Best Tune Out Poems
He speaks with measured dignity,
one silent word at a time
His palmetto pen tells us:
Tune out the cosmic background noise,
and focus your mind
on the sound of the silent voice
You most certainly will hear this ...
... did you hear it?
Oh, perhaps you got distracted by the sounds of emptiness
His message in a void
comes with clear poetic instructions:
Avoid all unnecessary malaise ... cap the chaotic noise
Have a willingness to learn
one silent word at a time
This will teach us how to unclutter our mind
Using poetic telepathy,
his priceless pen brings that silent word
to the surface of our consciousness
Not every sound we hear in this world do we need
The Silent One says:
take it one silent word at a time
True understanding comes
when we allow expansion of the heart
Enlarging our capacity to transmit love,
allows us to hear
the best unspoken words we never heard of
One silent word ...
when spoken at the right moment of time
can be so life-changing sublime
Poetic telepathy ... gives us the ability
to understand every unspoken word
written between the lines
One silent word
connecting
to another unspoken word ...
Pure poetic telepathy in our mind
Enlarging our capacity to receive love,
allows us to speak
the best unspoken words we never spoke of
Where his silent pen stroke stops —
at the sacred melding of two minds ...
let these silent words
be spoken in unison, always at the same time
This is a tribute to my talented poet friend, Silent One
So tell me do you hear
Those voices whispering in your ear?
Do they help you to think clear?
Or do they lead you astray?
Do they tell you things you need to know?
Do they cheer you up when you’re feeling low?
Do they lead you where you should not go?
Or do they help you find your way?
Do they sound like someone that you know?
A voice that comes from long ago?
Do they only come when you’re feeling low?
Do you wish they’d go away?
Do they show up when you’re all alone?
Or do they appear when you’re having fun?
Are you happy when these voices come?
Or do you tune out whatever they say?
You should know that we all hear
Voices whispering in our ears
They can feed our dreams or they stoke our fears
It’s up to us …
Under her guidance, we stood at attention
Like a row of young soldiers, reciting the anthem
"Oh Say, Can You See?".. was a warbled contusion,
that could shatter your glasses, disturb other classes
out of tune, out of rhythm, but with avid enthusiasm
it could rattle the rafters of our little school
And with childish delusions, we thought we were cool!
As we stood in the room
she would move down the line
with a frown in the depth
of her leathery brow. She would bow
till her ear matched our voice
and her hand would be poised
with two fingers that cued,
keeping time with the tune.
She would grit all her teeth
bite the inside of cheeks
Such a serious task!
it was all that she asked
that we please.."DO YOUR BEST!"
When we mastered, at last
She would gasp, then exclaim
as we sang each refrain,
mixed with tears, she would clap
I remember it now...
Here I stand in this row
with my hand on my heart
as the first strain imparts
Yes, I know those old words...
they'll remain part of me
'til the day that I die
"O Say, Can You See?"...still familiar to me
But no..............I can't see....
with fresh tears in my eyes...
_________________________________________________
Dim the lights low and let me dance,
To the memory of you engraved in my brain.
As they lowered you to your palace with a timing,
My whole being, drained.
Mentally, emotionally, physically,
You tore.
Yet you gave everything up willing,
I couldn’t bother to ask for more.
A twirl for the laughs,
A sashay for the tears.
Don’t brighten the lights just yet,
I’m still mourning for my dear.
Sway, sway, sway through the room,
The drums in beat to your beatings,
The piano, o! The piano,
In tune with your teachings.
A tune for a dance that has been meticulously practiced,
And, as repulsive as it may sound, I HAVE dreamt of dancing to this tune before.
Before,
You were lowered.
Before, criers of the spheres arrived.
Before, all else.
Before our reality has turned into nothing but a memory that I now sway to.
Therefore…
Dim the lights low and let me dance,
Let me wallow,
Let me die slowly inside,
Let me twirl till my heart’s content,
Let me rejoice for the greater good,
To the memory of you engraved in my brain.
As they lowered you to your palace with a timing,
My whole being, drained.
Aeilnnorvy. S
Dear Emily,
When you said, your “life closed twice before its close,”
I realized how badly your heart had been broken
You conveyed your feelings best with the written word
But did you leave too many words unspoken?
Sadly, this has been the case for me too
Relationships have suffered from this mistake
I release pain through my pen, emulating you
In my bed alone I try to tune out heartache
You called yourself “Nobody”; that goes for me as well
No children, no spouse, I seem to be invisible
As through crowds I drift, people look right through me
And errors I’ve made always seem unforgivable
When you composed, “I could not stop for death”
Did you peer at the future, see my health struggles
The reaper awaits; I’ll soon draw my last breath
Isolated like you, I don’t share my troubles
Although you achieved no fame in your lifetime
I read your words often and have memorized some
I grow through your poetry, they help me climb
With your spirit in my heart, easily my words come
*Written May 20, 2014
Regardless of our faith, in Love we can believe,
For Love's within us all, if we choose to retrieve.
Should we choose to leave Love in a dormant state,
Then we invite into our heart the bitterness of hate.
