The silence of this house
speaks volumes about the people
who used to live here.
I contain the fragment
of their memory.
They speak to me,
only I hear them.
Only I respond.
They remind me of the hello
and goodbye of life.
The coming and the going of
the real world.
Better here, in this imagination,
where voices still speak and argue.
Where embraces are still exchanged and felt.
They are all gone now, these people.
These people allied through
common ancestry.
Children now adults.
Adults now children.
Not living in one voice.
Not loving in common bond.
Still I hear them.
Walking footsteps
crafting images
for my decapitated heart.
silence
excellent poetry. One of your very best.
Powerful and profound.
This is an extremely powerful and profound write. I really like the way you come to convey such deep thoughts inthis. There is also a true feeling of brilliance to this, as it sort of brings forth the feeling that nothing exactly like this has ever been expressed within words before. At least, that is, in this exact way. Ilike the ghost-like atmospheric quality of this, seemnly written and expressed through your deeper emotions. Poetry such as this truly speaks for itself, as it is what poetry is, and should, indeed be all about. I sincerely admire your gift of creating such worthwhile work, and I sincerely respect you as true and exceptional poet. Take care.
"Still I hear them.
Walking footsteps
crafting images
for my decapitated heart." - An excellent closing to this. Works perfectly, as it left me feeling a very high level of emotion.
new_wave_franky
March 12, 2011.