Midnight Chime
The yawning of a door
near the midnight chime
heralds the entrance of something
within our frightened mind.
We listen with intent
as chains are dragged
across an empty floor.
We shout out,
“Who goes there? ”
Only to receive silence
as a midnight reply.
We lay in our beds
covers raised above our heads
wondering what monsters
have entered our castle wall.
A low and distant moan
echoes in our ears.
We shrink in silence of our fears.
“Who goes there? ”
We shout again in a voice lost
to the noise of a door slam.
Our faces drain of colour
becoming chalk white
at the thought of monsters
that are just out of our sight.
Through the night,
the noises continue
as we shrink in silence
waiting for morning to call.
We lay there frozen,
petrified by fear
not knowing what to make of
all the sounds we hear.
As the first streaks
of morning beginning to call
and exhausted by our experience
into sleep we fall.
poem by David Harris
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Related quotes
Em 3
about you
what shall i say about you?
ah, i prefer my
silence
this is my cure about
you
yes, my silence
it shall speak about
you my silence
my very own silence
to speak about your
long silence
now we are at peace
in our silence
both shall speak about
us yes our silence
our marital silence in
the silence of our bed
the root of all our
troubles freud say is in
the silence of our beds
two beds now
four meters apart
speaking in silence
the silence of the house
and the chairs
and the staircases
and the carpets and
the ticks and the
empty glasses or those
cold coffee and
frozen butter.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Silence Part III
Silence is the only thing I hear
Silence is what I fear
Silence tells me that nothing remains
Silence tells ne that its the end of your game
As silence fills the air
I begin to wish he was there
I wish I didn't let him walk out that door
And I hate that there's nothing I can do anymore
To make him mine again
I love him more than anything but I didn't know it then
And now silence is all that's left
Silence because of an unnecessary bereft
The silence rings in my ears
Because I let go of what I should have kept near
The tears pour out of my eyes
As I lay there in silence - but that's no surprise
Conflicting Influence
Conflicting influence
Hearing silence my old man does when he slowly dance around
the kitchen floor thinking he’s alone. When I sit still I can hear
silence too. Noises and voices Louis Armstrong’s trumpet and
the drumbeat of distant wars. Some of them fought and some
waiting to be fought. And I hear the righteous defending a war
where millions will die and our way of life will forever be scared
by shame. People have lost their voice, because it drowned in
the cacophony of conflicting messages that seep into our mind
day and night. Overload, fuse gone, apathy. And my old man will
never hear the good silence again.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Midnight Rambler
Did you hear about the midnight rambler
Everybody got to go
Did you hear about the midnight rambler
The one that shut the kitchen door
He don't give a hoot of warning
Wrapped up in a black cat cloak
He don't go in the light of the morning
He split the time the cock'rel crows
Talkin' about the midnight gambler
The one you never seen before
Talkin' about the midnight gambler
Did you see him jump the garden wall
Sighin' down the wind so sadly
Listen and you'll hear him moan
Talkin' about the midnight gambler
Everybody got to go
Did you hear about the midnight rambler
Well
song performed by by Rolling Stones from Let It Bleed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Triple Homicide
I'm glad the fighting's stopped
the house is silent
empty
this is how I like it
no yelling
no fights
no broken glass
silence
when they're both gone I'm happy
but when they come home
I go straight to my room
I try to be quiet
as I listen to music in the closet
the fight begins
there screaming
this time I hear my name
I ignore it
not wanting to join the fight
my dad bursts in yelling for me
my window left open he screams
he thinks I'm gone
I thought quickly
as my mom ran in
silence
silence
silence
my dad yells again
at my crying mom
I cry silently
as she's pulled from the room
screaming
I hear a gunshot and I jump
grabbing a pocket knife
from my jacket
the cries stop
then another shot
a loud thump
as a body falls
I climb out of the closet
knife in hand
blood pouring out my
parents bedroom door
silence
I open the door and see two
bodies on the floor
a gun in my father's hand
silence
silence
silence
then sirens
and cops coming around the corner
so I take the gun from my dad
hold it to my head
a loud pop
then
silence
silence
silence
t he cops would
call this a triple homicide
or double homicide and suicide
but I call this
a family
who needed help
poem by No Reason To Care
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No Voice
There are times when we feel
we have no voice
we are suffocated by circumstances.
