Look at me

You look at me and what do you see

You look at me all the time

With that supercilious grin

Scanning me from head to foot

You pass no comment

And yet you say it all with your eyes


They say that every picture tells a tale

But you never draw, paint or photograph

What you see

You never describe or make a photo fit

Instead you just stop, blink and stare

You looking at me


 You stand there like a statue without ever moving

You open your mouth

But nothing seems to come out

Not even a whisper or a shout


I would like to say you are good looking

But that would

Only lead to you becoming even more

Boastful, vain, aloof

And totally full of conceit 


When you were a child

You would mock, laugh, cry, pull faces

And stamp your feet

Occasionally getting in a lather and full of steam

As a teenager you just stood there squeezing spots

And looking for the cream


 But the worst of it is that

Gloating glare

That empty, old

Two dimensional stare


To think that once you

 Had vigour and you had vim

A purpose and an aim

Now you are just flat

At times deflated and almost transparent

In your sin


Your bulbous nose, heavy jowls

 And stubbly chin

Looking back at me

With a self satisfied, contempt and grin


And although you say nothing

Your eyes say

I told you so

And still remind me

Just in time

That I am not a reflection of you

But you are a reflection of me 

◄ memory

Tall tales ►


Preeti Sinha

Wed 17th Sep 2014 04:52

No one can judge you more mercilessly than yourself.

Brilliant read :)

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Cynthia Buell Thomas

Sat 23rd Aug 2014 15:37

This has a good point to make, which isn't really clear until the very end. At least, I think it's clear. This is a 'mirror' poem, isn't it? Please set me right if I'm way off track - with apologies. As I read I was thinking 'reflective kid' and then 'reflective parent' until I finally settled on 'reflective self'.

I enjoyed your company on Tuesday evening.

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Rose Casserley

Wed 20th Aug 2014 09:13

Brill poem-brilliantly rounded off!.x

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