In stories and skeletons I’m easy to find, yet some cowardly folk are told to grow one of mine.

You've got diamonds in your eyes, Or a bird of prey in your sight. Children chase after me as I take flight.

Photos, film, To capture, display, A crime not committed, But made to look that way.

Proverbially stuck between the answer and a stick; one is to tempt me, the other is to make sure you submit. Horses love them; in fact, you may use the stick to dangle me, to make them move.

You can pronounce me many ways But I'm still the same thing. I hold flowers and trinkets I can be ancient or modern. Porcelain, glass, metallic or clay, On your table or mantle is where I stay.