Silence
After reading Max Reif's poem' The day after Thanksgiving'
this notion came all of a sudden.
His poem's last line(the boat after passing a bridge, only the voice-
remained, then silence) .
This line penetrated me.
Silence haunts me always
even under the hot sun I see the darkness
cannot bear up at all.
It rings my eardrums
like an arrow, wound my heart
and I feel it's palpitation stopped.
What a mighty thing is silence?
at last who takes all of us to his domicile
the Graveyard?
Dedicated to the poet Max. Reif.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Related quotes
Rumi's silence
Rumi wrote much about silence.
Does that seem strange?
Poets live with silence:
the silence before the poem;
the silence whence the poem comes; .
the silence in between the words, as you
drink the words, watch them glide through your mind,
feel them slide down your throat
towards your heart;
the silence which you share with the poet
when the poem ends, sitting side by side,
feeling one another being one heart;
the silence after the poem,
when you are a different person
from the person who started reading the poem,
think differently, move differently,
act differently; know Rumi a little better
as a friend; know yourself a little more
as a friend.
Rumi was asked, why do you
talk, talk, talk, so much
about silence?
He said, the radiant one inside me
has said nothing.
And that’s the silence which we listen to
and hear in Rumi’s heart,
here, sitting in the cool shade
which the scent of roses seems to love,
while the fountain gently plays like a poet
with sound and silence.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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The poem is reading in my head
Silence, except for the poem
The poem is reading in my head
I can make it stop, for a while
Then it starts again
I can jump onto the words
And for a time I ride the line
Then dropping off I stand and watch
as the poem goes rolling by
The poem has broken colours
Bits of sound and not much shape
And suddenly I am in tears
I have to look away and wait
Finally there is silence
Full fat voluptuous silence
Except, except for the poem
poem by Sean Joyce
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Full fat voluptuous silence
Silence
Except for the poem
The poem is reading in my head
I can make it stop, for a while
Then it starts again
I can jump onto the words
And for a time I ride the line
Then dropping off I stand and watch
as the poem goes rolling by
The poem has broken colours
Bits of sound and not much shape
And suddenly I am in tears
I have to look away and wait
Finally there is silence
Full fat voluptuous silence
Except
Except for the poem
poem by Sean Joyce
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I Strive Against The Silence Of The Night
I STRIVE AGAINST THE SILENCE OF THE NIGHT
I strive against the silence of the night
Against my own inner emptiness
I wait to hear some song from inside myself -
Nothing is written.
I go back to where I am
And begin again.
There is always a poem if one is patient enough.
But what poem?
And for what special meaning of this night?
I write again and again
A poem which is about writing a poem
And when I come to end it
I question again and again
Whether it is real.
This night is already deep in darkness
And yet I have almost broken its silence
One more line
One more writing about writing a poem -
Perhaps Memory will come back to me
And I will write a more real poem
Than this strained effort now.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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The Poet Became A Prisoner Of His Need For A Poem
THE POET BECAME A PRISONER OF HIS NEED FOR A POEM
The poet became a prisoner of his need for a poem
And so he lost his ability
To make and to know a true poem.
A poem became
A cliché of himself
And every line he wrote said
“You are a poor poet
Stop insulting us all
With your absence of silence.”
poem by Shalom Freedman
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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, , , ,
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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The Poem That Is About To Be Written
THE POEM THAT IS ABOUT TO BE WRITTEN
The poem that is about to be written
Will form itself slowly,
Line by line,
Will make of itself a meaning
It does not know.
Will be beyond
All that it could have thought to be – beforehand.
The poem that is being written
Has no name,
No face,
No beauty,
No light,
It is just the poem that is coming to be in the silence,
Where I am alone with my own Seeming.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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I Am Tired Of The Word 'Poem
I AM TIRED OF THE WORD ‘POEM’
I am tired of the word ‘poem’
‘Poem’ ‘poem’ ‘poem’ ‘poem and ‘poem’ again
Weren’t there stars before there were poems?
And won’t there be light somewhere else
when no one has words to say?
