Not SpeakingA Poem by James O'RourkeWhen those close won't speakSomewhere along the line, we stopped talking No weekend visits No letters or cards Forget the phone can sing Your face seems blurred by time Obscured in curls of fog Your motives clandestine When did you choose the bog? Down in that sludge you sit My hand is here for you to take Ears ready for your voice saying this: "I was nothing but a fake" Admit you were just playing a part Some two bit actor Warming his hands and heart On the pain of others All I can hope for Is that by some unseen accident We will play the same chord And some kind words may be sent. © 2015 James O'RourkeAuthor's Note
Reviews
|
Stats
108 Views
2 Reviews Added on March 2, 2015 Last Updated on March 2, 2015 AuthorJames O'RourkePortland, ORAboutWhat's up y'all, Been a hot minute since I've been on here (somewhere around three years.) Anyway, I've been thinking of knocking the cobwebs out of my brain and jump back into writing again. .. more..Writing
|