Syllables waiting for a voice

Syllables waiting for a voice

(Two poems and one photograph that I clicked one night in London. The other poem that goes with the picture can be read here.)

Silence doesn’t exist anywhere
Not even in a voiceless stare.
The mind invents sounds to see
Even a future that may never really be –
Sometimes I call them syllables waiting for a voice.

The headlines screech and scream
Even when they mention a poor deleted dream.
Rocks stand around clutching stanzas,
Wind doesn’t reach dense foliage extravaganzas –
So yes there are quite a few syllables waiting for a voice.

See that man surrounded by the babble of strangers –
Hear the babble whimper because silence endangers
Its existence. And yet we think
That silence is on the brink
But silence is simply syllables waiting for a voice.

This voice that I am talking about could come
Disguised as a smile, a glance, or a caring caress for some.
Even a word sent across digitally will hug.
A sniffle, a grunt, and even an imperceptible shrug
Can energize syllables waiting for a voice.

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Syllables waiting for a voice_the newspaper poem

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Syllables waiting for a voice – a poem

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Arvind Passey
18 May 2017