Chapbook
Oliver Prendergast
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Table of ContentsLoading...
1. XI2. Perpetual Loudness
3. Faint Sounds
4. Silent Journey
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For my cat.XI
Drinking in the bright golden sun,
I softly card my fingers through
Her mousey fur.
My fingers running rivulettes through
The small sea of golden brown and black.
Wide green eyes take me in,
Peering, leering how I shift back,
And forth on my feet.
Dashing
under the bed,
Drinking in the bright golden sun,
I softly card my fingers through
Her mousey fur.
My fingers running rivulettes through
The small sea of golden brown and black.
Wide green eyes take me in,
Peering, leering how I shift back,
And forth on my feet.
Dashing
under the bed,
At the booming sounds of my
Speaker.
For as long as I can remember,
Shes been our little monster,
Stalking the halls. Dozing into
Warm and hazy and yellow,
Pools of light. Sinking herself into
My chest, resting atop of my legs,
We fall asleep together.
Speaker.
For as long as I can remember,
Shes been our little monster,
Stalking the halls. Dozing into
Warm and hazy and yellow,
Pools of light. Sinking herself into
My chest, resting atop of my legs,
We fall asleep together.
Perpetual Loudness
It's quiet in my room.
Save for the occasional high pitched squeaks,
Of my chair shifting when I move around,
And the low hum of my fan,
Pushing cool air around my room.
Its louder in my head,
With the bass booming so low
That I can feel it in my fingertips,
And the melody so good,
That I know i'll be singing it for days,
Like a top, that will never stop spinning.
Round and round my head the tune goes.
The tiny feeling of the perpetual loudness,
Like a concert, just for me,
Leaves a metallic ringing in my ears,
Made worth it by the sweet sickly
Pop music, interrupted by the dark
Beats of rap songs,
Molded together to make my night.
It's quiet in my room.
Save for the occasional high pitched squeaks,
Of my chair shifting when I move around,
And the low hum of my fan,
Pushing cool air around my room.
Its louder in my head,
With the bass booming so low
That I can feel it in my fingertips,
And the melody so good,
That I know i'll be singing it for days,
Like a top, that will never stop spinning.
Round and round my head the tune goes.
The tiny feeling of the perpetual loudness,
Like a concert, just for me,
Leaves a metallic ringing in my ears,
Made worth it by the sweet sickly
Pop music, interrupted by the dark
Beats of rap songs,
Molded together to make my night.
Faint Sounds
It's silent up top.
The quiet rush of wind
Like the whispers
Of the trees that surround me.
It's easy up top.
The absence of shouting.
Of chores to do
Of the sound of the dogs
Running across the floor,
Their nails tapping against the
Hard wood.
It's clear up top.
With a silent view of the neighborhood,
Cars racing by,
Rumbling and growling,
As they make their way down the hill.
It's silent up top.
The quiet rush of wind
Like the whispers
Of the trees that surround me.
It's easy up top.
The absence of shouting.
Of chores to do
Of the sound of the dogs
Running across the floor,
Their nails tapping against the
Hard wood.
It's clear up top.
With a silent view of the neighborhood,
Cars racing by,
Rumbling and growling,
As they make their way down the hill.
Silent Journey - An Imitation of Awaking in New York by Maya Angelou
Swaying back and forth
the branches creak,
creatures watch,
looking into me
as I walk
deeper into the woods.
The cave
lies before me silent, and I,
the traveler, in
unknown territory, suddenly become
aware.
That I, am not alone.
Swaying back and forth
the branches creak,
creatures watch,
looking into me
as I walk
deeper into the woods.
The cave
lies before me silent, and I,
the traveler, in
unknown territory, suddenly become
aware.
That I, am not alone.