TheSilent Loudness


Loneliness, Music, and The Poor Birds


All the branches have fallen off the tree to join the grass and rustled leaves
Each bird either flew or fell from their nests, which no longer rest
Because the branches wanted to leave
Just after their green and orange leaves

Had said goodbye, leaving little stubs of themselves behind
All to awkwardly wave as they pass by

On their way to parallelity

Where their hearts stop at each encounter
Before the train leaves but still after

The thought of togetherness

Of tree with leaf and with singer, song
The night before the notes rang wrong
An hour before the worms ate holes
A minute before the branch fell off
The second the band began they stopped

The piano player saw (in black and white)
The songstress crying under dressing room lights
While next door the percussionist slit his wrists
To the tune of the string section smashing their violins
Outside the sax player passed his pipe to the bassist, a racist who drank till she could smile and convince herself to stay a while
At least to finish the set, although the place was less than a quarter full the bartender said
But what did he know anyway asked the tree branch bird
He didn't know who listened and who just heard

Submitted: Saturday, April 26, 2014
Edited: Saturday, April 26, 2014

Topic of this poem: loneliness


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  • Rookie - 913 Points Susan Lacovara (4/26/2014 10:32:00 AM)

    Your images leap from the page, vivid and honest. I became a fan immediately! Who does listen....and who eles does hear......still I wonder. PEACE (Report) Reply

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