Our voice is lost in the void;
we wander with eyes open
and no mouth for things to say.
Those around us are oblivious
that our presence is near.
We are invisible
with only our ears to hear.
We have no voice to shout our protests clear,
no voice to vent our anger at what we can hear.
Our voice is silenced by circumstances
some of which we do not understand.
We have no voice today or tomorrow,
and even if we had a voice
would it be heard?
Would our words fall
on vacant and deaf ears?
The question remain unanswered
for around us silence reins.
Silent as our protests
and frustration is all we gain.
One day our gag maybe lifted,
but will it be too late.
There maybe no one around us
and our anger will be lost,
lost in the silence when no one is there.
We can only hope that one day
when the silence clears
our voice among the millions
will finally be heard.
15 September 2009
poem by David Harris
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A Midnight Caller
The sound of Dakota by Stereophonics,
The periodic sound of my ringtone,
In that moment sub-conciousness,
There goes the midnight caller,
Like a phantom she whispers soft words,
Like a baby I concentrate unto her,
She tells me she couldnt sleep,
Only my voice could rescue her,
Jailed in her iron cell,
Of solitude in a lonely night,
She is a midnight caller
Her voice so penetrative like winter winds,
Sending an impulse down to my toes,
My night is changed for the better,
Like she is right there with me,
My pillow knnows her voice,
So does my linen sheets,
In the silence of the dark nights,
Stereophonics, Dakota plays again,
Goodnight wishes again and again,
She is a midnight caller
Midnight, my seasonal best friend,
Only in need not in deed,
Approach faster, I have fallen in love,
Starring at my fone waiting for your call
To regain hope lost in the morning,
To revitalise moral lost in the afternoon,
Winning what I lost during sunset,
Your words like a bundle of joy
She id a midnight caller
She knows the most perfect time,
When muscles are relaxed, perfectly,
When the brain is at ease,
Who taught her such,
She got it better than everyone,
Bright enough to shine my night,
Dont hold the phone on me,
My ear hungers for you sweet one,
Oh my, she is a midnight caller
Its like a new world in my bed,
My room a fantasyland,
Your words turn the lights on,
They kiss away the fright,
And certainly they turn me on,
Your last words,
Two big tears rolling down my cheeks
She steals my heart by night,
Waiting upon her call,
Dakota, please play along,
She makes my night,
She is a midnight caller
poem by Gaylord Munemo
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Silence
I sit alone in my room in silence
I wait for you all day in silence
I walk an empty street in silence
What happend to the noises I used to hear?
I lie on my bed in silence
I wait for the sun to rise in silence
I look for you in the stars in silence
Why did you leave me here?
Hey everyone. I thought I might try a different style of writing. Tell me if you like it or not! =D thanks
poem by Lisa French
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Wednesday Morning Silence
At eleven O’clock in the morning,
I sit experiencing the stillness
of a Wednesday morning silence coming down.
It seems much earlier,
though the day is half done
after a fun filled Tuesday
that lasted long into the night.
I sit experiencing the stillness
and wondering in the silence
after the rain had come down.
The absent drip of raindrops
sounds like time ticking away
in the Wednesday morning silence coming down.
Sitting on my friends deck
as a cooling breeze rustles the leaves
in the silence of the morning
as I wait for everyone to wake
in a Wednesday Morning silence coming down
while I am on holiday.
poem by David Harris
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There Is A New Door In My House
There is a new 'door' in the little boy's house,
Where there was not one before,
A new 'cat shaped' hole' in the kitchen,
a new 'cat sized' hole in the door.
'But what about locks and bolts? ' the little boy asked,
Tugging at his my mum's loose apron strings.
'To keep out ghosts and scary monsters',
'and all those horrible night time things.'
'We don't need locks' the boy's mum said,
'Its only cats that can get through'.
'But what about 'cat' sized monsters,
or ghosts of that size too? '
'Go to bed now', the boy's mum said,
'What are you worrying for? '
'It's ghosts and scary monsters mum
that would fit nicely through that door? '
He went up the stairs to his room,
And tried to get to sleep,
But was thinking of ghosts and scary monsters,
Not happy jumping sheep.
