Silence
Sit quiet, my friends; and listen,
Be still.
For it is then, in the echoing cries
Of one's mind
That epiphany waits; longing
To fill
The silence. Wisdom and being
Entwined.
poem by Liam O'Brien
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
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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Silence
There is silence.
When the birds stop singing.
And the world waits.
Then The Great Spirit
may speak when we listen.
To the wisdom of silence.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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What.... (If Not To Listen...)
what are we here for then
if not to listen...
to words spoken by the longing heart,
to the sound and inflections of suffering,
to the very heartbeat of need.
to the human cry against injustice,
to the song of freedom
borne by an angry wind...
to listen...
to the soft cry of the newborn baby,
to the moan of lovers entwined.
to the hum of the tractor,
and the thud of the axe.
to the hope of the hammer pounding nails.
to the voices of people choosing dialogue,
to the honest plea for forgiveness...
to listen...
to the song of the mockingbird,
the bark of the dog,
the meow of the cat...
to the marching chant of the ants.
to the sound of the butterfly's wings,
rhyming infinity!
to listen...
to the stillness in our own heartbeats.
for the name we had before birth.
to the prayers of clouds and trees.
for the sound of the Lover's footsteps.
to the ancient wisdom of mountains,
the forever birth of the rivers.
for the voice we've followed throughout time...
to listen...
for the bowls of hunger being filled.
for the silence after gunfire ends.
for the sound of hands joining ours.
for the sound of feet walking beside!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Whispers of sileNce
Whispers of silence-
Whispers, Rising like a wave-
In unison, In defiance.
Whispers, Rising to a single scream- Sanity’s grave…
Endless screaming whispers, In the silence- Waves,
Pounding the mind.
A tainted conscience-
In remorseful bind.
Longing for inner silence…
Black today, And black tomorrows-
Prisoners bound, Within dark sorrows…
Repenting our malice- Seeking redemptive solace.
A cold wind blows- Our soul shudders.
Within our shadows of regret- None shall covet us.
For silence, Our mind solemnly utters…
Spirits full of woe.
A tainted conscience.
Cries, Pleading, That this pain, None else know.
Longing for inner silence-
Inner peace-
That these screaming whispers, In the silence cease…
poem by InNer WhisPers
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(Sufiyana) A Collection
The seed of inspiration
Planted in me
From a flash of lightning from You
My pen is dry
You fill it with Your love
And it glides
Earlier my heart cried longing for flesh
Now it cries longing for You
Dont look out
Look within
And find the key
To your longing
Only when you are clear
Of all lies
Will you see the Divine Light
poem by Renu Rakheja
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Whispers In The Silence
Whispers in the silence-
Whispers, Rising like a wave-
In unison, In defiance.
Whispers, Rising to a single scream- Sanity’s grave…
Endless screaming whispers, In the silence- Waves, Pounding the mind.
A tainted conscience-
In remorseful bind.
Longing for inner silence…
Black today, And black tomorrows-
Prisoners bound, Within dark sorrows…
Repenting our malice- Seeking redemptive solace.
A cold wind blows- Our soul shudders- Our souls bleed.
Within our shadows of regret- None shall covet us.
For silence, Our minds solemnly plead…
Spirits full of woe.
A tainted conscience.
Cries, Pleading, That this pain, None else know.
Longing for inner silence-
Inner peace-
That these screaming whispers, In the silence cease…
poem by Philip Alarie
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What Is This Longing In Me?
What is this longing in me
This desire this sadness
This longing
For what?
For Beauty?
For what is no longer here?
For something higher farther deeper beyond?
For Love?
What is this longing this wanting in me
For what has no name?
And why do I feel
In the longing itself
The missing and the having at once?
As if somehow beyond all I am
Somehow and somewhere else
Whatever it is which should be most truly loved
Exists and waits for me.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Minstrel Days
End not your minstrel days in quiet repose,
But play your music still, strong from the heart,
And as a poet sings out his melodious prose,
Your refrain will now rouse other tunes to start.
