As it's been more than a week, I feel that perhaps it's okay for me to bump this. I should probably included an example of what I was talking about to start with, so here's a poem from the perspective of one of my figments - Archie Kafziel.
There is a place I go when I need some quiet,
where I turn when my mind craves peace.
A tree-dotted park with sweet-scented bushes, fragrant grass and soothing shade.
I'm not the only one who comes here,
my refuge is on public land.
It doesn't matter, though, that it isn't my own.
The soft sounds of people are as welcome as birdsong.
I'm never alone here, with so much life
around me,
and to sit beneath a spreading tree is a pleasure I'll gladly share.
The noontide breezes winnow through my hair here, like the tousling hand of an
affectionate other.
The sun's tickle on the leaves also
dances across my skin,
and I feel safe when I hear a waterfowl's plunking dive.
I showed you to this place, urged you to see the mundane wonders with me.
You laughed with me when we tried to climb too high,
we shared the almost-infant glee of
feeding a duck and her brood.
I cannot always come here,
nor are you always with me,
but the recollection of this little Eden
soothes me when my world is torn.
When there are things I cannot change, and
wrongs I cannot right,
if I feel trapped and afraid, alone with my
pain,
I seek solace in the echo I carry with me of this blissful sanctuary.
The birds we fed,
the words you said,
climbing trees and scraping knees.
If ever I'm in danger, or if I have been
deceived,
if I'm hurting,
alone or weeping,
that's where I'll be hiding, be it in the park or
deep inside of me.
Additionally, here's one from the perspective of another of my figments - Mendax.
I'm a glib-tongued deceiver,
a charming trickster out for a thrill.
I've tasted life on the other side of
the line,
but I never got respect.
Now my honeyed words make me sinister,
not as saccharine as I was seen.
I had my doubts,
but my smile's real now,
and I feel dangerous.
I like being sly and slippery,
always staying just out of reach.
I'm proud to be shady,
and my regrets rarely pain me.
I'll lie to you with an open grin,
then tell you a truth so you're taken in.
It feels good to fool others,
and don't I look just fine?
My old suit crashed and burned,
but these threads have a reptile grace.
Why did nobody tell me it felt so
good to be bad?
Maybe ladies won't think I'm childish,
now that I've got style.
I'm taken more seriously now,
and that suits me just fine.
I'm pulling off smooth moves so sweet,
and now I understand myself.
I prefer to be petty,
brutishness is simply not my line.
I'm choosy about the places I'll raid,
and I almost always bluff.
I can take a stand with an empty hand,
and I'll still come away with the prize.
I won't slit your throat,
but you shouldn't wager with me,
'cause I play with a
pack of lies.
I hope that this provides sufficient example of what I am suggesting.
