my words

my words


and unquestionably


to compel

my articulation

anything but accidental

the unerring


of soliloquy

my words


execution by elocution

this kind of sermon

anything but devotional

the antithesis

this gift to gab

double edged

my tongue / my sword

my words

massacre by monologue

obituaries written

and rhetoric recited

to perfection

inside my head

just in case

you inspire them

a welcome death

by dictation

my words

a curse

and a blessing

which is worse?

a. duncan, 2017

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"She would fill endless notebooks with stories about the characters in her life, their impressions, words, friends, lovers, inspirations, fantasies. She spent her days dreaming up worlds where they fit together in visions; the if only, the never again, the someday. Those who knew her best would describe her as a creature with a clear and sometimes painful sense of herself; furious with ideas and convictions, to a point that she frightened love away with discernment and a relentless strength of character."

5 thoughts on “my words

  1. Hm. Which IS worse, to be blessed or cursed with your tongue? I like this. This is how I perceive it, though it may not be intentional:

    I like the religious aspect to it. The devilish sermon, the concept of burying, of death. Very ritualistic. Almost sounds like you / the person within the poem is burdened with choosing between the blessing and the cursed nature?

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Fascinating reaction on this piece. Thank you so much for taking the time to read it, to consider it. There is definitely ritualistic aspects at play here. The feeling with which it was composed.. it’s a reflection on the ability to articulate. And the responsibility that comes with that sort of gift. To describe the beauty in something/someone, or destroy them.


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