Friday, July 30, 2010

YOU SPEAK TOO MUCH, FATHER NED

You speak too much, too much, Father Ned,
Don’t you know that it’s boring?
The boy in the corner, nodding,
Is one wink away from snoring.

You speak much too much, Father Ned,
Don’t you know no one is listening?
Why not converse with your thoughts instead
And save us the suffering.

Why do you speak so much, Father Ned?
Your words are devoid of meaning;
Yet like an incessant woodpecker,
Tok, tok, tok, you keep on repeating.

We have no attention deficit,
Maybe a short attention span;
You’ve got to know when to quit
And give us an intermission.

You speak too much, too much, Father Ned,
Your words are a monotone;
It’s not that we are ignorant
But we’d much rather listen the phone.

You speak much too much, Father Ned
It’s not that we find your words boring;
Like air they flow, in and out our heads
And fall through the cracks in the flooring.

Why do you speak so much, Father Ned?
Don’t you know no one is listening?
And why do you write so much, Father Ned?
Don’t you know no one is reading?

Copyright ©2010 by G. Newton V. Chance

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George Newton Vivian Chance (Trinidad and Tobago) -- member of the Poet Society of Trinidad and Tobago, http://poetssocietytt.blogspot.com/ and the World Poets Society, http://world-poets.blogspot.com/ -- born in Tobago on 3rd March 1957. While residing at Rio Claro was inspired to write over a hundred poems at the turn of the Millennium. Hobbies include playing wind instruments, building computers, observing nature, reading and writing poetry. Believes that the power of a song is in its ability to evoke emotions by the marriage of lyric and music but that music without lyric can be just as powerful, that lyric without music can also be just as powerful, that there is music in the lyric and that lyric can be simple yet profound. Also, in this the age of computers, would like to model his lines after simple and efficient code and, analogous to Object Oriented Programming, achieve most of his imagery from nouns and verbs, avoiding the bloat and excess of unnecessary adjectives. This is what he aspires to attain in his poetry.

I've known rivers:
I've known rivers ancient as the world and older
than the flow of human blood in human veins.

My soul has grown deep like the rivers.

I bathed in the Euphrates when dawns were young.
I built my hut near the Congo and it lulled me to sleep.

I looked upon the Nile and raised the pyramids above it.
I heard the singing of the Mississippi when Abe Lincoln
went down to New Orleans, and I've seen its muddy bosom turn
all golden in the sunset.

I've known rivers:
Ancient, dusky rivers.

My soul has grown deep like the rivers.

by Langston Hughes

the poet writes the poem;
the reader gives it life
(© G. Newton V. Chance)
Make somebody happy (© Alexander Ligertwood & Carlos Santana)

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