Silent Sounds - Poem by Jennifer Rosario
it must be…
yes, I think so.
because everyday now
I walk with pen in hand
if only my fingers weren't as blue...
Yes, I believe it to be.
Every time, around this time
the same hour when the big hand strikes the chord
sounds so hollow
like the empty case
of a forgotten music box
words are accompanied by an orchestra full of ghosts
lugging instruments that don't breathe a sound.
So play it loud- over and over again
until the redundant repetition
beats the chorus into the verse
until the piped pitch
forces the bridge to burst
and all meaning gets lost
in a river of murky sediment.
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The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
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I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You