Best Quiescent Poems
Quiescence 2-6-24
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Quiescent
Snowfall resonates in unison’s octaves,
In low tones of falling flakes’ pink vibrations,
Waterfalls of snowflakes in gentle billows
Pulse in halcyon –
The resting heartbeat of dozing snowflowers.
Feathery gifts from the unselfish heavens,
Unhurried stillness
Hushed drifts,
Suspended between half light and vesper veils
In reposes of resolved hibernation.
Hypnotic hum of drifting hues, soothing bleakness,
Lingers through broadbands of snowy calm,
Like floating tides of resolution,
Lays hands on unsettled winds
And the flushed pulse of whiteouts.
In shades of snowbound solitude,
Drawn into the spellbound cadence
Of snowfall reveries' vital signs,
Breath slows into mesmerizing harmony,
Sinking into the hush to banish blizzards.
You drifted into my ambience, on a light summers breeze
I'd never seen such perfection, carried with so much ease
We barely interacted, though our eyes may just have met
Quiescently touching my heart, a moment I'll never forget
By
David Kavanagh
“Activity makes my life colorful. To be quiescent is relaxing, but when it prolongs, I feel I am dead.” – By Poet
Day after day passes
With rarely a purpose to fulfill
Thoughts after thoughts flit,
With nothing to hold in memory.
I am stuck on the lonely highway of life.
No addendum!
Up the long path of life,
From joy to pain,
And from pain to joy,
I have been oscillating all these years.
Now my mind is empty.
No exhilarating emotions.
No vexing thoughts
No nagging concerns
No convulsing tidal swaying
Like a placid lake with no ripples
Like a sponge with water squeezed out
Like a kite refusing to soar high,
I am now a bough on a sturdy stem,
Resisting to be touched by the wind!
You might think I have learned,
To look at life with a level brow
And enjoy the stillness of my mind,
When the mad scramble in me dies.
Perhaps you are right.
But I detest this mental hiatus,
This numbing languorousness,
This sickening emotional torpor!
Am I becoming a log over the moving currents?
From this quiescent state, I look for a release.
In a world over burdened with heartache and despair
there are moments when I find life too difficult to bear.
I long for a sanctuary; a quiet place of tranquil repose.
A cabin in the mountains where no one else ever goes
Or a placid valley where my nearest neighbor is a hare.
It need not be a Shangri La in which I would never age,
but Lord grant me a halcyon clime where there is no rage.
I'd settle for a seaside cave, lulled to sleep by lapping waves
There I'd not shed a tear over loved ones in their graves.
I'd write poetry about enchanting things, page after page.
I'm not looking for a permanent home so I can hibernate,
just a hideaway to myself so my apprehension can abate.
I need the perfect quiescent place, in a secluded location.
A silk cocoon or a Zen garden so I can relax in meditation
focusing on things that bring happiness so I can feel sedate.
September 30, 2021
"Q" Contest of New Poems
Sponsored by Constance La France
Hawaii's Kilauea volcano erupted,
as lava flowed over its cauldron!
The quiescent
Goddess awakes!
What once was a placid pool of liquid lava,
has morphed into a geyser of magma.
And it's ejecting molten plumes of rock
high into the atmosphere, lighting up the night.
When Gaia flows into the sea,
is she giving birth to the land?
Time contradicts;
permanency.
The quiescent oaks shiver in the cold
Their fugacious leaves blown away in the breeze
February will you bring me closer to spring bold
If anyway possible would you please
Now the susurration of winter's wind
So different from sighing of the pines
How I long for angular sun's warmth, my friend
For time in the sun, how I have pined
There's pale gray wool flung across the sky
A cold white shawl draped upon the lawn
Before the sun rises to warm by and by
When sun illuminates the crack of dawn
Chilled daffodils tender shoots peek through the earth
Seeking the sun's early light and warm touch
Once more to refresh the bulbs' life with mirth
Invite early insects to tickle its trumpet and such
Written: January 30, 2024
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"Except during the nascent stages of real humility, true love remains quiescent." By Poet
Fragmented Form: A rhyme form created by poetess: Constance La France
Calm and quiescent, yet restless and untamed,
I realize contentment in this particular instance.
Unruly and unbridled epiphany—feel unashamed,
Their routines are seamless of their existence.
Embedded in my core—words lie idle in my mind,
In an evanescent suffocation, downcast and confined.
Quiescent, craving liberty—eager to be divined,
Regrouping with family upon shelter and care.
Feeling fugacious, free to float forward and flare,
Words have become quiescent—in my dare.
My life has a secret vault in the back, framed,
A sanctum, I retreat to unveil glee in assistance.
My heart unlocks this hide—for who seek to find,
This closet has a door for all who wish to share.
The night enlightenment in with quiescent stage
Of nature, refining gracious and endless age.
Shadows dance rhapsody round slumber's existence
As evening due settles discreetly some distance.
A vision, a red velvet rosebud of beauty
a subtle sweetness scent, sensual, and fruity.
Spring breast inner quiescence echoes ebullient,
Nature's reverence favorable ambient.
Oh, how I love a peaceful summer day
when trees are still, and fields of grass stand tall.
