En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Early Works - Park

A park full of people
where bird song is only heard
trees shade the sunlight
the sound of bird in flight
heard without straining ear
proves the silence we’ve been searching for
is at hand and very near.

Colours of every shade transforms
this sleepy nest
from just a sanctuary of solitude
to a beauty unmolested.
The domain of silence,
the domain of beauty to,
a fortress for the mind to work with eyes.

14 May 1979

poem by David Harris
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Beauty of the Trees

She came as nature made her, beauty as can be
to a rose, her lips intimidate; to a tree, her body curves
her hair, like the leaves, move in the breaze
and tasteful dreams her body serves-
in between her thighs-
as women watch in jealousy-
green-envied were their eyes,
to see such a bird, as was this girl-that fluttered with beauty
and envy overtook them-twisting them evil
bright days turned dark-and darkness-but a mute
as women did dispute-
the honor of killing the sweet bird
-only in silence-heard-
and thus the end of beauty came-
blowing out her flame
but her beauty lurks in present ease
in the beauty of the trees

poem by Afrodita Alkline
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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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Flower and Bird

Amongst the lonely branches of a tree,
Stood a lovely flower fragrant and free,
She was the sight of every passer-by,
'What a beautiful flower! ' people would cry.
The flower in the prime of its youth,
Couldn’t identify life and its real truth,
Proud by its fragrance and beauty it stood,
And thought that beauty was what made it good,
Impressed by its beauty a little bird would sing,
The tale of its love and the whole valley would ring,
Perched on the branch of the great oak tree,
The bird sings its love for the flower to see,
People would stop and look at this tale,
Of the beautiful lady and the gallant male.
And one day the bird let its heart out,
And the beautiful flower refused with pout,
The bird wanting its beloved’s heart,
Asked her, 'What do I do so that we don’t part? '
And the proud flower told the lonely bird,
'There is a flower down the valley, have you heard?
Its brilliant red, is said is more beautiful than me,
So dear bird, make me red, as red as I can be! '
The bird said, 'But your beauty is no match,
So beautiful are you that my heart, you did catch! '
The flower in its pride and anger,
Told the bird 'Oh! Don’t bother',
The sadness in its eyes, the bird couldn’t see,
And said, 'I gift the colour red to thee! '
Saying this he pierced his heart on a thorn,
And spilt the blood on her till he was torn,
And the flower indeed did become red,
With the love of the little bird’s blood,
People would stare at the beautiful flower,
And amongst the branches it would hover,
The people passing soon forgot the song of the bird,
But the silent lament of the flower was never heard,
The flower never forgot the love of its bird,
But the melody of the poor bird was never heard!

poem by Supriya Mothay
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The Reverie of Poor Susan

At the corner of Wood Street, when daylight appears,
Hangs a Thrush that sings loud, it has sung for three years:
Poor Susan has passed by the spot, and has heard
In the silence of morning the song of the Bird.

Tis a note of enchantment; what ails her? She sees
A mountain ascending, a vision of trees;
Bright volumes of vapour through Lothbury glide,
And a river flows on through the vale of Cheapside.

Green pastures she views in the midst of the dale,
Down which she so often has tripped with her pail;
And a single small cottage, a nest like a dove's,
The one only dwelling on earth that she loves.

She looks, and her heart is in heaven: but they fade,
The mist and the river, the hill and the shade:
The stream will not flow, and the hill will not rise,
And the colours have all passed away from her eyes!

poem by William Wordsworth
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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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Do Yiu Listen..Or Do U Hear

s the sun rises, , all is quite no chatter of people no cars goin by
but in this silence i hear

i hear the wind as she sings her song
i hear the birds in the sky as they fly by
this is the best silence of all
no phones ringing, no engines reviing as they race by
i hear everything in nature in its glory
can u hear it too..or can u not silence ur selfs

i hear the clouds as they roll in
its this silence that i take pen in hand
and write
u think as u read but thier is no silence
for u can hear the horses roam
u can hear the thunder off in th distance
but when we are loud we caint hear
the beauty of what surrounds
so as u read this poem silence ur mind
and next time u walk out side
silence you mouth ur mind
and u can see silence of the
of all things
then u can truly hear
as i do
and a beautfull sound to see
greyicewolf

.

poem by Jeff Greyicewolf
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The Voice

One feather is a bird,
I claim; one tree, a wood;
In her low voice I heard
More than a mortal should;
And so I stood apart,
Hidden in my own heart.

And yet I roamed out where
Those notes went, like the bird,
Whose thin song hung in air,
Diminished, yet still heard:
I lived with open sound,
Aloft, and on the ground.

