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    poetry


    dots Submission Name: Blackoutdots
    --------------------------------------------------------





    Author: saartha
    ASL Info:    27/F/US
    Elite Ratio:    4.07 - 230/383/127
    Words: 157
    Class/Type: Poetry/Misc
    Total Views: 296
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 1149



    Description:
       


    Make the font bigger!! Double Spacing Back to recent posts.

    dotsBlackoutdots
    -------------------------------------------


    Day one:

    Silence as a balloon,
    the lip hooked
    deep up inside.
    The heavy bulge of it
    presses outward and inward
    until, abruptly
    there is little difference.

    A pausing lung. The lamp.
    The wet smear of night.
    The various patterns
    of atoms and elements,
    spiraling quietly.

    Day two:

    Silence as the last
    precious waterhole.
    The need to be vicious,
    to prowl,
    to hunt down each sound.

    Restless and anxious,
    covetous dog in the manger.
    A person could quite easily
    drown like this.

    Day three:

    Silence as the cosmic leading edge:
    light, then the thick ring
    of what nonexists beyond.

    The iris and the eye.
    The electric hum
    just out of range.

    Silence as a sun,
    as the color green,
    silence as a chewing mouth,
    as the first-born rock.

    Silence as what came
    before the first god.

    Day four:

    Let there be noise.




    Submitted on 2016-08-22 00:33:45     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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    ||| Comments |||
      Maybe this is what you would think about in a sensory deprivation chamber. Life is busy; we plead for silence. The silence arrives, but it is not quiet, instead it is bursting with thought and alive in its own right, a separate being. What does this mean? In any case, it would escalate, as hunger escalates, until everything but this pressing need disappears, like on day two, before dissipating into a dawning kind of acceptance, like on day three.

    Maybe, if there is a God, or gods, this is how they, Him, It would feel before the creation of everything. It's funny how the Bible does not describe God creating things really, it's just... "let there be" and it is. This assumes the world appeared in God's imagination, fully formed, as Tesla imagined wholly his inventions before applying the hammer to the nail.

    I love your poetry. You reach deep into the heart of things and pull out these vast yet simple descriptions, like "the wet smear of night," and the "cosmic leading edge," never losing the musicality of our language while maintaining both creative pith and scientific precision.

    Yet there is a bit left to the imagination, to the interpretation, that is ethereal and lovely. I hope one day you publish a book.

    Erin

    | Posted on 2016-08-24 00:00:00 | by BlankSheet | [ Reply to This ]
      Hi there...I loved this piece! Comparing that which gives life (a woman to a new born child) to that which gave everything (a God) is simply brilliant. Instead of light...there is sound. Instead of blackness there is silence. This is wonderful stuff...the words you have chosen paint such a vivid picture. Perfection...simply perfection.

    I did have one question...

    Silence as what came
    before the first god.

    Did you mean to say...

    Silence is what came
    before the first god

    ???

    Thanks for sharing!

    K
    | Posted on 2016-08-22 00:00:00 | by krs3332003 | [ Reply to This ]
      A hullabaloo of a katzenjammer jamboree or a cataclysmically holocaustal catastrophe…….both are pretty noisy……dealers choice!!!

    Bruce
    | Posted on 2016-08-22 00:00:00 | by monad | [ Reply to This ]


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