I'm sure there used to be birdsong

Gold cherry
Poem of the week

By ledru

Wed, 30 Nov 2016
  • 4090 reads
14 comments
 
There is a woman (or man)
tapping at the window.
I think they need something.
I look around.
 
It is definitely a woman.
I can't hear though 
and I can't make out the words.
 
By the arms flaying in the air
I know that she's upset.
 
I turn back to my desk,
I have things to do.
Too many hours spent at work
too much done to stop now.
 
The tapping has grown over the past few days.
Each time I look behind
I see more people,
different people
angry, upset, beckoning me.
 
Not sure why.
 
I'm close now,
I diligently sort through the papers
and drawings ;
and put them in the folder.
 
More things
have arrived on my desk.
The pile always go down when I'm busy,
it's just when I rest it grows. 
 
... (pause) ...
 
It's weeks now, it might be months.
I've done so many good things
and I've learnt to drown out 
that incessant noise at the window.
 
It's quite easy really
I'm getting quicker at processing.
Incredibly good,
if you don't mind me saying.
 
And the sounds at the window,
they're not that bad really.
I think I can hear harmonies
and beats.  I sometimes sing along.
 
I haven't looked back at the window
for quite some time now.
By eating as I work
I can stay on top of things.
 
The cadence of the work cycle
is enchanting,
Flowing back and forth
things come in and things get done.
 
.... (pause) ....
 
I'm not sure how long it's been
since the noise at the window stopped.
Things haven't been piling up on my desk either,
so I think I'm done.
 
I don't know where everyone has gone,
I can't recall the work that I've finished.
Once complete it was taken away
and my room is now empty.
 
When I open the window
the air is still and
it's so quiet.
I'm sure there used to be birdsong. 
Certificate U
Poem
Time Out
Surreal
Fantasy

Comments

Submitted by seashore on

I like this - the mystery, the change of mood...it leaves the reader wondering about the writer...

Great last line.

Submitted by ledru on

Thank you for the feedback.   I wrote the first line, then the last line and then fleshed out the middle.   I'll post a few more of my poems over the coming weeks to share more of me.

 

Submitted by celticman on

yes, the cycle of destruction without interruption. 

 

Submitted by ledru on

hee, hee.  You read my mind.  This cycle of destruction, in particular from repeated mistakes and unlearnt lessons, plays on my mind and I'm planning on exploring it further.

 

Submitted by Deliberately Ev... on

Yes it left me wondering too. Is it a workaholic? Family and friends clamouring for attention then eventually drifting away? Or a metaphor for destruction as celticman suggested. Very good.

The beat of your heart is the mellifluent rhythm to my soul.

Submitted by ledru on

Yes, that's pretty much the inspiration.  It's a path I might have taken if I hadn't woken up a couple of years ago.  It's also the foundations to a wider topic of voluntary ignorance and avoidance that I'm planning to cover in two more follow ups to this poem.

 

Submitted by tcook on

This fine and mysterious poem is definitely our Pick of the Day. We all work too hard and ignore what goes on around us - let this be a lesson!

Join us on Facebook and/or Twitter to get a great reading recommendation every day.

Photo credit: https://www.flickr.com/photos/davidmoffat/3570839414/

Submitted by ledru on

Thank you.  I'm honoured to be chosen :)  This poem is a reminder to myself to make sure I pay attention and actually learn this lesson.

 

Submitted by hudsonmoon on

I don't know exactly what it is that captivates me, but it sure did, ledru. Mysterious and fine.

Rich

 

Submitted by ledru on

Thanks, I do like to mysteriously please people.

 

Submitted by Insertponceyfre... on

This is our Poem of the Week - Congratulations!

 

Submitted by ledru on

Oh, thank you for picking this poem of the week.  It's made my day.

 

Submitted by SoulFire77 on

It sounds like life for some people I know. They are too busy to help anyone in life until its too late and they are too old, or too jaded by the world. Then you look around and there's no more meaningless work to do, and no one wants your help or advice about anything anymore. It's sad, really.

Great poem, however. I really enjoyed reading it.

 

Submitted by ledru on

It's especially disturbing when I can see how easy it is for me to slip into this whirlpool and become like the people you know. I'm hoping I've navigated away from it for now, but mindful it's always there pulling me.