Best Silence Poems
(NOTHING MORE TO SAY)
I've seen the way you look at me
I've seen the way you look at them
Without wanting to admit, you hate everything I stand for
Lying to yourself, you are sweet, caring and better
Still, you look at me and hate everything I stand for
You are a cheat - A liar - A toilet flushing down rain
You seek and want my attention, yet you have no domain
Your THANK YOU's are cheaper than a grin on a Walmart bag
The light - The light - That shines upon your expression
Nothing more than.....
Sour grapes traveling towards the darkest region of the sun
Yes, simple prunes basking all the time!!!!!
Shaking powdered grapes from lobe to lobe
Watching humping wild hogs who can't eat cake
---Desperately you mock yourself---
Before you draw a blank, let me remind you
You look at me and hate everything I stand for
The way I smile, carry myself every day
I never claim to be perfect, but better with no anvil
You can't bear the way I stand in front of the soap display
I embrace with all my spirit, at the end of every day
I'm so glad I am nothing like you or them
In reality, I judged you the moment you walked in
Before the year ends, I will end my affair right here
I have nothing more to say
I hope you all have a great new year.
TaTa SKAT in the Hat
sometimes
we are afraid to jump
but we take the leap
sometimes
when we fall deeply
it's not our limbs injured
sometimes
what is meant for us
hurts too much
sometimes
nothing makes sense
confusion reigns supreme
sometimes
we only have tears
to express emotions
sometimes
some see the facade
only a few see reality
sometimes
our heart breaks
but we love again
sometimes
we die inside
but we still breathe
sometimes
we become machines
but we are still human
sometimes
we see the stars
but not the moon
sometimes
when we follow the moon
we forget the stars
sometimes
we look back in regret
but we move on
sometimes
in metaphorical storms
we have poetry
always
when we are silent
we have our words
Do not build a ladder
when I fall into the abyss
I did not call for climbing
The thorn in me
is not a riddle to be solved,
nor a window begging repair
I am thunder — not your project;
I am rain that needs witness,
not your umbrella
When I say I’m drowning,
do not throw me ropes of reason
Let me sink into your silence
weightless unrescued
yet unalone
Be the shore that does not move
as my waves thrash
and settle
My pain is not a puzzle.
Don’t match it to your pieces.
It is a wild bird
let it wheel
let it scream
let it land
without your cage
on wild earth and
broken branches.
You see my storm
and lash advice like scaffolding,
but I need someone
to taste the chaotic torrent
to say yes — it bites,
yes — it burns,
not someone who murmurs
“you should have stayed inside”
To love me is to shhh,
to hold space as sacred
to hear with your cells
not just your ears
What courage it takes
to offer no answer
to let me erupt
without stapling my wings
Let me weep
without shame.
Let me unravel
without thread.
Let me fall
and do not sweep
the pieces away.
These fragments
are not failure;
They are a kind of scripture
not trash,
but story,
etched into the fabric of my being.
Only when your stillness
echoes louder than your words
can I hear myself return
Only then
can I stitch up with cat gut
and name it healing.
And when I rise,
not fixed
but found,
I will turn toward you
not to repay
but to remain
to share this journey
And then I will listen deeply.
I am nature,
soul of a mountain,
buried under
a billion snowflakes.
I float like butterflies,
from petal to petal.
As cinereal clouds clear,
under a glistening sunrise,
I illuminate like a lustrous rainbow -
I am daylight.
I am a falling leaf,
from the tallest tree.
I am gravity,
can you feel me?
Can you hear the air you breathe?
I am oxygen.
I am the moon,
followed by a galaxy of stars,
I am the universe,
lights that sparkle at night.
I am Mona Lisa's smile,
a photograph from the past,
an unread book,
a guitar without strings,
a bird without a song,
a blank song sheet -
I am regret.
I am darkness,
a misplaced muse,
the pause between words,
the last kiss goodbye,
the distance, the hunger -
I am suppressed emotions.
You see me in blood and tears.
I have no echo.
You can only hear me,
when you care to listen.
She walks in silence, like a lapping wave
drowned in chastity and flooded with rave
holding dear and tight her very beauties
denying all her gems and rubies.
Her powers disabled under the spell
the flame in wouldn’t break out of its shell.
Tempted to trace a humming call of fate
allured but reluctant to take the bait.
The strings of her heart lost their pitch and tone
the clutches of mind hurting to the bone.