That ghost was my own choice,
The shy cerulean bird;
It sang with her true voice,
And it was I who heard
A slight voice reply;
I heard; and only I.

Desire exults the ear:
Bird, girl, and ghostly tree,
The earth, the solid air--
Their slow song sang in me;
The long noon pulsed away,
Like any summer day.

poem by Theodore Roethke
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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 Must Be Heard

(m.cretu.)
.
Look into the others eyes, many frustrations
Read between the lines, no words just vibrations
Dont ignore hidden desires
Pay attention, youre playing with fire
Silence must be heard, noise should be observed
The time has come to learn, that silence ...
Silence must be heard
Or diamonds will burn, friendly cards will turn
Cause silence has the right to be heard
People talk too much for what they have to say
Words without a meaning, just fading away
Silence must be heard, noise should be observed
The time has come to learn, that silence ...
Silence must be heard
Or diamonds will burn, friendly cards will turn
Cause silence has the right to be heard

song performed by by Enigma
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Quail's Nest

I wandered out one rainy day
And heard a bird with merry joys
Cry 'wet my foot' for half the way;
I stood and wondered at the noise,

When from my foot a bird did flee--
The rain flew bouncing from her breast
I wondered what the bird could be,
And almost trampled on her nest.

The nest was full of eggs and round--
I met a shepherd in the vales,
And stood to tell him what I found.
He knew and said it was a quail's,

For he himself the nest had found,
Among the wheat and on the green,
When going on his daily round,
With eggs as many as fifteen.

Among the stranger birds they feed,
Their summer flight is short and low;
There's very few know where they breed,
And scarcely any where they go.

poem by John Clare
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Within The Shade

Behold, within the leafy shade,
Those famous dwellings called nests:
Bird’s eggs and twigs gathered.
Stay near me, as I uproot
This monument of Nature
With hands of health.
That is work! This matters to us,
The eggs taste special from the wild.
I consume and spare them at will,
The people answer with loud acclaim
That my eggs clad with gold
Are the better waste, the better health.
Behold, within the shade of dwellings
Is a bird’s work, my work,
And the work of people.

poem by Naveed Akram
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A Fairy Grave

Let a little grave be made,
Half in shadow, half in shade,
In a quiet, kindly place,
Friendly as her face.

Let the passing fairy bird
From his airy height be heard;
Ever, ever for that ground
Only gentle sound.

Let the singing winds, which be
Wingèd dream and melody,
Singing softly, by her lie,
Softly singing, die.

Let the bee has sucked the bloom
Homeward journey by her tomb,
And his tithe of sweet be paid
To her sweeter shade.

Let the low clouds, red and gold,
Mourn her on the mountains old;
Beauty, aye her guardian be,
You and Melody.

Spirits of sound and souls of flowers,
All you dearest griefless powers,
You with whom she went away,
Tend her night and day.

poem by John Vance Cheney from Century Magazine, Volume 57, Issue 4 (1889)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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A Bird Story, The Hint...

watching you in full beauty
is an attempt of my hand to set myself free
i have the key and the door is not locked
there is no use for the key even
no one is locking me in and i am always
free at any time of the day to go
and be the wings of the bird that
my mind imagines every hour of the
waking day

there was once a bird captured by an enemy
put inside a cage and well feed
and well attended
it sings of freedom and love and beauty
in one sad song
the enemy decides to open the cage to set it free
the bird doubts this time
the enemy has become a loyal friend
the cage has become its sweetest home

the words are the same as arranged in that desired ending
ah, they all live happily ever after....

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Buzz Buzz Buzz

(wha-ooh, wha-ooh, wha-ooh, wha-ooh)
Well buzz buzz buzz goes the bumble bee
A twiddledeedledee goes a bird
But the sound of your little voice, darling,
Its the sweetest sound Ive ever heard.
Well, Ive seen the beauty of the red, red rose,
Seen the beauty when the skies are blue,
Seen the beauty of the evening sunset- but the beauty of you!
Sweet is the honey from the honeycomb,
Sweet are the grapes of a vine,
But theres nothing as sweet as you, darling,
And I hope some day youll be mine!

song performed by by Huey Lewis And The News
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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What The Dog Perhaps Hears

If an inaudible whistle
blown between our lips
can send him home to us,
then silence is perhaps
the sound of spiders breathing
and roots mining the earth;
it may be asparagus heaving,
headfirst, into the light
and the long brown sound
of cracked cups, when it happens.
We would like to ask the dog
if there is a continuous whir
because the child in the house
keeps growing, if the snake
really stretches full length
without a click and the sun
breaks through clouds without
a decibel of effort,
whether in autumn, when the trees
dry up their wells, there isn't a shudder
too high for us to hear.

