The Sight of Silence

Enter the Newcomer, the Door now Closed
With bewildered eyes, seemingly deaf
A sea of faces before her, A myriad of expressions
Though their ties to the place where they emote be nearly singular

Nearly one, their bodies pretend to rest in cold-blooded seats
Bodies positioned, facing a single direction
“How quite it is”, “How numb the feeling” says their eyes
reading, fidgeting, pacing, staring…

“Oh, how I wish this monotony be broken” says their faces
waiting, waiting, fidgeting, pacing, Glaring!
A giggle Escapes a quite reader; An Old Woman begins conversing with a New Parent
The clerk signaling, “Next, Please”

Inspiration as Passion

Walking, Drowning…They seem the same to me
For no sooner do I take my first step, two more needed are added for good measure
Passion, she calls herself, and no man lets her be
For every pain she has given, there too was pleasure

I set my sights to woe her and make her mine
I called out to her in earnest; Yet, she turned her head as if responding to a faint whisper
Her glance present only for a short time
Drowning, I lamented, “I miss her”

Our time was short together in the heat of youth
Her smile kindled something in me that now grows cold in her absence
I stopped and fell to my knees having realized what I have failed to deduce
Not a Matter of Form but of Essence

For the one who smiled and what was kindled were one and the same
How funny my actions seem now when the answer was so plain

A Prisoner of My Past

Great Lies Beneath the Sea
Drowned in Latten Pillows
fluffed in dire need
desired for the first time

Tick
Tock

Slap the second hand
Pull the first
Now we have begun

The Carpenter of Dreams

Great works wrought by troubled hands
Later Vanguished
Later Resolved
Are your works truly grand?

A Critic
Troubled hands haunted by its own children
Frantic
Troubled hands are troubled no more

Fingers, Slowly Unclench
Shaking, Growing Still
Breaking ties to its craft
Only to return to the workbench