Paul Simon's words enhance all our lives, a Poet in Fact, P.I.F.
Paul Simon's body of works provide us with emotional comfort, his words P.I.F., Poetry in Fact
Sounds of Silence
Paul Simon's body of works provide us with emotional comfort, his words P.I.F., Poetry in Fact
Sounds of Silence
poemwriter: Paul Simon
hello darkness, my old
friend
I've come to talk with you again
because a vision softly creeping
left its seeds while I was sleeping
I've come to talk with you again
because a vision softly creeping
left its seeds while I was sleeping
and the vision
that was planted in my
brain
still remains
within the sound of silence
in restless dreams I walked alone
narrow streets of cobblestone
neath the halo of a street lamp
I turned my collar to the cold and damp
still remains
within the sound of silence
in restless dreams I walked alone
narrow streets of cobblestone
neath the halo of a street lamp
I turned my collar to the cold and damp
when my eyes were stabbed
by the flash of
a neon light
that split the night
a neon light
that split the night
and touched the sound of silence
and in the naked light I saw
ten thousand people
maybe more
people talking without speaking
people hearing without listening
people talking without speaking
people hearing without listening
people writing songs
that voices never
share
and no one dared
disturb the sound of silence
fools said
and no one dared
disturb the sound of silence
fools said
I, you do not know
silence like a cancer grows
silence like a cancer grows
hear my words
that I might teach
you,
take my arms
take my arms
that I might reach you
but my words
like silent raindrops
fell
and echoed
in the wells of silence
and the people bowed and prayed
to the neon God they made
and the sign flashed out its warning
in the words that it was forming
and echoed
in the wells of silence
and the people bowed and prayed
to the neon God they made
and the sign flashed out its warning
in the words that it was forming
and the signs said
the words of the
prophets
are written on the subway walls
and tenement halls
are written on the subway walls
and tenement halls
and whispered in the sounds of silence
Commentary:
It's
not often that my thoughts are directed toward interpretation of what
others say. Here, that exception to the rule of "Bob's Order"
expressly asks me to perform that travesty. Here, in Paul Simon's
ode to sociological order we have the exact same theme as Kris
Kristofferson's "To Beat the Devil," previously presented.
The question again is "will people listen when you try to talk
to them." Here, listen means listen, absorb and act. Paul
thinks not, Kris also thinks not, but feels the effort is worth a
try. In fact, Kris thinks that even though there's nobody going to
listen, he's going to talk to them anyway. The try itself justifies
the effort, nothing else needed.
The
poetic nuances of Paul's excellent poem are priceless, and timeless.
Had we listened to him back then, nearly 50 years ago, we'd all be
better off now.
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