This is a short poem I wrote quite some time ago from the POV of character from my current novel, Weaving Moonlight. I’ll not state which character because this poem is sort of spoiler-y. Do enjoy 🙂
I see a little more,
See a little further,
See a little deeper.
Still it’s not enough.
Like a telescope I examine,
Like a scientist I discern,
But how am I to truly know
Who you were, who you became?
Gaps appear in my perception,
My long lost once impression.
Do I need a closer inspection?
Further dissection of distant memories.
Were you here I’d ring your neck,
As it is I’ll wipe my tears,
Light a candle
Snuff it out.

So, I’m a little behind on my blogging. This degree seems to be getting on top of me, rather than the other way around. Not to mention this on-off headache I’ve had for a fortnight. 
This is a poem I wrote in the perspective of one of my character’s in my novel in progress, Weaving Moonlight. In case it’s not clear, there will be LGBT characters in this novel. Anyway, here it is:
I know you hurt,
I know you ache,
I know you yearn,
I know you shake
You’ve learned to hide all along.
You are a mirror;
Know more than a reflection
Of other’s wants.
But let me in,
Let me in.
Your secrets have secrets,
Your lies, hidden truths.
Your masks have masks,
You’re a Russian doll,
Layer upon layer
Upon Layer Upon Layer.
You seek affection
You wish for perfection
But don’t you see how beautiful you really are?
You hide behind shadows
But seek the light,
Your anger boils inside
But you keep it down.
For once don’t “be a man”,
For once just cry on my shoulder,
For once just let in,
For once, I’ll be your prince.
I know you hurt,
I know you ache,
I know you yearn.
I know you shake.
But painted dolls chip away,
Glass is easily shattered.
Just this once, be yourself,
Just this once, I’ll be your prince.

I am writing an urban fantasy novel which I started during the 2013 NaNo comp. It is currently being called PROJECT GALATEA. Here is an original poem of mine that I wrote in the perspective of one of my characters:

She loves the girl,
He does not care,
This is a tug of war at best.
Is her will mine?
Is my will his?
Are the three of us not one?
Can it be there is a fourth?
Blurring lines give way once more.
Lines I swore never to cross
Are smeared away in my mind, like chalk.
She is me and I am her
And he is me and I am him
But how can that be?
Intertwining threads—
One whole of a marred tapestry,
Grotesque in its beauty:
Half divine, halve mundane.
You ask me who I am.
I am that I am, that I am that I am.
Perhaps twice more—
Perhaps less.
Like a delicate delectable flower
You devour my willpower in earnest,
As a puppet-master you assert your power.
What will I do when my will wilts?
I sleep in a cocoon of tranquillity,
Helpless as can be.
I watch him raise the gun,
I watch her lower it.
Mind over matter or to follow the heart?
He clicks the trigger.
Or perhaps it is she.
Grimly I see that it was me.
I’m a starburst fully ignited.
What is it that you have incited?
Piece by piece I’m chipped away.
Open the door. What do you see?
Four doors and a fifth still forming.
Each door leads to its own labyrinth,
A Guardian Minotaur at every turn.
Who dares brave such a path
To find the true honest Me?
Who am I, you ask?
I might as well be a mirror.
I’ll reflect what you want to see.
Until one day you see no more.