The Language of Silence

The Language of Silence

A Poem by Ishan Sadwelkar

A poem about the things we fail to hear.


XII-V-2010 4.00p.m



This is about

The strands of sun

Filtering diagonally through a heap of branches

On the first day of autumn

The sound of light falling on the palms of leaves

And the mute flapping of butterflies

In an open space between two graves


And the murmuring softness

Of silk against silk

And breeze over breeze


This is about

The echo one hears, after the recent death

Of a momentary thought,

And the uncomfortable calmness that follows a regret


And maybe the inspiration one gets

From the deafening roars of an audience

Hypnotizing the hero himself


This is more about the explosion one hears from

An old poem, a sudden approval of old fetishes

And the words which have just lost their originality


And maybe only for us to realize

As humans our silence is only a temporary excuse

To free our own chaos from its source


This is about a language

we use when

Others around us have forgotten what it is to be a nightmare

Amongst a bunch of accomplished dreams.


© 2010 Ishan Sadwelkar

My Review

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Featured Review

~ One word: VIVID... good one, My Brother ~ Perfection ~
~ Excellently Rendered: Prose & Poetry ~ combined~~~~~
~ Great: Framework & Creative Presentation of Format!

A Master-Work ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I'm Breathless.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jesus... I shiver, my God. Soon follow, slightly by envy. To stop, such utterly silly foolishness. To recognize, genius. As it is portrayed: in stunning Prose. That vivify again, that term. That place of expression. That hold, no word... but. Awe...

Let us not pretend, to hear. But listen, to the souls express. Progression... yes.
Let's not turn our back out of pride and again, pretend. That this not move you at some core, premise. To some decree! That you know exist. In this presented piece. Pristine. I bow, to my pride and give to this Poet. Such Regard, as it duly delivered. ~~Classical-ism~~, at its best. All Hail... this Modern Master... for such Diligence of Depths. To the very deepest Ocean Floor. Hold his breath, to fair to Bursting. The choice, that perfect. Living Clam. Return, with his prize... the one & Perfect Pearl of Poetry. That now flow, from his Breast. Relieved!
To be un-burdened. From the Creative Souls depths of Spirit. Intact & Preserved.

To the Light: of Wonderment...

To this. High Praise in deed and a most Regarded Recommended Read...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~For all that love. The written word~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yet, enough of praise. As I tire of my paltry words. This young man, is gifted. So far beyond words, and his Poetry. Will live in the heart of millions, an Eternity... To this Mark my words, predict. All should, follow. In applause, here on this page. For a thing, so rare. As incalculably Prodigious. Not, the Poem... the Poet!

Now, to more personal reasoning. The presence was tantalizing, in its contrast of Light & Dark representation. The meter of it's delivery, what stoke my heart. To such above, praises. The cadence, again. The Ebb & Flow: Masterly. Sigh to some degree, limited. Only by Youth and Experience. That will, all too soon. Mature and Sadly. Disappear. IE; And the words which have just lost their originality...
I pray this fault, an drying of privilege. Never arrive, for Ishan Sadwelkar.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Yet, the sun rise and set, on us all~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Rhythm & Rhyme, swam with Cadence. A rare treat. This Dance with Delight.
Of it all, I had but one falter. In the phrasing. That could have capture greater, in my humble opinion ~~Timeless Classical-ism~~ That hang, of a signature. Line...
That, one expression. That makes. Immortality... as are: Heroes.
I mean, to be so bold. As to present this, and mean. No disregard;

Hence mayhap, inspiration proceeding
the deafening roar of audience, sent repleting
Hypnotize, the hero. Self. Himself & Decay. Decline...

The turn around, I believe Ishan. Express, in this underpinnings. Sweeping Iliad..

Poetry or Prose. One, is the license to abbreviate. To prosed meaning or emotion. Tis the knife, that pare. Deep. To the bare~bone of utterance. The other, is add the clutter of small addition. That make, the spoken English language. Complete. An thusly, only clutter. Great Poetry. Immortally Memorable... satisfying. Pallet.

Bravo bravo. Sweet Champion. Romon... in Review. Wed.May, 11 2010.

Posted 11 Years Ago

2 of 2 people found this review constructive.


Wow simply brilliant. I love the last stanza most. The emotions conveyed in this are so familiar and strong. This is definitely a poem that has depth, insight and creativity all meshed together.

Keep Writing. ^___^

Posted 10 Years Ago

You used a great descriptive technique here in this write, which I absolutely loved.
It is surely very descriptive..I guess you can work on the closing lines, for me they did not conclude the entire write in its best way..

Posted 11 Years Ago

I love this poem also .. to hear what others do not is something we all don't have the ability to do ..
Devons is good with his reviews and i think he said it well ..abstract insight. It is very powerful, like an indescribable feeling in itself.
A poem of wonderment..


Posted 11 Years Ago

I am left breathless after reading wonderful, to listen to the things people don't usually listen to, to hear all the silences...I am amazed. Love your poem!

Posted 11 Years Ago

This is a brilliant composition! well written, the words play with the reader, you create a scene to start subsequent to that you sprout philosophys. The opening line does it "This is about..." you take charge and tell a story. beautifull. 100/100

Posted 11 Years Ago

I liked your choice of theme very much….
Nice poem…..
The wise is one who can realize the language of silence…..and it is not so easy…
To realize it….

Posted 11 Years Ago

You've done it again. This is so vivid. My ears are ringing with mute harmony. Seriously amazing.

Posted 11 Years Ago

brilliant! definitely my favourite, love it-- a poet's world is never quiet :)

Posted 11 Years Ago

very clear write. This is one of my favorite poems by anyone on this site. You say you are interested in music, and i wonder if you have ever listened to any takemitsu,
or read anything by john cage. I read a doctoral thesis on the music of takemitsu and his aesthetic use of "ma".(Silence as an active and living element, rather than vacuum) He was heavily influenced by cage.

I have become less and less concerned with philosophical underpinnings to poems- though i can see you have your ideas and they have influence- i think this poem has value beyond the intellectual practice of measuring the length of our members by comparing how much we all know; it has a very real and striking qualia, or gestalt. The synesthetic moments are striking and well composed; they support the meaning rather than being just fluff. "The sound of light falling on leaves", the echo after the death of a thought:
great mixing of the audio/visual/abstract imageries.

The silence feels as though it is meant as a protest in an abstract way. As a way of saying with out saying. I think it is very cool that you have implied that with your use of metaphor instead of just coming out and saying it. Let me know if that is a correct assumption or if i am way off base.

Definitely a deep, and multi layered piece, beyond the usual grasps of a person of only 18 years of age. I am most certainly humbled by it.

Posted 11 Years Ago

1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Buddhism based its teachings on the law of cause and effect, and as it further propagated the value of silence through meditation, I liked to be remembered on this when reading your poem. You are also speaking about seeking the music in the silence, the music of the universe, this is about criticizing the society in the world of matter, the individual lost in self-indulgence, nicely done this one, from metaphysical to physical and down to psychological aspects. There were Buddhistic concepts, saying achieving an un-impeded state between principle and phenomena should be not proceeded by leaving society or the world and live in solitude but rather on realizing the perfection of society. I liked this piece, mystical and wonderful.

Posted 11 Years Ago

1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

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36 Reviews
Shelved in 7 Libraries
Added on May 12, 2010
Last Updated on May 13, 2010

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