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Damaa --

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Windows
by Damaa --

Sunday, March 13, 2005
Not rated by the Author.
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Recent poems by Damaa --
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           >> View all 50



I took out my brushes
like an artist trying to create a work of art
my palette was my face
the sadness in my eyes stared back at me
through the glass of the mirror
and I sighed
I went through the motions of
applying different shades and tones
I tried to cover up the feelings as
I dipped my brush in the rich colors
and drew a picture of beauty on my blank canvass
...but those eyes so full of sorrow
kept staring back at me through the glass
of the mirror
and I sighed...again
I dipped and stroked
searched for perfection with each glide
Finally the picture was complete but the eyes
big and sad just kept staring back at me
empty and vacant
It looked unlived in and deserted
my tears tried to wash away the dust
that had settled in but it was no good
so I turned away and diverted my gaze
from the reflection staring back at me
through the glass of the mirror.

  


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Reviewed by m j hollingshead 7/26/2005
nicely said
Reviewed by M. B. 3/15/2005
Sometimes we have the saddest eyes we've ever seen.

WINDOWS touched me.
Reviewed by jude forese 3/13/2005
a powerful introspective poem ...
Reviewed by Karen Lynn Vidra, The Texas Tornado 3/13/2005
excellent write, berry! well done!

(((HUGS))) and much love, your friend in tx., karen lynn. :D
Reviewed by Dave Harm 3/13/2005
The same eyes, I use to look at others, are the same eyes, that look at me...
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