Author: Puppet


Sit in a bus or car and stare at the window at a forty-five degree angle. On a sunny day you’ll see the reflection of the outer world—the street and sidewalk life—entirely backwards. Become the momentous observer of this backwards world and you’ll see, for some strange reason (indecipherable to mere organic brain chemicals but discernible from a surreal plane), the backworld reflection is infinitely more beautiful and interesting than your habitable one. Just look: lines and shapes become malleable, fluid, like a puddle wallowing in the clear calm after a rain. Depending on the type of window or its condition, you may be presented with a backworld as seen through a circus mirror house, with one portion of the backworld ballooned and another impossibly shrunk. And of course the street signs and store titles—otherwise so familiar—will be backwards, making reading even a Tennessee bar and grill sign a struggle. The simplest thing becomes foreign, the most familiar becomes strange. All things in a backworld are not immediately accessible, and therefore mysterious. Explore this mystery, and find yourself illuminated.


Comments on this poem/writing:

Name:                                           Remember Me

Comment Title:

Comment / Ammendment:

Please complete the recaptcha below for spam prevention:

Click here to read other Poems by Puppet


Poetic Dreams Other's Poetic Dreams Submit a Poem New This Week Forum Home

Copyright©2018-1999 by Rebecca R. Hammack

COPYRIGHT NOTICE: All Rights Reserved.   No part of this website, including all pictures and written words,  may be reproduced or copied in any manner from this website without  permission of the original author of the work.  All poetry and pictures herein remain the sole property of the original author and/or copyright owner.  All poetry on this website has been submitted by the original author of the work. To contact any author of the work please e-mail:  so the proper person may be notified.