Photo by Yuri Asotov
dust-blind mirrors
blend with gray
barnboard amid
castoff junk hung
and heaped within
post-and-beam history
should I care
whose last images
trapped in the glass
restive ghosts caught
in dully framed
portraiture
should I choose
one at random
an unclean companion
to oversee death
play its part
in my parlor
(originally posted November 2013)
Writer Lynne Sargent
Poetry Puttering by Pax & Company
Sometimes everything has to be enscribed across the heavens so you can find the one line already written inside you. Sometimes it takes a great sky to find that small, bright, and indescribable wedge of freedom in your own heart. David Whyte
"drink from the well of your self and begin again" ~charles bukowski
no dust here
Looking ahead, without looking back (too often)
flights of fancy from New Zealand
You're never alone, if you've something to share
All you touch and all you see / is all your life will ever be
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I am where the valleys are deep, the mountains are high, and the wind moans through trees...
rejuvenatement - not retirement
Poesy plus Polemics 
If only those images could be stored and played over and over again, to remind us of the past.
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not sure about that
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I would like that.
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What a great poem, Paul–I love it.
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thank you, Caddo
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This poem stirred the thought on the image last seen by the eye. Can it be recaptured? Very nice.
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a profound question – thank you kindly
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Reblogged this on Poesy plus Polemics.
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A lesson in just how to make the surreal concept meaningful – I really wish I knew where you get these ideas from.
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me, too
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Your poem made me feel like I was in an old attic looking through treasures!! Love it!!
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what a wonderful comment
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Nice flow to this piece, thanks for sharing.
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much appreciated, alan
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Reblogged this on OUR POETRY CORNER.
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thank you for sharing my poem with your readers
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lovely picture and poem. thank you. I have often wondered what my new Ikea mirror has seen compared to my reclaimed 1930s bathroom black glass splashback and mirror, the scope for story…!
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a variation on “if walls could talk”
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Reblogged this on irrelevant bubble.
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thank you for sharing my poem with your readers
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The mirror placed outside as it is must have reflected many faces of humans and nature. What looks like Spanish moss gives it a Southern Gothic flavor. Intriguing poem.
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southern gothic seems apt
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Last images trapped in the glass !!! Vivid imagination ? I never thought of it that way. Wonderful as always 🙂
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what have we poets, if not our imaginations
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Yes most certainly Sir. Your imagination and words are so wonderful 🙂
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