The Furnace

The furnace of noise is obliterating,
Heat surges like a bird’s cry,
The crying of the furnace is like venom.
Heat is audible now, it never whispers here;
Rippling heat like hell is lowering the limbs,
Soft voices are heard from afar to attack your body.
Fainter, and still fainter, the voices run,
Vast is the thudding, gentle clicks,
So that floating happens from the hot air.
To turn this down is obviously dreadful,
But silence is absent in every way.

poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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