The Eloquent Silence

Here as I stand on the kerb of my balcony,
Forlorn, wretched ,as if a woe betide.
Venturing to unravel the bizarre cacophony,
Of the reapers and the sailors ,of the tits and the tides.

The pluvial pearls pattering the floor,
Songbirds crooning hitherto to azure.
And the quavering foliage whispering in my ears,
Crescending the tumult, the windy veers.

Townies trundling , Oh! the tittle-tattle meet,
Kids making merry, boys strumming down the streets.
Hawkers howling at the vortex of the voice,
Adding to the bongo, the banger device.

Even the artifacts ,the clock ,ticking at pace,
The wind chimes jingling ,perhaps struggling in the race.
Then the phone bell ranged ,oaf, another cry,
And there in the kitchen ,the vent blew high.

Ah! all judders ..hammering my tympanum,
Be it whispers, slurps,ditty or hum.
For everything is sonorous ,and everyone has to aver,
Save two in the milieu ,the quietus ever.......

Quietus ever , I couldn’t make out why?
All seasons ,all occasions , tacit and shy.
Perhaps abstaining ,from escalating the symphony,
Or are the sole listeners , of all enigma, all euphony.

But silence is also the veneer of noise,
Eventually thwarted ,revealed in disguise.
Still they are mute, subdued ,and might remain to be,
The Savior the Mighty ,and the Solitary Me…

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