This silence has to be an inflection point;
I watch it tie its laces, flutter its incoherent wings,
as if it has a destination;
as if this solstice of unspeakable quiet
will roll over to reveal the symphony
chiselled from its muted sighs.
I plot unspoken words and unspent time
on disinclined axes,
the graph swallows me whole
into a black chequered sea;
a chipped Pinocchio in the recycled belly
of a made-in-China whale;
with an uncertain wooden cast
that grows longer each time I speak,
each time I lie about the whispers
in the calligraphed trees
of our halcyon days.
But the silence is leaving.
I watch it twist its roll neck, brush its gum-weary beak,
as if it has a destination.
In its place, a slightly askew rectangle
framing years of fine dust,
each speck risen from a memory
swept frugally into the blue dust pan;
no x-marks at the interlocking
of sticky fingers of a sweetened past.
In its place, the symphony, one hundred and eight violins,
playing in discordant mute,
to the rhythm of a giant wooden cast.
The personification of silence and the visuals are incredible. I think of what I have read of what you have written, this poem is the best. It is truly a work of verbal art.
LikeLike
Thank you so much. Appreciate your comment greatly.
LikeLike
I love your use of personification here: “I watch it tie its laces, flutter its incoherent wings,
as if it has a destination”–such amazing use of words!!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks so much C.C π
LikeLike
Sailing seas of freedom’s mind..
waves of life flowing..
eyes.. ears.. arms..
legs.. hips..
feet.. towing
a dream of
life.. shores
of us
live so
bright
wHere
rest of
dreams
sea breaks
life’s Sun..:)
LikeLiked by 1 person
Wow! This! This is brilliant and full of gripping imagery. Brava!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you Grace π
LikeLike
“as if it has a destination;
as if this solstice of unspeakable quiet
will roll over to reveal the symphony
chiselled from its muted sighs.”
You drew me into your piece…very well done.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you Abhra π
LikeLike
You have a gift of words, my friend. Very nice.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you Alex.
LikeLike
sometimes the silence, is preferable to the truth – very subtle
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks so much Bill.
LikeLike
Loved your personification of silence. Some of the lines just made me quiver with recognition and anticipation:
I watch it tie its laces, flutter its incoherent wings,
as if it has a destination
a chipped Pinocchio in the recycled belly
of a made-in-China whale – although from the sound point of view, perhaps an inversion like China-made might work
each time I lie about the whispers
in the calligraphed trees
of our halcyon days.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you Marina, greatly appreciate your comment and suggestion!
LikeLike
Unspoken words eat at a person really. Silence generally (for me) cannot leave soon enough!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Very true.. unless what’s going to replace it is even worse!!!!!
LikeLike
cool images in this to make your point… my favs were the gum-weary beak and the pinocchio part
LikeLike
Thanks so much Claudia π
LikeLike
I’m not a fan of silence, especially the kind you’ve written about here. I love the graphing of unspent time and unspoken words. Peace, Linda
LikeLike
Thanks for stopping by Linda..glad you liked the graph part π
LikeLiked by 1 person
so many visuals with this… my favorite “I watch it tie its laces, flutter its incoherent wings,”… cool way of putting words together
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you π
LikeLike
You are on fire!
Love these:
“I watch it tie its laces, flutter its incoherent wings,
as if it has a destination”
“I plot unspoken words and unspent time
on disinclined axes”
“one hundred and eight violins,
playing in discordant mute,
to the rhythm of a giant wooden cast”
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks so much π
LikeLike
So Silence has a name, & tattered wings & oxford shoes; & to keep its secret, to honor its muteness, you have to imagine a full orchestra pounding out silent screaming sonatas. Wow, you really have my mind twisted into a cortical pretzel. I like the lines /as if this solstice of unspeakable quiet/will roll over to reveal the symphony/chiselled from its muted sighs/; damn fine wordsmithing.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you Glenn… appreciate your comment. Sorry about the “cortical pretzel-ing” π
LikeLike
Silence can be deadly. It is the unsaid things that scare me most. The creativity in that second stanza us really cool. The whole Pinocchio bit and the calligraphy trees is really cool.
LikeLike
Thank you, don’t know where the Pinocchio inspiration came from..but am glad it worked π
LikeLike
Just the title is worth the admission ticket. The poem that follows deserves a prize. Thanks.
Greetings from London.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks so much, you’re very kind. Warm regards from India π
LikeLike