Dialects
We speak with the tongues of men,Rough and smooth, sharp and soft,
Brusque and off-putting, smooth and welcoming
Some thoughts a simple word, some unpronounceable
Some languages belonging to families
Sharing sounds and structure
Some standing alone--no other kin,
Living in harsh isolation from their neighbors
Angels I imagine speak words
That fall like music on the ear
Perhaps that's the problem.
Perhaps we have too little music in our words.
© 2014 by Tom King
Please login or register
You must be logged in or register a new account in order to
Login or Registerleave comments/feedback and rate this poem.