To not hear


In her head
she talks to herself
drawing a blank
on her voice

So she went in search of it
to the top of the hill
which once
preserved her cries

The wind on the run
claps in winnowing chaffs
The water pinned to the slopes
no longer moves in sound
The trees do swoon, but
only if bare

She shouted
bellowed
wailed, and
laughed
In the hope that
the emptiness would
leech the
sound out of her
ToΒ find a voice
that does not have
to be her own

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15 comments

      1. πŸ™‚
        A question fellow world saviour,
        Do you think the tone of my poems would ever change? I’ve noticed that it is pretty much always along the lines of sadness and depression…even when I try something bright it just doesn’t make sense or comes off as sarcasm. I’m not complaining, just curious.

        Liked by 1 person

      2. In my humble opinion, you seem like someone who is either very opinionated or very sponge-ish in your intent to unlearn depending on the people you are with πŸ™‚ this may mean that your language follows patterns in terms of style and structure, but definitely not in the moods it has roots in or stirs in readers. From what I have read, you seem like a diverse writer. Your poetry is really really good! If I may suggest, cultivate prose like a “calm hindu cow”. Chew, chew and chew until you can digest it, then spit it out as colors in people’s lives πŸ™‚

        Liked by 1 person

      3. Whoa. That, sir, is an interesting analysis. I guess am as much opinionated as sponge-ish…on regular intervals. Haha I feel a little more confident, that is, it is on the positive scale now. πŸ™‚
        Writing a prose really does scare me though. But i’ll give it a try soon. I’m working on something, I guess. Let’s see if that works out. Thanks for taking the time out to talk about it! πŸ™‚

        Liked by 1 person

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