Without Words
Made into a song by Richard Silkebakken. To download and play the music, choose MP3 format, M4A format, or WAV format.
I cannot tell you,
words will not come,
but if soul should speak to soul
what need for tongue?
Let my eyes tell you
when they gaze into yours
and my soul gets lost
in their deep corridors.
Let my lips tell you,
barely touching yours,
of the tender love
in a heart that adores.
Let my hand tell you,
clasped into yours,
while love speaks
without words.
Let your music speak,
with the setting sun
in the soft hours of twilight,
that we are one.
— © Shirley Anne Leonard
Legends of Heroes
What will we choose to remember?
What immortal verse have we learned
when we must reach deep down,
in the absence of sound,
to tap an internal resource?
What will we give for an answer
when we’ve broken and lost all our toys,
and the absence of noise
leaves an unbearable void,
and silence is splitting the night?
Where are our legends of heroes?
Which one shall we use for our guide
when all roads say “Detour”
and our towns are no more,
and buildings stand hollow inside?
— © Shirley Anne Leonard
Published in The Compass
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Playing Dress-Up
I’ve been playing dress-up all my life,
as a little girl, young lady and a wife.
But, deep inside, I’m still a little girl
though I’ve been pushed into a larger world.
I marvel as I see how others live!
The flair, the suave, the polished look they give
as if they were quite capable, thank you,
of anything the world might ask them do.
But I — I hesitate when I should leap,
and jump ahead whenever I should creep.
When all around me things are going fast
I opt for sitting still till they have passed.
I’ve been playing dress-up all my life,
as a little girl, young lady and a wife.
But, deep inside, I’m still a little girl
though I’ve been pushed into a larger world.
— © Shirley Anne Leonard
A Noble Proverb
“Iron sharpens iron,”
so they say.
But what if I
am only made of clay?
Obliteration —
if I get in the way!
Iron sharpens iron.
So does stone
if rough, and with a
hardness all its own
to grind the weapon’s
cutting edge, and hone.
Iron sharpens iron.
Make me so
the wheel will grind
deliberate and slow,
and sparks will not inflame
emotion’s glow.
Iron sharpens iron.
Let us talk
and mind the words we say,
lest they should walk
toward battlefields
and kill us on the way.
— © Shirley Anne Leonard
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