0041 Goods train in the night
Film meets the poetic image,
and in some things never fails – as when
out there alone in the prairie -
the steppes, the tundra,
snowfields, desert -
past midnight, the heavens
a carpet of stars, maybe a flash
over the horizon of Northern Lights,
or the centered assurance of the Southern Cross,
silence broken only by a howl,
was that a wolf,
just one observer as
a camera, a poet, whom
we never see..
and then a distant sound and
one plaintive assertive impersonal wail and
almost too soon, the fast rhythmic rattle
of a goods train on the railway line over there
but near enough to shake the scene, and
seemingly endless; minutes pass? then as suddenly
it’s past, it’s gone… and the silence following
is deeper, huge, saying something huge
by the absence of anything said…or
back in the city, the child rewarded for trust by trust,
allowed to wander the railway goods yard
next to the gasworks down the sulphured end of town,
miniatured rail tracks leading to the glowing maw
of the furnaces; but all afternoon-sleepy between trains except for
over there, the ceaseless smack and clang and clink of chain and
barely audible sigh of wagon wheels and buffers
as invisible engine and railwaymen shunt and couple,
shunt, uncouple, couple, empty wagons for return
to far-off places named upon their sides…
was this how I learned to make poetry,
shunting, uncoupling, coupling
empty words into lines of trucks that have direction,
to return to heart's-truth and poetry
and timely, late at night, out there in the waiting solitude
to disturb that great silence under a canopy of stars,
singing their rhythm in the dreaming night
with the assurance of human company,
leaving behind them
a deeper silence in the listening heart
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Solitude, Singing
Being alone is knowing
That in in this solitary splendour
Solitude, stark and staring,
Solitude, singing a lullaby
Solitude, singing a dirge
Surrounded by so many sundry things;
Things seen and unseen
Factors known and unknown
Solitude singing softly, chanting without ranting
Solitude’s songs that sing of solemn things
Silence singing golden songs
Silence healing ancient wrongs
If only silence could be
More than a memory
More than history
Silence can be more than words
Empty words echoing in an empty world
Echoing in empty valleys
Silence unspoken, unspoken, unbroken
Transfixed by time.
poem by Rani Turton
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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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Silence Came After Days Of Struggle With Words
SILENCE CAME AFTER DAYS OF STRUGGLE WITH WORDS
Silence came after days of struggle with words
After many awkward failures
Out of the understanding
That nothing more could be done.
Silence came of exhaustion and emptiness and defeat
Not the beautiful silence we love
But the silence of desperation.
Silence came and made me look at my lines
With discomfort and dissatisfaction.
I break the silence now
Without any assurance whatsoever
That I should.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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The Silence Of Nothing To Say
The silence of nothing to say
Is forcibly broken by the will for words
A poem is made not born
And there are nights when only determination can say anything-
I write now in the shadow of the night
When all the light is artificial
When inside me is only an empty emptiness
A quiet of nothing deep or beautiful –
I can make a poem out of nothing
But then it may be nothing too
Words alone are not enough
The truer poem comes out of something deeper I do not have now
Let the words play
Let the silence be broken
Let this night be written down
For the empty poem it is.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Silence of Rumi
I read Rumi several times
And every time I went through
the same sincere silence
That unites the human with the divine
Silence of Rumi as though
Is the silence Sublime—
The heart of all sounds!
I dove deep down that silence,
A child’s wonder of sort
Why do I start my poems with words?
When they end only with silence!
His silence is deep
Deep as the existence at the bottom of the ocean
Deep as the calmness of a wise man
And yet he is in conversation
With the silence
And through it, time and again
His silence is the silence of a flute
Empty, easy and melodious
It turns separation into liberation
Oh what a joy—Rumi’s silence!
His silence is an invitation
To join the journey of the soul
A sweet beacon to lose yourself
In the Self of existence
And yet it is conversational
You can toy with it safely
Who can turn his back
Having heard Rumi’s silence
In its sincerity
In its entirety
Who can escape from Rumi’s silence
Having been there for a moment
Who can not hear his silence
Having heard it with the thumps of his heart
Oh love! Go and meet this evening
Silence of Rumi in its serenity
Of heavens
This must be the highest
Of souls
This is the highest!
poem by Bhaswat Chakraborty
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Suffering Is Always Personal and Better Left Unshared and Unspoken
my words are waking me up
my hand is ready, the computer beeps
i like to write an email for you
how many times shall this happen?
this urge to let you know
this morning, i again blame myself
because i can't
i am thinking of the consequences
i know how painful is it to fall
how empty can the house become
how a night without a stars can make us cry
sometimes
how the sound of the river when you walk alone
gives you the sound of the cry of the pebbles
they break their silence
they scream
for truths still untold
to rules that cannot be broken
when you enter that empty room again
a ball of silence meets you
you sit beside it
it speaks to you
this is the first time that you have seen
its nature
it is dressed with lips
and when they begin to open to about to speak to you
you close your hands
turning them into fists
and you hit your chest
and the ball of silence moves away from you
it is respect for pain
when silence pretends again that it is just a ball
and that it can go away
for men suffer all alone
on unsaid proportion
with that ability to embrace no
description
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Solitude and Silence
All I have to offer
is solitude and silence.
