I'm No Musician!

Poem By Cheyenne Rhon

Strum those strings,
Those melodious lines,
Assembled for a soul to move,
Tangible to the nails.

Strum those strings,
So aligned, so firm,
Speak aloud, respond,
Please vibrate to the touch.

Strum those strings,
Though conflicting words,
Produce a paradox of noises,
Is it out of tune?
Or just…

A language for a musician,
I'll never understand.

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Other poems of RHON

Mechanical Acts

Must I mute my heart?
Dull that artistic ring,
Sensor the imaginative flare,
For a world that is unaware,

Unknowing Slumber

Something within your unconscious-self,
Exists within foreign skies and expressive eyes...
Though, I smile and I laugh for a moment in time,
Somewhere in my past, future or another life,

Empty And Ajar

A burning hole above my chest,
Is black and shallow,
In the shape of a lovers hand,
That left a mark as an open scar.

Out Of The Many

The shine from a star's light,
Illuminates my dark sky tonight.
Though, you may not notice my delight,
I am grateful for the beautiful sight.

Thoughts Do Rot

Because death is inevitable,
And my expiration is unknown.
"I don't hate you" are just words,
When you're staring at a white wall,