallas says
That second line should read:
“needs no mirroring,”
and the sixth should read:
“to come out changed”.
Seth says
“We hold up a collage
of sorrow, every piece
of glued-down paper
bearing the one word
– forgiveness -”
Whoa. If only you knew what I’ve been mulling lately. I think you must have crawled into my brain.
Donna says
Such words – how do you find them?
Love this…
“What stings long
enough also lulls,
like memory feinting
a love that moves
on after a last look
back in cloudy glass.”
davis says
mine is posted
http://nancemarie.blogspot.com/2013/06/it-is.html
“it is”
HisFireFly says
This was written quite a long time ago, but suits the theme, so I’m sharing here —
Road Map
I’m not sure
what to look for
in the mirror anymore
Once a mosaic
of the stories
only years can build
history
written in my eyes
Now wiped clean
by tears
that flow
with joy and wonder
leaving a glow
A mark of peace
A seal of love
Let my face serve
as a road-map
that leads
to the doorway
of my Lord
so those who see me
might find Him
HisFireFly says
originally posted on my blog in 2010 here:
http://hisfirefly.blogspot.ca/2010/12/road-map-in-mirror.html
Seth says
Thank you for this.
Donna says
Mirrors.
Not my favorite household appliance…
just another kind of meat grinder.
Donna says
Mysteriously familiar
old dusty poems
lay here in my hand
oozing today.
What if, when I finally
make my way
home to myself,
it’s just me
standing there
just this way?
What if
no matter how far I go,
there I’ll be
dusting off words
looking into the same mirror
seeing the same exact me?
Seth says
Donna,
You are playing with an interesting concept here, depending on how the poem is read. I read this as a sort of tautological poem, a sort of “I am who I am” work. Maybe a “my words are what they are,” work?
Very interesting.
Donna says
It is…. Yes… I am thinking I could (will) rewrite it taking the what ifs out. Because I don’t think it’s a questioning poem. I think it is a reflection of what is. For now. Maybe. 🙂
Elizabeth W. Marshall says
The Entrance Way
It is the ad infinitum image that tells of mystery
Unending you’s
Neverending me’s
When two reflective portraits grace the wall,
Poised and hanging
Mirror images of themselves
We see not dimly
A continuing of man and man and man
Until we cannot see
And then I know
That you will be there always
Reflected in the hanging glass.
Mirroring our past
A million you’s stand
Like Buckingham Palace guard
And you will never leave
Hanging there
Across from a million me’s
Two lives mirroring their love.
An entrance to two lives in love.
Seth says
Elizabeth,
The boys and I stood in a fun-house just yesterday and looked at the million of us. The question I had was sort of odd. When the mirrors begin to bend around the corner and the images disappear, you can lean back a little and see the continuation. But what if you don’t lean back? Do the images of you continue into infinity? Or, since it is a matter of optics in the first place, are the usses bound by what you can see?
These are the questions that plague me. 🙂
Monica Sharman says
Geometrical optics is just a rough
approximation. The angle of incidence
is supposed to be the same as the angle
of reflection. Well,
when wavelengths are small enough
to disregard the character of
the wave, this method might work.
But ray tracing requires straight lines
with arrowheads showing they’re sure
of their direction, requires
no distortions, and you have to ignore
the photon’s character as well
as its energy levels. Not to mention,
the angles have to be measured
from the normal. It’s so hard to
sketch a mirror image. Who can find
a line of symmetry when everything
is off-center?
Seth says
This somehow reminds me of a Buddy Wakefield piece, which is not a bad thing.
nance rosback says
one day
i fell
through the looking glass
ass first
onto the other side
waves shown golden
In the sky
the tide
moving clouds around me
silent but for the cry
of a dove
flying down
and out of sight
Seth says
Nance,
I like this. I like this a lot.
Morgan Thomas says
This is my first time submitting a poem to one of these…this is a great idea for a blog/website!
Here goes:
In an abbey
A server studies
his wrinkled forehead
as he buffs the altar cross.
A novice pauses before the Eucharist,
tending his part in the Savior’s
stained glass robes.
The prior preens in a smuggled compact,
spit-polishing silvered plastic
until he rubs all the shellac away.
L. L. Barkat says
this is wonderfully rich. Love 🙂
Morgan Thomas says
Thanks for the feedback!! I was nervous about posting 🙂
L. L. Barkat says
Aw 🙂
glad you put the nervousness aside. You have a great poetic perspective.
Morgan Thomas says
Or maybe…
Reflection
The looking glass remembers
a tongue flicking
over metal-bound teeth,
light gleam off acid-tipped finger
as it daubs red-pigmented cyst,
tense muscles beneath shaving cream
and the way lips part to curse
the sting of razor’s slip.
But mostly,
the spray of spit and toothpaste
from a foaming laughter mouth,
hairline crack in the bottom corner
and the dare that swung the hammer,
urine splash off porcelain
because the door’s slam made you jump,
warmth of your palm’s glass-press attempt
to know its form in a single plane,
and the easy slide of the hand –
gloved with rag towel and windex –
that wipes the rest away.
JoyAnne O'Donnell says
Mirror runs life
with reflections strife
I wish I could see you
a flower shining new
maybe a soul true
maybe an angels helping clue.