And in all the great Silence before and ever after
won’t there be the being of something real however unsaid and unknown?
And won’t ‘Poem’ and ‘poems’ too like all of us
Cease one day to be and never again know that they are?
All the immortals are mortal and their poems too
Silence before and Silence after
And no words forevermore.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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I Hear Nothing
I HEAR NOTHING
I hear nothing
There is no poem
No poetry
Dull stale flat unprofitable
Oh the uses of this world.
Silence
Fear
Oh the darkness the darkness
Deep deep deep
I hear nothing
I wait
A thousand great lines of others
And not one of mine
No poetry no poem no poet
The world is going on and by
And poetry is in it
But I am on the side mumbling in silence
A silence unheard and only alone.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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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
The pain of silence
Like a little girl i sit waiting
Hoping not to be disappointed
But there again all there is,
Is the pain of silence
The silence is taking over
When that day comes closer
I try to forget and just hope
But still the pain of silence
Now this day i begin to dread
Because i know deep within
Once again all there will be
Is the pain of silence
I try to shut this out
But it haunts me like a shadow in the dark
As i fail to run from the silence
The silence is too hard to bear
And because of it i live in fear
For i do not know what to expect
So i dwell in the pain of silence
poem by Abigail Sikwenda
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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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Trapped in silence
Silence, Silence, every were,
Silence, Silence, Im gunna pull out my hair,
Not talking, Still working,
I think my voice is going come lerking,
If I dont stop now,
Then I will have to move to lau,
I NEED TO TALK OR ELSE
Poem by brooke about doing not talking for her 40 hour famine
A Poem Whose Meaning The Poet Does Not Know
A POEM WHOSE MEANING THE POET DOES NOT KNOW
A poem whose meaning the poet does not know
Is a question only its readers can answer.
But if in the silence of endless absence
There are no readers
A poem whose meaning the poet does not know
Becomes a poem which does not exist.
And a poem which does not exist
Is not the poem the poet dreamed
When he heard in the night or the early morning
That rush of music that sequence of sounds
Which seemed to say more than he would ever understand
As he wrote it down in haste
For fear it somehow would be lost.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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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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The Poem About The Poem
The poem about the poem
And what is a poem?
And what is a poet?
And will the poem
Save me?
Help you?
And is writing the poem
The best I can do?
Or is it only words and more words?
Is the poem about the poem
For the poet only?
Or for each one reading and speaking and hearing it?
The poem about the poem
On this sunny spring Jerusalem morning
Peace and happiness in me -
The poem about the poem
For now.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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I Waited for the Silence
I waited for the Silence
Only then could I hear my own poem -
The Silence came and I began to write
Bu there were nonetheless small disturbing sounds
Which drowned the inner mood and melody-
I waited for the Silence again
And the Silence did not come
And the poem I wanted to hear
Was not in me -
So all I can do is write down what happened
As if this too were a poem
And the satisfaction of a need
Even if I cannot hear my own sounds.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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The Silence Of The Poem
THE SILENCE OF THE POEM
The silence of the poem
Conceals the endless longing
For those we have loved so much
For those who cannot be here with us ever again
For those we loved with all the love we have
And will always love with all the love we have
Until we too are not here.
Oh God what a world
With such longing and such love in it
With such feeling beyond our understanding
Oh God what a world which lets us know and love these most wondrous people with all the love we have
And then takes them from us
And leaves us only
With the silence of a poem
Which is only words.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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My Poem Came To Me In The Night
MY POEM CAME TO ME IN THE NIGHT
My poem came to me in the night
Long after I should have gone to sleep
It came with darkness inside and a fear of darkness deeper still-
It was a poem of the end of the earth
A dark poem
The last poem of the day and perhaps the last poem of forever-
It came to me in the night
And made me write it down gently
And said because there is no time left
It is impossible to add on to it
Or give it true character and feeling.-
The poem of the night and its darkness
Stilled me into vulnerable silence
And I slept and went to sleep
Far from the page I wrote.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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