Monologues
JAGUAR
Nasal intonations of light and clicking tongues… publicity of windows stoning me with pent-up cries… smells of abattoirs… smells of long-dead meat.
Some day-end— while the sand is yet cozy as a blanket off the warm body of a squaw, and the jaguars are out to kill… with a blue-black night coming on and a painted cloud stalking the first star— I shall go alone into the Silence… the coiled Silence… where a cry can run only a little way and waver and dwindle and be lost.
And there…
where tiny antlers clinch and strain
as life grapples in a million avid points,
and threshing things
strike and die,
letting their hate live on
in the spreading purple of a wound…
I too
will make covert of a crevice in the night,
and turn and watch…
nose at the cleft's edge.
poem by Lola Ridge
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Related quotes
Jaguar
Nasal intonations of light
and clicking tongues…
publicity of windows
stoning me with pent-up cries…
smells of abattoirs…
smells of long-dead meat.
Some day-end—
while the sand is yet cozy as a blanket
off the warm body of a squaw,
and the jaguars are out to kill…
with a blue-black night coming on
and a painted cloud
stalking the first star—
I shall go alone into the Silence…
the coiled Silence…
where a cry can run only a little way
and waver and dwindle
and be lost.
And there…
where tiny antlers clinch and strain
as life grapples in a million avid points,
and threshing things
strike and die,
letting their hate live on
in the spreading purple of a wound…
I too
will make covert of a crevice in the night,
and turn and watch…
nose at the cleft’s edge.
poem by Lola Ridge
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Silence Of The Damned
Can your hear the silence.
something isn't right.
dead is the night.
who turn out the lights.
then they converge upon me like vulture.
a breeze of wind blows and
bring the chills right down to my very bones.
I know I'm done for but don't even care
cause its not my nightmare but yours.
twisted and turned. living on dead memories.
eating upon them so slowly.
Can you hear the silence.
something isn't right. dead is the night.
Who turned off the lights.
who is it this time.
again they converge.
but this isn't my nightmare.
its yours. watch in despair.
suck in your last bit of air.
no life left for me.
giving up and letting the leeches feed.
for everyone has their needs.
everyone needs to bleed.
and this time its you destiny.
Can you hear the silence.
something isn't right.
dead is the night.
who turned of the light.
who is it this time.
just remember this is not my nightmare but your.
you open the door welcome them in.
so now you must try to fend hyenas off if you can.
if not welcome to the damned.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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Breaking The Silence
They told me to run, but just how far?
Can I go wearing the black mask of fear?
The hate in my eyes always gives me away
The tension building slowly
Now I lost everything I had in you
Nothing we shared means a thing
Without you close to me
I cant live without you
Breaking the silence of the night
Cant you hear me screaming?
I look for your face in the neon light
You never answer me
Theres no direction to my stare
No more flame burning in my heart anymore
Quiet, I keep it to myself
Until the sun sets slowly
I hear your voice in the evening rain calling
Nothing will keep us apart
No more lies and fear
Theres no end to our story
Breaking the silence of the night
Cant you hear me screaming?
I look for your face in the neon light
You never answer
I could make all the wrong seem right
If you were by my side
Id gather all the tears you cried
And hide them deep underground
Cant look back, its just a waste of time
Cant erase this hate from my eyes
Breaking the silence of the night
Through the streets Im screaming
Looking for you in the neon light
Why dont you answer me?
Breaking the silence with my cries
Cant you hear me screaming?
We could make all this wrong seem right
But you never answer me
song performed by by Queensryche
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In A Time Of Dearth
Before me,
On either side of me,
I see sand.
If I turn the corner of my house,
I see sand,
Long, brown
Lines and levels of flat
Sand.
If I could only see a caravan
Heave over the edge of it:
The camels wobbling and swaying,
Stepping like ostriches,
With rocking palanquins
Whose curtains conceal
Languors and faintnesses,
Muslins tossed aside,
And a disorder of cushions.
The swinging curtains would pique and solace me.
But I only see sand,
Long, brown sand -
Sand.
If I could only see a herd of Arab horses
Galloping,
Their manes and tails pulled straight
By the speed of their going;
Their bodies sleek and round
Like bellying sails.
They would beat the sand with their fore feet,
And scatter it with their hind feet,
So that it whirled in a cloud of orange,
And the sun through it
Was clip-edged, without rays, and dun.
But I only see sand,
Long, brown, hot sand -
Sand.
If I could only see a mirage,
Blue-white at the horizon,
With palm-trees about it;
Tall, windless palm-trees, grouped about a-glitter.
