Reflection

I look at you
I know you don’t lie,
But what you show’s untrue.

Captured in the classy frame
Shades of faces begging for fame,
Masks unmasked, in a fake win-lose game.

To be the fairest of them all
Everyone’s a step child
My zeal to kill with skill,
Let all of them go to hell,
Fall, get ruined,
Crushed, forgotten forever, perpetually small
All this for what I cannot hold, 
Nor behold for long.

Who’s the wisest of them
All? All of a sudden
If I’d change my question,
My mind will reflect like a glass
Screeching in shame
For it’s not designed to peek within at all,
So inside it stands like a useless wall.

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ionicus

Perhaps I am not reading this properly, Supratik, but I am confused. At first I thought that the subject was a mirror as the first stanza and various other lines seemed to point to it with references such as ‘Shades of faces begging for fame’, ‘ To be the fairest of them all’ and ‘Who’s the wisest of them all?’ but then the mention of a glasshouse threw me and I could not see the connection. Also when you say ‘jobless glass’ do you mean the glass (or mirror) does not serve its purpose any longer? ‘Jobless’ is not a… Read more »

ionicus

Dear Supratik, I see that you welcome critique and comments and that a fair assessment would be in order. Following your suggestion, I have re-read your poem. I appreciate that to start with the subject is the mirror (or looking glass) as a metaphor for the mind and I have no problem with that; it quotes the saying “the mirror never lies” and qualifies that statement with the truism ‘But what you show’s untrue’. I also recognise Snow White’s evil stepmother’s mantra “Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who’s the fairest of them all?“ in the line that reads ‘Who’s the wisest… Read more »

ionicus

Dear Supratik, until I read the above reply I was not aware that you had sent me a private message as I did not receive a notification. It just shows that this website’s system is not yet working properly.
The re-written poem is very much improved and I do like it. The new title is also more in tune with the verse.
Kind regards, Luigi

sweetwater

Beauty, what is it really. It used to be clever make up tricks, wash away the paint and you still had a natural beauty nature perfected, perhaps not how one wants to look but beautiful to many.
A surgeons knife now seeks to sculpt the natural into stone stature features, barely ably to smile. A plastic painted doll forever needing adjustments to halt the years.
The ultimate celebrity with no abilities.
Great poem, makes a very good point. sue.