Inanimate Until

a poem could be about being a poem could be about being a spirit could be what it means to me will never be the same as what it means to you

 

To you I am words jangling as a windchime,

unpredictable rhythm with repetitious pitch

 

you find comfort in my serenade

the familiar hollowness that makes me ring

 

You know my song in the darkness

as I tremble at your slightest touch

 

every tethered note of my music

is anchored in splinters

and rusts in rain

 

You are air

I am wingless

inanimate

 

and somehow you

who say you are nothing

make me

come alive

Reviews

[no tell writer]

Very well written, love this it's brilliant

[Rocans]

Quite a good write. Your fourth stanza is masterful. Excellent stuff.

[MAC]

this is brilliant...sigh

[David L. Nelson]

These words are well welded to my eyes in deep appreciation. You have the voice! I would like to read more of your work, and so I hope you will continue to post. Where might I hear your music?
Thanks for reviewing my work too.
Happiness@U,
David

[ZeeArsonist]

this is the f*ing brilliant. it reads with such a hopeful desperation. i think i was holding my breath as i read. I have missed reading your work. nicely done, my dear!