'Tap, Tap', he woke, that noise (he thought) ,
It came up from the ground floor! ,
A tap, tap, tap, at the cat flap,
A noise from the cat shaped door.
A shiver ran stright down the little boy's spine,
Is it monster or a ghost?
Shaking, he crept straight down the stairs thinking 'what would scare me most? '
He crawled right up to the cat flap,
To see what was at the door,
Was it the ghosts or scary monsters,
The boy was thinking of before?
He peered into the gloom of the flap,
He strained his eyes to see,
'What might it have been that made that Tap, ,
Waiting out there for me? '.
'Tap, Tap... Tap, Tap...
Again, the noise from the flap,
Tap, Tap from the cat sized door,
Two green and bulbous eyes were there,
That were not there before.
The boy sat still, afraid to move,
Chilled straight down to his core,
The eyes began to peer at him,
Straight through the cat shaped door.
Tap.. Tap.., Tap, Tap..
That sound again, just like the tap before.
What if this thing, can fit straight through,
The cat sized and unlocked door?
Slowly, the cat flap began to open,
Sweat rolled off the boy's cold brow,
Those round green eyes were now inside,
When a sound was heard....
'Meoooow'
poem by Alexander Johnson
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I can hear in the silence
The silence of our conversation
Is worse than anything you can say
And that fact that there's but silence between us
Is well to my dismay
I love you so much
Yet silence is the only thing I let escape
...... ....... ...... ....... ........ .......
Silence draped over our conversations
Like a long, black cape
There's so much I want to tell you
But I know I wouldn't
And I want to scream at you
But I know I shouldn't
...... ....... ...... ....... ........ .......
I know you want to say something too
Of this I'm sure
But it is only so little
That you or I will endure
The few times we talk
I can hear it in you voice
I can her uncertainty
And the need to make a choice
...... ....... ...... ....... ........ .......
I wish silence would leave
Once and for all
Then maybe we could have better communication
Perhaps even outside a phone call
And I try so hard
Just like I try to make this poem rhyme
But it just takes too much effort
And way too much time
But you can't expect me to let silence take over
And if you do you are very wrong
And if we continue like this
We won't be together long
And I bet that's what you want
....
........
............
......... .......
The silence continues.....
And so does this game
What's worst is I know
That I'm the only one to blame
It's all my fault
It's because of what I did and didn't do
And it hurts so much
Because I'm so in love with you
...... ....... ...... ....... ........ .......
I can hear in the silence
What I've heard for some time
You don't say anything
But I know what's on your mind
You leave behind silence
In the dark abyss that is my heart
And what's worst is
I, myself, tore it apart
...... ....... ...... ....... ........ .......
When I realized what I was doing
It was already too late
Just another
Twist of my terrible fate
And silence took over
A silence caused by me
A silence that's eternal
A silence that won't leave
................
............
.... ....
....
.
poem by Tee Anderson
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In Silence
In silence, you can hear
the scratching of a pen across paper.
In silence, you can hear
the rhythmic sound
of your heart beating
telling you you are alive.
In silence, you can hear
the screech of a demon call.
In silence, you can hear
the murmur of a baby
just moments before
they begin to awake.
In silence, you can hear
your memories calling.
In silence, you are transported
back in your life
into days long gone by
under sun-drenched skies.
In silence, you can hear
your voice of loneliness.
In silence, you are there
within the confines
of your inner self
and forever alone in silence.
11 May 2012
poem by David Harris
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Rock rabbits on the hillock
Early morning rock rabbits sit
on the hillock in the sun
as if they are guarding the silence
and when you shout
your voice echoes back,
with hundreds suddenly fleeing
and it feels as if moments are frozen.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Monsters that I Fear
The monsters that I fear
Do not live beneath the bed
Trembling quietly on the floor
Hoping never to be heard
By the devils in the sky
Who toss and turn in tides
The monsters that I fear
Are not residents in a closet
Who peek between the fissures
Of the unwashed distilled light
Looking wearingly for movement
Around eiderdown sleeping dragons
The monsters that I fear
Have never ventured in darkness
Where souls create their compass
To guide themselves across the mountains
In peaks of pain and suffering
And rise above their inklings
The monsters that I fear
Sleep deep inside their beds
Resting peacefully in clothes
Adorned in flesh of silken lining
And awake in the still-life of each day
To invent monsters of their make
For I have never feared the monsters
Who exist in dreams of terror
But the once who are their creators
That I see in the shadows mirrors
poem by Kevin Patrick
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Return To Innocence
ANGEL OF DARKNESS
RETURN TO INNOCENCE
Open the door, go through the entrance
Behind the door, into the darkness
Right on the floor, the source of silence
With just a call makes every thing useless
That call is a single cry
A sound that can make you shy
Without a move you're tied
Confronted with your own desire
Just a doubt in your mind
A wall to hide behind
To take a break and remind
To stay noble, clean and kind
A call to a moment of reminiscence
A confrontation with my soul's absence
A direct touch to my heart, to my conscience
Is how my baby's smile returns me to innocence...
