Wednesday, October 28, 2015

A Poem by Richard Schnap


These are the grey days
When the skies of our minds
Are perpetually overcast

When the books we read
Are filled with blank pages
By anonymous authors

When the clocks that mark
The passage of time
Don't have any hands

When we ride on buses
Only to return
To where we started

When we listen to songs
That all sound the same
Bursts of white noise

When we hear voices at night
And find it's us talking
To someone who's not there

Richard Schnap is a poet, songwriter and collagist living in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.  His poems have most recently appeared locally, nationally and overseas in a variety of print and online publications.

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