Poetry for the Heart and Soul
Reflections of a Girl
I am staring at myself,
From this slither of light on this slide,
This very silver slide, that may
Or may not reflect me vainly.
I can see the beauty of my locks,
And I wonder, oh what happiness it is to be like me!
I look so much deeper into this slide,
Into this life that I am living
And I see it so much more,
I see the reflections of my locks,
And how they shine,
Yes, how they shine,
Oh what happiness it is to be like me!
by Beatrice Campbell
Silhouette Of Locks
I am not my locks
For they are only a imitation of my beauty.
They are the lucid passion,
That I desire in the fierce pit of my immaculate heart,
That I wear on my head.
And the world does see that I am not my locks,
They are the reflection of me.
I gaze at those who don’t understand me,
Try to paint me,
And make me into their masterpiece,
Of loathe and detesting power,
That they can only retrieve through their own ignorance,
And my brazened beauty.
But I have come to learn that I can not help
If you can’t be me,
And you don’t like me and my emulate of beauty.
You can paint your piece,
And I will paint mine.
For I am not my locks,
The thick coils that you see wrath upon my head,
They are merely, a reflection of me.
by Beatrice Campbell