Monday, January 26, 2009

Quirky

Hola my loverly readers!

Let's see...today's topic is...well...to be frankly honest I'm not sure what the topic of this post should be, but I feel the need to tell you that while I was typing i heard the unmistakable sounds of a male voice bellowing at the top of his lungs..." we all live in a yellow submarine, a yellow submarine..."
Now, this might be a good time to point out that I am on the fifth floor and this lovely rendition to that timeless song was heard from behind closed windows...five stories into the air. I'm not sure whether to comment on the capacity of his lungs or the thinness of our walls...it is a predicament.

Thin walls and loud voices aside...hmm...thin walls and loud voices...sounds like a good title for a poem. I'm just in the kind of mood to write a poem actually...so I think I will. You can stop reading now if you want but I gotta tell you, if you do you'll be missing out...*cheeky grin*

Ahem:

Thin Walls and Loud Voices:
A quiet afternoon
The sun shining through the windows
The only sound is the clickty clack of my fingers across the keyboard.
I am just about to share my brilliance with the cyber world when from below...
A voice rings out and shatters my concentration. Something between yelling and singing the voice snatches up my cohesive thoughts and runs away with them to some little villa in the south of France.
Now I am left without my ability to remember what life shattering words I was going to type and the poor fellow below my window is left without his ability to charm the blue jays back from their winter sabbatical.
I suppose my thoughts are having fun.
Perhaps his voice decided to take them on a hot air balloon ride.
Maybe they are drifting by a famous work of art.
I hope they bring me back something.
I also hope that the voice returns to its owner.
You can't trust thoughts with voices...especially if they are from two different individuals. I mean, when thought and speech combine...strange things begin to happen. Ideas are born...and not only that...they are expressed.
Such is the world we live in.
A world where voice and thought can run rampant
And Idea is held as King.
Now if I could only remember why I started this in the first place...
Oh yes...
It all began with that yellow submarine.

1 comment:

T.J. Mercer said...

I love this poem. It could almost work as a Beatles song. It's very train of thought but rythmic. Kudos. And your photo is quite attractive too.