It’s been just another day.
Not a bird nor sun in the sky.
A lonely day.
Just me lying on the wet grass.
A silent day.
Yet silence is the sound of my heartbeat,
Rattling its drum in my chest.
Silence is the sound of my blood,
Wheezing though my ears.
It’s been just another night.
full of internal interrogations,
Of memories and question marks.
A Lonely night.
Just me 3 am and an empty highway underpass.
A silent night.
To find silence is the distracting buzz,
From derelict steet lamps.
Silence is the echo of my passing from the light,
Into the dark.
Through these empty days and nights.
Through your lips that tease,
With no chance of words.
Knowing silence is the suffocating tendril,
that twines through our throats.
Silence is the serial killer of personal choice.
It’s been just another day.
No life to be seen or heard.
A lonely day.
Just me in my p.j.’s with self defeating pillow talk.
Silence is a lover of depression,
As silence is the sound of autumn leaves being crushed underfoot.
© 2008 Tikarma Vodicka
Poetical Impressions, Silence, 16th August 2010
You may remember this poem. 2 years has flown by quite fast. At least for me.
I would love to post something new. All the distractions of the past week though have left my mind blank and my muse fleeing the chaos.
So I decided to go with an old poem and then next week I’ll post something new. I decided too that for a least a little while I’d like to post an old poem and then a new one.
It’s interesting for me to look back. I hope it will be for you too, especially seeing as these waffles didn’t exist back then. It will be interesting to see how much I rememeber *lol*.
A concept that haunted the back of my mind for some time. I don’t remember a whole lot from this poem. I do though remember the broken record in my head. The very last part of the chorus of Lou Reeds’ Perfect Day kept going over and over in my head. “You just keep me hanging on, You just keep me hanging on.”
My muse can whine. 😀
I put up with this I reckon for half the day before giving in “What!” and this was the poem that resulted.
I think some the tune of Perfect Day slighty haunts this piece but in the end it was not the theme of Lou’s song that was the point but the atmosphere, the strain that lay inbetween his words, in the strings, his vocals and piano.
Silence. It’s haunting, it follows us and taunts us and for some becomes their worst enemy. I was suffering pretty badly from post grief and depression at the time I wrote this poem and I’d slipped into a very bad habit. Silence.
No radio just the quiet of my surroundings. It can get very quiet out here where I live.
Now I’m someone who has a permanent sound track in my head. So to find myself in place of silence, so still in surrounds and mind. That was scary for me.
Instead of freaking out, thankfully I embraced it. In doing so I discovered the heart of silence that grips us in the quiet night.
It’s our own internal fray, our own inability to express ourselves and our feelings for that time. It is our fear that leaves us speechless and withdrawing.
There’s no such thing as true silence unless you’re in vacuum and if you do ever find yourself in a true vacuum you won’t live enough to appreciate it. *sheepish grin*
The sound of our own heart beats, blood rushing in our ears, the whisper of breeze, the call of a distant bird, traffic over the hill. The ticking of the clock the sound of your own footsteps.
They can be sounds in the wrong momet that drive us to distraction and despair highlighting how alone we are, but they needn’t be, they can also be sounds that ground us to existance and re-enforce our reality and choices amongst it all.
This is the heart of what I was trying to express at the time in the poem.
My choice was to grab the broken record in my head, break the habit and turn the radio back on…but at least the quiet lasted long enough to write this piece.
Wishing you all a great start to your week and a lovely week to come.
If you’re interested in the song Perfect Day you can watch/listen to it below.