.
.
Hello darkness, my old friend
In twisted linen wound
My sweated girth
I’ve come to talk with you again,
In screams and wails without sound
Gossamer baggage weighting me to the earth
Because a vision softly creeping,
While the sun was upward bound
Turning this soul to flameless hearth
Left its seeds while I was sleeping
Taking from my flesh its pound
For all it’s worth
And the vision that was planted in my brain
The tick- tock of my own ‘gator run aground
Mocking me in a Cheshire mirth
Still remains
In the ever-growing mound
Of compassion’s dearth
Within the sound of silence
To seethe and confound
The truth never given birth
<>==========<>==========<>
Abhra is hosting at the Poetics bar here at dVerse Poets Pub today, challenging us to talk about secrets without actually revealing any.
Using the ever familiar lyrics of Simon & Garfunkle’s “Sound of Silence” in a modified combination of Glosa and Trireme Sonnet forms.