If I could strain toward it,
And think of the water creeping round my ankles,
Tickling under my knees,
Leeching up my sides,
Spreading over my back.
But I only feel the grinding beneath my feet.
And I only see sand,
Long, dry sand,
Scorching sand -
Sand.
If a sand-storm would only come
And spit against my windows,
Snapping upon them, and ringing their vibrations;
Swirling over the roof;
Seeping under the door-jamb;
Suffocating me and making me struggle for air.
But I only see sand -
Sand lying dead in the sun.
Lines and lines of sand -
Sand.
I will paste newspapers over the windows to shut out the sand;
I will fit them into one another, and fasten the corners.
Then I will strike matches
And read of politics and murders and festivals
Three years old.
But I shall not see the sand any more,
And I can read
While my matches last.
poem by Amy Lowell
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Im So Lonesome I Could Cry
Hear the lonesome whiperwill
He sounds too blue to fly
The midnight train is whining low
Im so lonesome I could cry
Ive never seen a night so long
When time goes crawling by
The moon just went behind a cloud
To hide its face and cry
Did you ever see a robin weep
When leaves begin to die
That means hes lost the will to live
Im so lonesome I could cry
The silence of a falling star
Lights up a purple sky
And as I wonder where you are
Im so lonesome I could cry
song performed by by Hank Williams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Im So Lonesome I Could Cry
Hank williams
Did you hear that lonesome whippoorwill?
He sounds too blue to fly
The midnight train is whining low
And Im so lonesome I could cry
Did you ever see a night so long
When time goes crawlin by?
The moon just went behind a cloud
And Im so lonesome I could cry
Did you ever see a robin weep
When leaves begin to die?
That means hes lost the will to live
And Im so lonesome I could cry
The silence of a fallin star
Lights up a purple sky
And as I wonder where you are
Im so lonesome I could cry
Yeah i-i could cry-eye-eye
I could cry-eye, eye-eye-eye, i-i could cry-eye
I could cry-eye, oh-oh-oh-oh
I-i could cry, I could cry
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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From A Blue Cloud
From a blue cloud at the two o’clock
And out of the rain,
With a long step and a swift nod
The master came.
Swinging behind him a painted box
In an old and tattered bag,
He watched my eye on the mystery box
And sat on a damson rag.
Under the pleat of his purple cloak
Was the Queen of petty spades,
‘We’re off to the end of the rainbow, Jack
To the long, black end of days.’
Ducking the light of the morning star
We hid in a tulip bed,
But caught the beam in a bottle-jar
To light the way ahead.
The master took some tinsel foil
To shake on the fairy phlox,
He said: ‘You can have the Queen of Spades
Or the painted mystery box.’
I chose the Queen, who dredged a pit
To place the box within,
He tipped his hat with a weary nod,
‘I’m on my way again.’
Now often I notice the Queen of Spades
Look long and long at me,
With a sad smile, she whispers on:
‘Oh what, and what might we? ’
While I still watch for the blue cloud
And the two o’clock bus,
In hopes that he and the mystery box….
He never does!
12 September 1983
poem by David Lewis Paget
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Aura
The air was dark
The moon was dark
The night was dark
The cloud was dark
The heat was dark
The stars were black
The birds were black
The eyes were black
The shadows were black
The planes were black
A sound of night
The hearts of night
A chase at night
A fall at night
No help at night
The night is night
Where is my sight
I have no sight
Your light was sight
No light no sight
No one in sight
The dark in sight
Don't call my name
What's my name
They call my name
That's not my name
Who said its my name
I have no name
You took my same
It was our same
She was our same
She's now your same
Its all the same
I'm not the same
Judas and my hand
You took my hand
'I do' my hand
You kissed my hand
You broke my hand
You fell my hand
A tear in sand
A heart in sand
A body in sand
Alone in sand
A dust in sand
At home in sand.
poem by Jenim Dibie
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O! What a nose!
People talk about a running nose
I'm talking about a long facial cargo
She’s got a nose longer than my longest toes
With a mission of being nosy as time goes
Please don’t get close
When she discloses
Her loud snoring doze
Don’t be like the heroes
Goodness gracious
O! What a nose!
Goodness gracious
What a precious nose pose!
Painted as red as a romantic rose
Standing long like my garden pipe hose
And as she sniffs, sneezes and exposes
I cannot help thinking of Pinocchio’s nose
Goodness gracious
O! What a nose!
Goodness gracious
Red and long when it snows
And this nose is nosy
She can smell a rat, cat or a bat
When you are getting cozy
In your one bedroom flat
O! What a nose!
