Treasure Island

Robert Leary

(New London, Connecticut)

The Fly


In the garden
You sit upon my book
I look you in the eye
…receive a pleasant look

I think myself your master
Too bad you cannot read…
Ah…but kaleidoscopic eyes
See beyond what I’ve conceived

Now you are my master
And I am but your pet…
Remember me in your travels
For you I’ll not forget

Submitted: Monday, November 30, 2009
Edited: Thursday, July 21, 2011

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Comments about this poem (The Fly by Robert Leary )

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  • Fred Babbin (12/6/2009 11:48:00 AM)

    I envy your content and style. I have wracked my brain to get there, but not yet. (Report) Reply

  • Cynthia Buhain-baello (12/1/2009 10:26:00 PM)

    You do write exceptionally well. This is another poem that has al the mechanics of what real poetry is all about: unity, meter, rhyme, content, and style. The subject is subtly referred to in these lines and it was a clever idea to address 'the fly' as someone, and then work on it through the verses. Really clever, artisitic, and immensely enjoyable to read. I have a passion for reading real poems, and the rewards of that passion come when I encounter poems such as this.10++++ (Report) Reply

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