Kay Pike

Painter, Illustrator and Photographer

Pandemic inspired poetry
by Al Shaw Ki

Too Much Quiet


It’s six something AM.

Magenta and orange kiss the night sky as it blushes into a bluer hue.

The dawn settles in as the moonlight is disintegrated to that of a twinkle.

The creatures stir as the birds begin their twilight serenade.  I too stir.

There is a restless imbalance of things.

There is too much quiet.


The world awakes as nature calls.

There are many, but no calls for me.

Communication is contactless.

My human communication device is still. Unmoved. Unattached. Silent.

Yet, there is a visceral connection, somewhere. Out there in the virtual wilderness.

In the stillness of the dawn, I contemplate belonging.

Even the rustling leaves are communing with one another in the soft breeze.

The insects buzz an immutable language unheard by humans.

There is too much quiet.


My device is set to vibrate. I wait for the alarm to ring.

For there is no other vibration to anticipate.

Seven, six, five, four, three, two, one.

The sounds of a transcendental ringtone delights as it is only a temporary reminder to rise and greet the world. A button is pushed to cease the gentle noise.

Stillness. Nothing. Quiet. Only the air seems to care.

There is no reciprocity besides my beautiful twilight alarm.

There are no other creatures to commune.

No one to kiss. No one to serenade.

Soon, it will be dusk.

There is a restless imbalance of things.

There is too much quiet.


Words by Al Shaw Ki


The Loudest Noise

The loudest noise is silence.

A symphonic orchestra resounds inside of my mind.

People are living inside of my head, not paying rent.

There are silhouettes dancing around my soul to an impervious melody.

Anguish, seclusion and anxiety fortify cloaked notes of hope.

The heart screams to be heard against a sea of rushing clamor.

My mouth is open, yet sound is inaudible.


Words by Al Shaw Ki