No accomplishments to speak of,
having never finished anything
worth finishing
except bad relationships
and good friendships
I now regret not keeping.
Those I feel closest to
are the farthest away from me
while I keep myself distant
from those who are near.
If all you seek is solitude and silence,
this I can promise you without breaking.
I only ask, in return, to be allowed
my silence and solitude
from you.
poem by Juge Sopczak
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A Night Passes In A Silenceless Torment
A night passes in a Silenceless Torment
Even the most beautiful songs
Cannot quell the restlessness-
There are times when one is not born for this
Or any other world-
Dissatisfaction restlessness frustration
Cannot yield the best poetry-
Tormented songs repeat themselves
What was once beautiful
Now irritates as relentless noise-
There is the need for a different kind of beauty
A song from within that no external song can give-
I want silence
No other song
Only silence
Silence and more silence
A poetry of silence
Or even a silence without poetry
Silence
The kind of silence in which the torment has ended
Sleep perhaps
Silence silence
Please.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Silence Echos
Silence
makes my heart break
Silence
Love, does not make
Silence
Was it all just a terrible mistake?
Silence
Was love just a game, just fake?
Silence
Leaves me heartbroken
Silence
Kills he feeling behind words unspoken
Silence
has is a shield you hide behind
Silence
Guards what's on your mind
Silence
Chills your heart's sound
Silence
Love cannot silently be found
Silence
has turned your dreams blind
Silence
is darkness in which you cannot find
Silence
Crushes the hopeful feelings that were kind
Silence
Of emptiness it did remind
Silence
Silence took all I sought to find
Silence
Silence was hurtful and unkind
Silence
Will kill love before it ripens on the vine
Love will go silently
But it's lonely hurt will echo for all time
poem by James T. Adair
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The Power of Silence
Silence is the element
In which great things fashion themselves.
The words of the prophets
Are written on the subway walls
And tenement halls
And whispered in the sounds of silence.
Silence saved the man the thugs came for,
But the screaming fellow took the bullets
Silence a remedy for harm
Life is a pregnant silence.
Light silence, dark speech.
Stones are mute teachers;
They silence the observer,
And the most valuable lesson
We learn from them we cannot communicate
Silence alone is respectable and respected.
I believe God to be silence
poem by T. Ebi Ken Jemine
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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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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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Windy Town
Driving home from the highland line
We done some gigs on the clyde and the tyne
They flew us in from a hamburg strip
The taste of dusseldorf still on our lips
And on the bus there is a friend of mine
We go way back to the scene of the crime
We sit up front and share a cigarette
And try to remember what we tried to forget
He say do you remember?
He say do you recall?
I say yeah I remember, oh, I remember it all
Every time that cold wind blows
Every time I hear that sound
Late night trains shunting down by the river
I remember windy town
We come so far and we move so fast
Making hay see it all go past
Round the world and round again
Up and down on that gravy train
But every time that cold wind blows
Every time I hear that sound
The east coast cross winds on the cold wet stone
I remember windy town
The freezing corners and the empty streets
The burning passion and the cold wet feet
Three tricky miles home every night
Dodging from the shadows underneath those amber light
No car for kissing and nowhere to go
Except inside each other and I loved you so
I held your face as you shivered in the rain
Girl Ill always love you and Ill love you again
Oh everytime, everytime
Every time that cold wind blows
Every time I hear that sound
Late night trains shunting down by the river
I remember windy town
Every time that cold wind blows
Every time I hear that sound
The east coast cross winds on the cold wet stone
I remember windy town
song performed by by Chris Rea
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Melancholic Silence
It's night - darkest than ever
reigned by silence - a dreadful silence
Extending till the far horizon...
is the silence forecasting the impending calamity
That's going to befall upon the entire humanity?
Is the silence forecasting the eternal despair
As we are heading towards a murky future?
For the world's changed...
Changed are its views...
Regarding Love, kindness and all human values...
In return of love. one receives hatred...
The innocent & the weak are the ones to be exploited.
It's night... reigned by silence- a dreadful silence
It's not the peace giving silence
That inspires the poets and sages
This silence seems to take vengeance
From the selfish mortals
The silence is strange- full of agony
Is it an alarm of our fearful destiny?
poem by Monalisa Biswas
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White Space
I was dreaming of a white space
Had interposed itself between us two-
A blank wall; neither dark nor light
No recrimination there but silence
The silence that falls only at night.
Silence gone to snowy hazards
Like the shadows made from deeper blue-
And invisible but slippery edges,
As blindly groping in the darkness
To reach the haven- but you're not there yet.
Though I would wall myself with silence
And spend my life as one, not two-
Before I'd hurt another being,
Sometimes intentions brick the dam up
Before the devastation's seen.
poem by Patti Masterman
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Some Silence, Some Words
Today somewhere a mirror broke
And a music of end splashed in the pages of time,
Someone lost his meanings in the broken mirror..
