Solitude by Nancy Ness
I dwell amidst my Solitude,
No longer clamor 'bout my ears.
These walls with clangor once imbued
All resonance pealed back some years.
No stentor left about my ears
Now hear what's left, I venture on.
I'll hearken here ensuing years
And cherish sounds from those bygone.
My wistful journey ventures on.
As solitude peers back at me.
No clamor from those years bygone
And through the silence now I see.
My solitude enlightens me
With sounds unheard those years along.
A muted silence helps me see
How beautiful the warbler's song,
Those sweet tunes unheard years along.
The breath of wind upon the panes,
I revel in the warbler's song
And pattering of roof-top rains.
The wind breathes gently on the panes
These walls indeed remain imbued.
The roof-top patters with the rains
My hearkening fills solitude.
No longer clamor 'bout my ears.
These walls with clangor once imbued
All resonance pealed back some years.
No stentor left about my ears
Now hear what's left, I venture on.
I'll hearken here ensuing years
And cherish sounds from those bygone.
My wistful journey ventures on.
As solitude peers back at me.
No clamor from those years bygone
And through the silence now I see.
My solitude enlightens me
With sounds unheard those years along.
A muted silence helps me see
How beautiful the warbler's song,
Those sweet tunes unheard years along.
The breath of wind upon the panes,
I revel in the warbler's song
And pattering of roof-top rains.
The wind breathes gently on the panes
These walls indeed remain imbued.
The roof-top patters with the rains
My hearkening fills solitude.
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Rating: N/A |
This pantoum (a challenge from a friend) is something of a sequel to "My EmptiNesst". Here I am, living by myself, with myself, and for myself for the first time in my life. I'm sure it won't be for a long time, nor do I want it to be. But I am truly enjoying looking at the world through my very own independent eyes, and hearing with my own ears.
What a great way to appreciate the gift of each new day.
What a great way to appreciate the gift of each new day.
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Nancy, this poem really touched a place in me; it brings awareness of the many "little" wonderful sounds and scents of life that pass us by in the hustle and bustle of life. Reminiscent of John Lennon's "Life is what happens when we're busy making other plans". - Cindy - Cynthia |
