I wrote this last night on a sudden whim. I kind of just decided to stop, but I could ad more lines if I want, what do you think? Oh, and I didn't know if this was narrative or lyric poetry, so I just guessed on the foremost.
A knowing gleam within the eye,
Seeing without asking why,
Sometimes quiet, sometimes shy;
That is certainly not a lie.
People think us stiff and cold,
Could it be, even big and bold?
Though, if in our minds they dared to peek,
I am quiet sure they’d soon learn to be meek.
Realization does slam down hard;
Because you see, we are not at all weak.
At times, it seems, we’d stick to our clique,
But that is merely because others reek!
Stationary is a necessity;
As our food and drink are dear to us,
So is that paper near to us.
Though it is perhaps quite queer,
We’re drunk on ink instead of beer.
Some laugh, some sneer,
But are always sure to remain clear;
Clear of us, who are but simple peers.
Honestly, what have they to fear?
Spying a tear, attempts to cheer;
But that is meant only for characters dear.
Stuck in the brain, words scream daily for fame,
But some remain hidden, in thought of shame.
Yes, I agree, it is indeed quite lame.
Since it’s better for a pen to maim,
Rather than striving to stay the same.
Easily, words do come,
But in circumstances rare, hard are some.
And no, I am not stupid and dumb,
“I’m special” says my dear mum.
That is why I write this now,
Relishing in my pen and paper,
For when I build a character, shape and name her,
That is more fun than anything done later.
So, if like-minded you discover to be,
That in itself is a major key,
For when I was wee and sat on a parent’s knee,
Thought came suddenly that I had the key.
This is an extra line that didn't seem to fit, so I cut it out:
This poem is getting rather dull,
The boring rhyme almost a lull;
Is it, do you think, perhaps a cull?
