[Editor’s Note: This is the ninth in a daily series of Janet Hoult poems from “Body Parts,” a collection of poetry about aging.]
Ringing in my Ears
Is that the doorbell or the phone?
You didn’t hear it? Just me alone?
It’s that dreadful tinnitus again, that ringing in my ear
It too often fools me and I’m not sure what I hear.
It is never silent and so often very loud
All day and night I feel like I’m in a crowd
Of noisemakers who never stop their ringing
But are always very boisterous keeping up their ding a linging
Masking it with music seems to help a little bit
But the notes just don’t ring true, they really do not fit
Together with a symphony or even with a song
The ringing in my ears is just too loud and strong
Whether loud or soft, the ring tone’s like a bell
And when I shake my head it echoes like a well
Sometimes I really wish I could explain to other people
What it’s like to have a head that rings like a church steeple.
Good thing I’m not a blonde or referred to as dizzy
‘Cause I’d probably be called a ding-a-ling dame
which would throw me into a tizzy!
Ms. Hoult, who lives in Carlson Park with her husband Charlie, may be contacted at HOULTight@aol.com
