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Board Administrator Username: mjm Post Number: 3639 Registered: 11-1998 |
Honorable Mention this is a love poem like no other Treezaa (T. E. Ballard) The man is dead and so is the woman there is nothing but the thought of love and it is waiting here on the page. Do you hear it now? Almost a voice, almost a call and it could be a mother a child it could be a sound the sound of your self alone in a room. Name it. It wants to be named. Call it. Your first word--cat, dog did you say cup, bowl with your small fingers wrapped around a spoon, did you cry? Empty, empty pointing to a house, a tree and did they say no, no the people you love did they correct the sound the sound of your voice calling? The man is dead but so is the woman there is nothing here once you said love but someone played with a word named it house, tree and you said no, this in not at all what I mean. |
