Here is a playful poem about the silence essential for me being an outspoken, unspoken word artist. Also, this poem teases one of my rare envies, that of having musical talent — which I do not have.
Calling Inaudible
If I had
Some musical skill
I’d compose theme songs
For friends and passersby
But a greater wisdom
Has granted me
A silent kind
Other wise
The curdling reprisal
Of care he attune
By all means
Might serendipitously bequeath me
Silent as well
In the same plays
Stuck in my ahead
Joyfully unable
To get it out
