Best Noiselessly Poems
I woke up changed
but love stayed ~
for my cluttered consciousness
escapes into the cosmos,
where the Flame-June stars
are christened with
healing hieroglyphs
hibernating within
your heartbeat
mimicking the murkiness
of this mind that
noiselessly misses
the metered magic
you composed cautiously
into redolent reality
with acrylic colors
from dawn after hailstorms…
and I drown… O beloved
I swallow my ink...
stained with your scent
in lucid dreams
steeped in seared sienna
wrapped in stimulating silence
as faith meets me fearlessly
beneath the kiss of an angel
that left me lethargic
longing for the levitating light
of a sultry sun that
clothed me selflessly
unspooling the urge
to pirouette through peace
that looks like homely solitude
as hope rests in the
saffron soul of clouds
where your rhymes return…
so trace me amidst the
trail of thoughts I find
myself weaving
with wildflower wishes
into the glistening sky
glazed with
passionate promises
caressing my pensive skin,
while I plead
with the awakening moon
to teach the tuscan
tones of my phoenix sun
to soak my silhouette ~
a saving grace beneath my hair…
but these feelings
are not severe symptoms
of persistent exhaustion
or spiritual emptiness
this is the sound
of my pulse ~
a piercing ache
to feel the lips of
an empathetic empyrean
to breathe siren’s bliss
into the arteries of angst
like waves undressed
unreservedly obsessed
with the thought
of being seen and saved ~
a prayer perfumed
like a dream designed
in citrine gold crystals…
*Inspired by the art "Flaming June" by Frederic Leighton
The silver sky gently mists,
shrouding trees, emerald dark,
with echoes of mystery.
Soft, beautiful and cold is the melody
the wind blows, far away
through branch and lilting bough.
All is quiet, with the deep-breathing silence
of cool, evening peace.
The air, fresh and cold, enveloping light with grey;
carrying with it the harmony of
crickets and birds. Keeping the ancient
twilight tryst they sing a little warmth amidst
the charcoal world, and a gust in the shielding leaves
speaks in barely a whisper:
beckoning…
While I lay, still as silence –
Fingers pressed upon the chilled glass,
the wind noiselessly billowing
the soft, pale curtains.
I reach for a cold, sad,
beautiful world -
until the rain begins to fall.
Alone, breathing slow and deep,
I smile.
Hurriedly, silently, in purposeful fluid movements
and long, determined strides, he dashed among
the thickets, bending and darting amidst the vines
searching for a perfect little place to stay and hide.
Stealthily and noiselessly he slithered underneath
lush, leafy overhangs shielding him from the sun -
keen, cautious, like a crouching, hungry predator
anxious not to draw unwanted attention to himself.
The birds on treetops hushed their singing in haste
as the woods turned suddenly still - frozen in place,
shocked, stunned and unprepared to bear witness
to the mysterious man’s strange, diabolical scheme.
He threw a quick look to his left and another to the right
then jerked, turning his head around to make doubly sure
that no human soul finds him in this quiet, secluded place
about to carry out his dark, sinister and unplanned crime.
Taking a deep, measured breath and now totally reassured
of being truly alone, away from prying eyes to a gory crime,
in his madness he violently yanked down his old Levi jeans,
squatted to the ground, grimacing, and…ahh, sweet release!
I am vaporizing in your eyes slowly
Noiselessly, clearly, and helplessly
Am I willing to be absorbed as steam?
No! my feeling is no but wordlessly
I am vaporizing in your eyes helplessly
As immediate as I saw you saw me
You turned me into steam softly
What should I do immediately?
Seeping into your soul completely?
Or hiding into the cloud urgently?
Lush pretentious garden sculpts to be gleaned.
Fullness of repose with sweet quiet sound,
fruitful, and forbearance draw nature's ground.
The sensuous feel, oft seasons has seen.
Butterflies noiselessly stir round fragrant
sweet allure angel's tears; with airy grace
scatter elsewhere to perennial space.
Ants, beetles, and birds herald, spring vagrants.
Wind nimble bend forth, leaflets surrender
mere fragrance in its resilience breath span,
devour one complete, hence its roots began.
Spring vernal equinox, has force to render.
Spring arises in gallantly through ardor
in the wake of hints still left from winter.
2/22/2019
As September shadows appear
All creatures prepare for winter days to come
No calendar to tell them of advancing time
They just know it was planned that way
One by one the leaves of crimson and gold
Of dying browns fall from maples, oaks upon the ground
A note of regret, a bit of melancholy enters hearts
At the first hint that summer is over
That winter's voice is soon to be heard
The shadows of September whisper
Final vows to the dying year
But seasons come and go, melting so noiselessly
Significant in their silences
One into the other
That our thoughts keep forward
There is a note of permanence in all the moves of nature
She goes on, mindful of man and all his dreams of spring awakening
In honor of Brian's "One For September"
Noiselessly floating-
on those silky windless wings
in life's brief moment.
(one of my first Haiku- archives 2001)
I am floating in a warm cerulean ocean dream
like clear glass 'till waves are stirring
oh, the vivid blue I see is tranquility in the ripples of water
and I am gliding noiselessly
as the depth of my sorrow sinks below the ocean
so many blues in those waves embracing me
like a lover
my hair fanning out a soft spider web
my arms and legs outstretched in
azure, cobalt, marine blue drifting waves
with periwinkle of a robin's egg up above in the sky
so cool the melancholy music of my ocean floating
oh, an indigo bird flies in the periwinkle sky
and the soft drifting clouds are in a blue cosmic dance
quietly, bright cornflower fish kiss my toes
blue, blue is my ocean dream
__________________
January 6, 2019
Poetry/Free Verse/Blue
Copyright Protected, ID 19-1101-563-02
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Toroidal heart and bliss bubbles bursting
in thousands noiselessly at head ovoid,
ushers rapture for which we were thirsting,
being by ego no longer decoyed.
