Tonight, The Silence Rise
In these dire times
Silence is a perilous harbinger
Of many wretched auguries
Like a hellhound's bark
Gagged by a turbulent whim
Rummaging through the sedation
Palled by the generous night
And the absence of distractions:
Lips sapping deaths on sticks,
Eyes fluttering with the pendulum,
Electric tongues forking clouds,
Rose-wine flame roaring inside,
And the lionized brethren of souls
Lamenting on the moon's harlequinade
I perish and writhe unbeknownst
To the diadem of revolving doors
That you opened like a wound
And left with a wrathful storm
In this silence, where sleep
Laid buried among the quartz
And peace revealed itself a mask
Guzzling the yellow teeth gritting
In morbid pain and despondence
Darker than your own flipping wings
I am beckoned back to the rooms
Where your last cigarette stick incinerates
Without your fervent dragging
And your last promises of infinitude
Tarnished in its relented demise
And the loneliness in these rooms
Of fragmented verve, dissected deaths
Is ineffable in the brine of tears
Chaffing through the defeated eyes
poem by Norman Santos
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Related quotes
Clair de Lune
In the moonlit room your face,
Moonlight-coloured, fainting white,
And the silence of the place
Round about us in the night,
And my arms are round about you
In the silence of the night.
Lips that are not mine to kiss,
Lips how often kissed in vain,
Broken seal of memories,
Where the kisses come again
That the lips of all your lovers
Laid upon your lips in vain;
Eyes that are not mine to keep
In the mirror of mine eyes,
Where I tremble lest from sleep
Other ghosts should re-arise;
Why enthrall me with your magic,
Haunting lips, triumphant eyes?
For the silence of the night
Swims around me like a stream,
And your eyes have caught the light
Of a moon-enchanted dream,
And your arms glide round about me,
And I fade into a dream.
poem by Arthur Symons
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Nude Bodies In A Happy Bed
We smile like children
Laughing in a parade,
And your eyes flash a secret code;
Intimate, mystical love
Is revealed and understood;
Flowers greet us
On sunny avenues,
Our joy is like
The tinkling of wine glasses
When vintage wine is served,
We observe tender rituals,
The kissing of cheeks,
Warm embraces in perfumed rooms,
Lingering beneath an erotic moon;
Starlight falls on our nude bodies
In a happy bed,
We banish unpleasant thoughts,
And silence viperous tongues,
The fulfillment of dreams has begun.
poem by Uriah Hamilton
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What Could Have Been Unreal
there is a sorrow that i do not want to speak
it is something that i cannot give away
there is time that keeps on going and if i stay
i will just be left out and buried in this delay
there is a grief that cannot really be spoken
there is this pain that goes on and one
there are empty parks and empty cafes
there are closed doors and locked rooms
there is this self sometimes that does not open
there are fingers that remain closed upon themselves
there is a song that i can only sing inside myself
there is this poem that keeps on evading what is it that could have been said
all these are mine alone and all these keep me moving on
remembering, loving in silence, keeping the tears frozen, creating what could have been unreal.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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When It Was Over, You Did Not Tell Me Where It Really Ended
you show me a scar
in your heart,
you assure yourself it was once the wound
of things that ended
years ago
of the wound
that i inflicted
you had anger and
now when we meet again
you are smiling
you now
have happiness beside him and your children
i look deeper inside your eyes
showing you also my scars
in my own way of telling you about
my loneliness for years
accumulating like layers of mud and
rocks
this loneliness
that never ends like doors that always open
to the night skies
without stars
on the surface of my skin
lies a wound that never heals
you caused it too
but i did not tell you
let them believe that i am the guilty party
the fault of your earth
the murderer convicted but was never heard
i smile at you this day
i am happy on this casual meeting
it will be the last
i am dressed but i am not prepared to go anywhere
on the surface
how can you see what is on this deep
sinking eyes?
the sharks, the pointed rock, the deaths on the ocean floors
the corpses there rotting
unearthed unnamed.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Peace Is Not Yet
Whisk the rose-wine veiling fume
And the reedy rendezvous of the stars
But be cautious to exhume the gravid
But frail burden of the canopies
Underneath the marred chortles
And the playful lisping of the lips
These eyes sweep the dusts bashfully
And bleaches the tattoo of oppression
Cringing the sallow skin of somnolence—
The pawned peace in slumber;
To usurp the fissures of the greedy sand
Siphoning the path thoroughly
Until the stride bends in a spur
Of evocative and spurious reveries
And as hope grovel for hope
I shall contend with the manacles
And as pride devour pride
I shall rival with the angry tides
So I can forgive you,
So I can forgive myself,
And sleep may arrive the harbinger
Of peace and quietude
But until then, I remain astray
In this ravine inside myself
In this harried tug-of-war
Of cajoling phantoms
And their mourning deaths
Peace is not yet, sleep is not yet,
In the equinox of unreality.
poem by Norman Santos
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Voodooded Lips
VOODOODED LIPS
esspeecee …18.06.09.
