“There is not even silence in the mountains
But dry sterile thunder without rain…”
T S Eliot
Unexpectedly
a pressure in my head
that grows to a dull prolonged thud
that settles over my eyes
into a strong persistent drone.
Sometimes I’d wake suddenly
in the middle of the night
uncomfortably hot,
a gnawing anxiety
lying heavy on my stomach.
And the unread books
on our shelves accusing me.
I used to forget about water.
And sometimes now
I forget about silence.
My parched mind
in a desert of noise,
and crowded faces looming
out of the anvil glare of the sun.
Sometimes I yearn for disconnection.
© David Loffman
16 February 2009
8 comments:
I wish I could send you a hilltop, bright shooting stars over head, the sea in the distance, a warm breeze and the easiest journey home after your time alone.
Px
Thanks. That would be great!
and I'll send you some blue sea
David this is beautiful.
I often find myself thinking of your poetry and looking on your blog for inspiration.
'Datta. Dayadhvam. Damyata.
Shantih shantih shantih'
Dan - did we do The Waste Land together? How wonderful to hear from you. How are you doing? It must be four years at least.
we might well have done prufrock but not the wasteland. I'm really well. I'm doing english at nottingham. I've been doing a lot of acting. I did Look back in anger last term and I'm now doing shoot/get treasure/ repeat.
I've been reading you're poetry blog ever since I left Richmond really. It always seems so honest. There's a truth to it that I really need to find in my own writing.
How are things with you?
excellent poem, particularly from 'I used to forget about water' onwards.
Dan posting to blogs at 2.45 am suggests far too much fun.
I think if you came to visit the college now it would look and feel a very different kind of place. It's very crowded and noisy.
At the moment this poem will have to serve as an answer to your question.
Drop by any time to the college or the blog.
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