It was still quiet in the house, and not a sound was heard from outside, either. Were it not for this silence, my reverie would probably have been disrupted by reminders of daily duties, of getting up and going to school.
quote by Herman Hesse

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Silence Is...
Silence is an absence
Silence is profound
Silence is a conversation
Being had without sound
Silence is an expression
One that cannot be heard
Silence cannot be spoken
Although it is a word
Silence is a presence
Of great nothingness
Silence can be something
And yet cease to exist
Silence can fill a room
And have no mass at all
Silence cannot be dropped, yet it can fall
Silence is a mystery
That will forever go unsolved
Silence is how every sound can swiftly be dissolved
Silence is the sound of rest
The only sound that can sound best
While other sounds can cause great pain
Silence is not the sound to blame
For Silence is what silence is
Something that is nothing
Nothing that exists
poem by Kyle.J Carruthers

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In The Silence Of A Reverie
In the silence of a reverie,
I hear a lonesome whistle call.
The cries of someone wanting
their lover to come back home,
and the sound of anguished voices
from a battlefield far away.
In the silence of a reverie,
I hear a baby cry for its father.
A father who marched to duty
to fight a far off war
and whom will never see
another spring again.
In the silence of a reverie,
I hear the muted cries
of the wailing widows
struggling in the tears of their grief.
I see the white crosses
row upon row is silent cemeteries.
In the silence of a reverie,
I hear a future filled
with the cries of hope and understanding.
A future filled with victories
from the enemies
we hold within our minds.
5 May 2010
poem by David Harris

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I listen to the silence
I Listen To The Silence
Darkness about me
In the somnolent silence
The silence has substance
As thick as can be
silence about me
as loud as a scream
In a nightmarish dream
It can terrify me
Silence has a feel
Of darkness in velvet cloaked
As a desperate cry being choked
Phantasmic, yet real
As Quiet surrounds me
The silence has substance
The absence of presence
is deafening to me
Sounds whispery as paper
Things scurry about me
Sounds, soft, sad and scaly
Like venom and vapour
Silence is sound incomplete
Silence whirs, silence hums
Silence throbs, silence thrums
Silence has it’s own heartbeat
Quiet has movement,
Tho’ever so slow
Quiet has substance
and how do I know?
I listen to the silence...
as you do also
poem by David Whalen

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a Poem Of Silence
Silence is a beautiful thing.
no other sound is as great as silence.
Silence is the sound of nothing,
but it is still a sound.
even if a sound is great and amazing,
nothing can top the blissfulness of silence.
not the sound of wind on grass,
not the sound of laughter,
nothing is as beautiful as silence.
silence is a sound, but it is so much
better than any other sound.
What created such a far-off winner?
I love silence, silence is the best.
Never there will be a time that there
will be
a greater sound
than silence.
poem by Llew N. Rmail

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The best things in life are nearest Breath in your nostrils, light in your eyes, flowers at your feet, duties at your hand, the path of right just before you. Then do not grasp at the stars, but do life's plain, common work as it comes, certain that daily duties and daily bread are the sweetest things in life.
quote by Robert Louis Stephenson

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Silence
I got a feeling
Everything's gonna be alright
And I still find my way
And I heard
It's always darkest before the storm
So come on let it rain
Everything was different when I was seventeen
The world was so much brighter
Now I finally found the truth
Of what they hid for me
That world was so much kinder
Silence
Don't hear a sound
But my own voice
Silence
Is what it is
By my own choice
I believe
That we were meant to learn from our mistakes
And stumble along the way
Now I know
That people are gonna grap what they can take
Then just turn away
Everybody's searching
But no one really knows the truth
The world is upside down
What it's all about right now
Will soon turn to gray
Their promises have faded
Silence
Silence
Silence
Don't hear a sound
But my own voice
Silence
Don't hear a sound
But my own voice
Silence
Is what it is
By my own choice
All my little merry friends
Have turned their backs on me
Excuse me if I'm jaded
I'm so tired of people telling me
How it should be
Their promises have faded
Silence
Silence
Silence
Don't hear a sound
But my own voice
Silence
Don't hear a sound
But my own voice
Silence
Is what it is
By my own choice
Silence
song performed by by Tiffany