In tranquil air, the bird songs drift away-
in tunes so clear, I'm lulled with every call.
Oh, how I love the hush of Autumn time
when gold and rusty hues paint hills that flow
and stretch along old country roads- sublime
with sunny rays that spray a gentle glow.
Oh, how I love the winter wonderland
of snow that glistens in the morning sun.
The pure white sheen on hills and timberland-
in silent laze as icicles are spun.
Oh, how I love resurgence every spring;
the air exudes sweet scents of wakened earth.
The thrill of sprouting buds, birds on the wing-
gives solace in the wonder of rebirth.
Though all our seasons quickly come and go-
I always rest- quiescent in each show.
September 30, 2021
~1st Place~
Contest: "Q" Contest, New Only Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Constance La France
Judged: 10/04/2021
Prompt: #2. Quiescent
The cold wind cuts through like sharp swords
The quest for shelter reveals closed doors
When will the pain end and the world see the thaw of spring
When will the birds begin to sing
Life has come to a standstill in this tundra frozen
Leaves clinging to trees in desperation
Winds blowing mercilessly and howling with glee
Watching near corpses of animals flee
Icicles like knives looking for an opportunity to strike
To pierce hearts with their sharp spikes
Even blood doesn't flow in this sub-zero world
It just freezes in the wounds like a story untold
Summer will arrive as surely as there is day after night
But what about those who have lost the fight
What is the best that can happen after the winter does go
Maybe the blood in the wounds will begin to flow
Tryouts starring musical prodigies
and/or an attendant conductor
attempt to approach ambient chorus
divinely exhibited from Gaia's handiwork
heavenly invoking kapellmeister's magnificent nonchalant outlook
piquantly, quintessentially, repertoire sensately striking
unmatched vast wisdom yielding, zephyr air albeit creativity
engineered from groundswell harmony
juxtaposed, kindled, linkedin,
manifesting noteworthy opulent philharmonic recording
transcribing universal veritable webbed wide world.
Wunderkinds yield Ziggurat acme approximated asymptote
bequeathing celestial Doppelganger Earthly emulations
formulating fractal glinting highlighting
ineffable joie de vivre jostling, keen kindling,
la la land legerdemain lifting logic
lording Ludwig (Josef Johann) Wittgenstein.
?
Yelping zoological apostle Al affidavit Gore handily
heaping hubristically invocation jolting kickstart measures
nipping nixed noblesse oblige opera
quickening quotidian rapid ruination sans supreme
teetering upended venerated wise with acumen
arithmetical Benoit Mandelbrot
chasing far-fetched ideas
lightyears menacing nihilism purging ogres opportunistically
resplendently ripping revered tankard tipping unstoppably
vanquishing varietal whipsawing wonderful wrapt yawning youngsters
warfare written wrought yanking zestfully crushing environmental family
granting Herculean instant karma
malevolent, opprobrious pronouncement
quiet riot silencing severely tragic ubiquitous vicious wreckage
yikyaks apemen cleft Earth.
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Future foragers denounce capitalistic bamboozlers aggression
zealots wrought trashing quintessential naked kingdoms issue
flotsam coagulates zonal wastelands torquing quality NON
killing habitats Earth bleached yellowed voodoo ruins.
Still shallow waters,
Fish unseen, hugging the brackish bed,
Salt grass and saltwort give ample shade
And shelter from hungry predators
That fly around the insurmountable
Pinnacles of the surrounding hills.
The lad sits quietly on a small wooden pier,
Mulling on thoughts that elevate his soul.
No vale of darkness shall invade his being,
At least not while he rests before the stretch of water.
For there alone he feels at peace.
Indeed the quiescent waters refresh him.
Even the flapping of some solitary sea duck
Will not ruffle his meditative mind.
Suddenly he hears voices and a boat arrives
To end his peaceful stay on the water way.
Coffeehouse aromas
suffuse senses, dissolving
any semblance
of time.
Unsolved problems
melt away in a
conscious uncaring,
and the day slips, unnoticed.
Deep in a forest
serene daydreams pour
gently over a secret waterfall
into a moss-fringed pool,
a peaceful place.
My calm immersed,
I hear only the
soft, slow whisper
and smooth syllables of
a single word.
Quiescent
tunnels underground
chipmunks curl up for a nap
on a bed of grass
3rd place
ANIMAL FALL HAIKU CONTEST
Sponsored by: ANDREA DIETRICH
"Plop me down on my bed with a good show on TV or a book to read and I will be at least physically quiescent. To get my mind to be completely at rest, give me a few of my Temazepams." quote by poet
In quietude she lay – completely still.
She’d turned off all distractions that one day.
She’d made it clear she’d stay this way until
the clutter in her mind would go away,
for so consumed by thoughts, she could not sleep,
and random things kept coming to her mind.
Frustration thwarted her, and it lay deep
inside of her, so peace she could not find.
Oh, how she wished for all these thoughts to end.
Not moving, she kept lying on her bed,
unable still to even comprehend
why crazy notions whirled inside her head.
“My restless legs! I must get up,” cried she,
“Quiescent now I simply cannot be.”