Best Muteness Poems
and if my heart is flawed ~
a muse-less manipulator,
it is because
it has known the murk
where nymphaea drift
through green grief
of algae blooms,
yet still m e l t s
in mauve muteness
to feel love’s rhythm
in merciful melancholy,
whilst the air
ripples like fractured light
on a liquid edge
dreaming,
drawing
somewhere
between silence and sacredness,
as mind mimics migrating birds
blissfully bruised
but never broken...
for I am the essence
of an aquatic-blossom ~
soft yet strong ~
patience my pulse
kindness my dignified design,
when coldness finds
its cruel coherence...
O beloved,
feel me
beyond the sighing pond-mists.
I am your mirror
in shallow reflections,
interpreting your
quivering quietness
into unbreakable
laces of light
that float and breathe
as mindfulness
frames the placid pixels
in oil pigments ~
an aura of an artist
can refine to redefine,
where lilies linger
and the water reminisces
its own sun's
luminous f l o w ...
Fingers tremble,
like an alcoholic without a bottle.
His pen is graceful in its slumber,
but imprisoned ink desires to be free -
intoxicated by his poetry.
Lips are forever silent,
in the absence of inspiration.
Isolated in the boredom of blankness -
congested to think enough,
struggling to feel enough.
Fault is not in the poet,
but in his absent mind -
which is a metaphorical candle.
Each drip creating pools of dusty wax,
as ebony wick struggles to keep flame alight.
Monsters of the mind
keep musings locked away,
so he turns to poets from the past -
but even Rumi cannot rekindle his desires.
Eyes gaze among petals for stimulation,
but their dormant fragrance offers no solution -
he is blinded by loss of concentration.
He wonder if his mind has become a flower,
out of season, but refusing to die.
He reflects upon love and lovers,
past, present and future,
but it does not liberate his ink -
maybe romance is out of fashion.
As his tongue tastes autumn's crispy air,
gloomy horizons summon birds south -
their songs of joy soften into muteness.
He feel for their empty nests,
now visible through naked trees.
Yet no outpouring of poetic observations,
overcome him -
have birds taken his muse?
Maybe the fault is in the birds,
maybe the fault is in the question...
My souls mutters in the muteness;
"Is my melancholy more melancholic than yours?"
I gaze across a bridge,
wondering which stream flows to you,
as nobody understands how
in the definition of lament,
I am a piano without a pianist
and you a harp without strings.
My heart is a weeping willow
within a godforsaken garden.
As the last blossom decays,
the image of you is fading,
resembling fallen leaves on soggy ground.
I don't belong in this numbness,
nor know how to explain why
my voice is lost in the vastness
of valleys without endless echoes.
I've forgotten what I wanted to say,
attempting to escape this maze of sorrow -
yet your words reverberate without resistance.
Pondering if your spirit will guide
me from this uncertain terrain,
I'm distracted by the silent hum of grief.
It hurts like an eerie lullaby,
unable to soothe the stillness of your ghost.
As silhouettes disappear in the dimming light,
I protect a fragile flame in your remembrance,
before withered leaves fade into ash.
In times of muteness,
I found her grazing in fields
of paper hummingbirds.
Her featherless wings
resembled a ruptured lute,
so I pressed my lips onto hers,
breathing poetry into her soul,
weaving velvet yarn,
shrouding around her muse -
embracing in an autumn scarf.
We bonded like Rumi and Shams,
but such is the tragedy of kismet,
her spirit floated towards Delta Caprcorni,
leaving me behind in a world less poetic -
without a poem to call my own.
Just a little Sunday scribble.
In English we say, I am hurting,
but in poetry we say ~
I am windswept wave
weeping weathered roses
upon the haunting heart of drowsy dunes,
kissed by the mineralized melancholy
of wounded wadis,
for love forgot the fated flow,
nevermore feeling the forlorn skin
of b l e e d i n g ink…
I seize the scorpion crushed weight
of crestfallen crystals,
once voiced
through painless passion.
Devouring the distress
cutting through lips splitting,
I taste nothingness
amidst raining ruby-winged butterflies,
mirroring the bruise
burning in sync with extreme dolor…
O beloved, would you still recognize
the rippling riddles of soul’s river,
or has distance
dried the wild-lilies
dressed in dramatic scents
of dangerous devotion,
like the syllables I spilled
between the spaces that
held the poetry we once breathed?
