Best Quiet Poems


Premium Member It Is Quiet Tonight

It is quiet tonight.
The only sound is coming from
the soft murmur of the television set.
I don't know why I don't just put it on mute.
I don't want to hear what they have to say,
but I guess it is better than the sound
           of silence which is deafening. 
It hurts my ears, it hurts my heart.

Yesterday I was happy, but that was before,
before I stepped into the dark abyss.
I think I may have been pulled in 
           by the apathy of death. 
Death has such long arms.
I won't ask why, I know everyone must die.
But you left on a happy day, a day we were
making plans, and I had hope, 
       hope that we still had time,
                    time to share those plans.
You made me laugh until I cried that day,
        and then death swooped in 
                      and took it all away.
It is so quiet tonight.

© Connie Marcum Wong
8-27-16

August 10, 2016 Poem of the Day

Premium Member Another Quiet Saturday Night

Another quiet Saturday night...
the silence is deafening
as I sit alone lost in my thoughts.

I feel a chill in the air...
raindrops are gently tapping
against the window panes of my heart
like teardrops gently falling from heaven.

I hear soft sounds…
in the background music is playing
muted notes of faded melodies
as my thoughts drift through
the muted dreams of our faded love.

My mind wanders back in time...
recalling summer nights so long ago
when only the August moon
knew of the passions we shared,
passions forever etched
in the memories of my mind.

I look around the room...
seeing only shadows of ghosts
cast upon the walls of my dreams
in the stillness of this lonely night.

I wonder if…
you are also lost in the silence of
another quiet Saturday night.


October 1, 2020

Poem of the Day - October 2, 2020

It's Quiet Now

It is quiet now 
 -the sun moves up the ridge 

Honey crisp scent of freedom 
 -hovers and engulfs the air 

Pangs of pleasure peal 
 -the primrose bows her head 

Yellow paints the morning 
 -the fields are all aglow
© Tim Smith  Create an image from this poem.


Premium Member A Little Too Quiet

It's a little too quiet now,
I can no longer hear his voice.
And yet, the sound of his laughter
echoes throughout my thoughts and dreams.

He died; his soul is in heaven:
it's a little too quiet now.
And all that I took for granted,
morphed into precious memories.

His tearful goodbye broke my heart:
inside, I heard myself screaming.
It's a little too quiet now:
and the silence is deafening.

I pray to a merciful God;
to let me see him again, soon.
I'm used to hearing his heartbeat:
it's a little too quiet now.

Premium Member The Girl With the Quiet Voice

The Girl with The Quiet Voice

One of many children
Somehow she was hard to hear
She still craves just a bit of attention
Just a simple “Thank you dear”

A little girl in a photo
From the bottom of the stack
I looked into her eyes
and with sadness she looked back

Years don’t seem to matter
Home still doesn’t feel like home
It’s hard being with all the others
When you feel like you’re alone

Still that little girl in the photo
From the bottom of the stack
You wish you didn’t crave his affection
But you do and that’s a fact

You give of yourself freely
Prepare his table and his chair
The gift of a loving daughter
Yet somehow he can’t see you there

So you pick up your own photo
Place it in a pocket near your breast
You’ll honour those sad eyes
In your heart you know what’s best

For dear girl you are born of power
With deities you have been
You have journeyed upon mountains
Within the universe you are seen

A little girl in a photo
Look closely and watch her smile
On a fridge where you can see her
Just be with her for a while.


Dedicated to my friend.





My choice for Caren’s Your Choice contest

Premium Member A Quiet Place That I Sought

 When I was down in the dumps
I longed to be away from the din of the world
And a quiet place I sought

Nature has always been my refuge

Amid the clump of trees where the wind caresses the leaves
Where birds twitter and trill their songs
Like a hermit I sat, my eyes closed, my body lazing
My mind, open to the soft vibrations around
I took a deep breath inhaling the fragrance of flowers
And let the quietude envelop my being

Gliding through the layers of my consciousness
Dancing to the beats of my inner symphony
I let myself swim in the ocean of stillness

I felt the tranquil touch of an unseen presence
I heard a caring voice from somewhere 
A faint voice quite reassuring, so near
Within me the wider Life emerged
And the lesser life finally submerged 

I experienced true joy within
Peace filled, drowning all my tribulations 
And I knew it was heaven sent!

_________________________________

.19.2022

A Quiet Place Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Mystic Rose Rose


December's Quiet Song

The maracas of leafy trees
whisper rhythms to the wind,
a quiet song of December.

Four days---- left to go---
till the year ends,
and time spills forward,
its hands brushing past us,
softly, relentless.

You and I,
counting moments,
the weight of years
settling like dew-----light, inevitable
somethings are done, a lot many left undone 
but the ceaseless march of time moves forward.

But here in the enchanting garden,
under the sun’s gentle gaze,
age is a story written in roots and petals,
a bench painted green with memories

What is there to grieve,
when old feels like this-----
and life hums softly
in the company of trees?

Premium Member A Quiet Fury

A quiet fury gathered on Horizon’s distant side.
Its merciless intensity was destined to collide
with unsuspecting entities entombed beneath the ground
all huddled ‘neath a canopy, immune to earthly sound.

The timbered crown held steady 'till it met the tempest thrust.
Though some were felled by Heaven’s flogging, others stood the gust.
Malevolent gray shadows rolled and tumbled in the toil
as ominous dark nimbostratus stewed within the boil.