Untraceable are the paths to no end
unable to soul unself and ascend.
She walks in silence, like a gliding breeze
fervent rising prayers brought her to her knees
seeking the blessings of grace, peace and love
if only her pain she could rise above.
Nameless beauty would dissolve in her womb
Her wounds.. sins she would carry to her tomb.
Inspired by “She Walks In Beauty” Lord Byron (George Gordon)
Your mind's in knots,
as stress plagues thoughts.
On hope you cling,
to bloom like Spring.
Its fine my dear,
nerves can cause fear.
Don't be so scared,
gifts must be shared.
Your smile is cute,
when you are mute.
No need to hide.
I'm by your side.
Let the world hear,
your tone so clear.
Your will is strong,
burst out your song.
Sweet sounds you make
our breaths they take.
Look how eyes beam,
your name they scream.
Go to that length,
love is your strength.
Your voice brings peace,
helps fears to cease.
Like sad trapped birds,
tongue holds back words.
Free them from cage,
take to the stage.
When your heart sings,
charms like harp strings.
Look how they dance,
as your tunes trance.
Silent One
31 January 2018
Another example for 128 words contest.
Rhyme poem.
Four words per line all one syllable each.
32 lines: 128 words.
Dear December, Forgive my silence,
I’m still bleeding from
the lacerations,
I still hear the echoes
from our confrontations.
So much was
lost in translation,
though I’ve been
healing in isolation.
Warm is the smile,
when you stretched
your arms
with compassion,
understanding that
not everything
is black or white.
As I’ve learned about life:
it goes on.
and In the midst of the
somersaulted journey,
I still remember those
who boosted my sanity,
when September sorrows
slayed my spirits,
as I slowly severed my thorns,
to watch them drown
in a sea of
broken breaths,
whilst perpetually
praising the painters’ pain,
and the abstracts of
architects articulating
a peaceful pathway,
although I still dwell
on the regrets from
strawberry fed wolf moon,
the night when my
heart yearned to be heard,
as I delicately smeared
my emotions across
clementine and
cranberry twilights,
in hopes
of forgetting
withered willows,
whilst letting it melt
Honeysuckle vines,
with hues of the sangria
sky reflecting ever so softly,
showing me reasons
to believe again in
better tomorrows,
for there is a rainbow
aching to glow
after every storm,
and there’s far too
much to be grateful for
in this life of delirium,
so shall we allow this
winter to be the seed
of warm light and water~
forgive the stars that
veiled their silver,
as fate turned
her back on our garden,
let memories float in
paper boats of
lilac feathered forgiveness,
along the river of reconciliation.
Let’s flow and flourish together,
leaving behind an aroma
so divine on
cashmere sweaters,
with unwritten poems
tucked beneath velvety pillows,
that tasted so many tears,
and have seen too many
vanquished fears.
Mirabelle orb ascends,
under clementine and pomegranate skies.
Absent,
in delight of daylight.
Eyes set adrift in dawning daydreams.
Calm heart is an oceanic concerto,
flowing along sapphire tones.
Deep breaths walk upon water,
caressed by Poseidon's piano keys.
Pulsating palpitations beat eloquent echoes,
rousing freely along rhythmical ripples.
Searching for symphonic serenity -
composition of waves, amicably,
pave a path towards destiny.
Hope vibrates like Apollos's lyre and lute strings,
as winds whistle lost tunes from Athena's flute.
Melodies of the silent sea summon torpid tides,
as desire merges in harmony with the harbour -
passionately embracing barren shores.
Aroma of dusk's dew cools in night's velvet sheen,
as sinking sun is submerged into the deep blue sea.
Sprinkling of pearls appear - their reflection
shimmering upon watery midnight blue stillness.
In silent clarity of blackness,
flowing footfalls of fate purify -
awakening mind from its reverie.
The Silent One
6 September 2020
Mirabelle - a plum, also known as mirabelle prune or cherry plum, is a cultivar group of plum trees of the genus Prunus. It is believed that the plum was cultivated from a wild fruit grown in Anatolia.
Poseidon, in ancient Greek religion, god of the sea (and of water generally), earthquakes, and horses.
Apollo has been recognized as a god of archery, music and dance, truth and prophecy, healing and diseases, the Sun and light, poetry, and more. His two musical instruments were the lute and the lyre.
Athena was a talented flute player, as she created it, but others ridiculed her when she played due to her cheeks. In disgust, she threw away the flute and said whoever picked it up and played it would be severely punished.