Would you still hear the
undreamed chimeras ~
chapters channelled
now choking the reveries
I home in morbid muteness,
or has the nerving nadir
jinxed the sparks of Jupiter ablaze,
numbing ringed-jewels of strength
we once believed faithfully
would
never phase
nor decay…
I wonder if your skies serenade
soft blue soliloquies ~
sunrise soaked in honeysuckle hymns.
Do they drizzle
densely designed darkness
draped in dissonance,
or do you find comfort
in painting me with solemn ashes
as the black-fanged Empusa ~
one that inflicted
nothing but misery,
injected like liquid lethal lament
that suffocated
the arteries of midnight?
2:22 ~ angel omen ~
do with this what you will,
I overwrite to outrun the emotions,
refusing to be overtaken
by disillusionment.
I speak not to lure the stars across
your cerulean seclusion,
but to heal as I seal the envelope
of unanswered thoughts,
wishing the pulse of p a t i e n c e
would no longer
push and pull the string
of my weakness
like ice-hot estuaries
rushing against the ache of want...
O detached desires,
forgive my need to release.
I am not restless,
I am not reactionary,
I am merely reminiscing in resilience,
to rise again
as the seamstress
of scarless sonnets….
My existence seems like a timeless tragedy,
ticking away in the harmony of misophonia and me.
I've been reluctantly raised in the arms of trauma,
hiding from the darkness looking over my shoulder.
I place a metaphorical knife under my pillow,
as I fear the biggest bully in my mind's playground.
Sound is like a sadistic samurai slashing at my sanity,
as innocent echoes become the euphonious chant of despondency.
An eldritch echo of anguish triggering anxiety,
a constant conflict between the shadows and the soul,
narrating a sorrowful story in each tear I shed,
but I'm shouting into the void of ignorance,
no one understands why I've bled.
Each breath is like a riddle,
each munch and crunch tasting like monotonous moments of meaningless screeching,
erupting into an earthquake of emotions.
Nobody understands the chaos from within,
thinking I'm a little bit crazy.
I search for a sanctuary where peace meets me at sunrise,
where screams of a sonorous mind are not shattered in fragments of estrangement,
portrayed through the plentiful imagery of pain.
I yearn to live a life mocking butterflies,
to flutter in the flakes of eternal slumber.
begging to lose the blessings of perception,
as all I hear is evil voices chattering from within.
Silence is a poison I'm willing to take,
yet I'm cursed by misophonian lullabies.
I wish to remain isolated within mental muteness,
as I know you will live forever in me.
When silence speaks in broken dialects, to harmonize hurt,
I ponder, would the sky unravel synonyms for serenity,
amidst piercing thunder that strikes through raining regrets~
upon flowers, swaying forsaken, to butterfly ballads?
But will oblivious eyes, roaming the blackness of selfish spheres~
where prayers are abandoned as meaningless metaphors,
ever feel the darkness we carry, when tears no longer flow in lakes with swans, to be seen?
It is in melted muteness, we reveal realness of suppressed pain,
as childhood fears scribbled as forbidden secrets~
rewind on repeat through holographic lens of life,
mirroring bloodstained fingerprints etched across linen of chastity…
So tonight, when blue moon in my mind ascends in insomniac stillness,
listen to the sulfuric sins scattered as flashbacks of an onyx rose,
as vandalized veins scream in helplessness,
awaiting a sculptured sunrise that bleeds balmy ointments for burnt blisters,
while I remain, in mists of misery, weaving prose,
to erase tattooed torment that stole starry symphonies within my soul. ..
(Invisibility)
In a busy time, we forget to see "the human and beautiful nature"
forget to breathe ...
We follow the "red arrows" ... and "the power of money"
Live and die of stress and loneliness -
It doesn't matter if it's day or night -
No one sees you ...
Like dust grains in dumbness
Don't be afraid to go into taciturnity
It will create depth in the relationship with yourself
Hush, hush ... listen ... time of harmony
Seek and allow for pearls of muteness
Some brief moments of stillness
Busy people and orchids still breathe
Blessed pockets that provide power,
strength and muscle relaxation
When reusing the colors from the last sunset
The eyes of the cube quietly closed
No ransom requirement, or red arrows
13/10/2019
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
I stab my heart
with metaphorical daggers,
wishing it was me in your place.