In the mirror of silence
I’ll reflect you lips’ eloquence.
In the mirror of silence
I’ll blush-in by your lips’ glittrence.
In the mirror of silence
I’ll unfold your lips’ innocence.
In the mirror of silence
I’ll savor to the lees your lips’ elegance.
In the mirror of silence
I get psychic catharsis
In our lip lock reminiscences.
In the mirror of silence
I’ll siphon in your lips’ effulgence.
In the mirror of silence
I’ll grope your lips
In abyssal absence.
In the mirror of silence
My lips will coalesce
In your lips’ effervescence.
In the mirror of silence
I’ll be vortexed by
Lips’ psychedelic resonance.
In the mirror of silence
We’ll passionately hug
With sensuous confluence.
In the mirror of silence
I’ll smear lips by
Your lips’ fragrance.
In the mirror of silence
We’ll tie-up our lips
In Monalisian resemblance.
In the mirror of silence
I’ll fresco my lips
From your lips’ brilliance.
In the mirror of silence
My lips will stain
By your lips’ every essence.
I’m voodooded by:
In the mirror of silence,
Your lips’ excellence,
And deluxe luminance.
Copyright reserved by the Author
.
poem by Dr. Sakti P. Chakravorty
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Gone Before the Storm
Setting nowhere
Darting through
Clouds of despondence
And I hoped
For taut strings
To be pulled
Or to be shorn.
In the passenger seat
Juxtaposed to an estranged man
I inquired a wonder as
The oblivious crystals slapped
The windshields,
"Is there a storm brewing? "
And he said "There is none."
Silence fell plummeting
With the constant beating
Of melted eyes
In the rigid sheens
Of the glass
And I have surmised
A thunderstorm
Inside the salty oceans
Of the bones.
I squirmed inside the chrysalis
Knowing that
The storm would not
Settle the willowing
Of serrated dusts
And I am running out
Of apologies.
The enigma is that
I am siphoned
Of rationality
But untouched
By naivety.
Everything slewed
Into the gutter
And I am to blame
For fulminating
The thunders
That beckoned
The coming storm
Do you hear me?
Can you see me fade?
poem by Norman Santos
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In the silence of my mind
In the silence of my mind my perception is my reality
So life can be whatever I desire it to be
In the silence of my mind when fright fills my eyes with tears
I can search my soul to see if they are any reasons for my fears
In the silence of my mind I’m protected from the dangers of sin
And sheltered from the storm of trials and its thunderous winds
In the silence of my mind I’m relieved from pain
And even in the valleys of my situation I can smile without shame
In the silence of my mind my predestined path is revealed
And my short-comings and scars are forgiven and healed
In the silence of my mind there’s restitution
And the tolerance that encourages perfection
So when depressed and there is no help of any kind
Don’t stress, just retreat to the silence of your mind.
poem by Astell Collins
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I Don't Really Know When Will This End
this silence
when will this end, this silence between us at noon
a harsh noon, hot and humid, where i burn like a pile of wood in the forest
on a very cold night with you on the other side of the bed
facing the full moon and some shooting stars
this silence between us, when will this end when will the space
between our eyes
resolve the distance of the seasons night and day and summer and rain
i sleep on the bed alone on some scorpion thoughts biting one another
inflicting venoms that numb and even kill
and there you are rocking yourself on a chair making some sleep
like a concoction
of vodka and champagne teasing your eyes filled with tears
the soap on tv is busy with their stories of pain and twist and turns
i pray to end this silence so we can talk and
lay down the final plans
of our earthy longings some demarcations of pain and tolerance and
facts and conclusions
this wherefore and therefore finally
you turn off the tv, and you lay beside me touching my hand
i give in, i still miss you, and i think, the silence has come on the soft
wings of a butterfly for a brief flutter at the ceiling
looking at ourselves for another sweeter second time beginning
the cliche: love is sweeter the second time around is still written on the wall
how can i forget it
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Death Papers.... (Part One)
perhaps, we then
are but a series of deaths,
tiny deaths, unclaimed sparks...
or one long death
in illiterate stages,
flesh scarred memories failing,
deeper and deeper in the grain,
the stink of rot, and becoming!
broken wings and stolen kisses,
lips scorched and fingers broken,
beyond names and naming,
beyond words and thinking...
till nothing is left,
but raw sound,
and the veins of the decayed leaf,
shouting silence, and redemption!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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I'll be knocking at deaths door
I will be knocking on the door
Knock knock knock
Knocking at deaths door
Begging to be let in.
