Silence Is The Best Morning Poem
SILENCE IS THE BEST MORNING POEM
Silence is the best morning poem
The eyes listen best
When Quiet opens them.
Look at the light
Hear it whisper into
The beauty of
Who you are,
“Boker Tov.”
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Where Silence and Peace and Morning Sun/ Are
WHERE SILENCE AND PEACE AND MORNING SUN /ARE
Where Silence and Peace and Morning Sun
are
There is the Poem.
Where Quiet of the Soul is
There, the Poem.
The Poem is the Love of Life
in the Gentle Day and the Quiet Night
of this small Jerusalem garden
I sit and write in now.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Don't Hear A Poem This Morning
I DON’T HEAR A POEM THIS MORNING
I don’t hear a poem this morning
I hear nothing but a computer hum
A silence which has no beauty in it
A fear which has no name.
I hear loneliness and sadness and doubt and trouble
I don’t hear ‘kindness’ and ‘love’
I hear ‘worry’
I hear Fear.
I hear nothing of Beauty or Kindness or Love
I hear a poem which once again
Says how difficult it all is.
What a troubled person I have always been
Even as I calmly write this now.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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There Is A Poem For Me Somewhere This Morning
THERE IS A POEM FOR ME SOMEWHERE THIS MORNING
There is a poem for me somewhere this morning
I will find it somehow
Perhaps it is in the memory of my father
Whose Yahrtzeit is today
Twenty- two years.
Perhaps it is as it is often
In the morning light
When I first walk outside to Shul
Perhaps it is in the deep need for a poem
For my own justification
Perhaps it is in my daughter’s search
For poems of inspiration
Perhaps it is in many things mixed together
Most of which I have not yet
And may never bring to mind
There is a poem for me somewhere this morning
I am writing it now
It is not beautiful
And not the best
And maybe even not much of a poem
There is a poem for me somewhere this morning
And I am not alone.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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The Poem Of The Morning/ Waits To Be Written
THE POEM OF THE MORNING
The poem of the morning
Waits to be written
It does not know its name is silence
It knows only
The early morning light
Is hooe
And life
As beginning
Again.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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How Many Times Have I Written The Morning As A Poem?
How many times have I written the morning as a poem?
This morning too is a poem-
How bright and beautiful
How filled with light
How flower- rich and spring scented
How quiet and calm
How new
How fresh the world beginning again
The morning is the poem today also
though I cannot know what will be
in the day to come.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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A Poem Is Just A Poem
a poem is just a poem and if it is just a poem
it must be just a poem just like another poem
a poem is nothing but just a poem otherwise
it cannot be my poem; it may speak about
anything, or something, or about everything,
but my poem is just a poem just like anybody's
poem, which is just but a poem, like any other
poem, for a poem to be a poem it must just be
a poem: it has nothing to do with my love, and death
my life, or bliss, but as i have told you, once, twice
thrice, eat some rice, and be that wise, a poem is
just a poem, just like your poem. Why do you insist
on asking, what is happening to me? I am not a
poem, for i am but just the composer of the poem,
need i tell you again, that a poem is just a poem?
just like any other poem, which is just a poem
it is just a voice in my head that i have heard
someone comes and speaks and i listen so
this poem is not actually my poem but the poem
of someone else's: theirs not mine, from a mind.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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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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I Ask The Morning Light
I ASK THE MORNING LIGHT
I ask the morning light,
To give me a poem-
The morning light is quiet-
The fresh cool air
Freezes my hand
As I write.
The light is so bright
So yellow so blue so green.
The poem has been given-
I am alive.
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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There Is No Poem/Like The Poem Of The Morning
THERE IS NO POEM/ LIKE THE POEM OF THE MORNING
There is no poem
Like the poem of the morning-
The poem of beginning again-
The poem of light-
The poem of hope-
The poem of a new world.
Even when one is old,
The poem of the morning
Is a new poem.
And we need new poems.
We need mornings-
We need light-
We need hope-
The poem of a new day
Of beginning again
Even when one is old.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Not Every Morning Is A Poem
NOT EVERY MORNING HAS A POEM
Not every morning has a poem
Not every morning has the light one needs
Not every morning is a new beginning
Not every morning is what morning should be.
Still this morning I will try
As I most often try
To feel from the first step outside
That morning is a new day.
God, how long has it been
With all these days and all this effort
And all these needings to begin again?
poem by Shalom Freedman
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18 Definitions Of A Short Poem
1) A short poem
Saves time,
2) A short poem
Saves time
For its reader, also.
3) A short poem is over
Before its read.
4) A short poem
Can be swiftly reread.
5) A short poem
Is a lightning flash.
6) A short poem
Is one metaphor only.
7) A short poem
Is less than nine words.
8) A short poem
Opens ones eyes
In the morning.
9) A short poem
May be a short prayer.
10) A short poem
May be a poem of a single word.
11) Poem.
12) A short poem
A small play on words.
13) A short poem
May be a single sentence.
14) A short poem is shorter
Than the definition of it.
15) It breaks up the icy sea within.
16) A chill down the spine.
17) There is no end
To making definitions of the short poem.
18) A short poem in Hebrew
Is shorter than than the same poem in English.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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I Would Write A Quiet Poem
I WOULD WRITE A QUIET POEM
I would write a quiet poem.
There is so much noise in the world.
A poem to be read in silence
A poem to give comfort and rest
A poem of peace
Of mind and soul.
A quiet poem
Against all the furies and pains of this world
A poem of peace
Restful as the most bliss-filled sleep.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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The Poem Of Life Is Love
THE POEM OF THE MORNING IS LIGHT
The Poem of the Morning is Light
The Poem of the Night is Darkness
The Poem of Life is Love
The Poem of Death is Sadness.
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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I Stop And Wait/For A Poem
I Stop And Wait/ For A Poem
I stop and wait
For a poem.
The poem does not come
The city says ‘Morning beauty’
The silence is a sadness unsayable -
Light is lovely
Isn’t it?
Irony Irony Irony-
I write these lines
As if I actually believe
I am writing poetry
And doing something.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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The Morning Writes Its Own Poem
THE MORNING WRITES ITS OWN POEM
The morning writes its own poem
The light is its poem
We need the light of the morning
After the long darkness of night
The morning is hope
The morning is beginning
The morning is a new day
A new world -
We need the morning
And we need to begin again
And we need to feel life has hope
And we need to love the world
And to believe that walking out into it
Begins another day.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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