{"id":1219,"date":"2008-04-14T15:14:38","date_gmt":"2008-04-14T15:14:38","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/ink.verticalplus.co.uk\/archive\/?p=1219"},"modified":"2008-04-14T15:14:38","modified_gmt":"2008-04-14T15:14:38","slug":"two-poems-about-silence-by-tim-bedford","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/two-poems-about-silence-by-tim-bedford\/","title":{"rendered":"Two poems about silence by Tim Bedford"},"content":{"rendered":"

Shroedinger's Cat<\/span>


The radio instructed me<\/span>
I should hold a minutes silence<\/span>
for something that<\/span>
might have happened.<\/span>
Something that could have been.<\/span>
No certainty, more allegations<\/span>
than bones, but still the country<\/span>
was to fall silent, for something<\/span>
that might have happened.<\/span>
I asked my mate, Tom,<\/span>
if I should adhere<\/span>
to the madness of<\/span>
remembering, something<\/span>
that might have happened.<\/span>
He wasn't sure, but is often confused,<\/span>
he lives in a shelter,<\/span>
for the homeless,<\/span>
abandoned, and lost.<\/span>
Once he lived with a bloke<\/span>
named Shroedinger,<\/span>
who at will, would keep him<\/span>
locked up,<\/span>
to check the infinite possibilities<\/span>
of an uncertain multiverse and all<\/span>
the things, that might have happened.<\/span>
I reckoned Tom would know<\/span>
if I should hold<\/span>
a minutes silence, for all the things<\/span>
that might have happened.<\/span>
But he had no answer for me,<\/span>
with his inscrutable<\/span>
smile,<\/span>
he was hopeful,<\/span>
of better days,<\/span>
tinned food, milk, warm fires,<\/span>
and old ladies,<\/span>
who spoil cats.<\/span>


~ ~ ~ ~ ~<\/span>


Silence<\/span>


Once, silence<\/span>
was a place we retreated<\/span>
to.<\/span>
From loud days, still ringing<\/span>
in our ears.<\/span>
Echoing words, of no<\/span>
meaning. Wasted words.<\/span>
Other peoples woes.<\/span>
Breathe in<\/span>
breathe out,<\/span>
words are formed of sculpted breath,<\/span>
and melt like swans of ice.<\/span>
I used to welcome the<\/span>
silent hours. Where coals<\/span>
crackled.<\/span>
Dishes. Rattled.<\/span>
That\u2019s all there was<\/span>
the sound of your heart,<\/span>
perhaps, and mine,<\/span>
our breathing vaguely<\/span>
intertwined.<\/span>
Now we use silence<\/span>
like a weapon.<\/span>
You bludgeon questions<\/span>
short with it.<\/span>
And I fill mine<\/span>
with resentment,<\/span>
that I know you<\/span>
can hear.<\/span>
So loud and clear<\/span>
that you and<\/span>
I too,<\/span>
would rather escape to that loud world,<\/span>
which chatters on relentless<\/span>
as a storm in the night.<\/span>


\u2022 Tim Bedford says “I am studying BA in Creative Writing at the University of Cumbria. At thirty seven I might be a bit old to be at school. But what the hell.”<\/span>
<\/font><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Shroedinger's CatThe radio instructed meI should hold a minutes silencefor something thatmight have happened.Something that could have been.No certainty, more allegationsthan bones, but still the countrywas to fall silent, for somethingthat might have happened.I asked my mate, Tom,if I should adhereto the madness ofremembering, somethingthat might have happened.He wasn't sure, but is often confused,he lives […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[7],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-1219","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-prose-poetry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1219","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1219"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1219\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1219"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=1219"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=1219"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}