My Mirror Grinned


My mirror grinned at my first grey.
With rearing youth, it’s my first fray.
Disturbed, with care I plucked that bane,
next day to find one more, again!
I cried and sighed and went astray!

That’s how began my darkest day
with whitest hair and day by day
at deepening my fear and pain…
my mirror grinned!

With no concern at my dismay
went on my hair, to well betray
with more and more albescent strains;
until one day remarked Miss Jane,
I looked smarter with that new grey!
My mirror grinned!


Gold Dust


the path I tread thence
is all poesy sprinkled now
like gold dust on sand




The dark muddy puddles on road, by rain
can’t bring, I thought, the times bygone again.
My latest home in town’s posh colony
has well buried my past travails and pain.

The days I whined and ran with agony;
the days I starved and craved for small money;
no more exist in memory. I laid
a lid on that dramatic irony.

For great windfall I gained of late, I bade
good bye to mates, for me, who cried and prayed.
Forgot the days I drank rice-soup in grange
with friends and pools in which we splashed and played.

Better were days of need than these deranged
in binge, in spite of piled fancy mélange.
My food tastes sour; and bitter my Champagne.
I got riches; from me but sleep estranged.


Once an advocate, Sathya Narayana joined the Government of India as Inspector of Salt in 1984 and got two service promotions. In May 2014, he took voluntary retirement as Superintendent of Salt.

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6 Responses

  1. Carol Smallwood

    I enjoyed reading these and want to try each kind of poem. Thank you for telling which each was as it helped a lot!

  2. Dusty Grein

    I love a well executed Rondeau, Sathya. ‘My Mirror Grinned’ is similar to one I wrote for my daughter – and it is one of the most well-received poems in my forthcoming collection.

    Within The Silver Glass

    Within the silver glass I spy
    the mask I wear, my perfect lie.
    This happy face, it is not me;
    I show them what they want to see
    while deep inside I slowly die.

    I cannot let them see me cry,
    so I just smile and wave goodbye
    then check for signs of pain, set free
    within the silver glass.

    With broken wings I’ll never fly;
    I turn away and softly sigh.
    My world consists of tragedy –
    a scream that echoes silently.
    The fools can’t see, it is not I,
    within the silver glass.

    Thank you for your wonderful poetry – I look forward to reading more of your work 🙂

    • sathyanarayana

      Dear Dusty Gein,
      I didn’t know about this wonderful website till very recently. I am so surprised at the high quality of poems posted here. Your poem WITHIN THE SILVER GLASS is very meaningful and poignant and very perfect by meter. Thanks for commenting on my poem and more thanks for sharing your finest poem.

  3. Carole Mertz

    Mr. Narayana, I like the sentiment displayed in your poem “Affluence” demonstrating how sometimes less is more.


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