dragging is a learned subject
like a soft feather floating inward
and outward with swift forward
feeling
I saw the gate open
but only slightly
and inside
everything was exactly as I wanted
but not really
the curse of blindness
is revealing
like the words that make our ceiling
I want to sound like me
but what am I?
I have no real voice or reason
like the song of something more
something else
something before.
am I a sound?
like bells in the background
swinging, swung and sullen
I might be a sound.
– sheila c.
sheila sea 
Beautiful! Sheila C, I’m not sure I completely understand your poem, but the words cascade beautifully and I especially like ‘the words that make our ceiling’.
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Haha, thank you.. it’s about sadness in a way. Intangible, breathe-less sadness.
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You have a voice, and it is a beautiful voice. Your poems are quite profound explorations.
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Thank you, Roger. You’re too kind.
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There is a subtle musicality about this piece that I really enjoyed; the use of rhyme and repetition gave it that extra rhythmic quality that makes a poem resonate in the brain for a while.
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Thank you, I really appreciate that. There’s not much else I can ask for as a poet. 🙂
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I feel likewise.
Music is a huge part of my life and, as a result, a huge influence on my poetry; particularly Jazz and Hip-Hop.
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Absolutely.. is essential. ❤
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