Poem: the silent talker (p.s.)

6 inklings - saturday

talk to me
in silences and stares
these words are wrapped in gestures
in frosted air

keep your words
revel them with string at the tip of your loose lips
your sinking tongue
heroes are still heroes

just leave me this –

– a postscript
a quiet hello in a dim-lit past
that travels
like a helium balloon
swiftly in the sky

– cumuloq ❤


I haven’t really written a poem that rhymes in a while. This one is a bit of both the free and rhymed verse. When I was younger, I used to love to rhyme like crazy, till the structure of the poem was practically confined in it, in an ABAB form. As I grew older, and was taught many new lessons by people far wiser than me on the art of crafting words and lines; I learnt that a poem didn’t necessarily have to rhyme to have rhythm. Sometimes an implied rhyme is more powerful than an actual rhyme. It hints at our nature for predictability in a verse, and in a poem, and our role, as poets, to break this predictable system.

Personally, I love to rhyme. It’s half the fun of writing a poem. So I always add a hint of a rhyme in every poem I write. Even though there is no rhyme at all. And I guess this is part of the theme of the poem above, to do something without actually doing it.

Till next time,

cumuloq ❤


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