Binding chords

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I’ve never seen you,
wouldn’t know you
 if we passed.
You voice would not be familiar,

but your words!

Not spoken but written,
strike me
as an anvil does a tuning fork,
vibrations pitch-perfect .

Deeply resonant,
they resound harmonically,
explode ,
compound.

Confounding,
how could this be?
Words make a man weep?

Your words.

I’ve heard them all before,
but never like this,

You pluck and pull
chords within me,
desperate to be sung

You are either angel
or demon.

Please,
be an angel.
Let me know
the sweet sounds
you stir in me
are true and honest,
and real

But, angel or demon
I am lost to you.

You need do nothing more
than write the words.

I am yours.

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  • COMMENTS
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9 Comments
tazz317tazz317over 11 years ago
CHARISMA ATTACHES TO THE SENSES

thought, words and doing. TK U MLJ LV NV

LeBrozLeBrozabout 17 years ago
~~

This poem was mentioned in the Archival Review thread, in a picking through Lit's archive of over 34,500 poems.

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duddle146duddle146about 17 years ago
Word power.

Though never having met ~ your words encapsulate me.

LeBrozLeBrozover 17 years ago
~~

Creative mind has such power

To wrap you & tie you

In helpless fascination.

flyguy69flyguy69almost 20 years ago
Destructive obsession

An anvil on a tuning fork sounds like a singular event! Obsession can take its toll, however. Great poem, tt2u

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