The Bells

Ah what bliss
The gentle sound
Of bells
Filling the air around
An evening
Lingering with savoured pint
Experiencing
A pastoral scene so quaint
Music seemingly
By bird song inspired
What more
Might be desired
Lulling
Your senses so sweetly
Filling
Your head so completely
Ringing
Constantly, bells, unending
Bright noise
Strictly, straight, unbending
No rope
With campanologist swinging
Just sound
High pitched, infernal ringing
Then low
Thumping, bass beat rhythm
No source
That's a fact given
No lorry
With diesel engine idling
Creeping
Behing your back sidling
Oh No!
No source is there
Just
A sound that's hard to bear
A constant
Screaming, nagging torture
A knowing
This is forever your future
Never
Ever will it fully cease
Never
Ever will you find peace
A scream
Echoing inside you head
Sometimes
You just want to just be dead
Or a hole
Blasted through your thick skull
To let
The noise escape, to be a lull
Just a moment
A short space, a blip in time
To experience
Peace, quiet, relief sublime
A noiseless moment
Captured in expansive bliss
A reverie
A floating sensation, lover's kiss
But no
That is a laughable desire, disengenous
You are sentenced
To live with the hell that is tinitus


Terry Rhiannyr
September, 2012


Wet blip but gives me a chance to write about something that I've wanted to do for a while but not had a photo to use.

Suffered from tinnitus for a number of years, sometimes it's quiet, sometimes it's bearable, othertimes it's hell!

For anyone reading this who suffers from it you have my sympathies.

I don't normally do photo editing but in this case I've made an exception as the harshness of the colour inversion seemed to fit better than the chimes in their normal colouring.