A Question of Expression, A Collection
Andrea Zoppo

 

A Question of Expression

Trying to express an emotionless state

A state of which has overwhelmed me for quite some time

All the while holding a chewed up pencil in my hand

Staring off into the different fonts of Microsoft word

Deciding which to choose

Pressing my fingertips against a keyboard

Pouring out words, syllables, and funny little phrases

Trying and trying to express a state of which no words seem to express

Spilling out these hollow sounds

Of what my heart and soul would say if they possessed

The means of language

(The grunts, growls, and moans of my silly little thoughts)

Each word is like a drip of blood upon a blank sheet of paper

Crimson puddles swell up on crumpled napkins

Splashes of deep red smear on my computer screen

Why do I do it?

Crying words instead of tears

Because…

I ran out of Kleenex

 

 

Clumsy Angel

From a heavenly perch behind the sun

A golden harp was left unattended

Strolling alone G-d’s clouded garden

Obliviously wondering about

Can a formless form conceive of love?

A misplaced step sends me to a mortal death

Mistakenly, a fallen Angel

           His arms were there

           He picked me up

On my own

I tried to begin my way back

Emotionally building a stair case to the stars

I tripped over a sunbeam

           His hands caught me

           Before I, in mortal form, was ever hurt

On my own

Again I tried

Even prayed to G-d

A colorful path shown to the sky

I slid off the celestial rainbow

           He was there

           He wiped my tears

On my own

After all that time of trying

My wounds finally healed

I set off for my place past the moon

Soaring free

A flaming Asteroid hit me

Broke one of my wings

           He bandaged it up

           Through all the times in an angelic hell

           He was there

On my own

I fell in love

With him and all his security

All alone

I looked

           He was gone

           Nowhere In heaven

           Hell

           Or earth to be found

           Just me

On my own

A formless form

Of pure feelings in a stoic life

            Is he a dream?

            No

            Just a man

And me

A clumsy angel

On my own

 

 

Copyright � 1998-1999 Andrea Zoppo
Published on the World Wide Web by "www.storymania.com"