I'm impatient
waiting for you to say something.
How ironic you always despised silence,
now I wait for you to break yours
because your
motionless malady of muteness,
torments the tenderness,
of my apprehensive heart.
How i miss your melodious voice,
how you called my name.
Reflections of our last words linger -
increasing the anguish
of this unexpected reunion.
I reflect back to our youthful days
when you danced -
as elegant as a swan,
as delicate as a butterfly,
always inspiring the ink.
Until you danced away,
because life was not
what you wanted it to be -
not even me
but at least you were free.
You forgot about the west,
turned to the east,
became an icon of compassion.
I throw stones at the grim reaper -
do not answer his call of death.
I feel you are drowning,
won't you swim back to reality?
All I have is the power of prayer,
believing God will show mercy.
Hoping your flame flickers again,
not blowing away with winter winds.
Tired of talking too much
I wish to rest my rhymes.
Now is time to give ears
To your titanic tale of tears.
The heart that was under constraint
Needs to be unburdened.
My grief-stricken lap waits for
Your grieving grievances.
You, the only speaker and I, a patient listener,
Numb but nod at your each nuance.
Let my heart beat for last
To eternalise our momentary meeting,
I with my muteness
And you with your long-awaited lyrics.
Dew drops fall from your dark eyes
Moistening your rose petaled lips
That sometimes part in a smile.
I, a tragedian of your tale,
A respondent to your reactions
With a heavy heart wipe my wet eyelashes.
Like a pair of love birds
We look lovingly at each other,
Pine over the pains of the past
And fear of the fruitless future.
Little choice we are left with
But to flow like two rivers
Yearning to meet but to end in the ocean,
Our destination, mingling together.
I always weep for you in the hush of eventide hills.
In their mystical muteness I can hear your heartbeats.
As tears indulge in indigo dusky deepening horizons,
I put my hope in the last morning star which lusters
upon waves with sapphire iridescence shades of eternity,
flowing upon seashell shores stroking your sacred footprints.
Ever since your opulent hypnotic essence
stole the innocence of my lucent purity,
you've left me drunk on the wine of passion.
I'm stumbling like a drunkard in the dappled depth of desire,
with my provocative facade forming into a bodacious flame,
searching for my poetic pearl lost in a sea of mauve enchantment.
Wailing winds have discoloured my eyes with stained illusions,
in their darkness, I yearn for your sunlit glimmer to reappear.
I've been kissing the emptiness of porcelain moonlight,
since you left behind the taste of your fragrant lullaby.
Wondering if my kiss illuminated the ebony entities,
veiled inside your mystique of midnight eyes.
Visions of your majestic scarlet seraphim lips,
poised in sultry pulsation, forever flutter,
floating like blended opal and onyx butterflies.
Their tender beauteous softness merging
like ambrosia echoes of a cocoon, composing
the sweetness of saccharine symphonies,
caressing my soul like a magnolia breeze.
Oh my beloved ethereal lover,
will I be forever dreaming of your paradisiacal grace,
seeking your celestial scent from dusk till dawn?
Won't you gift me one shimmery glimpse
of your rialto rosette silhouette.
Forever wrap me in the sanctuary of your satin wings,
like the warm merino shawl of love's allure.
Why leave me in this state of silent saudade,
where I hunger for the silken hymn of your tongue.
Why bless me with such treasures,
only to deprive me?
The Silent One
27 December 2022
BEAK OF NIGHT
Following the glow in every star in my eyes
I lay here in the frenzy grass with swimming thoughts
Escapading~
Thunder hides in the still of the night
Doves fly high in an epic way
Swans glide in the mist of night
Everest tears, run down my cheeks
Speechless~
------- I left you-------------------
The wind carries the sorrow from a chime,
A touch with aromatic perfume, that turns out control
My shadows peeks around the warmth of a Phoenix mirage
My head is losing balance to a negative magnetic seal
Secretiveness ~
Sleepwalking with the tendency to crawl
My feelings stray as I lay on this frenzy grass of snow
Years that come and years that go
Things In life I will never know
I pass the morning till the night popsicles away
A blanket of snow to cover my dream
Wings taking flight near the river stream
Mockingbirds protecting their branch
In every scream!
