One note

Georg Kolbe


I’m becoming

one note

can you hear it?

more hollow than a moan

can you feel my shoulders giving it shape?


no one else hears me

they cover the air with spittle and shine

foot walking around and around the center

no one dares touch

except with them as the star

of their own imaginations


It’s scary to think which way that goes


I’ve lost my skin nowadays

anyone can walk right in

pass right through and walk out the hole

in my heart

more flutter than beating

birds have strong but brittle bones


 I remember being that child

the one

more than one note


14 responses

    • Thank you Zen Doe. Your comment is much appreciated.
      I was a little shocked while writing this if truth be told. It flew out like a caged bird might fly, glad to be free and wondering where to go. I didn’t even know it was being published….just thought I’d hit the update button.


    • Thank you for the encouragement, Susan. Broken indeed. I see hope in the poem though….reaching for healing remembering feeling the wholeness of childhood.

      I believe there’s always spiritual assistance…especially needed when confronted by human indifference. I’m trying to find a more balanced compassionate response to human trauma. It’s so much easier to be cerebral, observing, distant….like a deer in the headlights.


  1. I keep returning to this without knowing why. Echoes perhaps. Voices unheard. A note that quivers in dusty air. A note that shivers the membranes of mortal life.


    • I am so often rough around the edges, George. Your response gives these feelings such a balancing refinement I rarely feel…but much more than this. You say “echoes” and the poem opens another door. A beautiful gift my friend….thank you


      • Hmm, I do not perceive any roughness in your writing. A sincerity, yes. Which can strike some as lacking refinement, perhaps. But I think what they really feel in such sincerity is a lack of mechanical efficiency. Your writing is far from mechanical. You remind me of Mari’s writing–honest and natural. Which speaks to me far more clearly than the mechanical precision that some produce. So my thanks to you.


  2. Pingback: The Poetics of Light #3 « Poetry of Light

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