Drowning in silence

your fairy tales, they used to be my all,
little wisdom you shared, so heaven sent;
eager to know much more, I lost my frown.

in candlelight smiled your eyes lined with kohl,
your voice soothing, a hope your stories lent;
in those moments, my true passion I found.

I grew with words, then said I knew it all
and your love I forbade, became distant;
in that future you made, I lost my ground.

now you seem far, too far to catch my fall,
just memories to hold, words to repent;
winter of life, in your silence, I drown.

winter of life, in your silence, I drown,
yearning for tales, those golden hand-me-downs.

Grandmother (photo by Antara)

Shared with Poetry Pantry and dVerse Form4All. Inspired by Antara’s photography.

(March 1st, 2013)

Poetry & writing are to me, a breath of fresh air in a life that is sometimes covered by the smoke of sorrow or self doubt. They also become the sweets I share to celebrate when life offers me a reason to. But most of all, they are to me, my life. For each word I write is a piece of my heart, a thought that just had to find its way into the world.

40 thoughts on “Drowning in silence”

  1. melancholy sonnet with great adherence to the form..I like the ‘soothing voice’; I used a similar picture;)

  2. makes me think of a grandparent…maybe a parent, but for me a grandfather…he was a fireman…and had some great stories of daring…he’s been gone years now….nice use of the form sir…

  3. “winter of life” is a lovely metaphor for old-age. I found “did forbade” clunky – the “did” is totally redundant.

    • Thanks, Tony, for the appreciation and the suggestion. I wrote as I’d spoken it, so the “did” didn’t feel clunky to me. On reading again, I thought you had a valid point, and changed that line slightly. πŸ™‚

  4. Accomplished poem about the losses that come with growing up, the memories and regrets that are unearthed in that headlong rush into adulthood. An effective evocation of theme from the inspirational image. Well done.

    • Ain’t it just so tragic, those losses? I’m having a chance to correct that, but something still holds me back. Glad you felt the poem to be an accomplished. Thank you for the info on the form, Samuel. πŸ™‚

  5. As we grow older, we’re not always stil enthralled with the stories of our elders but then sometimes find it too late when we again wish to hear their voices…sad. I can feel the regret and yearning.

  6. Oh I just love this. I just read it about 3-4 times. I love the rhyme words. I love the story. I love it all – the story speaks to me of such a strong nostalgia and that is how I write so I can definitely relate

  7. the voice is beautifully judged and sustained. The form is well handled and really lends a precision to the language. You’ve caught the weight of storytelling really well.

  8. So sad and tender, too. I love the photo that you attached. I am lost in the meloncholy of this piece and will call my mom later. I don’t want to loose that contact.

  9. I find the image of drowning in silence so powerful… it immediately pulled up feelings from the depths I can’t explain, but this poem really touched me.

  10. Ah, there are many questions I now wish I had asked, many stories I wish now I had written down. Too late now. Your poem made me reflect!

    • Thanks, for honoring my blog, Anunoy. I’ll accept it. Since I’ve very recently done a Liebster post, I’ll add your questions on to that and answer. Thanks again!

    • Thanks, Satyarekha. I’m glad you love my blog, and I hope to shower yours with some comments soon. I’m very lazy or busy, one of the two and haven’t been to your space in a while now. Thanks for honoring my blog with your award. πŸ™‚

  11. I get this poem…to the very core. And the feeling never goes away…never lessens. It has become constant now.
    Loved this. Thank you.

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