Poetry, notes, and marginalia by William Michaelian
My quiet speaks the loudest.My words have bravado far beyond their means...little hussieshow they tend to pose, to evokeresponseBut my silence I give to youas a giftfrom my eyesdo you hear?
Two opposite sides of the same coin so to speak. I guess life is often just a matter of perspective...
Loud and clear, Annie, like a rainbow-colored snowflake.It is, Stickup Artist. And sometimes we can put our hands right through it.
You are a ghost, but don't tell your flesh... (or your beard) - they don't want to hear it. All that Is, is silence ~
So I hear, Donna. Hair today, gone tomorrow.
Ah. Yes. Indeed.Beautiful, William.
Thank you, Stasja.
Oh my, this message about the power of silence has been hitting me everywhere this week, I can hardly believe it. First in a book, then on two other blogs and now here this morning. It would take a novel to explain the circumstance it is helping me with right now, but I will say this much, synchronicity ( and serendipity )strikes agian! Thank you William and everyone who commented! Deb
And we thank you, Deb.
So people, maybe even most, go through their whole lives without hearing something like this.
Or without hearing at all. And that is a tragedy. Thanks, Kevin.
This is beautiful and true, William, and it makes me happy to think it can be experienced, and offered, and understood.
Hey, Gerry. Thanks. Come back for seconds any old time.I’m happy too, Gabriella. And I could say more, but I won’t, lest eye talk too much.
You funny William ( twice now, giggle)...
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