There are stories
Written short to the naked eye
But to the eye of the poet;
There are potential volumes
Of verses and lyrics
Occasional verses and ballads
Hidden all around
Some at first so beautiful
Petals of a bright red rose
The color, fragrance, and corolla appeal
Then seen are the thorns
Sharp as small daggers
Some never to ***** flesh
Others bound to draw blood
Healthy presentation
Good taste and style
Sweet little smile
Glimmering eyes
Melodic voice
Thoughtful and observant
So why the hesitation?
Were those eyes truly glimmering,
Or were they swarming flies,
Hovering over a rotting heart?
That melody
Could it have been giving a choice?
Be wary and don't take the bait
Or be lured by a siren?
Was that thoughtfulness of pure intent
Or will it be a future lament?
Were they so observant
Because they were captivated by you
Or to use blackmail and make you a servant?
- Jay M
April 29th, 2020
The purpose of this poem is to sketch how there is a story in everything, and there is much more than meets the eye. Some eyes may see more, but never the whole entirety of what lies before them. The speaker in this piece is a person who speaks from experience, thinking they knew someone but only having scratched the exterior. When writing this poem, I had to consider how the speaker would be able to express their experience without doing into details (to be open for others to relate to and connect with).
*This poem is being included in my Poetry Portfolio for my Creative Writing class, and I really hope it's good enough.
**When I read this to one of my sisters, she said, "It's Twilight! It's all Twilight!" Well, no, but if you think of it that way it somehow makes sense.. Hah, I didn't see that one coming.