The whisperers whispering

Willow tendrils in the wind

They wisp in and out of subconsciousness

A plague of the unseen

They harry and harass, poke and prod

Applaud my embarrassment

Fiends of over-confidence

I would tear them from my skull

Crush, perhaps, even caress

Turn their whispering upon themselves

If I could, I would, but can’t

They skitter behind tired eyes

Tug on earlobes

Venture down an aching spine

Like the shiverers they are

Cold breaths of the not yet dead

They’re killing me


Without kindness

And so I beg

Shout in silence

Plead with eyes, not voice


The reality, truth

Misunderstood, I appear normal

Perhaps, too normal

For no matter how much I pray

Scream with my an inside voice

I realise to others

They, like me

Are inaudible

17 thoughts on “Inaudible

  1. I love this Richard, it is one of those poems I wish I had on paper, there is something about the screen that steals so much from such powerful pieces with so many metaphors. I feel the same when I publish poems online. This is such an amazing poem, it needs time, it deserves time, to be read in dusk by a candle.

      1. You should have a poetry exhibition, Richard, I think you might like it 🙂 It is how I showcased my poetry before moving to India and starting my blog 🙂

      2. 🙂 Well, you don’t have to be there 🙂 My two first times, I wasn’t there. The first time, I framed my poems and hung them on the wall in a coffee shop. The second time I had Angel Placement card holders holding my poems (lamented in plastic) placed on different tables in a coffee shop. I didn’t sign my poems either, so no one knew who I was. Sometimes I would just walk by outside, smiling when I saw people reading my poems 🙂

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