#hardofhearing - Hello Poetry

undone magic willed into space splattering a sphere out of order signs nervous system working overtime head honchos in charge bulls working the yard fairy dust turns to **** chaffing into fragments toned deaf colors

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Feb 21

Feb 21, 2026 at 4:59 PM UTC

breeaudrey

hard of hearing

undone magic willed into space splattering a sphere out of order signs nervous system working overtime head honchos in charge bulls working the yard fairy dust turns to **** chaffing into fragments toned deaf colors

10

We're easy to drown out, Cause we lack a voice, Nobody gives a **** Why should I forgive it? I'm not obligated, You're not educated, I've seen as we've faded, Merely seen as pages. You use our hands, To sing your hymns, Place hands on our head, Pray, "Jesus, save this sin." I'm not obligated, You're not educated, I've seen as we've faded, Merely seen as pages. Completely ignored, If we're not front page news, For something you think we can't do, Then we're ghosts again, Lost in the system.

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Aug 3, 2023

Aug 3, 2023 at 2:27 PM UTC

Skyler_M

When Hands Are A Voice

We're easy to drown out, Cause we lack a voice, Nobody gives a **** Why should I forgive it? I'm not obligated, You're not educated, I've seen as we've faded, Merely seen as pages. You use our hands, To sing your hymns, Place hands on our head, Pray, "Jesus, save this sin." I'm not obligated, You're not educated, I've seen as we've faded, Merely seen as pages. Completely ignored, If we're not front page news, For something you think we can't do, Then we're ghosts again, Lost in the system.

21

Before Corona You would tell me something, But I would not hear, Maybe because of the howling Or the voices of the wind. I would ask "what?" You'd repeat, Once, twice, three times. Eventually ending with a "nevermind." And my heart would crack, A pain consuming, Of worries and sadness, That I could not hear The simple words you said. Coronavirus rolled around And the masks are worn by everyone around. Sure, it is to keep it out, But they also keep the voices muted. You would say something, Through the mask, A barrier. Yet again, I ask "what?" And wonder if I knew how to sign This would be so much easier.

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Aug 21, 2020

Aug 21, 2020 at 12:05 PM UTC

Claudia

Before Corona

Before Corona You would tell me something, But I would not hear, Maybe because of the howling Or the voices of the wind. I would ask "what?" You'd repeat, Once, twice, three times. Eventually ending with a "nevermind." And my heart would crack, A pain consuming, Of worries and sadness, That I could not hear The simple words you said. Coronavirus rolled around And the masks are worn by everyone around. Sure, it is to keep it out, But they also keep the voices muted. You would say something, Through the mask, A barrier. Yet again, I ask "what?" And wonder if I knew how to sign This would be so much easier.

24

How do I put this For the hearing folk? A shout in the ear, A jab, or a poke. What once was a whisper, A tame, gentle brush, Distant and soft, And ever so hush, Now it’s a SHOUT From whisper to bang, From dull, mild thud, To a clamouring clang. And it’s not just the volume, God, if only… I’d go back to the confusion, Go back to the lonely… But there’s the little noises, Things that I’ve missed, Like tinkling bells, A click, or a hiss. Now there’s more, A whole colony of sound, Like an anthill, you see, From a hole to a mound. A hell of an acquisition, As my eardrums burn, I must accept that I have A new language to learn. But in the privacy of solitude, I switch off the pain, And retreat into peace, My silent domain.

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Oct 30, 2017

Oct 30, 2017 at 11:18 PM UTC

emily-miller-1

Hearing Aid

How do I put this For the hearing folk? A shout in the ear, A jab, or a poke. What once was a whisper, A tame, gentle brush, Distant and soft, And ever so hush, Now it’s a SHOUT From whisper to bang, From dull, mild thud, To a clamouring clang. And it’s not just the volume, God, if only… I’d go back to the confusion, Go back to the lonely… But there’s the little noises, Things that I’ve missed, Like tinkling bells, A click, or a hiss. Now there’s more, A whole colony of sound, Like an anthill, you see, From a hole to a mound. A hell of an acquisition, As my eardrums burn, I must accept that I have A new language to learn. But in the privacy of solitude, I switch off the pain, And retreat into peace, My silent domain.

32

I see the tears welling up in his eyes As he sets there, with a heavy sigh These thoughts on his mind heavily weigh Under his breath I could hear him say "I'm getting so very forgetful" "I'm looking so **** pitiful" He turned 87 a week ago And his age is starting to show I know he feels deaths grip closing in His skin is paper thin He's always cold even in the sweltering heat of summer His hearing is almost gone, it's all just mummers He talks of how his legs don't work so well any more Getting up is such a chore He has taken to cussing like a sailor But reads the bible, getting ready to meet his creator "Growing old in not for the weak or faint of heart This growing old **** is hard"

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Mar 29, 2016

Mar 29, 2016 at 10:36 AM UTC

Pauline_Morris

Not for the Faint of Heart

I see the tears welling up in his eyes As he sets there, with a heavy sigh These thoughts on his mind heavily weigh Under his breath I could hear him say "I'm getting so very forgetful" "I'm looking so **** pitiful" He turned 87 a week ago And his age is starting to show I know he feels deaths grip closing in His skin is paper thin He's always cold even in the sweltering heat of summer His hearing is almost gone, it's all just mummers He talks of how his legs don't work so well any more Getting up is such a chore He has taken to cussing like a sailor But reads the bible, getting ready to meet his creator "Growing old in not for the weak or faint of heart This growing old **** is hard"

18