#simonandgarfunkel - Hello Poetry

"Time it was, And what a time it was It was A time of innocence A time of confidences Can you imagine us Years from today Sharing a park bench quietly? How terribly strange To be seventy"

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Dec 30, 2017

Dec 30, 2017 at 4:00 AM UTC

noose

Bookends

"Time it was, And what a time it was It was A time of innocence A time of confidences Can you imagine us Years from today Sharing a park bench quietly? How terribly strange To be seventy"

11

Notice how Dusk dangles the moon before your eyes? How it can sense your desire to skip the few abounding pages before the end. Can’t you tell it can see through the vacant veneer you used to fill those unlettered conversations? Can’t you tell it heard your baby whimpers while you sat on the toilet fully-clothed. Bladder, tear-ducts, and heart emptied like a raisin. “You’re wasting time.” It whispers. “And wasted time is wasting you.” Notice how Dawn dangles the sun before your face? How it can taste your yearning for a new beginning. Can’t you tell that it watched you as you close your eyes and pretended to sleep like a child waiting for Christmas morning? Can’t you tell it heard you counting aloud the sheep being chased by packs of hungry wolves? “One… two… back to one… two… three…” “You can’t avoid dreams forever.” It whispers. “And you can’t expect them to stick around.” Notice how Day dangles time before you? How the clock tick-tocks, mirroring the pulse of your heart. Can’t you tell it observed you ignore every bashful serendipity and neglect every delicate opportunity? Couldn’t you see its silhouette waiting silently outside your window, hoping you would pull aside your dusty curtains, open it and take its hand? “I’m here. Right here.” It whispers. “Not behind you, not in front of you. I’m right next to you.” For a second, you hear it. You pull out your ear plugs and say, “Did someone call my name?” Your fellow office employees respond “Nope!” in perfect unison. So you plug yourself back up and return to your duties, sighing superficially about the borders of our lives.

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Oct 14, 2016

Oct 14, 2016 at 3:33 PM UTC

taylor-marion8q

The Dangling Conversation

Notice how Dusk dangles the moon before your eyes? How it can sense your desire to skip the few abounding pages before the end. Can’t you tell it can see through the vacant veneer you used to fill those unlettered conversations? Can’t you tell it heard your baby whimpers while you sat on the toilet fully-clothed. Bladder, tear-ducts, and heart emptied like a raisin. “You’re wasting time.” It whispers. “And wasted time is wasting you.” Notice how Dawn dangles the sun before your face? How it can taste your yearning for a new beginning. Can’t you tell that it watched you as you close your eyes and pretended to sleep like a child waiting for Christmas morning? Can’t you tell it heard you counting aloud the sheep being chased by packs of hungry wolves? “One… two… back to one… two… three…” “You can’t avoid dreams forever.” It whispers. “And you can’t expect them to stick around.” Notice how Day dangles time before you? How the clock tick-tocks, mirroring the pulse of your heart. Can’t you tell it observed you ignore every bashful serendipity and neglect every delicate opportunity? Couldn’t you see its silhouette waiting silently outside your window, hoping you would pull aside your dusty curtains, open it and take its hand? “I’m here. Right here.” It whispers. “Not behind you, not in front of you. I’m right next to you.” For a second, you hear it. You pull out your ear plugs and say, “Did someone call my name?” Your fellow office employees respond “Nope!” in perfect unison. So you plug yourself back up and return to your duties, sighing superficially about the borders of our lives.

