Silence
I can hear my heart,
and the blood, which is
whooshing round my body;
whisper-whoosh, whisper-whoosh.
I can hear its drum-hum
pumping through my ears;
muffle-pump, muffle-pump.
The traffic hums like a lullaby
and in the distance, a baby’s cry
is like the smallest bird.
The air makes murmurs
of far-off shouts,
and my breath goes in and out,
in and out,
minding its own business,
slow – soft – slow – soft
but not quite silent,
then I realise
that there’s a sort of quiet
that’s to do with listening
to the noises which aren’t
usually heard.
and the blood, which is
whooshing round my body;
whisper-whoosh, whisper-whoosh.
I can hear its drum-hum
pumping through my ears;
muffle-pump, muffle-pump.
The traffic hums like a lullaby
and in the distance, a baby’s cry
is like the smallest bird.
The air makes murmurs
of far-off shouts,
and my breath goes in and out,
in and out,
minding its own business,
slow – soft – slow – soft
but not quite silent,
then I realise
that there’s a sort of quiet
that’s to do with listening
to the noises which aren’t
usually heard.
This poem is copyright (©) Jude Simpson 2024
About the Writer
Jude Simpson
Jude writes and performs poetry, comedy and music. She also writes scripts and lyrics for musical plays. Having created poems for adults over many years, she now also writes and performs for children. Michael Rosen described her as "funny, sharp, and a terrific performer!" Jude lives in the East of England, in a big house with lots of people and one dog.
