Poems
by Richard
LeDue
Our Collective Silence
Wispy clouds aching for a metaphor,
while all we see is a headless dove
among a sky zoo
that proves how captive we are
to our imaginations.
Our own personal wars raging
inside heads,
where our collective silence
is a firefight over a few yards of dirt
we refuse to believe a soul.
Our white flag made of binge watching,
reposting funny memes,
and celebrities
fooling us into seeing our couch
as a victory parade.
All of us losers:
owning nothing,
eating poison
too blatant for secret ingredients,
defeated long before we die.
At Least It's Something
Losing a staring contest
with the Northern Lights,
only to close my eyes and wonder
if they're god waiting
for another church
ruined by tone deaf hymns or science
looking to be unravelled
like a mess of cords
behind a big screen TV,
but at least it's something
that makes me think
about the dust
being another sibling I barely talk to
because it proves we might just be
a speck against a black curtain
we call “the universe.”
More Loneliness Than Hellos
The snow whites out more love
than it should these days,
leaving our breath to dance
its way into the Milky-way
alone.
Our unsaid words afraid of being
buried because of snowball futures
thrown at no one,
although we're certain
someone is aiming to hurt us.
Watching our own footprints
without noticing we're lost
inside a circle shared with so many,
who also don't see the way out
a hello.
