Mirror to My Soul by Heather Mirassou
A personal blog sharing heartfelt poetry inspired by nature, beauty, and soulful reflection.
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Smoke curls over shattered walls,the sky bruised in shades ofsorrow,yet beneath the rubble,a flower presses through stone,tiny and defiant.Gunfire writes its harsh rhythm,shattering windows and hearts alike,but in quiet corners,laughter spills like warm tea,soft as unbroken promises.Soldiers march with boots ofthunder,and children trace chalk rivers oncracked streets,their songs ripple acrosstrenches,a fragile bridge over moltenhatred.War rages…
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Your voice, like a river rippling, waves of goose bumps, awaken my inner spirit, fill me with delight. Your gaze, magnetic, blue moonlight bright, clear as the evening night, gently captures my inner light. Your heart, speaks softly, soulfully, whispering faithfully, sometimes silently, but never in spite. Your touch, captivating, tranquil, slight, caressing me slowly,…
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Pain opens doors I never builtStairs fold, ceiling dropsBones hum in MorseThirty years, drippingTime leaks like marrowSilence gnawsJoints scream their coordinatesFog curls my throatNerves twist into knotsSkin whispers treasonMuscles clutch shadowsDoctors pass,Feathers of languageFlutter, uselessManage cope chronic -Words swallowed by boneNight folds itself inside meCountsEach breath a ledgerMercy absentPain grins through ribsI wakeI am fracturedScattered…
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I stretch my legs like rubber bands,then flop sideways without a plan.My whiskers twitch at empty air,my tail flicks twice, then swats a chair.I pounce on shadows no one sees,my paws land soft, but sometimes sneeze.Ears rotate like satellite dishes,nose sniffs crumbs, then hasty wishes.I knead the couch, then bite my paws,stare at walls in…
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The night exhales along the breathing shore,tide loosening its silvered seams.Salt rocks remember older namesthan those we give to longing.This sea that bares her bosom to the moonholds nothing back.Light drifts across her skinin slow devotion,a hush taught only by distance.Stars hover, while clouds learn restraint.I stand emptied by the listening dark,heart tuned to the…
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We are born reachinghands empty but alreadyshapedlike questions.We learn the weight of timeby losing what we love -first toys, then peoplethen versions of ourselves.Hunger drives us forward:for touch, for meaningfor proofthat this brief spark matters.We build names, stories,nations, gods,trying to steady the groundbeneath us.We hurt each otherby accident or on purpose,and spend our lives learningthe…
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Under foxfur dusk, ponds sealshut with glass,lungs of soil exhale frost andiron sleep.We hibernate, embers cuppedin ash and silence throughwintered veins.Listening for sap, for bones,for snow-drifted hours,slow heated dark inside earth.
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She doesn’t want to be toucheduntil she is understood.Not the outline,the weight beneath it.She carries longinglike a second pulse.Quiet. Persistent.Learned from being unseen.When desire comes,it’s braided with memory,every time she stayed,every time she left,every time she loved anyway.Her body opensonly when her chest does.Only when the achehas her name.She wants connectionthat lingers after the lights.Hands…
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The Tule fog has stayed too long.It presses against the windowslike a thought that won’t finish.Days blur into the same gray breath.Cold settles in my bones.Even light feels tired,arriving late, leaving early,as if it too is discouraged.I walk through hours half-seen,wrapped in layers of waiting.The world feels muted,like sound swallowed by wool.What am I to…
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Choose one of these three artworks and let it take you wherever it wants. Write whatever it stirs in you — a memory, a question, a scene, a poem. All images are open-use selections from the National Gallery of Art website. They lean against the angle of the street,bodies balancing where the buildingsbend like tired backs…
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Loving you is like pressing my earto the hollow of your wrist,as if the rhythm therecould teach me how to breath.Your lips on mine are like a secretI’ve always known,as if every pause and sighwas written into my bones.Being in your arms is like sinking into a roomonly for us,only our heartbeats.Your touch lingers like…
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Love is a dim motel signflickering vacancy/no vacancy,never quite telling the truth.It’s a locked briefcasewith your name etched insidethe code changes every timeyou think you’ve cracked it.Love is a subway mapwith one forbidden line,the route you take anywaybecause it hums like fate.It’s a pair of borrowed keysthat fit doors you didn’t knowwanted to open.Love is…
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When you draw me in,the room fractures into color,violet storms,amber spirals,a chorus of fallinggleaming stars.Somewhere in that strangebrightnessour hearts slip theirboundariesand learn a wilder shape.