Then joyfulness will fill your barren mind,
And lighten up the paths that you will take,
And as this harmony now becomes entwined,
It enters into your soul, a home to make.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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The Virtue Of Self-reliance....
i wait for no one
and no one waits for me
copy: i am an island
i touch no one and no one touches me
does this sound like poetry at all?
does this sound like an existential angst of one who wants to hold on the hooks of words
fished out from the confused waters?
for one, i haven't heard the cries for help
there is only the sound of feet and hands flapping like the fins of a fish
as though
someone is short of breath
and about to die
i like this,
this way to the door of the music room
sitting on a bench
facing a piano
as i begin to press and let my fingers travel distances
each note
takes me to nowhere, relying only on the sound of its longing
no destination, no purpose
ah, like a cocoon hanging on a leaf
merely passing the time away
without the dream of a butterfly
inside its darkness
ah, everything blooms,
everything opens
let us see how can this happen to me
watch me as i too watch you
this must be life then, surprises all surprises
how can boredom be so real?
how can jejune be June?
what about the numerical ennui on the month of May?
listen, listen
drink the silence
savor this inner peace
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A silence.
In this silence
there is not the hush of a breeze,
not the purr of a cat,
not the hum of summer bees
and not the wiping of feet on a mat.
In this silence
there is the absence of fear,
the quenching of thirst
and the quiet eating of hungry bread.
In this silence there is the wise old look that says so much.
This silence is and is not
the lapping of gentle waters on the shores of a lonely lake.
This silence is not
the cries of gulls hovering
above the cliffs of eternal seas.
poem by John O'connell
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My Search For Silence
I'll sit here in my bedroom
where the silence is sometimes deafening
(when I have thoughts on my mind
that need to be discussed) .
As I clear my mind to listen
to the silence
I realize there is no silence here.
The ticking of the old wind-up alarm clock
becomes so loud...
I feel compelled to move
my ''experiment'' to another room.
I find a comfortable spot
in the bathroom.
Sitting on the bench that normally holds
the all-important reading material
I begin to listen for the silence.
It takes very little time
for me to realize this is not the room
for silence.
The sink begins dripping
almost as if to mock me
and say ''Silence...yeah right! ''
I tighten the faucet only
to be laughed at by the toilet
as it makes it's usual
groan while it levels off the water in the bowl.
This is surely not the room for silence.
I head to the kitchen.
There must be silence here.
I find it still and quiet until I really listen.
The flourescent light above the stove
is whining as if to say ''I'm here! ''
I turn it off and begin my quest for silence
once more.
The refridgerator lets out a God-awful noise
that makes me jump.
It only last a few seconds but it's enough
to ruin the mood.
I begin to wonder if silence
can ever truly be found
in a house that is lived in.
I go sit in the living room.
As I plop down on the micro-suede couch
and listen to the music it makes against my flannel pajamas
I laugh.
Who wants silence?
I love the sounds of my life.
This house is full of sounds...
love, laughter, water dripping, lights flickering,
the clocks ticking....
and I'm listening
and loving every sound!
Maybe Its My Conscience That Is Flawed
If I really wanted to let you know all my flaws I would
but that would let the silence left me misunderstood
If there were no time for quiet how would you judge me
but then again your judging me is no guarantee
you could simply accept the person you have received
but the silence does it best, and I am deceived
so as we walk alone and that moment comes at long last
I fill the silence with that of nonsense of present, future, and past
it has won again my devious conscience has won
and yet, for now, the silence is done
poem by Abby Randell
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Epiphany
Epiphany
How soft rain is
I hold out my hands
Cupped like a holy grail
I wash my face
And is rejuvenated
My mind is clear
Epiphany
And slowly rain falls
I understand
Time is no longer endless.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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The Other
Under my bowels, yellow with smoke,
it waits.
Under my eyes, those milk bunnies,
it waits.
It is waiting.
It is waiting.
Mr. Doppelganger. My brother. My spouse.
Mr. Doppelganger. My enemy. My lover.
When truth comes spilling out like peas
it hangs up the phone.
When the child is soothed and resting on the breast
it is my other who swallows Lysol.
When someone kisses someone or flushes the toilet
it is my other who sits in a ball and cries.
My other beats a tin drum in my heart.
My other hangs up laundry as I try to sleep.
My other cries and cries and cries
when I put on a cocktail dress.
It cries when I prick a potato.
It cries when I kiss someone hello.
It cries and cries and cries
until I put on a painted mask
and leer at Jesus in His passion.
