Poem: The Quiet World

Source: Unknown

In an effort to get people to look
into each other's eyes more,
the government has decided to allot
each person exactly one hundred
and sixty-seven words, per day.

When the phone rings, I put it
to my ear without saying hello.
In the restaurant I point
at chicken noodle soup. I am
adjusting well to the new way.

Late at night, I call my long distance lover, 

proudly say I only used fifty-nine today.
I saved the rest for you.

When she doesn't respond, I know
she's used up all her words
so I slowly whisper I love you,
thirty-two and a third times.
After that, we just sit on the line
and listen to each other breathe.

~ Jeffrey McDaniel

Poem: The Quiet World

Source: Unknown

In an effort to get people to look
into each other's eyes more,
the government has decided to allot
each person exactly one hundred
and sixty-seven words, per day.

When the phone rings, I put it
to my ear without saying hello.
In the restaurant I point
at chicken noodle soup. I am
adjusting well to the new way.

Late at night, I call my long distance lover, 

proudly say I only used fifty-nine today.
I saved the rest for you.

When she doesn't respond, I know
she's used up all her words
so I slowly whisper I love you,
thirty-two and a third times.
After that, we just sit on the line
and listen to each other breathe.

~ Jeffrey McDaniel

Poem: Sudden

Source: The Guardian

If it had been a heart attack, the newspaper
might have used the word massive,
          as if a mountain range had opened
                      inside her, but instead

it used the word suddenly, a light coming on

in an empty room. The telephone

fell from my shoulder, a black parrot repeating
                        something happened, something awful

            a sunday, dusky. If it had been

terminal, we could have cradled her
as she grew smaller, wiped her mouth,

                  said good-bye. But it was sudden,

how overnight we could be orphaned
& the world became a bell we'd crawl inside
& the ringing all we'd eat.

~ Nick Flynn

Poem: Sudden

Source: The Guardian

If it had been a heart attack, the newspaper
might have used the word massive,
          as if a mountain range had opened
                      inside her, but instead

it used the word suddenly, a light coming on

in an empty room. The telephone

fell from my shoulder, a black parrot repeating
                        something happened, something awful

            a sunday, dusky. If it had been

terminal, we could have cradled her
as she grew smaller, wiped her mouth,

                  said good-bye. But it was sudden,

how overnight we could be orphaned
& the world became a bell we'd crawl inside
& the ringing all we'd eat.

~ Nick Flynn