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Open Poetry #47
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| Open Poetry #47 |
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Friday |
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Huan Yi Member Ascendant
since 2004-10-12
Posts 6688Waukegan 
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. The phone Rings Once Twice Three times What words Can evade The decades In between No one waits No one comes With soothing balms Or joyous reckonings So what is left As suits both ends Is silence . |
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| © Copyright 2011 John Pawlik - All Rights Reserved | |||
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steavenr Member Elite
since 2003-11-17
Posts 4058 |
loved your ending...it is...masterful great write |
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Marchmadness Member Rara Avis
since 2007-09-16
Posts 9271So. El Monte, California |
Haunting write, John. Just beautiful. Ida |
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ethome Member Patricius
since 2000-05-14
Posts 11858New Brunswick Canada |
I too thought the ending capped this cascade of thoughts off perfectly. Eric |
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Sunshine
Administrator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-06-25
Posts 63354Listening to every heart |
But...the phone rang... and someone picked it up... a connection of silence... profound. |
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faithmairee Senior Member
since 2011-01-05
Posts 1441Poe Haven, USA |
very nicely penned...i enjoyed your poem alot. There must be a poem in here somewhere. |
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s1nfully_1nn0c3nt Senior Member
since 2003-10-26
Posts 1105Watertown, NY |
I'll echo whats already been said.  Enjoyed.-Trina |
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Huan Yi Member Ascendant
since 2004-10-12
Posts 6688Waukegan |
. Thanks for reading ................... Silence I have known the silence of the stars and the sea, And the silence of the city when it pauses, And the silence of a man and a maid, And the silence for which music alone finds the word, And the silence of the woods before the winds of spring begin, And the silence of the sick When their eyes roam about the room. And I ask: For the depths Of what use is language? A beast in the field moans a few times When death takes its young. And we are voiceless in the presence of realities--- We cannot speak. A curious boy asks an old soldier Sitting in front of the grocery store, “How did you lose your leg?” And the old soldier is struck with silence, Or his mind flies away Because he cannot concentrate it on Gettysburg. It comes back jocosely And he says, “ A bear bit it off.” And the boy wonders, while the old soldier Dumbly, feebly lives over The flashes of guns, the thunder of cannon, The shrieks of the slain, And himself lying on the ground, And the hospital surgeons, the knives, and the long days in bed. But if he could describe it all He would be an artist But if he were an artist there would be deeper wounds Which he could not describe. There is a silence of great hatred, And the silence of great love, And the silence of a deep peace of mind, And the silence of an embittered friendship, There is the silence of a spiritual crisis, Through which your soul, exquisitely tortured, Comes with visions not to be uttered Into a realm of higher life. And the silence of the gods who understand each other without speech, There is the silence of defeat. There is the silence of those unjustly punished; And the silence of the dying whose hand Suddenly grips yours. There is the silence between father and son, When the father cannot explain his life, Even though he be misunderstood for it. There is the silence that comes between husband and wife. There is the silence of those who have failed; And the vast silence that covers Broken nations and vanquished leaders. There is the silence of Lincoln, Thinking of the poverty of his youth. And the silence of Napoleon After Waterloo. And the silence of Jeanne d’ Arc Saying amid the flames, “Blessèd Jesus”--- Revealing in two words all sorrow, all hope. And there is the silence of age, Too full of wisdom for the tongue to utter it In words intelligible to those who have not lived The great range of life. And there is the silence of the dead. If we who are in life cannot speak Of profound experiences, Why do you marvel that the dead Do not tell you of death? Their silence shall be interpreted As we approach them. Edgar Lee Masters .................... Thanks again John . |
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