Sad Soliloquy Poem by Ananta Madhavan

A poet said:
I feel I am a ventriloquist.
I squeak in many voices,
Surprising myself; sometimes
In jabbing, jerky rhythms. One day
I was a prophet with a pitch so shrill,
I could hardly hear myself,
A bat's ultrasonic frequency.
Another day I warbled in sham-Italian.
I sang an aria in falsetto. I declaimed
'To be or not to be', though
That was not my question. Finally,
I spoke to myself in whispers, wordlessly.

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