In the Shattered Mirror: a picture of my life

I think something has to come out of this... for those of you who have read my other poems on Tourette's, they show the brutal nature of my reality. But this one...is less harsh. It's, well, wistful. But not so horrible or dark. It's more Emily-Dickenson-ish than the rest, which were more akin to the Poe genre. Here it is...

Gazing into a mirror that’s cracked,
I see a distorted reflection.
This, I know, deep inside.
But from the shallower walls
Of my soul
Come cries of pain at the torture
I am subjected to.
This has happened for no
Apparent reason!
The mirror was shattered,
The image once whole
That I could see with
Just the corner of an eye.
It was a smeared, dusty mirror,
But the lense brought forth
A picture I found tangible.
Now this cracked mirror
Sees pieces missing
From where the giant’s foot
Smashed its tender frame.
The pain of torture
Is found in the
Faint cries of a distant,
Otherworldly mind,
Somehow connected to my own existence.
It turns me,
Haggles with my existence,
And threw its foot
Through the glass
In which I looked.
Now the reflection
Is shattered,
The pieces of a broken mirror
I have yet to knit
Into a whole understanding
Of the new reflection
That now skates
Upon its silver, slivered surfaces.


......................
If you're wondering what the heck I'm talking about, here are the subsequent links to my blog and two of my poems: weblog.php?w=1441 <<blog topic40457.html <<grim poem topic40367.html <<poem on the bitter reality, contains s-word.

A broken mirror sits beside my bed, and it suddenly struck me how the distorted reflection bore a fleeting resemblance to my own existence... here's my poetic side coming out... I hope it gives you a glimmer of the beauty of the hope I cherish in this situation... Crits more than welcomed. *
Come on, crit this gal out the door, yall!*
Cheers!
--Voxina

Gazing into a mirror that’s cracked, (like the cracked mirror bit, but do you gaze into a mirror? You look into something, or gaze at something. It just icks with me.)

I see a distorted reflection.

This, I know, deep inside.

But from the shallower walls

Of my soul

Come cries of pain at the torture (pain and torture in the same line, seems a bit, well, boring)

I am subjected to.

This has happened for no (this happened sounds better.)

Apparent reason!

The mirror was shattered,

The image once whole

That I could see with

Just the corner of an eye.

It was a smeared, dusty mirror,

But the lense brought forth

A picture I found tangible.

Now this cracked mirror

Sees pieces missing

From where the giant’s foot (giant? are you the giant? if this is supposed to be a metaphor it confuses me)

Smashed its tender frame.

The pain of torture (pain, torture again, hmm.)

Is found in the

Faint cries of a distant,

Otherworldly mind,

Somehow connected to my own existence.

It turns me, (turns me where, how? Does not compute.)

Haggles with my existence, (present tense, then next lines in past tense.)

And threw its foot

Through the glass

In which I looked.

Now the reflection

Is shattered,

The pieces of a broken mirror

I have yet to knit (love that)

Into a whole understanding

Of the new reflection

That now skates

Upon its silver, slivered surfaces. (silver sliver looks pretty but sounds horrible. Read it out loud.)




I thought this poem was really quite good. Nice imagery, though it shoudl be broken up into stanzas and I think it was too long, repeatingly the same thing. Also I thought you should have added a bit more emotion. I got pain, but considering the subject matter I could have got a lot more things: confusion, anger, acceptance etc. The mirror cracked reminds me of the Mirror Crack'd from side to side, that's why I love that line especially! I like this poem more than your others because the rreader can relate to it more because it's more general, contecting your feelings with the feelings of others. Which in my opinion is the purpose of a poem. I think you should definately keep working on it. Oh and I think you missed the mark on the Edgar Allen Poe thing. Not creepy enough

Thanks for the review! I can see what you mean...
Cheers!
--Vox

Gazing into a mirror that’s cracked, I see a distorted reflection. This, I know, deep inside. But from the shallower walls Of my soul Come cries of pain at the torture I am subjected to. This has happened for no Apparent reason! The mirror was shattered, The image once whole That I could see with Just the corner of an eye. It was a smeared, dusty mirror, But the lense brought forth A picture I found tangible. Now this cracked mirror Sees pieces missing From where the giant’s foot Smashed its tender frame. The pain of torture Is found in the Faint cries of a distant, Otherworldly mind, Somehow connected to my own existence. It turns me, Haggles with my existence, And threw its foot Through the glass In which I looked. Now the reflection Is shattered, The pieces of a broken mirror I have yet to knit Into a whole understanding Of the new reflection That now skates Upon its silver, slivered surfaces.

I'm guessing it wasn't meant to rhyme and that you know the fact that it's meaning is very untagible. But it looks deep and natural. I also get a feeling of your satisfaction that you probably were able to express your self completely in this work and convey whatever it is you wanted to say. The underlined parts sound weird, you could probably try changing them to a form that still expresses you, but this is for u to consider. And the portion in italics, sounds VERY weird.

I've read many pieces with a theme much similar to this lately but this poem is still very original. I love you style and you've written this in such an extraordinary way - I loved it! Such descriptive words and the whole scene just played out in front of me in so much detail, very vivid! Nice job! I don't have any complaints what so ever... oh, yes... maybe split the text into a few stanzas? But overall... AWEGREAT!

4/5 icky, sticky spiders to you!

Good Luck & Keep Writing

// Demoness