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My body sends a push notificationbefore my brain can catch up,a sudden spike,heart glitching like bad code.Something’s off.The air encrypted,the room buffering inslow frames,corners pixelatingas if reality.I check my breath,thin, throttled,running in the backgroundwithout permission.A tremorclimbs my spine,a quiet vibration,like unseen messagestyping itself into my nerves.instinct kicks in,primal software,older than logic,shouting movewithout explaining why.And that’s…
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Your smile was an applique pressed onto the morning, a bright patch hiding the frayed places.My thoughts ran in crooked backstitch, looping around themselves,unable to move cleanly forward.We walked the bias of truth, tilted, slanted, never quite straight,held together only by fragile binding of good intentions.A memory spun inside of me, a restless bobbin winding…
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The granite and schists of my dark and stubborn countryloomed ahead like a grumpy old giant, arms crossed and refusing to budge. I had packed only a backpack, a dubious map, and an overinflated sense of bravery. Rocksjutted like teeth, trails twisted like pretzels, and everysquirrel seemed to judge my clumsy feet. Somewhere agoat -…
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You come to melike a midnight orchid,unfurling only in shadowswhere my name trembleson the edge of your petalsYour words brush my skin,soft as rose-silk,dangerous as thorns.I lean closer,letting your breathtrace the rim of my longinglike a fingertip circlingthe mouth of a lily.You open slowly,deliberately,as though revealing color.An act of devotion,and I ache to touchyour secret…
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Lips crash into mine -a storm breaking open fleshhunger without a pause Your nails down my back raking fire down my body I burn willingly Breath tangled, stolen your mouth claiming every gasp I drown in the glideHip against hipthe rhythm hard, unhiddennight shakes with our pulse Sweat drips between us heat folds like molten…
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Your smile opens dawn -petals waking in the lightof a gentle spring I find home in you warmth settling in my chest like a small sunrise Your laugh carries me the way soft wind lifts a leaf weightless and wandering
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Some mornings I wake in a world stitched shut.Sound sealed, behind a frosted window.Other days, a thin crack opens slightly.It’s just enough for a murmur of living to slip in.It sneaks in like, a timid animal.I read people’s lips the way others read the weather.The slight curve of a vowel,the storm-glint of a consonant.Mouths flicker…
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Some days silence seals me tight, a locked-glass world, a vanished night.Other days, sound threads its waythrough thin cracks, of half-lit days. I read your lips – each curve, each flare,a cloud mouth shaping fragile air.Your words bloom open, soft and slow;I catch the ones that choose to grow. But behind me waits the quiet…
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Zero is a shutter of untouched light,a polished loop that holds the breath of all beginnings.It waits like an unclaimed PIN code, humming with invisible charge.Framing the crisp threshold where possibility gathersbefore stepping into form from quiet core to nothing.
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This week’s challenge is to write a piece of “musical poetry” inspired by an instrumental guitar track. Listen to “Canción Triste” by Jesse Cook from the album Vertigo: If you can’t listen to this track, choose any instrumental piece (with no lyrics) you like — preferably one featuring guitar — and mention the piece you chose in your post.…
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She tells me in whispersthe secrets I want to know.She shows by examplethe way I want to care for others.She rests peacefully in waysI wish to be still.She breaths in the air of lifeas do I, with great passion.She has become timelessand never far.
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Our love is like the flow of Water and gravity.
