Orphans

Words unkempt
Yet linked together,
Slaves to stanzas
Sovereigns of the sounds they shape.

But no ears to hear them;
No minds to inspire,
Their author commits them;
Condemned to retire.
Or brought out in handfuls,
Recast to the page,
Building new meaning,
Hiding their age.

Show us your notions
Your abstractions,
You words in my head.
Then form a fresh version;
Unfamiliar instead.

Boring bored words, unite
Give me your understandings,
Show them my colour,
My souls;
You words.
You lonely words.

Peter Silvester.