Poetry (words)

Right now

I like how a ticking clock sometimes becomes silent, as if it knows you’re trying to hear it. So obviously shouting the seconds, almost throwing it’s voice across the room. Time passing, lapsed, forgotten. 

I dislike the rustling of carrier bags full of shopping, but caught in a tree they find a different sound. As if released from the burden of weight. Tethered to a branch, but almost free. 

The door slammed in anger sounds so delicate when silenced by the gentle hand. Like the ferocity absorbed in the silent click of the latch. 

The hip hop booming from the traffic “look at me, look at me” repetitive beats in the summer breeze. No meaning, no matter, just as long as it’s heard. 

I like the silence and how it feels to be cushioned in its grip. 

Standard

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s