I rarely ever write poetry -- it's not that I don't like it, but more that trying to capture an image, feeling, or story in so few words has always struck me as singularly difficult. I'm a little in awe of people who are able to create a written work with such tremendous impact in such a small space.
I have made a couple of forays into the poetic world, though, and for this week's Fiction Friday I'll share one of them. It's piece I wrote a while back, inspired by one of the most thoroughly amoral people I've ever met.
Look at him from one angle; he seems bigger.
From another his cleverness glitters like cut crystal.
One face shows righteous outrage at ill-treatment;
Then with no trace of irony another face boasts, laughing, about how
He hoodwinked someone foolish enough to trust him.
Anger in him sizzles like an electric arc.
Look once, twice; it's gone. Nothing but charm remains.
He hands you a black and bitter drink, his gaze dark with fury;
A moment later, the eyes fill with innocent bewilderment when you refuse to swallow it.
His words soothe, stroke; misdirect; wound.
He speaks sharp-edged contempt
Through a polished smile.
Hold a mirror up to him;
One image. But a different one
For every person he meets
And a different one each time you meet him.
He slips, he slides, he dances, he weaves and dodges;
No trap can hold him. Pin him down, he oozes away,
Turns, and smiles at you, eyes flashing triumph;
Unassailable. You cannot win, and he knows it.