(to be continued...)
A.O.D.
poem by Angel Of Darkness7
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Sweet Silence Speaks
At the brink of the midnight
When every mortal sleeps
When voices turn their faces
Then the sweet silence speaks
With the onset of the moonlight
Slowly deserting the streets
When the noises are duped
Then the sweet silence speaks
When the zephyrs are high
At the snow covered peaks
And the voices get numb
Then the sweet silence speaks
I desperately wait to meet her
Through days and all through the weeks
I really die to hear her voice
And then the sweet silence speaks
Through an edge of a dream
When my sweety slowly peaks
All of a sudden I wake up
When the sweet silence speaks
poem by Sumeet Mukherjee
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Alone in Silence
Alone in Silence
Christian U. Garan
As I walk along the aisle with trees side by side,
Not a single sound or dichotomous noise collide
My footsteps, I can even hardly recognize!
Silence traps me during that moment, I realize.
It seems that I am in the middle of my dream.
Controlled by my own mind while the world’s at rest in dim
I travel there with uncertainty deep inside
Then, silence blankets me and no one is there to guide
I want to run and shout but there’s no voice in me.
I wish I could flee from that unwanted fantasy.
Yet, the more I resist, the more the things go wrong!
What is it with silence that makes it a dreadful song?
Oh! Why should I feel in agony with silence?
Without seclusion, can I savor the life’s essence?
Then, I apprehend the intent of life’s muteness.
Silence fathoms the depth of our faith in His goodness.
poem by Christian Garan
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the sounds of Sunday
i hear the sound of the cold wind from the sea
i hear the waking call of the roosters
the scratching feet of the dog on some disturbing flea
and i hear her steps towards the door as she opens it
she goes to church
and i hear her gently closing the door and the gate too
closing in on me
i am alone now with all the other sounds of the house
this sound of the growing silence
some voices
rushing to fill my mind
some poems
for the day
it is this silence that feeds me
the trickles of my soul
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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When Will They Ever Realize
The sound of silence filled the air,
just before the dawn.
The sun’s streaky fingers stretched
forward on the fading night sky.
I walk in desolation,
for reasons I know not why.
The chorus of the morning birds
has yet to break the spell
of the unstrained silence,
which on everything had befell.
I tried to remember yesterday,
when the oyster of the world was mine.
I tried to see the smiling faces,
of those I loved and left behind.
The war was not mine or theirs,
but always someone has to go,
to do the battles for the sake of someone’s word.
An order given by a faceless person
and thousands throw away their lives.
There is no reason given,
and the faceless one doesn’t hear their cries,
of all those who fall on battlefields.
Giving up their families and their lives.
They call them cowards, those who refuse,
to follow orders to commit suicide.
There is no adventure in dying;
in a place, you cannot pronounce the name.
There is no glory in suicide,
but wars make men do it just the same.
When will they ever realize,
wars make no difference at all,
except to make rows of white crosses,
as memorials to those who had to fall.
I shudder at the sounds of the guns,
breaks the silence in my ears.
Will my loved ones before the days end,
be among those to shed tears?
13 March 1984
poem by David Harris
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Lost in the silence
Standing still dazed and confused
My world is going round
Im lost in the madness
The noise becomes a whisper
Then slowly a fading silence
My voice is gone..
Where do i belong?
Lost in the silence
You cant find me
I was once a dream
then I became my own nightmare
Spare me the silence.
Im going to set a blaze
Hear the roaring thunder? ?
Im coming near..
You can taste the fear
Behind each tear
Of silence
poem by Trinidad Villafranca
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