Silence~
---------------- Far Away-------------
Leaves fall on me like an endless Odyssey Romance
I'm a lonely sparrow with an enigmatic look
A Gothic Dance, under the stars
Prancing under the devil's claw
I hold myself
Side to side
I lose myself to an ironic form.
Zero is what I can't perceive.
Muteness~
With and without a beak
The mystique of my lips
Is all billiard-up
My mouth sewn shut
Shut up~
--------------No Words, Indeed------
EPIC
By; p.d.
Who said:
"You don't realise what you've got, till it's gone."
In your absence I despise silence,
when you're gone loneliness visits,
but his friendship, I do not desire.
An empty scent circulates in the room.
Air is cold and crisp, all is black and white
with sad songs on repeat.
I find no peace listening to the rain since
you left me in the darkness of the eclipse.
Phone keeps ringing, but its not your name
flashing on display - I prefer a blank screen.
Not one voice seems to appease,
nor give me peace from this disease -
when you disappear like Houdini.
Yet your ghost lingers in the backdrop.
A candle quivers, dripping in tears of wax.
I don't blame your heart for its change,
but why so stubborn in bitter muteness.
Without you my soul resides in an empty trunk,
defaced with green moss, crawling with beetles.
Sanity is dripping like a leaking bottle of crimson water.
I remember when you were a wounded bird,
bleeding on a path to no where, unable to fly,
crying endlessly, yearning for your nest -
but now you have flown so far away.
Sometimes there is no patience in time,
especially when one closes their mind.
Without a chance to clarify confusion,
all is lost in ignorant translation.
Once, I had a million pieces of affection,
wedged between my soul, heart and mind,
but in your eyes they were rejected as unworthy.
Once what you loved, is now your enemy.
Today, I am the twin of sorrow,
tomorrow your twin will be regret
and you'll be crying when you're forgotten.
Simple Musing (fictional poem)
Silent One
20 November 2020
The quote is a line from the song "Big Yellow Taxi" by Joni Mitchell from the album Ladies of the Canyon (1970).
In the middle of the night, you came, oh, death,
Wishing my soul to harvest
Vehemently, I refused to surrender it to you
Fact, that made you so angry.
You said your divine right was to claim it
But still, your request I turned down
It was then that you thought it reasonable to incapacitate me
For your mission sooner to carry out.
The first step you took was my voice to silence
The second was my legs to immobilize
Thus mute and paralyzed, you fancied, I couldn't resist
So your prize would quickly be obtained.
For five days, in total muteness and bedridden, I remained
Yet, a gallant fight I put up to escape your embrace
But all my efforts in vain appeared to be
As the gates of eternity, I could gaze.
Late on the fifth day, a doctor of great character and skill,
He decided to empty the Hematoma formed next to my brain
Thus, a foot-long Craniotomy performed with great care
Hoping you, oh, death, to chase away.
Although now, slowly, I am recovering
Anticipating a few more years of life to enjoy,
I know very well in my heart, oh death,
That we together would be one blessed day!
© Demetrios Trifiatis
30 November 2021
* This is a biographical poem that narrates the events that took
place between the twelfth day of October and the first day of
November in the hospital!
Line of enquiry.
It’s not desire per say but the clinging ~
that stifles soul and stops heart from singing
enlivening silence sets our soul free ~
vibrant in the now, joyful and carefree”
Phantoms of constant fog create a zombie state of existence,
feeling worthless, your barriers offer demons no resistance.
Thoughts drift into a hazy labyrinth of toxic wilderness,
you're wide awake, but the mind's sleeping in fields of bitterness.
Dark shadows of silhouettes in shrouds start to frighten,
so you search for stimulation, for your eyes to enlighten.
To hush these' car crash' carnage echoes of violence,
soul seeks refuge away from ego to master silence.
To wander under blue sunny skies with caffeine clarity.
To cleanse in waterfalls that lead to principles of purity.
When you no longer dance with the Devil's temptations,
serenades of resurrection release suppressed frustrations.
Spirit soars, humming the repetition of a sweet refrain,
as you break away from the monotony of past pain.
In the muteness of stillness the heart learns to let go,
flourishing like the first daffodil after months of snow.