Writing Prompt 22

Welcome to the twenty-second day of our 30/30!

Your prompt today is:


What would you ask
your mirror to show you?


Image credit www.cliparts.co
Guidelines, if you want them:

  • Posting your response is not required
  • Feel free to post your response   🙂
  • This is not meant to be the perfect first draft – respond without hesitation for 5-7 minutes, then keep going if you want to
  • While our prompts are geared towards poetry, we welcome all kinds of artists
  • Tips & encouragement are here


  1. In the Mirror

    I would like to see gazing back
    with perfect serenity the
    face I don’t have and maybe
    never did, except in that one
    photograph sitting on my
    father’s knee at some
    indeterminate birthday.

    Every serious photo shows
    the too serious face, the
    girl with the thick glasses
    for whom contacts lenses
    weren’t an option. Laugh lines
    dragged into those dreaded
    parentheses, the eyes still

    searching out something
    undefined, elusive. So to
    go back to the mirror, the
    face I want to see is simply
    one of staunch integrity,
    one that served and
    didn’t count the cost,

    one that could find a piece
    of good in every shattered
    soul/fragment. Chose to peer into
    the reflective side instead of the dark
    silvered one hiding behind the frame.
    A spirit then, with bells clanging, lights on,
    mirror image of the life gifted, strong.


  2. Dozens of glass shards,
    disco ball mirrors shine,
    reflecting anything/everything,
    casting light on floors, ceilings, walls.
    No one stares into the shards
    hoping to find solitary answers
    that only Galadriel’s pool might provide,
    all sharing the dance of light,
    the summons to joy
    that only unsolicited reflection brings.


  3. Pingback: #NationalPoetryMonth’16 Round-up (Day 22) | Bonespark~

  4. Mirror, Mirror

    Show me, mirror, where I’ve been.
    Time stamp, like a digital camera,
    my scrapes, aches, bruises.

    Once, walking to the post office,
    I saw a hunched, thin woman.
    As she passed me again another day

    I thought, “My soul looks like that!”
    The stranger stood straighter as I
    released her from mirror service.

    The mirror taught Brunelleschi
    perspective. Why can’t it show me
    the places that have shaped me?


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