Mundane silence

It’s not from wind or salt
not the fault of savage rain
ripping petals from our plum-tree
barely sprung a-bloom,
it’s neither ice nor pain,
not wildness of the waves

but a void of unimportance,
the mundane silence
of a phone line leading no-

where.

The Telephone
Tamara de Lempicka

The word of the quadrille at dVerse today is salt. De hosts, and the bar opens soon.

February 21, 2022

25 responses to “Mundane silence

  1. The storm of mundane silence is deafening, charging the air, waiting for a burst of some kind of relief. I love the artwork you chose, such beautiful light shadowed by her expression.

  2. “not the fault of savage rain
    ripping petals from our plum-tree
    barely sprung a-bloom,
    it’s neither ice nor pain”

    Very pretty. The rhythm is so perfect through to that intriguing last line break.

    The young blooms torn away make me think of a missing daughter and another dead end while the police are searching for her.

  3. the mundane silence
    of a phone line leading no-where.

    Love the punch-line! The matter can be of unimportance but it lingers on in unnecessary frustration!

    Hank

  4. You put so much mood into this, Bjorn, it’s almost film-like really–in a noir way–hanging on the telephone realizing you may never get any kind of meaningful answer from anything or anyone. Or so I read. Vivid and sharp as knives.

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