Westminster Abbey
'TWAS afternoon in winter, and the light
Sloped softly up the walls, as day was done,
In tremulous cloud-beams, while the westering sun
Blazoned with saints the columns opposite.
All sounds had died away; to left and right
5
Was silence, tho' I seemed to hear again
The spirit-echoes of the last Amen
Far in the groinèd shadowings out of sight.
Oh! silence strange, so deep, so vast, profound;
Ten ages slumber in the dust beneath,
10
And yet no voice,—no voice from those who trod
These aisles before and lie so still around.
Oh! is it that they lose all voice in death,
Seeing what they see, and being so close to God?
poem by Frederick George Scott
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Related quotes
I Hear
(diana ross/stan scates)
What is this i hear
Falling softly in my ears
Quietly telling me to wipe away my tears
Yesterdays are gone
And love has cleared the way
No matter who you are
You can touch the stars
Life's interactions can make you smile
Just listen to the voice in your heart
The voice is near you, it's never too far
The voice is with you, where ever you are
It's closer than close, calling to your heart
I hear the voice of love
I hear the voice of love
The voice will never leave you
It lives deep down inside
It's calling you, asking you
To open up your heart
All things are achievable
Nothing is impossible
You can reach your highest high
You can make it if you try
Life's interactions can make you smile
Just listen to the voice in your heart
The voice is near you, it's never too far
The voice is with you, where ever you are
It's closer than close, calling to your heart
I hear the voice of love
I hear the voice of love
Follow where it leads you in the dark
The voice will guide your heart
The voice is always near
I hear the voice, i found the voice
From the mountains to the sea
The voice of love is calling me
Where ever you are, the voice is near you
It's never too far, the voice is with you
I hear the voice of love
I hear the voice of love
I hear the voice of love
song performed by by Diana Ross
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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Today... 'The Amen
We end our prayers by saying Amen.
It is our hearts response again and again.
You are the answer to all that we bring to God
for a life of prayer was the path You trod.
'Amen. So let it be' our spirit cries as we rejoice.
Speak Lord for today we need to hear Your voice
and obey the commands we see in the Book of Life
keeping close to You avoiding schisms and strife.
Oh Faithful and True Witness from heaven above.
Ruler of God's creative work and Lord of love.
We hear Your voice speaking to the church Oh Lord
and submit to the command of The Great Amen of God.
(see also the additional information in the Poet's notes box below)
The Next Voice You Hear
Gather your deeds and your possessions,
Whatever certainty youve known,
Forget your heroes,
You dont really need those lasting lessons.
Stand in the open;
The next voice you hear will be your own.
But, alright, they knew how they could hurt you,
And you let them cut you to the bone.
But God forbid,
You allow them to rid you of your virtue!
Forget their laughter;
The next voice you hear will be your own.
The next voice you hear...
The next voice you hear...
The next voice you hear...
The next voice you hear...
The next voice you hear...
The next voice you hear will be your own.
Throw down your truth and check your weapons.
Dont look to see if youre alone,
Just stand your ground,
And dont turn around -- whatever happens.
Dont ask directions;
The next voice you hear will be your own.
The next voice you hear...
The next voice you hear...
The next voice you hear...
The next voice you hear...
The next voice you hear...
The next voice you hear will be your own.
song performed by by Jackson Browne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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Ebony Life
A frightening stillness will mark that day
And the shadow of streetlights and fire-alarms will exhaust the light
All things, the quietest and the loudest, will be silent
The suckling brats will die
The tugboats the locomotives the wind will glide by in silence
We will hear the great voice which coming from far away will pass over the city
We will wait a long time for it
Then at the rich man's time of day
When the dust the stones the missing tears
form the sun's robe on the huge deserted squares
We shall finally hear the voice.
It will growl at doors for a long while
It will pass over the town tearing up flags and breaking windowpanes.
We will hear it
What silence before it, but still greater the silence
it will not disturb but will hold guilty will brand and denounce
Day of sorrows and joys
The day the day to come when the voice will pass over the city
A ghostly seagull told me she loved me as much as I loved her
That this great terrible silence was my love
That the wind carrying the voice was the great revolt of the world
And that the voice would look kindly on me.
poem by Robert Desnos
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To The Memory Of Mary Young
GOD has his plans, and what if we
With our sight be too blind to see
Their full fruition; cannot he,
Who made it, solve the mystery?
One whom we loved has fall'n asleep,
Not died; although her calm be deep,
Some new, unknown, and strange surprise
In Heaven holds enrapt her eyes.
And can you blame her that her gaze
Is turned away from earthly ways,
When to her eyes God's light and love
Have giv'n the view of things above?
A gentle spirit sweetly good,
The pearl of precious womanhood;
Who heard the voice of duty clear,
And found her mission soon and near.
