(Originally posted February 2014)
loud whoosh-whooshing flames
smother ambient sounds
burning brain gases
hissing from open-cocked jets
geriatrically triggered in
cochlear coils blotting out
the sweet noise of nostalgia
the concert that otherwise
rings with red rhapsody
memory music internally
broadcasting anthems of
cool supple youth but the
blistering roar of the fire is all
that old age-punished ears
are allowed in this vascular
prison of stultified senses
Everything is too loud for me, and conversation generally unclear regardless of volume–I hear every little sound, and it makes me jump. I dream of QUIET.
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headphones?
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They would probably just make me itch–I know, I’m impossible, good thing I’m solo.
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Exceedingly well put.
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much appreciated, jo
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You make observation an art form. Fine poem.
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thank you, sir
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Reblogged this on Poesy plus Polemics.
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Are you by any chance a doctor? You write so well about physical things!! Very nice poem!
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no – not a doctor – just an experienced patient – FYI, see the “About the Author” tab near the top of my blog page
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Okay! I’ll go there now!
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Reblogged this on OUR POETRY CORNER.
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thank you for sharing my poem with your readers
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Cool music poem
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thanks kindly, timothy
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