In and out juice flows
And when she smells the air
They all cannot help but stare
Copyright 2008 - Sylvia Chidi
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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Skin of Light
The skin of light enveloping this world lacks depth and I can actually see the black night of all these
similar bodies beneath the trembling veil and light of myself it is this night that even the mask of the
sun cannot hide from me I am the seer of night the auditor of silence for silence too is dressed in
sonorous skin and each sense has its own night even as I do I am my own night I am the conceiver
of non-being and of all its splendor I am the father of death she is its mother she whom I evoke
from the perfect mirror of night i am the great inside-out man my words are a tunnel punched
through silence I understand all disillusionment I destroy what I become I kill what I love.
poem by Rene Daumal
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Paint It
I see a red door and I want it painted black
No colors anymore, I want them to turn black
I see the girls walk by dressed in their summer clothes
I have to turn my head until my darkness goes
I see a line of cars and they are painted black
With flowers and my love both never to come back
I see people turn their heads and quickly look away
Like a new born baby it just happens every day
I look inside myself and see my heart is black
I see my red door and its heading into black
Maybe then Ill fade away and not have to face the facts
Its not easy facing up when your whole world is black
I wanna see it painted painted, painted black, oh baby
I wanna see it painted painted, painted black, oh baby
No more will my green sea go turn a deeper blue
I could not foresee this thing happening to you
If I look hard enough into the setting sun
My love will laugh with me before the morning comes
I wanna see it painted, painted black, oh
Black as night, black as coal
I wanna see the sun blotted from the sky
Painted, painted, painted black oh baby
Painted painted, painted black
song performed by by Vanessa Carlton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Bush Fire
Let's have a tiny little bush fire.
It's a cold, cold night tonight.
We are sick of this long session
Of the darkness of depression.
And a fire would make things bright.
Just a teeny, weeny little bushfire;
It's easily controlled.
We can sit around and watch it;
If it spreads we'll simply scotch it.
But we must keep out the cold.
Oh, let's have the smallest little bush fire;
It's a fair thing in this storm.
There are plenty here to fight it,
So just strike a match and light it. . . .
Ah! Now we'll all get warm.
Hey! Watch there! The blooming thing is spreading!
Don't let it catch those trees!
Now that clump of scrub has caught it!
Well who ever would have thought it?
There's a change, too, in the breeze.
It was only just a tiny little bushfire,
But it's leaping, roaring now
And we can't hope to defeat it,
Better grab your traps and beat it
For we must get out somehow.
It was only just a harmless little bushfire
But, gosh! How it did burn!
Now the old homestead is blazing.
Well it's certainly amazing;
But a man must live and learn.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Dead Day and Torched Night
Night choked on the sun
Now dim and dwindling, the light faded
The street lights guided his way, but he wasn't lost
If Night held his breath
The silence could hear his voice
It ate and drank his words
Now lost on a blank and endless page
But still existing if spoke by silence
Now Night travelled on, in search of day
Blinding flashes now killing all the desert life
And Night swallowed every watt of light
Day came from the horizon
Where the sky and earth would never meet
Her long white hair swayed and played
And pitch black eyes that sent shivers down Night's spine
She was polished and clean, bright and commanding
While filth had consumed him, blending with the background
Her warm hand caressed his own cold and pale one
Night shivered and pulled away
Day burst ablaze with fury
Night couldn't shield the fire
The space time continuum gave up and fled
A gap between light and dark swept the nation
Blank grey misty sky remained
Ashes smoldered and relit
Decades passed and the burning was not yet extinguished
Smoke had choked them
All that was seen was dead day and torched night.
poem by Zara Jamshed
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And In The House
And in the house
All is now silent
I rise and grope
In the dark, dark
And lo! Before me
A blue light I
A thin blue light
See I all a-shining
And leading me
And guiding me
Into the dark
In the long night
In to the long night!
Ah! father, father
Where are
You leading me:
The thin blue light
Now veers to here
And then to there
Now up
Now down
It plays:
And in the night
The long lone night
The seconds turn and turn!
And in the house
The lonely house
A soundless sound
Is humming:
The light
The thin blue light
Is leading still leading
And in the night
No time is passing
No hope of dawn
Or day
Is coming:
But dark
And dark:
Yet in the night
This night
Of black
A thrill felt I
And happiness
That never felt!
poem by Emmanuel George Cefai
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Dark Purple
Under a blanket of dark purple
I do my best work.
Blue doesn’t do and Red goes
To my head.
Yellow’s too mellow and Black
just makes me dead.
Underneath my blanket, of mixed
Blue and Red sublime….