She loved all nature, flowers fair,
The warmth of sun, the kiss of air,
The birds that filled the sky with song,
The stream that laughed its way along.
Her home to her was shrine and throne,
But one love held her not alone;
She sought out poverty and grief,
Who touched her robe and found relief.
So sped she in her Master's work,
Too busy and too brave to shirk,
When through the silence, dusk and dim,
God called her and she fled to him.
We wonder at the early call,
And tears of sorrow can but fall
For her o'er whom we spread the pall;
But faith, sweet faith, is over all.
The house is dust, the voice is dumb,
But through undying years to come,
The spark that glowed within her soul
Shall light our footsteps to the goal.
She went her way; but oh, she trod
The path that led her straight to God.
Such lives as this put death to scorn;
They lose our day to find God's morn.
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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In The Silence
Silence is too quiet,
It tortures us until we break it.
I was silent for a reason,
The reason not to cause trouble,
But that is all I ever did.
Troubled to stop the pain of my past,
Troubled to hear your voice calling for me,
Troubled to much to grab your hand,
So you could set me free.
In the silence you see struggle,
In the silence you can't see,
You can't breathe.
In the silence you can't hear me,
No matter how loud my voice exceeds.
Never being helped in my eternal silence.
poem by Amy Fifita
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The Old Masters
At night in the dark of silence I hear the voices of the old masters.
I hear Homer reciting his odyssey.
I hear Edgar still screaming nevermore.
Gwendolyn voice echoes we so cool.
While Elizabeth is still counting the ways she loves Robert.
All the while Robert tells Elizabeth how she was his love in a life.
Out of the echoes of the night comes the voice of Shakespeare one of the greatest old masters comparing love to a summer's day,
and as I listen I hear dark but powerful Plath speaks of death.
Now as my eyes grow heavy like a lullaby in the night the voice
of Hughes puts me to sleep with his words of a river.
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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The Metaphor Of The Mirror And The Light
there is this face
in the mirror and it is talking to the body
to remind its skin
that it is real,
lights are turned off
and the face only hears a voice
from its mouth
it is assured still that it is a face
of someone it knew
so well
and will not deny it
the voice faded in darkness
and the face
hears nothing
and sees nothing about
its skin
and eyes
it is dark
and there is no voice anymore
except the
silence
and the loneliness that is about
to make a scream
to the mirror
that had long shut itself
because there is no light
the face demands a voice
the mirror begs for light
for the voice is a security
that life exists
and the light is the only
anchor of the mirror
when it becomes a boat
in the sea
of emptiness
but there is no light
and there is no voice
the mirror breaks the silence
the face becomes the wind
there is no boat
much less an anchor
there is only a word written
on paper
left on the floor
and it is spoken for no
one....
poem by Sebastian Soberania
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I Dread the Silence
I need noise when I’m awake
I dread the silence when I am not asleep
It’s either pounding my eardrums with songs, music or any mp3s
or razzing it to an audio book or MTVs
Noise has been a means to cover up the reality
I dread the silence for it prods a cognizance that I’m alone despite the crowd.
I dread the silence fearing that I wake up from my self-created imaginary world
I dread the silence for fear that it made me question about my existence
I dread the silence fearing that I will hear the inner voice
clamoring and wanting to escape from this dragging circumstances
That still small voice which prefers peace
that still small voice wanting to get away from this kind of place.
that still small voice, crying from this senseless pace.
that still small voice, wanting a break from this pointless race.
poem by Champs Ulysses Cabinatan
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A Friend Of A Hum
tonight i am going home
i feel so alone as though i am living
inside a house with very thick
walls, i am
inside my car and as usual
i drive alone
for an hour passing uninhabited places
along the road
and then i hum an old song
that pleases me
and i realize this time that i have a companion
this hum which through time
has assumed another voice
separate
from mine
it sounds strange
deep, monotonous, husky, and
comforting like a lullaby of mother
it is a friend's voice
jibing with mine
inside the silence of this car
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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That Voice Again
I want to be with you
I want to be clear
But each time I try
Its the voice I hear
I hear that voice again
Im listening to the conversation
Judge and jury in my head
Its colouring everything
All we did and said
And still I head that sharp tongue talking
Talking tangled words
I can sense the danger
Just listen to the wind
I want you close I want you near
I cant help but listen
But I dont want to hear
Hear that voice again
I want to be with you
I want to be clear
But each time I try
Its the voice I hear
I hear that voice again
Im hearing right and wrong so clearly
There must be more than this
Its only in uncertainty
That were naked and alive
I hear it through the rattle of a streetcar
Hear it through the things you said
I can get so scared
Listen to the wind
I want you close I want you near
I cant help but listen
But I dont want to hear
Hear that voice again
What I carry in my heart
Brings us so close or so far apart
Only love can make love
I want you close I want you near
I cant help but listen
But I dont want to hear
I hear that voice again
I want to be with you
I want to be clear
But each time I try
Its the voice I hear
I hear that voice again
song performed by by Peter Gabriel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Away, Away, Ye Notes Of Woe!
