Been
I know not the sounds of silence only sibilance and shushing
All these restless thoughts sputtering splashing and ever rushing
From one ear and back again
To tell me I must be alive and free and thinking
Or that I am drunk on all the poetry I’ve been drinking
To try to drown this din
That is the irony of life with which itself is often rife with meaning
Only we go on from dusk to dawn feigning ignorance instead of gleaning
Something other than holiness or sin
The noise it quite fantastic good thing the brain’s elastic though too often blown
By necessary sequence of planned accidents that one should’ve known
Here we go again
Your verse made me smile…quite enjoyable.
Then I my job here is done. Glad you smiled.
Ahhh. I love being drunk on poetry. Give me more. Lol. Hope you had a wonderful time with your family this week.
It was good. Drink deep my dear!
I would dare to say that accidents are not really planned. I think those fall into the category of deliberate intent, which is something (of course) entirely different……
~ Lovely….. ~ Love, Bobbie
Catchy phrasing & rhyming– c’est la vie…
En effet!
Thanks for your kind words. ~Regards, Dan