Muted void
in soundless gape
through which
language stumbles
strangles
struggles
stutters
and fails
cruel fate
impales the heart of broca
thus
grasp-less meaning
darklinged
amorphous
ever-elusive
tongue-less exasperation
unsaid frustration
‘round and down
cerebral corridors
in search of words
unfound
unbound to sound
of worth
or clarity
dispossessed
of diction
of spoken function
of comprehension
and yet
to nearly know
but no
lost
just below comprehension
null understanding
it fogs and fades
flounders
unformed
falling to
stutter
and stammer
stilted
stifled
and lost
blind to the meaning
bound in confusion
wisdom of the ages
from temples of knowledge
pillared
in the ivory of suffering
but all locked within
trapped
in a soundless prison
gilded
yet mute
expressionless
lost
to deafened ears
unresponsive as stone
alone
in darkness
unspeaking
silenced
*
rob kistner © 2022
Poetry at: The Sunday Muse
Here’s Paul & Art, the originators, with a perhaps more genteel version:
Okay so you sent me searching
(Pierre Paul Broca was a French physician, anatomist and anthropologist. He is best known for his research on Broca’s area, a region of the frontal lobe that is named after him. Broca’s area is involved with language. Wikipedia)
Nice one Rob
Happy Sunday
Much?love
Hope you enjoyed the search Gillena — thank you for taking the time to wonder… 😉
Wow, Rob, it’s as though you’ve taken a 3D scene and pulled it inside out into a 4D image. Amazing.
~David
Thank you David… 🙂
This really hit home this morning. Forceful words and ideas.
It was a “stream-of-consciouness” piece, evoked by the wonderful image. I am feel at sometime down the road I may return to this piece to re-read, focused on the possibility of editing to refine it — but who knows. I rather enjoy the orgasm of expression it represents Chrissa, so thank you for your very gracious acknowledgment. 🙂
alone in darkness
and silenced
Rightly so Rob! One is silenced beyond all the expected necessities. Wonderful close!
Hank
Not a fun place to find oneself Hank, and it increases with age. Especially after being articulately smooth and fluent as a younger man.
A journey of words, in all their guises. Well done. I get the sense of one stumbling to express oneself, yet you have done so in a rain of exactly the right words.
If only I could find the words when I get stuck in one of my “just-at-the-edge-of-my-mind” moments Sherry. It is such a helplessly annoying situation — especially when what I was trying to reach for to express was important… even if only to me.
“through which
language stumbles
strangles
struggles
stutters
and fails”
That’s is us.
Much too frustratingly often Q. This is how I feel, when I’m exasperatingly flustered, caught up in one of my ever more frequent “tip-of-the-tongue” moments.
Fantastic Piece, I love it
Thank you AJ… 🙂
I don’t know if I ever truly express what is in me. Your poem gives me so much to ponder. Excellent writing!
Thank you Susie… 🙂 we also seem too easily shocked silent, to stay mute, stifled, in the most overwhelming moments, when speaking out, with words of wisdom and counsel, might actually make a real difference.
Beautiful assonance, and the short lines felt sort of echoing and unreal, like rolling over and over in space 🙂
Thank you Sunra, pleased this resonated for you my friend… 🙂
Outdid yourself on this one, Rob! Stream-of-consciousness was perfect for this image.
Thank you Sara… 🙂