“The House V″ was originally posted in PNA Village Connections Blog on July 22, 2015
by Marilyn Zuckerman
Instead of photos, these poems use words to tell of the phenomena while I sit on the deck drinking it all in.
For Pico Iyer, whose thoughts about silence and the sacred I have borrowed.
In the distance
someone is beating a rug
or wet laundry,
children’s voices shouting
then fading away,
their cries muffled
as though under water.
Overhead a silent plane
its lights flickering like stars,
a crow cawing,
a train whistle.
within this irresistible silence
while I lay splayed on the lounge chair
like a TB patient
when suddenly the sound of traffic
soars like the growling of a storm cloud
and the deep silence returns
that first empties your mind,
then brings you to the true self
that lies trembling beneath your heart.
Pictures at an Exhibition
like a Turner painting.
The sky’s afire
and we are looking
into the hot heart of a furnace.
Thick clouds streaked with Blakean light
streaming through, as the sun slips down
to the other side of the earth,
leaving a rosy shadow of itself
silhouetted behind the mountain
as black-cloaked night falls
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