None Shall Read
I live in poetry I cannot write
ink fails my hand to spill my life
though the page is no longer blank
they are not enough to reveal my life
the void filled with smoke's fury
something there, the question begs
how may existence be confirmed
when words fail their greatest charge?
Rhyme would save if form was king
prose by tradition, muse invoked
the trip of ear connecting lines
allowing flow to carry notes
greatest is the symbolic match
repetition at the end of verse
stanzas blessed with magic's touch
matters not when the middle fails.
The tome is imagined and then put aside
pages pulled against the spine
two covers promise with titled text
coming soon, the breadth I am
the volume heavy with spirit's void
estranged from the soul’s scribbles
what's come before to fill this space
what's meant to follow, what I embrace.
My breath attempts to fill the void
a voice to strive where script failed
conversation meant to cross the gap
between ledge of self and world at large
when my speech is forced out
all that's heard is a sad rasp
to substantiate the there to here
the silence drowns the waiting ears.
Ask privacy to work its guile
reluctance gone when none may watch
only self will hear the tale
poetic journey put to page
release the tongue, tell no lies
this would be apt is conscious knew
what to bring to diary’s womb
the void is found, not the birth.
In the end I live in the void
understated by writ of word
the reasons why are numerous
though in the end I always fail
I'll blame the words for their guilt
though they serve this master's call
no matter how I strive to express
my life in poetry none shall read.
© 2017, Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170316.