This was one of my brothers poems i found after he moved away and it by far impressed me the most.
Listeners The Last Of A Kind
They stop and say that the only sound I hear is that of my foot step,
He has a hate for the whole lot of humans, so they claim,
What does he want to do with us he is no one,
Now I interject!
My name is Anthony,
Forever that name means the listener.
But here is a conversation of sound,
A orchestra of written word,
The talk of a girl who’s name is pointless,
But has the most beautiful sound i have ever,
She speaks saying:
Why don’t you join us and have some fun?
I just listen to her walk and wonder,
How would the ripple grow,
If I was to answer,
O.K.! Um... What do you like to do?
What do you mean?
The people, the lives,
Music, and love,
Happiness or sadness,
Nature or unnatural,
Quiet and loud,
Truth and hypocrisy,
Lies bold faced,
Logic and reality,
Illogic and fantasy,
Why don’t you usually talk?
I never talk.
You’re talking now!
Listen! Many have talked and i have listened,
To listen is more than just hearing,
You apply what you’ve heard, put it to action!
When sounds utter forth from my mouth it is the hundreds of lives that speak from what i have heard.
How would you know what your wife wants with out talk?!
I rest her head on my chest and say listen!
How does love feel past the sound?
Something like the chirp of a sparrow,
Or the liquid voice of my love.
By Anthony Ramsey