(This theme coincidentally matched up with another contest I recently
entered, so I revised my sonnet and then PD graciously extended this
idea of a day of happy solitude. Thanks, Linda, for keeping it in sonnet
form! It's a double sonnet now!)
Happy Solitude/Andrea Dietrich
In solitude, I watch the clear blue sky.
Leaves flutter on the grand majestic oak
beneath which I am sitting;. Swallows fly
around me, swooping! Now I hear a croak -
a sound that I am sure I’d never hear
if I were on a busy city street.
I stand and walk around. The sound is near.
The feeling that I get is rather sweet
when finally I spot there on the pond
the tiny frog that’s serenading me.
Crops rippling in the breeze I see beyond
my shaded spot. I'm running - feeling free.
Inside a field with flowers everywhere,
I'm whirling as the sunlight gilds my hair!
-----
Like the sun, I sit and explore the view
A sensation, of everything I lust
Feelings I found myself unequal to
Yellow leaves fall to the ground like gold dust
Once, I reached to touch a lonely rock
The sounds return back into the shadows
I felt trapped by the beauty as I walk
Suddenly branches hung like the gallows
In slow motion, with no reason to stray
Facing down, the new founding sound follows
The croak in the water echoes with play
Captivated, by the flies it swallows
A young, peaceful feel, indulging in fun
I shall kiss and see if he's the right one
~A Poet Destroyer Collaboration~
Those who do not know the trials of love,
do not ask the state of my heart
I've been left standing in the rain,
feeling like meaningless words,
searching for silent serenity,
away from turbulent thunder.
Safe in a sanctuary of solitude,
where the laments of lightning,
no longer harm my soft sanity.
Will speech be my foe, forever?
On the edge of silence,
losing all desire to speak,
write or breath with time.
I read the promises of poets,
yet felt no intense impulsivity
in their ink, which made me think.
Is poetry a fictitious fellowship?
Words can be like crushed promises,
like fragile leaves of vulnerability,
waiting under twilight trees for death.
Sometimes loneliness is barbaric,
but when there's wilderness, there's magic.
As I stumbled upon her misguided quill,
the crimson shade of my soul,
felt warmer than cinnamon tea.
Her poetic wings had succumbed to slumber,
within a fragile cocoon crumbling with cracks.
First glimpse of her eremitic eyes,
I saw billions of solitary stars,
illuminating like golden tears,
so I kissed them without touching -
healing her, soothed my tired tongue.
She was the butterfly,
and I, her rose of desire.
In the absence of iced emotions,
like a thief in the night,
she stole my once forsaken heart.
Forgotten lost words returned,
as I lost control of flowing verses.
She had never read my poetry,
but was the one hidden behind verses.
Her voice sang a secret symphony,
who's melody makes my muse dance.
Was I even a wordsmith,
before you diversified my pen.
I know you are like the wind,
regardless how hard you blow -
I will forever calm each zephyr.
Silent One
16 October 2021
Battling the instabilities of reality.
Behind daylight's closed doors.
Imaginary chains keep me captive.
White walls decorated with
silhouettes of suppressed shadows -
disappear, upon the sight of twilight.
Alone, my eyes search for companionship.
Then she appears, smiling down at me.
Her solitude in darkness, shows,
it's not only the moon,
who sings an undefined rhapsody of loneliness -
helplessly, watching an exodus of stars.
What is life, but an unexplained metaphor.
What are we,
but leaves blowing in the wind.
Our emotions spinning - around and around.
Wondering if we will be lost forever?
Like you, I have no answers,
but search for meaning or at least understanding.
To open the veils of one's mind.
Kissing the silence, I too,
long for clarity to fill the emptiness.
Yet even with an open mind,
blanks appear - will they forever remain?
Will things ever be the same,
or will we persist with the distance?
.... Every face a stranger.
Every place a memory...
Have we lost the sensation of touch?
Will we love in the same way again?
Will tomorrow, forever, be a mark of yesterday?
Do we know what matters now?
The ignorance that plagued us,
do we understand it?
Do you even care?
Will minds unravel and evolve,
accept, co-exist or feel?
Or will some remain asleep?
I see those who leap with faith,
run spiritual marathons.
Yet are criticised,
for their intangible philosophies.
Because their creator, is not your creator,
and that creator, is not my creator -
so who is the creator, of the creator?
