This was included in The Paperbook Collective which welcomes poems, stories, photos and art from around the globe. You may want to check it out.


My quiet self likes

Music most

And pots of tea

And buttered toast.

She likes to curl up

With a book

And chocolate

And take a look

At worlds created

By another,

On the pages

Writ by author.

She loves to play

Around with words

Archaic ones

And ones absurd.

She loves to giggle

At her thoughts

And loves to love.

She loves that lots.


My other self,

The one that’s loud

Is garrulous

And far too proud

Of little things

That folk delight in,

Her entertainment

Is, to quiet, frightening.

Quiet tries

To loud ignore

For really

She is quite a bore.


They both reside

Within my heart.

I’ve tried but

They won’t come apart.

The quiet one

Shakes her head, at times

With embarrassment

At the loud one’s signs

Of being found out

As a fraud.

Too loud then

Pleading to her God

To quell the stupid

Voice that fears,

Resists all closeness

Except those dear

And shuns

The world –

While laughing.

Quiet one

Just sighs.


The quiet thus

Embraced humanity

To rescue fear,

Imminent insanity.


They must co-exist

To save myself

From the abyss.