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Silence Is
Silence is sitting back in the recliner after a day
at work when the radio was too loud.
Silence is hearing the birds singing after hearing
neighbors bickering.
Silence is listening to beloved hymns after hearing
yourself complaining about things that cannot be changed.
Silence is reading the words of Rumi after reading news of
rape, murder and molestation.
When one is silent about another's wrongdoings, silence is
the sound of the devil shouting. So speak up, and he will
not be heard!
When one is silent in prayer and rest, silence is the sound
of God talking. So speak up, so He may be heard!
Yes, when God talks to you, let Him talk through you!
Be silent no longer!
poem by Greg Oosterhouse

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All's Not Quiet On The Western Front
All's not quiet on the western front.
The noise is raucous now.
It assaults the serenity of our ears
and I often wonder how
in my short life span
how it could get like this?
Did we in the west forget the silence?
The silence is what I miss.
Deluged by sounds not pleasing
I try my best not to hear.
But so much of it is deafening.
It gets louder to me each year.
Gone are the days of peaceful melodies.
They've been highjacked by the rap.
And the booming boxes that house them
sound out like a thunderclap.
This generation on the western front
doesn't remember what is through.
For if they did they would welcome it
like grass welcomes soft morning dew.
The pace they live has taken them to
a noisy frenetic place.
No. all's not quiet on the western front.
Serenity has lost its face.
poem by Edwina Reizer

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In Silence
You walk back to school one day in silence
And you think that no one cares
But you're all alone in silence
No one notices you're there
You think you know everything I'm talking about
But you don't know anything about me
You sit own in a seat you don't know anyone
They all stare at you you just wanna
Scream and shout
You walk back to school one day in silence
And you think that no one cares
But you're all alone in silence
No one notices you're there
You just finished reading and you're on to math
If you find someone they can show you the path
You think you know what your teacher says
But it all comes out a blur
But if you believe in yourself
It can change your world
You walk back to school one day in silence
And you think that no one cares
But you're all alone in silence
No one notices you're there
You walk back to school one day in silence
And you think that no one cares
But you're all alone in silence
No one notices you're there
poem by Mystykka Mysterious

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In Continuing Motions (from, Lullabies)
I've found my heart in the eventide
With dosage of its freshness and quiet stills
Where the airy vapors of drifting glide
Over mountain clippings and nightfall hills
With a morning song to fulfill me dreams
To last of bliss of the evening sky
In the waves with hopes of the beams
Those through the gentleness moments now fly
A morning that comes in songs quite new
Like a lyric filling silence fresh dream
That is born from the futures you walk
Is heard in its virgin to reverie few
In continuing motions and vary stream
That through every transition shall talk
poem by Peter S. Quinn

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Beauty Of Silence
The beauty of silence is,
When there are no mistakes
The beauty of silence is,
When there is no time to hate
The beauty of silence is,
When there is nothing to explain
The beauty of silence is,
When there is no time to diminish in pain
Lust for every love
Dreams of entire reverie
Beget the pins & pains
Of lies in the stygian of mind
The beauty of silence is, when there's no one to divulge.
The beauty of silence is, when we see in divergent views.
The beauty of silence is, when there's only you.
poem by Amir Amzah

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Evening of Reflections
shout
or perhaps better remain
in constant
silence
cry
out of misunderstanding
or fall into a reverie
for ever
wait
when in fact
no one knows
what for
forgive
when it is
so
difficult
search for
sense
or keep it
within silence
accept
this silence
or
rebel against it
or perhaps leave
but for sure
not escape
depart
leaving
everything
within one’s
silence
(Transl. Anaya Chomczyk)
poem by Dorota Szumilas

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My Red House
My Red House
Be quiet as a mouse
I once played in that red house
Shy was I, like a little mouse
Tippy toed I went looking around
Giggling, without making any sound
Happy was I to run around and play
My very own home to live and stay
My Red House
Be quiet as a mouse
Darkness came swiftly one night
A sense of something was not quite right
The shadows came across the wall
Covering my eyes, ready for my fall
The sounds of whips and chains dragged
against the floor
The sheer terror numbed me from looking
passed that door
My Red House
Be quiet as a mouse
The darkness slowly turned to grey
The black clouds lifting away
No longer trapped, I did not need to stay
Free was I to let go and make my own way
So ever slowly, opening that door
I could see the light and so much more
My Red House
Be quiet as a mouse
Changing and always moving
Never stopping and always wanting
Step by step, I shed all those tears
One at a time, I climbed up those stairs
Moving closer to where I want to be
No longer a child but an adult me
My Red House
Be quiet as a mouse
I came home today
The Red House, same as it was yesterday
Slowly, walking up that hill
Everything seems to be in a stand still
I could only stay for a while
Before the darkness comes within a mile
My Red House
Be quiet as a mouse
The breath of life you gave to me
But took away the child within me
No longer a pawn to your destruction
I have found my peace and resolution
Turning away towards the path of light
I see a very beautiful sight
My Red House
There is no longer a mouse
poem by Miu Miu Ayushi

