Speak Lively The Poem At Hand Poem by Mary Angela Douglas

to Miss Alberta Harris, the best speech teacher ever

oh please do not read the poem that way
in that single celled replicated deadpan way
with its slightly mournful tone imitated tonelessly
endlessly at open mics all over the country
each word is a nova, paint it any color with your voice
but for God's sake paint in your own colors,
your own voice; you're not there to just make noise
each word is a world a planet suspended
each phrase could be rearranged upended
in infinite combinations inflections of the honeyed gold
do not speak so bought and sold
oh sound like a xylophone pinging
temple bells
you know very well the span of monotones
speak instead the prairie grasses in a cyclone
a lost star colliding, past all deriding
speak the poem in a thousand variations
prismatic through the sun as seen through raindrops
one by shining one
make it sound like Chopin if you can my lambs
in a failed disguise. 'THOSE ARE PEARLS THAT WERE HIS EYES, HIS EYES HIS EYES'
call to it like the dove of rare renown
the bird with fancy plumage on its head
lest it abandon you and every word you said
no matter how spangled in conceit
to the very very dead.
lest past eloquence weep at you
putting the zombie audience to further, quite intractable sleep.
speak the poem from the ghostly deeps
ENUNCIATE. Angels stand by to aid you.
the reverberating Stage through all Ages!
mary angela douglas 8 april 2021