Your Silence; an Invitation
Your hair of synthetic shades and its torrid arcane
That palms its wave to a coaxing fiction
Grating mirth of profuse delight,
Destructing hurricane.
Your little hands with polished tips and brazen palms
That surreptitiously throttles its own schmaltz flair
Fluttering egoistically,
Risqué trance in motion.
Your taciturn footsteps in crowded rooms
That whets all gluttons in yawning vales
Devouring in attrition,
Resounding an empty soul.
Your convicted eyes feinting from establishment
That vicariously stabs with vexation
Piercing the veil of cordial brides,
Prolix stare.
Your contoured lips slavering the mongrels
That sullies a hedonist in an incisive stance
Inflecting esoteric mesh,
Florid smile.
Your sharp tongue dawdling inside a metallic cellar
That spews too much to dismember quixotic words
Titillating desires of carnal carnage,
Lissome claymore.
Your fastidious guise and the hubris of your clad
That tut a sheave of notes of lamentable flux
Whittling away your comporting silence,
Intrepid harridan.
Your silence would be left with taut dictates
That yields and gushes inside your diminutive veins
Engaging friction in your brittle bones,
A vying triumph.
Your silence, who would hear them?
Blanching the vacuous skies into an endless poem
Succumbing repose of cumbersome rout,
Alaska.
poem by Norman Santos
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Related quotes
Silence (Part I)
Sometimes I see you as my child,
Sometimes I see you as my sweetheart,
And when I look into your eyes,
I see that tender and sweet smile,
And I want to say what’s in my heart,
And I want to tell you how I feel,
But my voice remains there, still,
And I just stare at your loving face,
And let the love from my heart,
Flow like a wild river in furious race,
to enfold your sweet and pure soul
with a sea of love and tenderness.
Sometimes there’s so much to say,
but nothing flows from my lips,
And only silence is there to stay,
And only the silence I should keep,
Because what I had to say was already said,
How words could express
never-ending love and tenderness?
How could I just say at one time,
I love you more than my own life?
And there remains the deep silence,
Silence and more silence,
to signal that divine presence,
of my silent love; my heart’s essence.
But this silence is not empty silence,
when divine love fills all my senses,
when nature’s beauty colours your soul,
and fades away all pity and woe.
Because when there is silence,
you can hear the silent language,
the heavenly music of my heart’s song,
God’s eternal music He’s been playing all along,
And in that silence you’ll hear my song,
The endless tune that my love sings,
with the sweetest notes in your luscious dreams,
which eternally flow like endless streams.
(2009)
poem by Roberto Echanes
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Fata Morgana
Sworn into secrecy
We waft in the air
With innocuous wings
Slicing the horizon
To reveal what we are
This mirage,
This esoteric mesh
This loud silence
Venting through the fringe
With all the colors
Of the blackest stars
With streams in our eyes,
With candles in our palms,
Who are we to judge
The meander of hearts?
When we are astray
From the very start
Cling onto hope
Cling onto fear
Cling on with you lissome hands
Let the beating be surreal.
poem by Norman Santos
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Innocence and Silence
Innocence and silence.
A kind of state out of nature.
A head in a queer trance.
A body with a fracture.
Crying out the pain inside.
Showing out a grey smile.
A heart truly deeply died
Without blood running wild.
A crying silence growing.
A silent cry inside hidden.
A stare at the forbidden:
Words without meaning -
Innocence and silence.
poem by Walid Boureghda
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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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In Silence
We talk in silence
We speak in exchanging breath
We argue in silence
We battle with our stare
We think in silence
We travel in our mind
We promise in silence
We create the secret better
We sing in silence
We smile in radiant melody
We enjoy in silence
We move with our body
We share in silence
We stay in each other arms
We love in silence
We grow the hope of warmth
We hate in silence
We shake in every fiber being
We pray in silence
We enchant the words in heart
We long in silence
We drown in loneliness
We break in silence
We flow soundless tears
We walk in silence
We tell our story in footprint
We listen in silence
We could hear numerous voices
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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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 Story Of The Sharp Tongue
with the repetitive sound of sighs and symmetrical silence
the tongue has become sharp and it stabs hearts
it breaks open what has been closed all along and hidden
birds start breaking out from cages
and feathers are left as memories which somehow the one who is left
empty takes it to his heart and becomes his pen
the lonely man writes
with blood from his bleeding heart stabbed by the sharpness of his own
past
the sound becomes even more demanding like routine that you cannot refuse
and somehow the silence becomes irregular, asymmetrical taking the shape
of a scream, which the tongue most sharpened now
slices into dust
and this reaches to the conclusion that no matter how sharp the tongue can be
it too shall in the end turn into
dust..............................