I'm near to deaths door
An overdose
And slit wrists
Along besides me.
Knock knock
Please let me in
deaths door
Please open
Please let me in
I hate my life
I cant cope
I'm desperate
plase let me in
Deaths door has opened
Now I've left it all behind
I'm in deaths world
Im gone
Im free
poem by Amy Louise Kerswell
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Since I Laid Eyes On You
(Ellen Shipley/Billy Steinberg/Sandy Stewart)
Why did I show my hand
Now you know your wish
Is my command
I never longed for things I didn't have
But that's no longer true
Since I laid eyes on you
I know I'm not the same
I don't need a fortune
Don't care about fame
But my soul is a burning flame
Can't sleep the whole night through
Since I laid eyes on you
I want your sweet caress
I dream of your tenderness
Oh I never, ever felt like this
I swear
Look what you've done for me
Oh boy, it's poetry
When I see the wind in your hair
The tears well up inside
Oh, what will turn the tide
And I've been waiting for you to decide
That you love me too
Since I laid eyes on you
What else could I do
Since I laid eyes on you
You, you, you, you
On you
Oh, yeah
Since I laid eyes
On you, you, you
song performed by by Faith Hill
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Silence
Silence
I get nothing to say
When my tears became dry
Since you've denied
My love that reached the sky.
And what are you awaiting for
After you've left and exist no more.
All what you can get is Silence.
For words left my service.
And went to serve the vices,
When my tongue to the heart failed to give advice.
Silence can speak of my pains more
Than you from my lips are awaiting for.
Silence can tell you
Now i 'll not forgive you.
Cry when your eyes meet my eye
That silence can make you die
And summons severe tears into your eye
By my heart Silent cry.
poem by Shymaa Awad
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Silence No More
Silence means you never hate me
silence means you will again date me
silence means you need some time
silence means you are fine
silence meanse the hopes are alive
tears came out of my eyes
silence is no more surprise
silence is only you know
silence is what you show
silence is to only glow
silence means only to give
silence means you will forgive
tears pours out of my eyes
silence is no more surprise...
please break the silence
poem by Vikash Jaiswal
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The Abduction
During the early hours of a September night
a storm blew in, whist everyone slept tight.
A clap of thunder chased a lightening flash,
a gust of wind turned a bedroom window’s latch.
The rain was unforgiving, falling heavy, hard and fast,
lightening lit up the sky, as again the thunder crashed.
Into the bedroom a beam of light from the heavens shone,
which lifted and carried away a boy, as he slept on.
Up into the clouds he was taken by this impenetrable beam,
out of the storm into a silent place, with lights of green.
His sleep was disturbed by a change of noise and light,
as his half opened eyes saw shapes like ghosts in the night.
Believing he was dreaming he once again closed his eyes
content he was safe in his bed until the morning sun rise.
Barely awake he found himself lying on a hard dusty ground,
beneath a mauve sky, with no sun or moon, or clouds around.
A haunting stillness and silence added to his anxious fears,
confusion, panic, and loneliness soon followed with tears.
He decided that he was still asleep facing a dream’s unreality
and wouldn’t accept reality until he awoke in normality.
poem by Orlando Belo
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Death' is when 'You' milk 'It
'Death' is when 'You' milk 'It' and milk it, milked
and you drive it, forever and ever,
upward and upward and never down ward, insane.
Death is two silky hands covered in hot burning oil,
that start at the base and death loves to covers each lamp.
While the flame burns inside the brown paper bag exposed.
Pushing death deep without compassion through the pale
full moon, as death walks around, ignoring your cries.
Heaven for death and coming so close to death you find.
Death makes you come over to your friends house once
again, in your mind while those pearls in the bag,
are laid up on the shelf that you share, with deaths pink pig.
Death moves both horns closer, driven unforgiving together,
one here and one there, ever closer, untiring you are laid out as art.
Death knows when the sky is on fire, say it again and again.
Death and truth, death is like an epileptic seizure,
when more than those silky soft hands,
never moved all the way down,
and a river of hot molten 'death' sprays,
in your hair each black day.
Death is as proud..and as proud of you, Death is,
as you splash it around, all about town,
Death and 'Death's' protein mask so tight, you peel it off.
Death was just the tip of the ice burg and death melted it,
with death's thick and full, red buried, unyielding lips.
