The cans blow up the night
All is quiet
All is still
A rose by any other name
We breathe a quiet dust
All is quiet
All is still
They come to take away the noise
I scream inside
The cans blow up the night
All is quiet
All is still.
Such a contrast between outer stillness and inner screams. Rather ominous, the cans blowing up the night, and "they come to take away the noise." Have a good Wednesday, my friend.
We are never satisfied are we? In fact we want both silence and noise. The noise of everyday living is a comfort whilst the silence of solitude is a blessing too. Sometimes it is better to talk and sometimes to say nothing. Poets are lucky we can write it all down in silence!
I will be honest and say I found this rather haunting. Maybe the sounds of the cans blowing up. And the contrast of the stillness and the inner screaming.
They come to take away the noise.. gosh that is so disturbing even against the quiet and still rose-like night.
ReplyDeleteSo much quiet is so unsettling and sinister: I scream inside inside is eerie too. "A rose by any other name" appears beautiful yet frail.
ReplyDeleteSuch a contrast between outer stillness and inner screams. Rather ominous, the cans blowing up the night, and "they come to take away the noise." Have a good Wednesday, my friend.
ReplyDelete"They come to take away the noise"
ReplyDeleteVivid and haunting imagery captured in the most simple form. Accomplished!
Ouch. We call it "silence," and quite often, as you show, "silenced."
ReplyDeleteJae Rose,
ReplyDeleteWhat a very distressing situation...especially when on the inside; the fear is unseen...
We are never satisfied are we? In fact we want both silence and noise. The noise of everyday living is a comfort whilst the silence of solitude is a blessing too. Sometimes it is better to talk and sometimes to say nothing. Poets are lucky we can write it all down in silence!
ReplyDeleteThere seems to be quite a bit of noise when all is quiet, all is still.
ReplyDeleteI will be honest and say I found this rather haunting. Maybe the sounds of the cans blowing up. And the contrast of the stillness and the inner screaming.
ReplyDeleteSomething wicked this way comes.