And an unending silence flowed
Many things happen silently, , ,
How the silent weeping of the lost meaning wander in the depth of the night, , ,
I unveil the sea of darkness...i find only silence
And the music of the end keeps on splashing around
Life is all about some silence and some words…
Far away a poet was looking for words, .
And a poem was seeking for its understanding, ,
for the heart where words dwell with meanings, ,
As long as they both were away everything was all right...
And when they met, , ,
the poet lamented on the end of words of the poem, , ,
and the poem on the unending silence of the poet, , , , ,
poems are not about understanding....
poet is not about words, , , ,
These poems
Greet these poems as you would greet
at your tent-flap a wise man come from far;
drink with him a cup of wine
that tastes like the memory of roses;
then sit and eat with him as the evening falls
by the flickering flames, under a canopy of desert stars,
remembering great men and great deeds;
feeling your backbone tall with their memory;
recall lines of poetry which have crept into your heart
like your faithful hunting-hound, sprawled with a long sigh
beside the fire;
and look around at the glowing embers catching
with their light, the shining eyes of your companions
cross-legged in a circle,
rejoicing in their hearts at a fortune which is theirs
so great that they can only sit in silence and become
a stillness beyond time.
*
Freely adapted from Ibn Qutayba’s 9th-century book on literature.
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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On Hyndford Street
Take me back, take me way, way, way back
On hyndford street
Where you could feel the silence at half past eleven
On long summer nights
As the wireless played radio luxembourg
And the voices whispered across beechie river
In the quietness as we sank into restful slumber in the silence
And carried on dreaming, in god
And walks up cherry valley from north road bridge, railway line
On sunny summer afternoons
Picking apples from the side of the tracks
That spilled over from the gardens of the houses on cyprus avenue
Watching the moth catcher working the floodlights in the evenings
And meeting down by the pylons
Playing round mrs. kellys lamp
Going out to holywood on the bus
And walking from the end of the lines to the seaside
Stopping at fuscos for ice cream
In the days before rock 'n roll
Hyndford street, abetta parade
Orangefield, st. donards church
Sunday six bells, and in between the silence there was conversation
And laughter, and music and singing, and shivers up the back of the neck
And tuning in to luxembourg late at night
And jazz and blues records during the day
Also debussy on the third programme
Early mornings when contemplation was best
Going up the castlereagh hills
And the cregagh glens in summer and coming back
To hyndford street, feeling wondrous and lit up inside
With a sense of everlasting life
And reading mr. jelly roll and big bill broonzy
And really the blues by mezz mezzrow
And dharma bums by jack kerouac
Over and over again
And voices echoing late at night over beechie river
And its always being now, and its always being now
Its always now
Can you feel the silence?
On hyndford street where you could feel the silence
At half past eleven on long summer nights
As the wireless played radio luxembourg
And the voices whispered across beechie river
And in the quietness we sank into restful slumber in silence
And carried on dreaming in god.
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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18 Definitions Of Poetry
1) Poetry is what is Beautiful in words –
2) Poetry is the deepest feeling words can tell
3) Poetry is the soul of each one of us
4) Poetry is the morning light after the longest night
5) Poetry is a dream of dreams in a world that needs dreams to be
beautiful
6) Poetry is the Search for God and the Love of God in all holy writing
7) Poetry is Reality itself when it is doing what it should
8) Poetry is you and me and all of us when we are kind to each other
9) Poetry is more than we can say or know- deeper than the deepest
silence and quieter also
10) Poetry is the place we go to in ourselves when we need to cry out loud
11) Poetry is Love words of love and the first spring of the young lovers first
song
12) Poetry is all we are when our minds are right and strong
13) Poetry is what saves us from all the other words
14) Poetry is what ceases to exist when Cruelty comes
15) Poetry is Love and Blessing and Kindness again
16) Poetry cuts through the icy sea within and sends chills down the spine
17) Poetry is what is recollected in tranquility but also tried and tossed in
tempest on the most difficult seas
18) Poetry is open to more than what it has been It is what others have not yet created and will so long as we are human and in search of the Sublime
poem by Shalom Freedman
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You Are Everywhere
How beautiful it is to trace your footprint,
to feel the strength with which you are getting away from the past
building the present.
Where can be no pain, anguish nor sorrow
there is no pain in your absence
one empty space swept away by a flow of stars
over passing us from a distant universe.
One past between the words
when I evoke your name
I've gone over once and one more time
through the labyrinth of your existence
and I've seen how you move away,
but always reaching me.
There is no pain in your absence
only a space swept away by the time.
We will build a flying carpet of celestial bodies
we'll put together the sun, the moon and the stars.
we will decorate its sides with comets
we'll travel over the black holes and its cracks
and we'll look for God through them.
Thinking about the creation of new universes,
we'll travel day and night always dreaming of
me giving you clusters of roses
and you loving me besides the stars.
poem by Rudesindo Montoya
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