She sees a blur in the mirror-
An image imprecise;
A star fading in the distance;
A girl losing to life.
Not a glimmer in her iris,
Despair now flooding in;
Her frayed heart making noises-
Only the lonely, could decrypt.
And these were the effect of words;
Missiled at her by the world;
Bit by bit they tore her soul;
Blurring out, the star she was.
But to every curse- is a potion,
And that of blur, is love
A word of kindness spoken-
Such effect it has on the stars-
It unravels the blur all around.
I love how your poems have a circular pattern that meets in the final lines ” such effect it has on the stars / or unravels the blur all around. Does this comment make sense?
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Haha, it does mandi š. Thanks for noticing. Yeah, most (if not all ;)) of mu poems have endings to wrap up the first part. š
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Such a beautiful poem and what a pure words:)
Mandi is right.
I like the way in which you end your poems. There are no loop holes!
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Hey NL.. Thank you š. I am glad you do! I love reading poems that have endings, and i guess it’s influenced my writing too. š
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Lovely lovely lines…..Love can blur all blurs !
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Aw Sweety š. LOVE does blur all blurs, well put! š
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Beautiful! š
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Thank you š
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OH Ameena this went from being a sad poem to warming you inside with your last lines! Love it!
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Yay! That was the plan, the sun does shine after a rainy day. I’m trying to incorporate some nuggets of warmth š all thanks to you š
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Aww you are too kind but so glad I could pass on the nuggets š
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Beautifully described…. Blur is love, love is blur š
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Well said Nimmi! Love does tend to blur so many things.. Thank you āŗ
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Pleasure…. ā¤
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Absolutely beautiful and so heart touching. I think you should submit this to magazines! Honest!
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Aw PJ! Haha thank you šš. But i don’t know.. We’ll see š
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Your poem is touchingly beautiful and I hope the voice in the poem has found solace.
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I would like to think she has āŗ. Thank you so much for your lovely comment.
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That’s good. I remember a poem I wrote when I was about 19 when I had my heart broken and I was walking past a fruit shop that had bunches of those white carnations with threads of red in the petals that to me looked like they’d been slashed out of the ground and their petals were bleeding. Cathartic poetry but obviously reflecting a serious level of inner pain. I do get concerned about sensitive poetic souls. I know that pain can get too much at times xx Rowena
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beautiful
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Thank you š
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