Outside:
the door creaks,
wind howls,
leaves rustle swooshing,
thunder rumbles,
panes rattle
and rain pitter- patters.
Inside:
the fan chugs,
tap leaks -
drip.tip.drip.tip.drip;
dad snores,
sister and mother breathe deep rhythmic;
and i lie,
muscles clenched, heart
beating drumming pounding
erratically in my chest,
cold sweat lining my brow.
Somehow in the deep darkness of night,
in silence of sleep,
all soft sounds seem scarily amplified.
madhumakhi,
ReplyDeleteSo true about the amplified sounds in the still of the night!
A very effective image with your words....
Eileen
It almost seems as if you have a bungalow out in the woods! Great write. You should read Ruskin Bond.
ReplyDelete@Eileen: thanks for commenting.
ReplyDelete@Rajesh: No, i don't have a bungalow out in the woods; and as a matter of fact, i've read Ruskin Bond. I'm strongly reminded of his monsoon diary, now that you've mentioned him. He said that hearing rain itself made him feel in touch with it. I've also read 'The India I Love'. Excellent book.
In the stillness of night, somehow the sounds not just amplify, but seem to take on a distinctive, dramatic persona! An interesting poem exploring this phenomena!
ReplyDeleteWonderfully captures the 'gut feels' when we catch ourselves listening to the sounds at night.
ReplyDeleteScary just reading this even though there are others around. Really good poem about the feelings and how they build from the ordinary.
ReplyDelete