Silence

Three days and little to no dreams
run down by the machine in me composing no new tunes
all those helpless melodies
that could have been whispered or sung so delicately
have all been castaway by the silence of my mind.

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i know the feeling. when nothing is there and it seems like a waste of time trying, but this poem is a melody in itself. not quite so helpless...
)Kaleb
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very well worded.
þ
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Does God impose
these silent summer days,
heavy with my own listless promises
to cooler tempoed ways?
Am I intrigued by privacy
and slipping off to keep
a rendezvous with Shakespeare
and a quiet hour of sleep,
where waterfalls and meadows,
and treasures such as these,
combine to complicate my memory
of a brilliant April breeze?
sg