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Zywa Jul 2023
Appearances are an art, a few strokes
form out of paint, an intimate experience
of velvet, skin and sadness

There is no better job
than feeling proximity and depth
shamelessly direct, like in bed

Appearances are deceptive, my insolvency
is just a façade, like a name
given to you in ignorance

I no longer have debts
nor money, I earn nothing
and can work without worries

So let the pious people talk
I take care of Hendrickie
and Titus, everything is theirs
Rembrandt van Rijn (AD 1660)
Zywa Oct 2022
Don't people have to

be good, is it enough if --


they seem to be good?
#171 "Heer Bommel en de antiloog" (#171 "Sir Bumble and the antiliar", 1982, Marten Toonder)

Collection "Bearer Toonder"
Jade Wright Jan 2022
I’m a dalmatian in the park this morning
leaping with a grace I can feel

a toddler by midday, splashing
unashamedly into gleeful puddles
red wellies into small pools of sky

a bird by the afternoon
giving the impression I may take flight
as I perch wise on the wall and
stretch my feathers
watching you

a fish by the time the evening is here
paper-light and shining
pretending I am not gasping for air
but I’m gasping
because I know night is coming

And the pretence
Should really be over in time for bed.
Zywa Jun 2021
Common Ipocrites

are very active people –


helping who helps them.
#172 – “Heer Bommel en de spalt” (#172 – “Sir Bumble and the Split”, 1983, Marten Toonder)

Collection "Bearer Toonder"
Zywa Jan 2021
No one likes to be

stupid, or worse: be a fool –


let alone clumsy.
“Praktisch” (“Practical”, 1860, Petrus de Génestet)

Collection "Passage Passion"
Red Sep 2020
I saw a predator in the bathroom mirror
or perhaps it was just confident prey
Red Aug 2020
Dead glassy cow eyes
Mock me from within their bloated facade
They see right through me, and I, them.
Jay M Apr 2020
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.
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