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Silence

By
Our voices are numb
The black sun creeps
unwillingly across a
myriad stars—
There is silence in twinkling…
In burning, in hating!
Silence seeps through the grass
balming our cacophonic lives—
creating calm, caustic euphony
of hope and a contradictory despair.
The clock cannot be heard
But it ticks…
Life slips into a labyrinth
of purple twilight.
Twilight does not speak…
Our eyes are still
The wall is rigid, and the
clock’s stuck—shattered.
The dials are haywire
in the tormenting silence,
the room is dumb,
reason has turned blind
There can be no speech
No return: just suffocation
and an anesthetized passion.
Life runs on without
the usual drone of its
less than one horsepower
steamless engine:
life is silent in its
fetid hopelessness…

Comments

Russell CJ Duffy said…
bloody hell, that is one bleak poem. i enjoyed it but i am a little shocked at its austereity.
9:38 PM
Sue hardy-Dawson said…
So very dark yet vivid in its melencholy
11:33 PM
Rashmi Patel said…
silence, clinging to moments like a parasite...

very vivid!
9:19 AM
Rashmi Patel said…
silence, clinging to moments like a parasite...

very vivid!
9:21 AM
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