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The House Beside The Road
The house beside the road,
Where people lived
And children played,
Is empty now
And falling down.
The echos of happy feet
Are heard now,
Tapping to the sound
Of Poppy's fiddle,
But the house beside the road
Is empty.
When a gentle voice
Is heard in the house,
It's only a singing breeze
Sifting itself through
The cracks in the roof of
The house beside the road.
poem by Scarlett Treat

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How I Love The Quiet
How I love the quiet
The early morning streets
With few people and fewer cars
The sounds of the wind and the birds
Which do not need to be heard-
The sound of my own voice singing alone its morning song-
How I love the quiet
Of the early morning
And how in my old age
I just enjoy walking along
And singing a song to myself
Into the surrounding silence.
poem by Shalom Freedman

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The quiet from the road
I wonder will they bring the quiet back from the road;
The quiet where the trees fingers reach the sky,
Quiet of the graceful geese sweeping by,
Quiet of an airplane shadowed above,
Peace of the fence line's lowly shrub.
The low keening of a coyote's howl,
More silent preening of the wild fowl,
The quiet of water in trembling spring,
But silence above everything else seen-
And I wonder will silence stay close by,
Or slowly wander, a cloud in a sky?
poem by Patti Masterman

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5. 8. 6.
I see danger
On the corner sent by me
Shadows the ways
Straight away you ran from me
I heard you calling
Yes, I heard you calling
I heard you calling
Yes, I heard you calling
I hear silence
I hear silence in my heart [house]
From a distance
Turn your back and run [hide] from me
Heard you calling
Yes, I heard you calling
Heard you calling
Yes, I heard you calling
When it happens
You will be no friend of mine
Take the first chance
When I am no longer free
Heard you calling
Yes, I heard you calling
Heard you calling
Yes, I heard you calling
In the future
When you want me in your heart
I wont be there [help you]
If you call out in the dark
Heard you calling
Yes, I heard you calling
Heard you calling
Oh yes I heard you, heard you, heard you, heard you calling
Can you hear me deep inside
From these feelings I cant hide
Can you hear me deep inside
From these feelings I cant hide
Oh, can you hear me deep inside
From these feelings I cant hide
Can you hear me calling you (4x)
song performed by by New Order

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Stolen In Our Silence
Our dreams are sometimes lost
in the words we do not say
stolen in our silence
they are spirited away.
Our thoughts go unnoticed
our voice is quiet
whisked away in the wind.
We ourselves are forgotten
our voice never to be heard
stolen in our silence
that spirits our life away.
We find ourselves one of many
who have travelled down this road
whose voices are quiet
lost in words we did not say
stolen in our silence
and quietly spirited away.
28 August 2009
poem by David Harris

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Beware! Children Are Watching Our Activities
Children are back from school
Grand-children are back from school;
They come home and feel hungry
Their mother is offering egg fried rice and curry;
I ask them frequently to give me a handful,
The dear ones refuse to spare even a spoonful;
I ask them repeatedly,
They refuse bluntly and rigidly;
They questioned me one day, reluctantly!
Have we 'ever' asked you 'any day' to give us
a gulp of what 'you drink' in the night daily;
Beware! Children are watching our activities
and teach them manners and their duties!
poem by V.K. Kanniappan

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Broken Silence
It is strange how sound can travel
on a quiet day;
you can hear someone mowing their lawn
from more than a mile away.
It breaks the silence of where only nature can be heard.
All you hear is the whine of its motor everywhere;
it drowns out the gentle sounds
that are relaxing to the ear.
You will be happy when they finish
and silence returns once more
and your ears are again massaged
by the gentle sounds of the flowing water of a stream
and the twitterings of a small bird’s song.
19 September 2008
poem by David Harris

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