I hear myself talking to the radio;
the shock-jock stops pushing words
into my vehicle,
a pause, as if he is listening.
I don’t get paid for my opinions
my place is to be a listener, a non-combatant,
just ears and a vast echoing space between them.
The dead-air threatens to kill its audience.
The broadcaster voice gets louder as his mouth
moves closer to the microphone.
He knows! He heard my counter-arguments
and had no reply!
Then the radio signal is lost,
static nothing but blaring static,
I don’t turn the sound off
now the car has to listen only to me
as I carry on a heated conversation
inside my talking head.
A Colloquy of Perfection
David J Walker
It was before words were created
to be misunderstood
Before a colloquy could be called
To describe the
depression or crying or dying
Around a primitive campfire
Long before numbers were ordered and
used to count the cost
Of a contest tossed into the flames
Before innocence was lost
In the names of
prophecies of profits hired to host
A holocaust of descriptive investigations
That’s when
The last time
The world claimed to be
Perfect
As for the Silence of Clouds
By David J Walker
How random the trek of thoughts
Floating through the grey ether of imagination
In connected but disassociated ways
Like stray clouds
Passing by with
Nothing to say
Each a form of its own meaning
Needing to be painted on a canvas
of thick paper and plain words
A descriptive colloquy pray
Prayed and then captured
Before it disbands and
disappears forever
Before threatening storms
Will you wait for me
till the moon parts the clouds
and the lake looks serene ?
A reticent encounter;
I want to speak through-
silence. A shadow play will do.
Mystic nights weave-
a conspiracy. The insects
hover like words.
A lamp ? No I will
burn my bridges to illuminate
the river.
Between the math-
and a story lies
the bloody corpse.
Satish Verma
Weather Colloquy
I have seen the storm-
cometh with angry tones
steady in its wrath
dropping massive hail stones
I have seen the sky-
wet earth to its core
steady with its rain
pelting down forever more
I have felt the hot sun-
naked fire upon my back
steady with its heat
so fierce was its attack
I have endured the cold-
winter blasting all about
steading with its ice
wind gusts with mighty shout
I embraced the Spring-
soothing weather to me
steady with its renewals
of birds, flowers and trees
Robert J. Lindley, 05-21-2015
“Never once doubt that my love will survive,
Blessing you always while you are alive.
When our hearts beat no more, love we will share.
All of eternity love will be there.”
So you would say to me, but you were wrong:
Love’s but a blossom frail or a brief song,
Withered the petals, the music off-key.
Sometimes I think that you never loved me!
Far from eternal, as poets have said,
Love disappears long before we are dead.
Pain rules your body now, anguish my brain.
I’ve loved you all my life. Was it in vain?
“Can your love help me now? Can your love cure?
Can it relieve the pain I must endure?
I’m in a prison; old age is my crime;
And, though I long for peace, death takes its time.
Yes, I remember that flowery speech
Made when recovery seemed within reach.
Hope now has dimmed for me; faith too is far.
Sometimes I doubt that God knows where we are!
“Still I do love you, child, and I do bless,
Even without a smile or a caress!
This final illness I’ve no control of --
It will be over soon -- never my love.”
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