Silence

Silence

Now is the time to say what you have to say.
The room is quiet.
The whirring fan has been unplugged, 
and the girl who was tapping a pencil on her desktop has been removed.

So tell us what is on your mind.
We want to hear the sound of your foliage,
the unraveling of your tool kit,
your songs of loneliness, 
your songs of hurt. 

The trains are motionless on the tracks,
the ships at rest in the harbor.
The dogs are cocking their heads
and the gods are peering down from their balloons. 
The town is hushed, 

and everyone here has a copy.
So tell us about your parents--
your father behind the steering wheel,
your cruel mother at the sink.
Let's hear about all the clouds you saw, all the trees.

Read the poem you brought with you tonight.
The ocean has stopped sloshing around, 
and even Beethoven
is sitting up in his deathbed, 
his cold hearing-horn inserted in one ear.

........................... by Billy Collins
Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s