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MerlieJ 2d
The ominous call
as the crow caw
A humming to my left
fills my eardrum with nothing
on a crisp autumn night
Talent
by Michael R. Burch

for Kevin Nicholas Roberts

I liked the first passage
of her poem―where it led
(though not nearly enough
to retract what I said.)
Now the book propped up here
flutters, scarcely half read.
It will keep.
Before sleep,
let me read yours instead.

There's something like love
in the rhythms of night
―in the throb of streets
where the late workers drone,
in the sounds that attend
each day’s sad, squalid end―
that reminds us: till death
we are never alone.

So we write from the hearts
that will fail us anon,
words in red
truly bled
though they cannot reveal
whence they came,
who they're for.
And the tap at the door
goes unanswered. We write,
for there is nothing more
than a verse,
than a song,
than this chant of the blessed:
"If these words
be my sins,
let me die unconfessed!
Unconfessed, unrepentant;
I rescind all my vows!"
Write till sleep:
it’s the leap
only Talent allows.

Keywords/Tags: talent, poem, poetry, poet, book, sounds, write, writing, words, art, creation, creativity
Jessica Aug 12
I can hear what it sounded like
A million years ago
It was quieter
I can hear a pine needle drop
On the rain battered forest ground
It sounds like the barely audible clink
Of harmonics on a guitar
There is probably greatest virtue in the surrender
Of rustling trees blown by archaic winds  
We could all learn from that sound
To be carefree and beautiful
in the hands of nature and time
Segmented letters.
Sounds, pauses, communicate.
Leaning on the Word.
They're just never-ending sounds.
Never-ending noises piercing through my ever-sensitive ears.
Each sound causing pain to travel through my clouded mind.
Shocking it.
Awakening it. 
Reminding me that I'm alive. 
That I'm a person. 
That I feel.
They're never-ending sounds. 
They're not stopping no matter how hard I try to shut the doors in my mind, blocking them.
They don't stop.
Every sound is heightened.
And my mind can't seem to comprehend reality anymore.
I can't seem to structure my thoughts in a linear motion anymore.
Every thump, every voice 
Seem to be piercing through the crevices of my mind 
Crippling it. 
Every door shutting,
One after the other, with every subsequent sound, and I feel lost.
I feel lost without my subconscious. 
I feel alone. 
And I just lay there.
Looking alive, healthy, "sleeping".
But little do they know, that with every crippling sound they make, I am rather vigorously digging at the skin under my fingernails, creasing my forehead, and screaming.
Internally.
Screaming at my subconscious to burst open the door.
To come out and balance my jungle of thoughts.
To keep them in order. 
and arrange them into their respective rooms, 
But I'm still screaming as I write this. 
Rather shakily.
Can't you tell? 
The screeching sounds of the outside world have become too loud for my subconscious mind…
So it barricaded itself
Wanted to disappear 
Leaving me all alone with my cryptic thoughts, 
Each one entangled with the excruciating sounds of reality.
© Hannah.
Amy Perry Jun 20
The musicality of the moment,
Brought by the way my tongue
Flicks against my palate with
A satisfying smack like bubblegum tricks
Is a greater bliss than the pauses
Between a Mozart piece
Where the essence of the music lies.
The peace, the stillness, the absorption
Of higher vibrational photons and forests
Of enchantment, reading manuscripts,
Prescription bottles, poetry, philosophy,
Thirsty to fill a void grey and dull,
Coloring my world with the sound of language.
Finding new ways to contort and contemplate
Writing and meaning and verse.
Channeling insights from the universe.
abp
SammyJoe Jun 11
Oh how I am yearning for your gentle touch
With each tender movement that I love so much
Your supple fingers all over my keys
Is most definitely soothing and puts me at ease
I'm impressed by the way you always know what to play
Each note you instruct my sound trusts and obeys
The acoustic energy which fills up the air
Is the sound of my melodious tunes that we share,
each time the ebony and ivory component of me
awaits an exuberant moment each time you play me.
In the distance
On the highways
I hear the trucks
Silently unmask
Everyday challenges

Socially distant
Carrier of loads
For smooth
Functionality
Silent
Driving force
Early morning observations
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