deepundergroundpoetry.com
Not Speaking in Tongues – Day Sixteen
(a sonnet)
How still I’ll learn to hold my native tongue,
To stay betraying echoes in this cave.
The silence, every word I might have sung,
How swift I will become its muted slave.
I’ll speak in shocks of foreign language now,
As harsh to me as any raven’s call,
A dialect that’s gained from nine-tails’ mouth.
A mimic, false as smile that bares its fall.
But in these shadows, narrow blades release
The fetid stains I’ll bring in sanguine flood.
The words no silent throat could hope to cease
Or true conceal, the writing of my blood.
I’ll let forgotten stones keep safe my songs,
‘Til time and place and hope find their belong.
16/30
Words: 113
Unique Words: 90
#NaPoWriMo2019
NaPoGloPoWriMo2019
How still I’ll learn to hold my native tongue,
To stay betraying echoes in this cave.
The silence, every word I might have sung,
How swift I will become its muted slave.
I’ll speak in shocks of foreign language now,
As harsh to me as any raven’s call,
A dialect that’s gained from nine-tails’ mouth.
A mimic, false as smile that bares its fall.
But in these shadows, narrow blades release
The fetid stains I’ll bring in sanguine flood.
The words no silent throat could hope to cease
Or true conceal, the writing of my blood.
I’ll let forgotten stones keep safe my songs,
‘Til time and place and hope find their belong.
16/30
Words: 113
Unique Words: 90
#NaPoWriMo2019
NaPoGloPoWriMo2019
Published 16th Apr 2019
Author's Note
Part of me remains in a meadow at forest's edge on the outskirts of Atlanta where I laid a life to rest.
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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