Some passing thoughts.

[JohnG]

This came to me this morning, I thought I'd share it with you:

The unquiet soul
Amidst the clamour of the everyday shopping mall,
The relentless roar of passing traffic;
The thunder from the overhead aircraft on its journey
Who knows where to purpose who knows what?
The din of the vuvuzelas from a thousand television sets tuned to the world cup;
The pounding of so-called "dance music" of mind numbing banality
From the next door neighbour's teenage son's stereo,
Made worse by mp3 encoding,
Only drowned from time-to-time by the same continued thudding from some passing vehicle;
The shouting and shrieking from another neighbour's window
As they share their disagreements with the world;
The sudden slamming of doors by those who care nothing for others;
The hoot of the horn as yet another trader comes to deliver goods
Or sell still more ice-cream to those already obese to the point of death;
The clarion clamour of the doorbell as the postman arrives to deliver yet another unwanted parcel.

I long for a world where voices are all immediately silenced;
Loudspeakers instantly short circuited;
Aircraft rerouted;
Car engines misfire and cough to standstill;
Hinges fail to function and seize open;
Motor horns electrocute their operators causing sudden silent coma.
Yes, even the music of "Wachet Auf" from my own quiet hi-fi gone.

Leaving the soft call of the morning song bird,
The chirrup of the cricket,
The quiet laughter of friends,
The sound of passing footsteps,
The whispering of the wind through the leaves of the trees,
A sound of silence so deep and penetrating that once more it sets my unquiet soul at rest.
If only for a while.

Copyright © 2010 John L Garside.

If you share it, say it came from me.
As usual, just my 2d.
JohnG.

[doricvision]

ray davies could so easily have written those words John
excellent m8
regards Bigmike

[JohnG]

Thank you BigMike,

Ray Davies, eh? I shall take that as a compliment. A big compliment.
Yes, maybe. A bit melancholic and contemplative.

It came to me out of the blue yesterday morning while reading a post on another forum.
I wrote the original (not the posted) version in about half an hour, then spent hours changing words and altering the length and order of various bits. It still isn't right IMHO but it's a start.

This is what it looks like at the moment:
The unquiet soul
Amidst the hubbub of the everyday shopping mall,
The relentless roar of passing traffic;
The thunder from the overhead aircraft on its journey,
Who knows where, to purpose who knows what?
The bray of the vuvuzelas from a thousand television sets;
The pounding of so-called "dance music" of mind numbing banality
From the next door neighbour's teenage son's stereo,
Made worse by mp3 encoding,
Only drowned, from time-to-time, by the same continued thudding from some passing vehicle;
The shouting and the shrieking from another neighbour's window
As they share their disagreements with the world;
The sudden slamming of doors by those who care nought for others sensibilities;
The honk of the horn as yet another trader comes
To bring more food or sell a double ice-cream
To those already obese to the point of suicide;
The clarion clamour of the doorbell as the postman arrives
To deliver yet a further pointless parcel.

I long for a world where voices are all silenced;
Loudspeakers instantly short circuited;
Aircraft rerouted;
Car engines misfire and cough to standstill;
Hinges fail to function and seize open;
Motor horns electrocute their operators causing sudden silent coma.
Yes, even the music of "Wachet Auf" from my own quiet hi-fi gone.

Leaving the soft call of the morning song bird,
The chirrup of the cricket,
The occasional quiet laughter of close friends,
The fall of fading footsteps,
The whispering of the wind through the leaves of the trees,
A sound of silence so deep and penetrating
That once more it sets my unquiet soul at rest ...
If only for a while.

Copyright © 2010 John L Garside. 16/06/2010.

Thanks,
JohnG.

[weegeo]

It leaves one to contemplate the pace and the sight,sound and smells of the world we have recreated from the quietness of our by gone days and then the peace of the last verse

Quite inventive and really very current excellent John i`m very impressed

weegeo

[JohnG]

Thank you Wee George,

Something I read on another forum, where a chap was promoting his site with more "head banging" music(?), contrasted so strongly with his handle "silenceisgolden", it took me back to when I used to go the the Lake District a lot. There are still parts where you can get away from the hubbub of the main tourist sites and find absolute peace. No traffic, no voices (except your own), no cars, just the songs of the birds or the occasional bleating of sheep.

Sitting or lying on the grass, if you can open your ears to the sound of the silence, it can be almost deafening it's so intense, if you know what I mean. Simon and Garfunkel? To stay for a while and let the peace enter and calm the troubles of the everyday world can be really cathartic.

Or at least you can for a while until the RAF thunders over practising their bl@@dy bombing runs at zero altitude so suddenly it almost causes a heart attack. ... Oh well!

I aimed for quite a lot of alliteration, it somehow seemed to suit. Don't know why!

Thanks again.
JohnG.

[frank]

Not many musco's can hear the sound of silence with tinnitus, all I can hear is mosquitos in a tin can !!

[weegeo]

Lol lol this is very true Frank but there is no one better than a musician able to put into words the meaning and the feeling of quietness or maybe it`s the lonely twang that come from a broken heart. John made a brilliant comment about lying down and closing your mind to everything but the `sounds of the silence`i`m sure we all have our quiet spot or place were we go to rejuvenate the brain cells, i have my own spot where i go and contemplate my own frailities and i always come back a more positive person.
So well done John on raising a topic that requires a little look into ourselves

weegeo

[JohnG]

Often difficult to put one's finger on exactly what it is that inspires a piece of poetry, or blank verse, or whatever it was "wot Oi writ", but in this case it was easy.

Mostly what I write I feel too embarrassed about to share with anyone but my nearest and dearest, despite encouragement. And, of course, it is often very personal and written with a specific recipient in mind.

The quiet place that I used to go to was Shanzu beach near Mombasa. Blue sky, white sand, the Indian Ocean rolling lazily in. I can still picture it in my mind's eye as if it was yesterday. Actually it was mid December 1962.

JohnG.