“A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds.” -Percy Bysshe Shelley
Friday, September 2, 2016
Deaf, dumb and mute (me)
If you ask me Today
I'd undoubtedly admit
I was built this way,
it is my arch-i-texture
rehearsed.
If you ask the same Tonight-
I might not answer,
despite having something nice to say.
Either way, those questions get slightly worse
all the time
So I'd rather not ask, it is not my task,
I consider this a gift,
I try to listen louder
than anyone can Here.
Painting by Fernand Khnopff, Silence (1890), [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Definitive
Confidence is the fear of failure overcome by intention and action. Deja vu- a memory of the future. Something indistinct. Yet distinct in a...

-
1. Of my Soul a street is: Preternatural Pic- abian tricktrickclickflidk-er garner of starfish Picasso...
-
When I wonder do we first think we Are welcome to the world? From the abyss of a watery womb we hear outside of Us w...
No comments:
Post a Comment