Away, away, ye notes of woe!
Be silent, thou once soothing strain,
Or I must flee from hence--for, oh!
I dare not trust those sounds again.
To me they speak of brighter days
But lull the chords, for now, alas!
I must not think, I may not gaze,
On what I am--on what I was.
The voice that made those sounds more sweet
Is hush'd, and all their charms are fled
And now their softest notes repeat
A dirge, an anthem o'er the dead!
Yes, Thyrza! yes, they breathe of thee,
Beloved dust! since dust thou art;
And all that once was harmony
Is worse than discord to my heart!
'Tis silent all!--but on my ear
The well remember'd echoes thrill;
I hear a voice I would not hear,
A voice that now might well be still:
Yet oft my doubting soul 'twill shake;
Even slumber owns its gentle tone,
Till consciousness will vainly wake
To listen, though the dream be flown.
Sweet Thyrza! waking as in sleep,
Thou art but now a lovely dream;
A star that trembled o'er the deep,
Then turn'd from earth its tender beam.
But he who through life's dreary way
Must pass, when heaven is veil'd in wrath,
Will long lament the vanish'd ray
That scatter'd gladness o'er his path.
December 6, 1811.
Magic Lies In Silence Of Grass and In Your Voice
I am barefoot walking in the grass of morning,
The dew drops are comforting my feet,
I felt relieved by my stress and grief,
When i heard your voice in the grass rustling.
I lie down on grass and i could feel its silence,
I close my eyes and i enjoyed your voice,
The smell of grass was taken on the wings of wind,
Magic lies in silence of grass and in your voice.
Is amazing how much miracle stays in a blade of grass,
Opening my eyes i saw above the sky,
There was your face among the clouds smiling,
I had the feeling that i want to hug the sky.
I'm gonna miss you all the days of life,
And even when death will take my last breath,
Last thing i'll do passing to eternity,
I'm gonna miss you.
Winter will come, grass will fall asleep,
I 'll not hear the grass rustling anymore,
Only my memories with you will be always alive,
Rustling in my mind as grass did.
poem by Cristina Teodor
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Silence
Silence
There is a silence where hath been no sound,
There is a silence where no sound may be,
In the cold grave—under the deep, deep sea,
Or in wide desert where no life is found,
Which hath been mute, and still must sleep profound;
No voice is hush’d—no life treads silently,
But clouds and cloudy shadows wander free,
That never spoke, over the idle ground:
But in green ruins, in the desolate walls
Of antique palaces, where Man hath been,
Though the dun fox or wild hyæna calls,
And owls, that flit continually between,
Shriek to the echo, and the low winds moan—
There the true Silence is, self-conscious and alone.
poem by Thomas Hood
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Introduction to Silence
Silence upon other silence grows;
Taller than any skyward cathedral,
Wider than divisions, between two brothers.
The only sincere silence is natural,
Or found by a flickering candle’s flame,
And the latency, of a sleeping child.
After a death, some silence may roar
Down zigzagging corridors, of dazed;
Haunting midnight's vertiginous dreams.
Numbness opens vast reservoirs of quiet
And in the resultant- preternaturally stilled-
Silence sometimes finds its earthly voice.
I now present to you, Silence itself-
Bereft of courtesies, or dignified flourishes;
Bare as a babe at death- or birth.
poem by Patti Masterman
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Luca
Jacob Tremblay (voice), Jack Dylan Grazer (voice), Emma Berman (voice), Maya Rudolph (voice), Marco Barricelli (voice), Jim Gaffigan (voice), Peter Sohn (voice), Marina Massironi (voice), Sandy Martin (voice), Giacomo Gianniotti (voice), Sacha Baron Cohen (voice), Jonathan Nichols (voice)
from Luca (2021)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Dreaming Need
I lay down my heart for you
useless, beat-less
it will be
if you do not come back to me.
My eyes too
I'll place in my treasure box
I have no need to see
another,
ever.
No need now for locomotion
I lie stlll
having no destination
if that destination
does not include
you.
My brain succumbs
to hiatus;
no need for new thoughts;
the last and only one I need
is of you.
My beauty rose
withers
when placed beside your photograph.
I see sun-beams in my room
but notice only the dust motes
not the beams' beauty.
Auditorily
I hear only the silence
of Deepest Need.
I am lost,
to be saved
only by a miracle;
your voice close
to my ear:
saying
'I am here
you were having a dream.'
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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