I long for the raised voice the howl of rage or love
at least I used to because
the howlâs now barely
a whisper and the rage
passed away last September
from gout and old age
and it would appear
no coroner is called
for a death caused by boredom
and sheer lack of thought
no obituary is penned
for a means to an end
the howlâs sister is here though
the aunt of canât
sheâs a lazy-eyed sniper
taking potshots over hotpots and
flicking hot oil in your face
now i look for the chance
to raise my voice in anger or love
and throw back my head and shout but
nothing comes out
© Copyright, H Paul Goodwin 2015
Response to our Inspiration Call on June 15, 2015
www.facebook.com/Creativetalentsunleashed
Photo Credit: © Colin Anderson/Corbis/Royalty Free Photos
Categories: Featured Writer's


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