Today, let’s write a poem with the theme of “eye”.
What hasn’t yet been written about my muses’ eyes?
They are blue as the morning sky
or dark as the deepest night.
Poetasters, choose one
if her hair be flaxen or raven.
My muse is more complicated—
her eyes black as an obsidian dagger
or azure as the churn of a pool
being fed by a winter waterfall.
They make lions howl to the moon
and incite lambs to riot in the streets.
Her eyes stole Shakespeare’s tongue
so there is nothing more to describe
but if just one of these strange similes survive,
my promise kept, she’ll have been immortalized.