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My DarlingYour fingertipsThe Slightest touchMy skin ripplingGoose bumps ariseLike prickly pearsGive way to Sizzling fireA Desperate acheA Primitive desireMy Neck becomesA Bountiful harvestTaste of SweetNectarI Lay in waitBegging youBlowing breathYour tongueTingling of heatMy BodyAn HourglassFull of Voluptuous curvesMy Gentle bosomSoft as silkElectrifying splendorBlood pulsatingTaught and tightHypnotizing ecstasyYour BodyPleading meBy Perfect designMy delightOur Madness penetratesA Primitive…
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We are glowing togetherA smile that lasts day and nightWhether separate or apartThe heart crack is wide openWe are at the centerExploring the edges of loveI am hereYou are nearLove is grand with youMy graceYour strengthWill carry us today and tomorrowLove unfolding naturallyAcceptance draws us nearUnconditional love fulfills usA love story is being writtenOur future…
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A poem written for a lovely woman who passed away yesterday. She lives in our heart and soul. She is loved by many and her memory will be carried on for many years to come. I celebrate her as a dear friend and like a mother.
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1967 hums like a vinyl worn groove,a year stitched in paisley, drifting into it’s move,tie-dye dreams blooming wild in summer heat,sandals slapping freedom down every sun-washed street.It smells of sage smoke spiraling into the sky,a caravaning wanderers learning how to fly;guitars ringing truths no textbooks ever knew,voiced braided together in a rainbow heaven.1967 is a…
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The hills breath amber whispers through the day,as drifting leaves rhythms play;the maples hang their lanterns low and sway,then hush the light at dusk collects its grey.A river mirrors skies molten gold,its ripples slow, obedient and cold;each stone reveals a tale the currents told,each reed leans in like monks serene and old.The wind becomes a…
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Well I am too LATE to submit for the prompt. But, here is my Quatrain, 12 line poem. I roll across the floor without a command,I catch what drifts, accept what lands.I move when pushed, I stay when still,I gather weight without a will.I spin through corners, rest in light,I shrink and grow without delight.No…
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She knelt where night and dawn entwinesthe water cold, the air like wine.The lake lay still, a breathing glass,where souls of old and shadows pass.Her face appeared, yet not her own,a younger ghost, in silver tone.The girl, she began to rise,with moonlight burning in her eyes.”Why do you call me from the deep?”the spirit asked,…
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First came pudding -a pale and wobblingplastic spoon.He called her sweetheart,his voice all sugar and orderlies.The air was lemon and bleach,so clean it hurt.She tried to thank him,but the words caught -a wing in her throat.He said, let me help you sleep.The lights dimmed,and the walls leaned closer,listening.Inside her chest,a river began to drown itself.Trust-white-silk-pulled…
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My Dearest Lani, My darling, my wild muse – your name hums against my skin like a struck chord of twilight. Your Handlebar mustache, and a mischievous curl, you ride through my thoughts as wind through tall grass. Your olive eyes, green with fire, I drown there willingly, living past reflection, where silence holds me…
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I was born with the aches Of the earth in my bonesA wildflower soulBreaking through stoneThe storms bent my stalk But did not destroy I swayed, whispered And still found joyMy voice once silencedNow hums like a breezeMoving through pinesAnd whispering seasI write not just wordsBut the weight of the skyMy pain roots deepYet still…
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I am wakefulwhen clouds arenesting and the windis thrusting.Stars twinklingin painted fieldsA moon overflowedand the rain beginsto rouse.I rise in a dreamwhere my spirit soarsI faintly kissthe stream.
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Mother Nature beckonsHer brilliant cacophony.Her pine treesDancing, swaying, and whispering.Their virescent greenShimmering throughBlue HuesPeaceful and calm.MesmerizingHer birds singA sweet melody.White puffy cloudsSurroundedBeams of sunshineBenevolent to me.Immersed inHer enchanting beautyShe is bewitchingShe is my company.
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The author reflects on a lifelong struggle with sorrow, feeling unable to awaken their heart to joy. This deep sense of isolation is emphasized by the idea that all their love has been solitary, highlighting a profound connection to both sadness and loneliness from childhood.
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My lover lay on my bosomI feed him from withinHe holds meThere is no separationHe leaves for the daytimeSome nights aloneHe returns to meAs pure as when we partedMy lover
Mirror to My Soul by Heather Mirassou 