As a sublime fragrance suffuses form,
we are both in this world and in heaven,
enveloped by a magnetic bliss storm,
soma nectar drips through chakras seven.
When jarring life notes deflect attention,
bliss remains but its attributes dilute,
prompting us to restore meditation,
that our soul presence within may reboot.
Deepen oh hermit, deepen each bliss strobe ~
Layer by layer, ignorance disrobe
07-November-2022
Autumn draws closer day by day
From far is heard
The screeching of a lone bird
Voicing its dismay aloud
Over the impending fall
Here the moss scrawls
Ugly pictures on the bark of trees
Where black spiders weave their gossamer
Moving, sig sag across the trees’ leprous trunks
I see the yellowing leaves
Torn down from their sturdy limbs
Sliding down noiselessly one by one
And landing on the ground
With a mournful sound
Acorns from the pine trees drop
And swell the ground and fall to sleep
Life too takes a downward spiral
I feel the autumn seeping into me
And my heart feels a languid grief
The days of my youth
Seem to fly away in a flurry
Like autumn leaves whirling in the gale
Reminding us, that we are not here to stay
The withered leaves
Which shriek and screech under my feet,
Recall to me the cry of martyred youth
With all tenacity overthrown.
Like them, we will fall and be dead to the world
Wrapped in frozen silence, forgotten by all
And sucked back into primal void!
the bubble of ignorance dissolves
noiselessly in the void
for a moment we are free but then it reforms
we are once again by thoughts decoyed
we notice this see-saw oscillation
yet do nothing since no one is here
poised in a stillness continuum
we are free from seeking and free from fear
silently I sit
although my mind shouts loudly
no one sees how deep
this inner conflict reaches
noiselessly, heart wounds bleed out
Copyright, August 29, 2014
Faye Lanham Gibson
Could spectres conceal inscrutable plot,
while following lives with clandestine eyes:
mocking each movement with grace we have not.
Caste-less company of foolish and wise,
elusive and tireless, always impend:
fleet, ever positioned to criticize.
Noiselessly waiting at each journey's end
watching and judging, without acquittal,
deeds that we're proud of, and some to defend.
Their aloofness lessens us, belittles
as around all they swoop, dread silent crows,
and yet are scattered like children's skittles
when darkness descends with one immense blow,
for night is queen of secrets and shadows.
In my imagination,
My vision encapsulates
Dusk’s parting darkness,
and silver clouds appearing between,
dull twinkling stars.
As night melts to early February morn,
the moon lies half hidden in the dormant skies.
As the morning moon shines,
A murder of lies
And a swarm of fleas,
Shadow box with their own reflections
A dark fog looms around,
Smoke and dark clouds fill up the skies.
As morn melts and noon sets in,
The mango tree on my lawn,
Deepens its shadow,
In the slushy red soil ,
the night rains has sapped out.
The black mirrored Goan roads,
sans pot holes,
Lie gleaming, as the sun chases the skies,
and drags out the shadows without bigotry.
There is no immobility in the air,
but the green ponds reflect,
the blue skies…..
the sea gulls pick up,
spilled refuse,
and the sun is nowhere to be seen.
birds and bees,
trees and leaves,
the skies and the waters,
the winds and the vibrant uneven mounds of earths,
they play pantomime ,
with each other.
The melancholies of my life,
and the songs they sing,
flow out of me,
to shed away my shadows.
as emerges from within the lies and the fleas,
one final time for fleeing……………
Joys descend upon me,
and so noiselessly subtle I feel.
like the dried mango leaf that floats,
on the languid wings of the moist air.
As the sun sets,
Large portions of the tangerine
and the orange,
the skies have soaked and absorbed
The blueness still reigns supreme in the winter skies,
as I look beyond my room,
a pigeon settles on my window sill,
Your peck on my cheeks,
and warm whiffs of brewed coffee,
cast aside from my dreamy eyes,
dismantling dream time
and slumber land rhymes.
another day in the drama of my life unfolds,
and I exit from that time……
with time in my enduring and timeless pursuit
of a happy life…………
another day I begin………..
Before grandma went to sleep
and snored softly as a baby sheep,
I had a grand wish to become a prince
and marry in a castle a beautiful princess,
but to make it come true
I need some magic beans to make my idea dash,
and accomplish that foolish thing;
then a sudden thought too brash
made me do something
a good child wouldn't do:
I took those red and green magic beans that
she always kept in her neat dress chest!
When I tried to open it noiselessly,
I realized that I needed a key,
so as a slick thief, I looked for it....
and searching her leather purse, I found it:
there they were giving off a powerful shine
tempting me with their powerful allure;
and with avid hands short of divine,
I snatched them from that stylish couture!
As I looked back, grandma shouted,
" Hold it, hold it...little scoundrel! I heard
your light footsteps approaching my bed
and saw your quick fingers fumbling my purse! "
" You thought I was sleeping...didn't you? "
And ready to strike me with a pillow she continued,
" Magic beans are not made for children who
want more than they wish for..they could be a curse! "
Entered in Poet Destroyer's contest,
" Magic beans "
written by Andrew Crisci
on January 17, 2015