Is Purple, saintly Purple, I call
that color mine! ! !
poem by Susan Drozda Cooper
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Shatter The Silence
You better run, here comes your mama
Her eyes see red this time
You should be workin' boy, instead of daydreamin'
She says that you're a bad one
got the wrong things on your mind
So you turn up the music loud to block out her screamin'
.....No words of love are ever spoken
....and he's gonna leave this place ...once the door is open
(1st Chorus)
He'll Shatter the Silence with every beat of his heart
The best kept secrets never stay in the dark
Defiance only makes him strong
The child grows up, he ain't silent for long.......not for long
Your daddy tried to buy your silence
His eyes seemed to hold a threat
He'd blame all your bruises on rough games in the schoolyard
The strike of his hand upon you
was all the attention that you could get
Soon you would push your luck just to get all you needed
.......'Til now all the shame remained unspoken
.....But watch how the children rise....once their eyes are opened
(2nd Chorus)
They'll Shatter the Silence, now it's their turn to tell
It's a long way from Heaven when you're livin' in Hell
Defiance...It's time to even the score
The child grows up, he ain't silent no more
The Silence....Now it's time to be heard
It's hard stayin' quiet when you can't breathe a word
Silence...It's a two-edge sword
The child grows, he ain't silent no more.....
He ain't silent no more!....no no..
They'll Shatter the the Silence...
Shatter the Silence....(silent no more)
They'll Shatter the Silence......
song performed by by 38 Special
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Silence
So silent is the world to-night
The lamp gives silence out like light,
The latticed windows open wide
Show silence, like the night, outside:
The nightingale's faint song draws near
Like musical silence to mine ear.
The empty house calls not to me,
'Here, but for fate, were thou and she--'
Its gibe for once is checked. To-night
Silence is queen in grief's despite,
And even the longing of my soul
Is silent 'neath this hour's control.
poem by Edith Nesbit
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Silence...
Often i stand and stare
into the diminishing light of the day
horizon gradually fading into nothingness
willow and pine piercing the night
the earth ruptures into a song;
accompanied with shrill whistles in the dark
the howling of the wolves and brisk blaring of the wind
Silence enters into the serene beauty of the dusk.
Silence that invites me to come and see
Silence that asks me to reveal
Silence that wants me to make unwanted promises
Silence that does nothing but ruptures a wound deep within
Silence that drags along unwanted pain
Silence that emulsifies unspoken words of love and gain
Silence that was till then pressed within my lips
Silence that now has emerged as a giant affliction.
Silence that comes as a sorrow
Silence that makes me loathe my tommorows
Silence that demads i submit all my emotions
Silence that is eager to make me weak and fragile
Silence that commands i dropp a tear
Silence that dictates me to get lost in the dark
Silence that brings love as a foe
silence that wants to bind hatered deep within my soul
Silence that hurts me for no rhyme and reason
Silence that makes me feel so forlon
Silence that has so much bitterness
Silence that washes away all my hopes and pray
Silence that makes me go week
Silence that unearths agonizing memories
Silence that came so unnvited
Silence that fails to unbreak any Silence.............
poem by Pooja Nepal
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Let Me Compose Myself
let me compose myself
like a symphony
note tumbling upon note until
they are chasing each other
down the staff
and through the measures until
i have composed an opus
a song calm as the thrust
of the ocean upon sand
so i can turn
and have a song to play
trembling fingers on the violin
dragging from the strings
song and sound
a composition, a calmness
the thought of my body
in your arms
when you cradled all of me
and carried me home
and the song i have sounds
the way the air smells like winter
in the morning
around november when
the wind carries a bite
and the bite is its warning:
'Get out while you can
the winter is harsh
your skin will be chapped and red
and the cold will kill the crops
your stomachs will rumble
like the roll of a drum
your winter hunger will expand
beyond the need of food
your cold fingers will
long for the warm press of summer'
as they press the strings against
the fingerboard
pulling the silence from the air
and funneling it down my throat:
i am quiet;
you are bringing forth into
my wordlessness the reality of sound
you are replacing the silence
with song
a composition i remember
as my own
(july 2007)
poem by Ryan Blood
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Tiny Feelings 05
Tiny Feelings 05
(Dedicated to Poet Priyanka Bhowmick)
Sick moon upon head
Pale senior lady
Alone blue bed
Body- sick
Mind- sick
Society- sick
Tube-light
Depends on switch
Bliss less life
Tiny ant
March towards infinity
Silent event
Rolling black marble
Dark night crawling
Dynamic sorrow
Cheap or expensive- vital
Win-win economy
Profit loves exploitation
Cool senior night
Melody of silence
Unkind babyhood
poem by Ashraful Musaddeq
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