What is it like up there
above the shut-off level
of our simple ears?
For us there was no birth cry,
the newborn bird is suddenly here,
the egg broken, the nest alive,
and we heard nothing when the world changed.

poem by Lisel Mueller
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The Cuckoo

The cuckoo, like a hawk in flight,
With narrow pointed wings
Whews o'er our heads - soon out of sight
And as she flies she sings:
And darting down the hedgerow side
She scares the little bird
Who leaves the nest it cannot hide
While plaintive notes are heard.

I've watched it on an old oak tree
Sing half an hour away
Until its quick eye noticed me
And then it whewed away.
Its mouth when open shone as red
As hips upon the brier,
Like stock doves seemed its winged head
But striving to get higher

It heard me rustle and above leaves
Soon did its flight pursue,
Still waking summer's melodies
And singing as it flew.
So quick it flies from wood to wood
'Tis miles off 'ere you think it gone;
I've thought when I have listening stood
Full twenty sang - when only one.

When summer from the forest starts
Its melody with silence lies,
And, like a bird from foreign parts,
It cannot sing for all it tries.
'Cuck cuck' it cries and mocking boys
Crie 'Cuck' and then it stutters more
Till quick forgot its own sweet voice
It seems to know itself no more.

poem by John Clare
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The Bird at Dawn

What I saw was just one eye
In the dawn as I was going :
A bird can carry all the sky
In that little button glowing.

Never in my life I went
So deep into the firmament.

He was standing on a tree,
All in blossom overflowing;
And he purposely looked hard at me,
At first, as if to question merrily :
' Where are you going ? '
But next some far more serious thing to say :
I could not answer, could not look away.

Oh, that hard, round, and so distracting eye :
Little mirror of all the sky ! --
And then the after-song another tree
Held, and sent radiating back on me.

If no man had invented human word,
And a bird-song had been
The only way to utter what we mean,
What would we men have heard,
What understood, what seen,
Between the trills and pauses, in between
The singing and the silence of a bird?

poem by Harold Monro
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The Happy Child

I saw this day sweet flowers grow thick --
But not one like the child did pick.

I heard the packhounds in green park --
But no dog like the child heard bark.

I heard this day bird after bird --
But not one like the child has heard.

A hundred butterflies saw I --
But not one like the child saw fly.

I saw the horses roll in grass --
But no horse like the child saw pass.

My world this day has lovely been --
But not like what the child has seen.

poem by William Henry Davies
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Miracle

When the sky turns deep purple in color and the mountains appear
An unfathomable shade of magenta-
I see the sunlight sparkling upon the shadows in the creek below.
Sunlight would reflect against crystalline stones and the
Grass is greener than the eyes of a goddess-
There is not a sound to be heard in this moment except for a
Gentle breeze singing a tunefully angelic aria-
When there is not a single person within miles of
This magical place where I have found my spirit dancing-
I know I have nothing to fear.
Looking up into this lavender-hued sky I can see a bird
Soaring above the mountains- its wings shaded a mesmerizing essence of blue and
The feathers on its tail, yellow as sunlight upon a sandy beach-
My utmost and only desire is to be that bird,
Flapping my wings in a gentle gust of wind and looking down upon
This magical world below- I have always been a dreamer.
I hear voices singing songs of freedom and of the mysticism of nature-
I see blossoming flowers of a variety of colors and
I hear voices whispering to me of the miracles of this moment-
I know within my heart and my mind that I am alone and
These voices that I hear are emanating from the depths of my own mind, when
Solitude has never appeared so amazingly striking.
I see that bird flying high up in the sky above and within moments
I have become that bird- flapping my own wings and
Gazing at this vibrant world below me,
For a moment I am the queen of the world and in the next moment,
A deity of the entire universe- Veracity is seemingly thousands of miles away.
I have heard voices of my past telling me I am none but a pauper in a wretched state or
None but a fool who has lost her sanity-in these words I have never believed.
As I continue this tour of this phantasmal space about me,
I know I have found myself a home and the world beyond can attempt to
Tear my soul apart but I know deep inside that this is my reality-
Perhaps others do not hear and see the sounds and the sights that I envision-
However as long as I believe in all that I hear and see within my own thoughts,
What even millions of other people believe does not matter- for it is these people
Whom I believe are in a wretched state, and are still trying to find themselves-
I am queen of my world and have locked the gate to that world's threatening dismay-
I follow my shadow into that deep purple sky and I know that
The shadow of my spirit shall live on forever. I shall keep on moving
Further into the land of my dreams, only to look forward and never turning back.

poem by Claudia Krizay
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