17

It's a darkness that surrounds you. It covers your eyes, And swims in your ears. To keep you from seeing light, Or hearing laughter. Instead you see everything In a dull and dark way. Colors are no longer vibrant, And lines seem to be blurred. There is no more beauty in a sunset, Or majesty in the ocean. It's just water now. And every sound is muffled now. You can't differentiate your favorite song From any other anymore. The sound of laughter is more bitter than sweet. Every song is the same bleak humm. And laughter just makes me wish I was deaf. The darkness even dulls touch. A kiss doesn't make your heart beat fast anymore. And contact seems nauseating. A kiss is just a reminder That nothing good lasts. And most other interaction makes my skin crawl. But now the darkness is in your brain. In here, sometimes it's not dull at all. Sometimes the darkness Takes the shape of a monster. A monster that whispers terrible things And just gets louder when you try not to listen. Sometimes the darkness Feels like war inside your mind. But yes, again, the darkness is dull. Sometimes there is no monster, No war, And no yelling at all. Sometimes when the darkness gets in your mind, It becomes a silence. I can't make out a clear thought, Because all there is Is silence. The darkness takes the shape Of death. The silence, the nothingness of death. And it becomes part of you, Making your mind nothing but silence And nothingness. But the worst part about the darkness Is my inability to communicate its existence. I can't make anyone understand The many shapes it can take. How it can be torturous and loud But comfortable just the same. It's easy to talk about the monster, Because it's something foreign and Something present. But everything else, The dullness of senses And the silence it becomes, Can't be expressed. Because in these forms, The darkness is absence of life. It's absence of color, Sound, Touch, And thought. And it's so hard to paint a picture Of something that isn't even there. I can paint a picture of a monster With ****** teeth and devilish eyes. But I cannot paint the nothingness The darkness so often is. And to me, nothingness is the most dangerous. I can fight a monster. But I cannot fight nothing. Nothingness will swallow you. It will take over your senses And thoughts, And eventually will to live. Life is colorful. Life should be loud. Life should be funny. And sometimes painful. But when the silence, The nothingness arrives, There is no color. There is no sound. No laughter. Or even pain. There is no life at all.

0

Nov 18, 2015

Nov 18, 2015 at 3:45 AM UTC

lizzy15

Hello darkness my old friend

It's a darkness that surrounds you. It covers your eyes, And swims in your ears. To keep you from seeing light, Or hearing laughter. Instead you see everything In a dull and dark way. Colors are no longer vibrant, And lines seem to be blurred. There is no more beauty in a sunset, Or majesty in the ocean. It's just water now. And every sound is muffled now. You can't differentiate your favorite song From any other anymore. The sound of laughter is more bitter than sweet. Every song is the same bleak humm. And laughter just makes me wish I was deaf. The darkness even dulls touch. A kiss doesn't make your heart beat fast anymore. And contact seems nauseating. A kiss is just a reminder That nothing good lasts. And most other interaction makes my skin crawl. But now the darkness is in your brain. In here, sometimes it's not dull at all. Sometimes the darkness Takes the shape of a monster. A monster that whispers terrible things And just gets louder when you try not to listen. Sometimes the darkness Feels like war inside your mind. But yes, again, the darkness is dull. Sometimes there is no monster, No war, And no yelling at all. Sometimes when the darkness gets in your mind, It becomes a silence. I can't make out a clear thought, Because all there is Is silence. The darkness takes the shape Of death. The silence, the nothingness of death. And it becomes part of you, Making your mind nothing but silence And nothingness. But the worst part about the darkness Is my inability to communicate its existence. I can't make anyone understand The many shapes it can take. How it can be torturous and loud But comfortable just the same. It's easy to talk about the monster, Because it's something foreign and Something present. But everything else, The dullness of senses And the silence it becomes, Can't be expressed. Because in these forms, The darkness is absence of life. It's absence of color, Sound, Touch, And thought. And it's so hard to paint a picture Of something that isn't even there. I can paint a picture of a monster With ****** teeth and devilish eyes. But I cannot paint the nothingness The darkness so often is. And to me, nothingness is the most dangerous. I can fight a monster. But I cannot fight nothing. Nothingness will swallow you. It will take over your senses And thoughts, And eventually will to live. Life is colorful. Life should be loud. Life should be funny. And sometimes painful. But when the silence, The nothingness arrives, There is no color. There is no sound. No laughter. Or even pain. There is no life at all.

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