'You' love to have your fun with death, as you milk it over
and over, the milk never expires, death never tires,
and many,
many are deaths executions from death's weepy milked eye.
poem by Is It Poetry
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About words entwining themselves within
There are so many tears
In this black void of your silence
'Cause you have been hurt so many times.
There are so many painful memories
In the gray shadow of those seconds
' Cause the world around you was crumbling,
So many times, the world inside you.
I am drinking the pain from the cup of your soul
Until the cup is empty,
Leaving a bit love at the bottom,
Looking like the coffee grounds.
Your love is sweet
Like acacia seeds.
I eat the seeds,
Your love seeds.
In that cup of your soul,
Your love is looking like a true love song,
Transparent and wet.
Your love is wet like a kiss.
Your heart is a rhapsody, entwining within my sad heart.
I miss you in so many ways sometimes,
I want and I miss that kiss,
I kiss your absence,
When I'm not with you..
We feed our souls
With love words,
Belonging to God.
My words pass between your teeth
Encountering yours
And the silence between them.
Their taste is like honey.
Our love is like honey.
It's our moon.
Do you want me now?
I want you now.
If you don't want me now
Just tell me
And we may both stay hungry.
poem by Marieta Maglas
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The Young Dead Soldiers Do Not Speak
The young dead soldiers do not speak.
Nevertheless, they are heard in the still houses:
who has not heard them?
They have a silence that speaks for them at night
and when the clock counts.
They say: We were young. We have died.
Remember us.
They say: We have done what we could
but until it is finished it is not done.
They say: We have given our lives but until it is finished
no one can know what our lives gave.
They say: Our deaths are not ours: they are yours,
they will mean what you make them.
They say: Whether our lives and our deaths were for
peace and a new hope or for nothing we cannot say,
it is you who must say this.
We leave you our deaths. Give them their meaning.
We were young, they say. We have died; remember us.
poem by Archibald MacLeish
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The Harlequin
In the clout of a shotgun world
Of feral catwalk alleys
And dog-strut hungers
Subsistence is a farce comedy
Rummaging in the ripples
Of one's convictions
And the furor wrought
By such idiotic bliss;
Of obstreperous finagling
In the batting eyelashes
Of make believing,
Is the swansong
Of the ethereal, non-carnal,
Point blank demise.
Ball a smoldering spit
Inside the brawls of one's feet
And you may find the streak
Of unflawed erudite alibis
For these chortles,
And the pantomimic silence
That I spill in a platter
Of another slapstick charade
Of a feigned harlequinade—
Raveling a thread
Of luridly tangled fences
Made of yarn and lattices
Of tethering promises
A make-up in lieu of mendaciloquence.
Will you comb the tresses
Of this woebegone capitulate
Within the pillars of the self?
Deceiving the perpetual churning
Of the crippling bones
And all its lovely yearning
To be one with guffawing
Without the inflection of pestering
Yet, the manacles I woven
Cannot be shorn by the secretion
Of a perfectly maneuvered
Soliloquy and isolation.
Palm this intoxication
With the treacle of your blood.
Guzzled by a mask
D'you think the harlequin
Breaks the twitching with
Veritable effervescence?
Roll those marbled vision
And undrape the visage
Of saccharine pride;
A harlequin is poignant in all places
With black teeth and disembogued eyes,
It is you who laugh
With every esoteric motion
Be it flight or fall
What are you looking at?
What are you wishing for?
poem by Norman Santos
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Outside331’sSleep
Don’t open your eyes yet not until I explain last night I went to bed with Sleep last night I fell for Sleep last night Sleep unclothed me left me naked in a room painted black I couldn’t see Sleep because Sleep was dark too and the room was black and the foreground blended in with the background I couldn’t tell what was far and what was close I became frustrated because Sleep was either hiding inside the room or the room was hiding behind Sleep neither were being fair to my eyes who wanted to play hide and go Sleep I hide inside the room and Sleep seeks I said where are you Sleep I can’t see you my eyes can’t find you Sleep I said I wanted to fall inside you brought me into this black room and I am trying to wrap myself around you won’t you come inside of me you won’t stage scenes in my eyes created with color everything is black one long stretch Sleep are you moving and I can’t see you or are you standing still and I can’t feel you are here Sleep you are silent Sleep I feel alone Sleep I want you to be inside me if you take me to a black room and make me go to bed are your eyes open I can’t see you did you leave is Sleep here Sleep am I inside you explain Sleep explain did you open your eyes Sleep are my eyes open Sleep are you outside me Sleep you took me to bed and left me Sleep I can’t open my eyes until you are back inside me I can’t see Sleep when you’re not inside me open your eyes Sleep do you see me inside you explain last night am I still inside Sleep?
(12-13-07)
poem by Chelsea Trescott
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