"Everyday in every way I’m getting better and better" - Emile Coue
Tuesday, July 31, 2018
Sounds of Silence
on some good days,
silence is a gentle
bed of summer
filled with whirling cotton
puffs
but these times are few
as there sits this silence
beside me
digging into my eyes
(i can't sleep)
rifling me out of my ear drums
of tranquility
& pouring darkness in the cracks
of my skin-
sometimes it is a phlegm
that sticks to the tongue
i rinse with alcohol
drowning it with yellow-spotted pills
but it
keeps growing a music
of wailing wind, dripping faucet
& sobbing grave stones
(i can't sleep)
how do you keep this silence
silent?
Posted for the dVerse Poets - Poetics - Sounds of Silence by guest blogger Dwight Roth. Please join us when the pub doors open at 3pm EST. For this write, I tried to get into the head of an individual with mental health issues/depression. Thanks for your visits.
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Grace, you have captured it well. I have heard such people suffering with isolation, at the same time as their brains are filled with non-stop voices. The wailing wind and sobbing grave stones are so powerful.
ReplyDeleteA frightening poetic, a dystopian diatribe, and a fine use of the prompt. You had me at /pouring darkness into the cracks in my skin/.
ReplyDeleteOh I do love how you describe this description... I think we have felt part of this a few times... but knowing that there are many who really have those dripping faucets and darkness spilling into the cracks of your skin.
ReplyDeleteSuch an insightful poem, Grace, that expresses that dichotomy of being human - we need the silence but we also need noise. A poem that gets to the nitty gritty, especially in the lines:
ReplyDelete'...there sits this silence
beside me
digging into my eyes
...
& pouring darkness in the cracks
of my skin'.
That last line is magnificent.
ReplyDelete& pouring darkness in the cracks
ReplyDeleteof my skin
love that. You've explored insomnia so well here.
Yes silence invites company, sometimes, whether we like it or not
ReplyDeleteVery vivid write. Grace
much love...
Your haunting last line will stay with me, Grace! An amazing write!
ReplyDeleteGrace, you have really zeroed in on this one. I love all of the imagery of silence staring at you, wailing winds and sobbing gravestones. Well done.
ReplyDeleteNice description: "pouring darkness in the cracks
ReplyDeleteof my skin"
I think silence must not really be silent. I mean, at the very least, there's sound in how we breathe ... sometimes heavy, sometimes light.
ReplyDeleteEven the dead breathe. Can't you feel us? ;)
The silence sure must not end or ends too long. The mind can be a mystery indeed.
ReplyDeletegreat irony in the line "keeps growing a music"; the loudness of silence sometimes
ReplyDeletehow do you keep this
ReplyDeletesilence silent?
Especially when the silence is deafening! Yes, Grace,very complicating to the idle mind!
Hank
Silent- yet a cacophony of sounds and signs. Beautiful
ReplyDeleteThe eerie silence, haunting!
ReplyDeleteAwake, our minds are never still but if we can't quiet our minds, we don't sleep...it's a vicious circle!
ReplyDeletewonderfully written ...beautiful, and silence is so loud here!
ReplyDeleteA very poignant and powerful write Grace - I do hope those days where 'silence is a gentle bed of summer filled with whirling cotton puffs' will return in abundance xxx
ReplyDeleteThat last line is priceless Grace. This whole poem is so true to how silence can be. Lovely writing as always! I wanted to let you know that I started another blog prompt site much like Magpie Tales. A photo will post every Sunday, and you have all week to link up and join in. I would love it if you participated. If you decide to here is the link, https://thesundaymuse.blogspot.com/
ReplyDelete