the melody extinct
and here i am
searching for
sound under the
remains of echo
subtly resting if
not nagging like
dust upon my heart’s
surface… unmoved,
untouched, barely
used, an organ
whose tireless
pounding behind rib
cages, never once
heard before… still
i strain. i shall
unmake the noise, and
unravel silence from
your core, restore
the truth from where
glances concealed
you far too deep
from my eyes
Tag Archives: sound
lasso you close
walk-ins flank the halls and the
rhythm-less tiles dull footsteps
even further making you, suddenly,
inaudible to my senses; you approach
without sound, startling me and
feeling, at once, stripped down
and unprepared, as though disrobed
of everything but my own vocal chords…
i’ve never felt so vulnerable sharing
with you these narrow spaces; and you
paused a moment to glance, if at
nothing, listened to the song already
coursing through me, as we pass its
chorus, “i love, i love madly,” wound
in a loop to lasso you close to me
poetry
the words, they mock me
the meaning, they haunt me;
each sound entices me from
the diphthong to lascivious
consonants whose steady,
mellow whispers seduce me…
this poetry… and quietly
i submit, let its foreign
tongue explore, colonize me
© mr gahon 7/26/15
loneliness
i wish it were your heart
to decipher
distant hieroglyphs disinterred
from tombs of ordinary days,
weeks and months—
to wake you from dormancy;
the stillness of winter should
hear relief in spring,
her cacacophony inside each
rose blooms and utters
ooohs and aaahs beyond their
morning whispers; i listen
for your heartbeat in the air
and translate them into rhythm
whose sound will make sense
of doubt, strengthen what
intuition to enlighten these
solitary nights, this cavern
of my own loneliness
sound
your gentle hands shall unravel
the mystery of these chords,
the emblematic sound seeking
freedom from the eminence
tucked away in these key
variations and where melodies
desire to be unlocked and
found necessary as oxygen:
find this single note to feed
mass deprived souls
© mr gahon 3/27/15
when sound
when sound does
not complete you,
i strain to hear
behind trees, the
rustle of fallen
leaves, shortness of
breath finally before
the whisper to
pacify all doubts…
i cannot be so still
nor mind speak
against instincts