Then it giggles.
It is a thumbscrew.
Its hatred makes it clairvoyant.
I can only sign over everything,
the house, the dog, the ladders, the jewels,
the soul, the family tree, the mailbox.
Then I can sleep.
Maybe.
Anonymous submission.
poem by Anne Sexton
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Shooting Star
Sometimes I feel you are cheating me
Then you kiss me and my mind is free
But then I think I should let you know that
I've got friends - so baby listen to me....
Chorus:
A shooting star will shoot you and Mars will go to war
The man in the moon will jump on you if you don't love me no more....
I saw you in someone else's car
You told me that - he won't go too far
That may be so but you let him know that
I've got friends, so baby listen to me....
Chorus:
You tell me then I'm the man for you
But you do things you should never do
So now, hear this warning once again, yes,
I've got friends, so baby listen to me....
Chorus:
If you don't stop making me lose face
I will have you put up there in space
So, just do what I'm a-telling you, 'cos
I've got friends, baby listen to me....
Chorus:
song performed by by Cliff Richard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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She Cries
She cries when she is sad,
She cries when she is hurt,
She cries for all the little things,
She has been hurt so much,
She feels useless,
She feels like she is just slipping away,
She cuts her wrist,
She cries for help but no one sees her,
Watch her pain,
Watch her dreams fades away,
Watch her die,
Just listen to her when she is down in the blue,
She didn’t know what kind of friends she was making until they start to threaten her,
That girl is me,
I have went through a lot but still tries to hang in there.
poem by Jennifer Rondeau
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The Last Poem Of The Year
THE LAST POEM OF THE YEAR
The last poem of the year
Has Happiness as its message
Has Sadness as its theme
Has Love as its Longing
And Repentance as its meaning-
The last poem of the year
Has gratitude to God
And prayer for those I love
And prayer for healing for
sick-friends and family-
The last poem of the year
Has quiet as its message
And silence as its theme
And kindness as its longing
And hope for the next year
As its blessing-
The last poem of the year-
poem by Shalom Freedman
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The Cry Of My Heart
The Cry Of My Heart
Your hands are not too short
To embrace me
Nor your ears too deaf to listen
To the cry of my heart
I am here for you
Longing to be with you
Listen to the longing of my heart
Listen to the cry of my heart
You lift me up when I was down
You made me strong, when I was weak
You made me whole, when I was broken
You listen to the cry of my heart
This, I promise you
From this day on,
I will serve you Lord
I will listen to the cry of my heart...
poem by Meggie Gultiano
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How can I empty My Mind?
Came out that emptiness,
Bored of what I was,
Looking at the atom shining somewhere in me,
I looked at wonderful world I entered,
Looking at beauties with beautiful faces,
I was only the faceless,
Wished to have a face!
Result is what I am now,
Facing problems of having a face,
Not seen by myself!
Some say look into mirror,
But mirror showed image which is not me,
How can live this is me looking at image?
In the path I met some one,
They said ' you suffered a lot,
Empty your mind, be happy, '
But how can empty my mind,
So many fill it everyday,
Hungry faces,
thirsty minds,
Needy hands fill compassion,
lusty and greedy, selfish and cruel fill
people fill pain,
Wise one fill wisdom,
Fools fill laughter,
Friends fill it with love and smile!
How can I empty my mind,
When beauty around,
Smiling kids, playing puppies,
Jumping and running kittens,
colourful fragrant flowers,
Surrounded by bees and butterflies,
Green trees with wide hands full of fruits,
All call me to enjoy with them!
Tall standing trees and stubborn mountains,
lakes and oceans full of life,
they fill my mind as much I empty, more they fill!
I emptied mind in meditation,
But the beauty of one who filled beauty in all filled my mind,
How can empty love for that beautiful one,
Who is that beauty in all that's beautiful!
Smiling and loving people,
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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Life- A Potpourri!
Life neither pauses, nor stops
Yet continues to amaze me.
Yesterday despondent, without hope
Now glad as light, it's a potpourri.
Hidden like secrets in layers n folds
Manifested, revealed as epiphany.
Realization is a blessing, a gain for self
Privilege abandoned by so many.
Have the eye to view, ear to listen
Wisdom inherent, in universe abundant n free.
poem by Samima Shah
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