The Language of Silence

A poem about the things we fail to hear.

XII-V-2010 4.00p.m

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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.

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Reviews

[Rodrick Franklin McLare..]

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~ 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.
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[Dom Macchiaroli]

A terrific piece of work....

[JB Murray]

OK... gives me shivers. This is great... the rhythm of it is fantastic and the words themselves are simply haunting. Beautifully abstract... one to be savored... don't read it too fast or you just might miss it altogether. This is the first of yours I've had the priveledge of reading, looking forward to many many more. Great, great piece... bravo my friend...

[clauds294]

This was an incredible poem! Wow I can really understand what you mean, maybe. I Guess I just understood it the way I could by connecting it with my own life. This has to be one of my favorite poems so far.

"And the uncomfortable calmness that follows a regret

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
Other around us have forgotten what it is to be a nightmare
Amongst a bunch of accomplished dreams."
These were the lines I adored the most! They really reached down in to my heart.
Keep writing, because you're obviously doing something right. :)

[B0Beauxs]

Oh my. I had to read this a few times, it is truly beautiful.

I'd love to be in your mind for just two minutes to see how you view the world.

You're so good with imagery, and this poem presents some mesmerising images that I got lost in.

I love the rhetoric statements in here. It's a wonderfully philosophical piece.

The writing is really good, it's actually superbe. There is just one thing, is the "Other" on the second last line supposed to be "Others"?

Incredible poem.

Oh and I love how you structures the actual words, different structuring doesn't usually work, but here you've pulled it off well.

[An owl on the moon]

This is beautifully moving and profoundly expressed. The thoughts and feelings we neglect or purposefully ignore... yet so much depth surrounding us each day if we will but listen. So wondrous.

[Doreen]

This is incredible. "The sound of light falling on the palms of leaves". - a lovely imagery. Quite metaphysical and profound. I like the setup, the words you've chosen and the way you portray the message. Nicely done.

If I may, second to last line "Other" should be "Others".

[Annette Jay Sweeney]

You really have something here. Your imagery and metaphors you draw from are very unique, which is always a good quality for a poem. I find I keep wanting to go back and read it again. At first I wasn't sure what I thought of the form, but I like it. Change is always good and you experimented with success. :)

[zombiikillah666]

love it. :D this is pretty awesome. (:

[E. A. Fielder]

This poem was beautiful! It spoke of times that no one really knows how to describe. The times when you are at a loss for words. Well done!