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Body Parts: When It Comes to Ringing, Thank Goodness I’m Not a Blonde

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[Editor’s Note: This is the ninth in a daily series of Janet Hoult poems from “Body Parts,” a collection of poetry about aging.]


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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!
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Ms. Hoult, who lives in Carlson Park with her husband Charlie, may be contacted at HOULTight@aol.com

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