The sky peeled open wide releasing terrifying might
as spears of jagged lightning were unleashed upon the night.
A bolt was hurled from heaven and it found its mark below,
within the silent forest stood one massive tree aglow.

Barbs of lightning pierced its trunk and blew the shards of bark
into arrays of shrapnel as it ripped its limbs apart.
Then torrent rains began to pour upon its ravaged frame
to calm the rage sent from above, extinguishing the flame.

Those mighty winds have faded to a whisper once again,
the Sun returns its solace as it beams across the land.
The silent calm of morning is restored by breaking dawn.
For now the quiet fury from the Heavens has withdrawn.


Host:  Mark Toney
Marathon Contest mile 25
1-19-2020

Premium Member She Came To Me

She came to me in the noon day sun..
her world wistful, longing for an unsung quiet.

But I would not remain still, nor silent,  
though her hours in life, never meant for long.

Desperately I grasped her up in loving embrace.. 
And in her arms cried, please let her remain!

I offered myself in sacrifice to assuage,  
but enchanted sirens called sweetly, come., 
and left me alone on an empty stage.

In Quiet Breaths He Sings Your Name

~

If on this eve of glistened skies
when crystal snowflakes fall
Amidst the hush of tempered sighs
where heartbeat whispers call

Your mind is lost another place
as moonbeams dance above
In wishes that you long to trace
of visions filled with love

Remember as the evening nears
and stars reflect your smile
Within the shimmered light appears
in winter’s mystic style

Another who does feel the same
beyond horizons clear
In quiet breaths he sings your name
in hopes that you will hear

One who longs you by his side
as nighttime breezes sift
In harmonies sent to confide,
melodic thoughts adrift

So listen as these flurries flow
and in your heart believe
There is a man who sings of you
this snowflake glistened eve 

~

Premium Member The Depth and Breadth of Quiet

I told no one I'd seen the night—
how tension breached a sunset start,
how sea had swallowed all the light.
I told no one

the world is glass—a whale is art,
this frame of sky its ancient right,
it plays each game the same—by heart. 

Still moment's pulse too wide to try
resuscitation, CPR—
now all that's left to gain, insight
I told no one.


(5)

Premium Member Speaking With a Loud Quiet Voice

You speak into your child's life in whispers
With the strength of the four winds
No need for yelling
For your child has expectant ears

Wisdom
A fathered gift
Born out of pained understanding
Mistakes not needed to be repeated
Your love an inoculation to failure
Resilience will permeate a new generation

You smile with furrowed brow
For time passes much to quickly 
There is fear there is some lesson you have forgotten
Not what you want for your begotten 
Still you see this precious ones progression
He possess strength laughter and compassion
Humored moments and strong funny bones 
Will insure this child will never be alone
A tender heart and a will like a stone

One day 
You will have to let go
Time progresses it never slows
Deep inside your heart grows because you know
You have given your all
This child will rise up tall
Won't be afraid to fall
He heeds your Father's call
For he has learned at your loving feet
Wisdom has been his bountiful feast
Some day he'll be a father too
He'll bring blessings back to you
For you have been faithful 
and a father true


Inspired by Funom's poem, "Words of Wisdom to My Child".

Premium Member A Quiet Voice

Caress 
With breathy voice
Undress

Your kiss
Upon my mind
Is bliss

Take all
Upon your bed
I fall


For Nette's Whispers of a Muse contest
By Richard Lamoureux
Written November 26th

Premium Member A Quiet Place

My peaceful place beside this sapphire lake,
As reflections take on a deep dark blue,
Soft snow sprinkled peaks where my dreams awake
Of the distant mountains through misty view.
My friends, the towering evergreen trees,
A cynosure of strength they lofty stand.
Their ancient heritage my heart does seize
In sylvan majesty upon this land.
As the gloaming grooms evanescent day
So sad I must leave this enchanted place,
With melancholy thoughts I drive away.
I shall return soon to this quiet place
To be with my friends of the kindred kind
Where poetry forms in a peaceful mind.

7-20-22

~9th Place Premiere Contest~
A Quiet Place Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Mystic Rose Rose

Premium Member Quiet Attention

Together we would whittle sticks while chewing juicy gum

We would find a place to rest beside a river green and wide

The skies were blue, and tall grass would grow, and brush against my knees

Where willow trees, and dusty trails and nesting squirrels would hide

With tackle box on summer days, we sat in lazy pose

With fishing poles, and cheerful hearts, in willow covered coves

It mattered not,  no lad was I, ...a girl is what he got

And he seemed quite glad, to take my hand, and help me hook the bait

I'd toss it in, against the wind......and sit awhile to wait

It mattered not, if fish were caught, the waiting was our friend

The sun felt warm, his voice could charm, and worries all seemed gone
 

Curiosity of my tender youth, this world a puzzle, vast 

I would ponder things, and pick his brain, with many questions asked

This kind old man, with gentle patience, and a quiet ear to lend

Would tweak his mustache, and kindly hear me, without a word to bend  

While deep in thought, would listen well, and continue with his task

As if my words were meant to hold, and mattered more than gold

He'd  try to find an answer, with his wisdom from the past

With satisfaction we would whittle sticks, yet carving so much more

When shadows fell,  he'd take my hand, the young one in the old 

And head back home, as sun goes down, from lazy river's shore

Those fishing holes, are idle now, too soon the autumn fell

Although I tread the shore alone, I clearly see them all



___________________________________________________________________
7/31/11

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