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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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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The din of the metropolises
The din of the metropolises has dimmed
My whistle
My faint brittle whistle
That never left the sill of my lips
The lips that were sealed with silence
the words that chocked my throat
left inside me in awe....
never left just lingered inside and gnaw
copy rights 2010
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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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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Defining The Kind Of Silence He Needs
it is like the silence of an empty room
not keeping anything
not holding
not gripping hands
or gnashing teeth
the windows are not closed
or the doors
to keep a hounding silence
it is a silence with still air
you hear me breathing in
and out
of my nostrils
nothing kept like grudges
nothing hidden like
some disappointments
it is the silence that heals
that gathers strength
the silence of your gratitude
the silence that rests
the silence
of the soul in solitude
the silence of peace
one that looks out
to the grandeur yet to come
one that waits patiently
the silence of
glory
godlike
humane, and seeks to understand
the one that drives
confusion away
like a bird
nesting its eggs for days
on a stable branch
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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In Silence
You left the lines blank for me love
And again you ask why wrote my plaint
When you are in front of me I am lost
In the beauty of your hair your lips
In the gazelle eyes and the music
From the tongue that licks honey
When I open my mouth for my words
You place your finger on your lips
Enter the silence of my love else
I leave you in the oblivions vast
Like a flute from the reed in silence
Wail I long as separated from beloved
You make my silence in colors float
When in the bloom of spring I enter
The garden where nightingale sings
In silence sitting by the rose
In silence my love I live in thou
7/2/2009
poem by Sadiqullah Khan
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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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A Poem Needs Silence
A POEM NEEDS SILENCE TO HEAR ITSELF BE HEARD
A poem needs silence to hear itself be heard
Background clutter destroys the holy word.
Let the music play elsewhere,
Let the talkers aloud outside,
A poem needs silence
To hear itself inside.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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God Loves Silence
I paint a picture in my thoughts
My thinking is my canvas
My easle is made of words
I choose the words in silence
Silence is my companion
It never lets me down
Silence is the my safe haven
Helps me to value my inner self
Hear the footsteps of wisdom
When silence controls my mind
I understand his supreme commands
As God loves silence
poem by Dr Shamim ali
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Read My Lips
verbal silence. read my lips.
if you see them.
read the words. read it here.
these words. read them like
flowers in the garden.
these words speak a little.
tips of the iceberg. They are less
compared to the color of my eyes
the warmth of my fingers
the suppressed beatings of my heart.
these words that you read.
if only you can see my lips.
if only you can see my face.
and body, naked on the flowing sheet of
pure paper. IF only you know
what silence means, how emptiness
eats it, if only you know how inferior
verbs and adjectives are
compared to the caresses of the hands
and the tenderness of the fingers,
touch.
read the lines silently.
these words do not shape my lips.
they come to your eyes.
in the silence of your understanding.
never shall they speak
about me. they only talk about
the hands that write sometimes
without any meaning at all.
infinitives are not infinite.
neither do verbs know what is it to be still.
and adjectives talk only about the surface.
deep under, the noise begins.
and silence of the verbs move to another side.
now, the mountains of ideas collapse
and bury the casualties of silence.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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To The Man of Multitude
In a jet black guise
With the patina of bold vying
You are the nighttime sky,
You are the fathoms of the pit,
And the quintessence of the labyrinth
Is within the scars of the manacles
That had marred the luster
Of your candor vision
But the lurking predators
In the fringes of your capitulating flame
Could never halt nor corrupt
The spangling splendor
Draped in the jet black guise.
I've seen you knead against the quakes
Sullied by the caustic impalement
Of a sardonic rebellion
To oust the dexterous entanglement
In a cajoling bereavement
But more than this, I have seen
You eruditely build lofty sentries
That divulges a binary path
For a tatterdemalion comrade
And yonder what I've seen, I had unfurled
A gyroscope of chances
Within your vestal core
Dabbing with its own remedy
Amidst the clangors and vexation
You remained resolute
To your sheering honesty
And it had baffled me
When you said you were reticent
For in each of your gutters
You propel your own current
Like a stern windmill
Looming amidst the mayhem
And the slapstick charades
Never delude in their consoles
For your sifting sagacity
Possessed an intrepid heart
You are a savant owl
Of enigmatic marquetry
Who had witnessed surfeit requiems
Of thousand floundering souls
Like that of a comely soul
Educed into a comely man,
Or like that of a lone lion;
And the sooty plumes
Of your subterfuge
Is just as enthusing as
The struggling vagabond
Beneath the puissant wings
And the labyrinthine eyes
I'll keep you in my loins;
A chanting spell against
The beguiling of the sirens
For you are teeming
With codes and keys
To a profound sublimation
Of verve and valiancy
Inside a prolix prose
Where I had found myself
Slurring in the eddies
But buoyed and riveted
In the esoteric resilience
Mount the insuperable gorge,
And I shall heave your lissome string
So you could set of far, adroit kite
And I wouldn't be cumbersome
In the blear of your frescoes
But if you could seize me
Please, let your winds ferry me
For you are so many!
That sometimes, my oppression envy,
And a moniker is not apt
For your puissant authenticity
Carry on, brother!
You're a man of multitude.
poem by Norman Santos
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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
Catastrophe Within Silence
silence as in a room with no sound
but the hard pounding drops of rain against the window
silence as in being in a crowd of people
but no one is paying any attention to you
silence as in the pain that harvests inside
but not a soul is around to help u through it
silence yet another meaning of no commotion
but leaves many oblivious to anything of mention
there is catastrophe within silence
but who are those to even realize it?
not a word against a crowd
or a cry for help
not a simple acknowledgment
or an act speaking an opinion
silence
silence may be the
fear
shock
or agitation
within our world that leaves everyone
speechless
till all that is left is
catastrophe within silence
poem by Erin Sullivan
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