But is it not better than the tangible?
I guess we all have our own theories,
our own stories, our own destinies.
Whilst motionless, pondering philosophically,
the moon disappears behind blackness.
However, street lamps come alive.
A reminder, unlike the moon,
we are not immortal, but we are all lights,
who illuminate the universe.
And.
I am content knowing -
death is a beautiful virgin,
adorned in white.
Sunday Simple Musings
Silent One
21 June 2020
Mandolin melodies harmonised horizons,
yet the only strings being strummed
were those of my heart.
In the midst of enchanting melodies,
where nothing else mattered, but her,
we wandered barefoot, hand in hand,
as the tenderness of our steps decorated the sand.
In the simplicity of pure beauty, lost in a moment of perfection.
We lay admiring the heavens, watching daylight drift away.
The jealous golden orb silently sank, as colourful skies summoned
illuminated expressions to light up a black and white world.
In darkness we lay and gazed
lost in the silent serenity of the stars,
until the tranquillity of her sequin eyes
hypnotised my soul and I danced devoted
to the magnificence of her delicate elegance.
The whisper of sweet sentiments
revealed our secret serenade.
In the distance an orchestra of humming birds
hummed the chorus of our passionate song.
Her arms like celestial wings, embraced me close.
Her surreal kiss guided my lips home.
As waves washed away our footsteps,
the moon closed its eyes, as millions of shy stars
hid behind a blanket of nocturnal clouds.
Silent One
Simple Musings
10 December 2017
"When the Grim Reaper asked for my spirit,
I told him to take my poetic pen.
He walked away smiling, leaving me illiterate."
In the mystical wilderness of virtual poetry,
surrounded by metaphors that mystify my mind,
I've become a shadow of the poet I once knew.
Insecure with egotistical lame labels,
tormented by attention seeking tags,
irritated from imitative compliments.
Exhausted eyes sting, bloodshot from
reading an overuse of mumbo jumbo jargon.
On the edge of personification,
symbolic syllables burn all desire to scrutinize.
Sometimes there can be too many words,
sometimes not enough,
yet we veil the true meaning of our thoughts.
I guess there is an art to pretending,
yet I watch my artistry fade.
We weave webs turning the internal into external,
but I question whether I was ever a poet.
Pondering if my poems served a purpose.
I have lost patience for personal prose,
rhymes without rhythm sound so revolting,
the soul is sick of old fashioned sonnets.
as iambic pentameter has always been my enemy.
I hear alphabetic patrol sirens,
their ignorant judgment is a mockery to the bilingual.
An assassination of alliterations,
is causing a massacre of my muse.
There is a void in my verses,
which prevents me from roaming free.
My soul feels like a starless supernova,
a moonless sky drifting into a black hole,
as fatigued fingers become a mistress
to simple scribbles.
I yearn to be forever silent,
with no motive to write for a legacy,
so I've imprisoned my muse in an asylum.
I have lost passion to spill the ink from my quill,
so I no longer tend to the petals in my poetic garden.
I've found peace in the solitude of a blank canvas.
Silent One
15 February 2022
A lover
dies a millions times,
cursing the silence
of his tongue.
A poet
bleeds a million times,
until his heart has expressed
what matters the most.
When there is no poetry,
mind struggles to comprehend,
why what is expected to be heard,
is left unspoken.
When winds bring no respite,
all is forgotten in time,
memories may return to haunt,
but some hearts are meant to say goodbye.
Simple Musing
Silent One
29 April 2019
among green foliage and slender twigs, perched a graceful mellifluous Nightingale.
Chickadees, Robins, Orioles stopped their synchronised cadence of rhythmic tweets, in anticipation..
a tranquil silence fell in the forest, a quiet trance around...
tall majestic trees stopped swaying their aspiring branches,
plants and shrubs and bushes softly emanated saffron scent,
rustling fragrant breeze whispered lilac mystery,
chartreuse clouds stooped and gently touched the treetops,
tangerine twilight moon flickered ribbons of love,
ravishing flowers opened their petite petals blazing red blush in awe!
Nightingale sang the most melodious song, sprinkling amber passion,
It sang a symphony pouring its heart, weaving
the story of eternal love and loss,
mesmerizing the audience with lavender dreams and hopes
a dazed forest stood still ...
All hushed !
Written May 6, 2021
POTW May 9, 2021
All Yours - June 22, 2021 -Brian Strand
FIRST PLACE