Those who believe in the power of Love,
Radiate and spread around all the beauty of.
Those who deny Love to flourish within their heart,
Spread misery around, since it's all they can impart.
We have all been blessed with the greatest Gift,
Though some choose to away from Love, drift.
The presence of Love or not is always crystal clear
In how we treat others; how others we revere.
Love is not selfish, cruel, apathetic, unforgiving;
Does not embrace greed or a miserable way of living.
Instead, Love is selfless, compassionate, and kind,
With consideration for others a natural state of mind.
Love is not ego serving, boastful and bragging;
Doesn't tune out a guilty conscience nagging.
Instead, Love is humble, modest, and reserved;
Accountable and accepting of what's deserved.
Love is not jealous, envious, resentful, or bitter;
Nor shallow, spineless, a flip-flopping fence sitter.
Instead, Love cultivates virtue, values, and integrity,
Making real in oneself a comfortable place to be.
When, our Gift Of Love, we cultivate with care,
We then reap to scatter Love seeds everywhere,
Always hoping they'll take root in another's garden bed,
Where there's being tilled the opposite of Love, instead.
When in our hearts we grow Love, we never have to feel
Afraid that another will come along and from us, steal
What we are growing and therefore, in possession of,
Because all they can take from us is some of our Love.
Once in the thief's possession, Love can only grow,
Infiltrate and change the current seeds they sow.
So, when we give the Gift Of Love and without request,
We can know in our heart we have given the very best.
In this day and age of money taking precedence,
Love is still free to receive and to dispense.
Love cannot be bought nor can Love be sold,
Making the Gift Of Love untouchable by gold.
We need not save our Love for special times and places,
Just for special occasions and to gladden special faces,
For the magic of Love is released every time we give
And multiplies within us when the Gift Of Love we LIVE!
Written by Artsieladie/Sharon Donnelly
©2017-12-24 16:52:00 (EST)
All rights reserved.
Dancing on eggshells
Pursuing my groove
Correcting my posture
In hopes to improve
My tip toes are bare
In our home built of glass
I take each, ginger step
With fear induced class
I strive for perfection
I land below par
My rhythm needs work
Steps, too far apart
I try to refrain
And not tap my feet
I tame my excitement
I tune out the beat
I relax at a victory
My pivot, just right
But before I can bow
My dip is too tight
In the second of calm
I lose my composure
I begin to feel safe
My moves are all over
Your look of dismay
A familiar jab
I’ll continue to try
Even though I am bad
Believe me I can play sheet music,
Please leave the television alone.
It’s that time of night again girl,
Come play with my metronome.
Let’s create our love music,
Girl don’t change the channel.
I can’t take my hands off you,
You know you’re my piano.
I go up and down your scale,
To find the right tone of key.
It’s an octave of pleasure,
And that key must be the ‘G’.
Or is it the middle ‘C’?
‘Cause Every Good Boy Does Fine.
You like it when I hit the B flat,
And play two hands at a time.
Chop sticks, twinkle twinkle little star,
Or Mary had a little lamb.
I’ll get any tune out of you,
From the maestro that I am.
Playing my piano, tickling the keys,
Bobbing my head to the bedroom beats.
This was our private session,
To create a sonata in the sheets.
Voices voices telling me
Where to go
Who to see
What to say
And who to be
How to think
What to believe
What to buy
And what to spend
Where to start
And where to end
Who to hate
And to friend
When exactly to be straight
And when exactly, they say I should bend
.
Rules to live my life by
And how much I should get
When to let it go
Or when to throw a fit
Voices voices I declare
On the page
And on the air
Every how
And every where
.
Every say
And every said
Constant voices
In my head
Voices voices telling me
What to hope for
What to dream
Where to find
Blue Bell ice cream
When to whisper
When to scream
.
Voices voices telling you
Vote the red
Vote the blue
But don't think for yourself
No matter what you do
Voices to manipulate
Paint good men fools
Paint evil great
.
Those other voices whispering
Prodding me to do their thing
If I'm crazy let me be
But you be you
And I'll be me
And choose for myself
What I call free
.
Five hundred twenty-eight megahertz
Called us up out of the dirt
It's said I'll know the Shepherd's voice
And when He calls I'll have a choice
It's hard to hear Him thru the noise
Or cipher through religious ploys
But I choose to hear Him nonetheless
Tune out the chaos of all the rest
That one true Voice it brings me peace
And floods my soul with sweet relief
.
One last time I must tell
Keep your voices to yourself
Schizophrenic I may well be
But you just be you
And let me be me
Many are the sounds that are so pleasing to these old ears.
I now treasure musing about them in the autumn of my years!
How I cherished hearing my bride say, "I'll always love you, dear!"
The laughter of our little ones who brought to our home so much cheer!
As a lad I recall hearing the wailing whistle of the midnight train.
The rumble of the thunder and upon the roof, the softly falling rain.
I've heard the singing of telephone lines strung on poles along the road.
The birds in the meadow lifting their song in a cheerful, choral ode!
I'm in awe of the haunting honk of geese winging their southward bourne.
Hearing the clarion bugle call of "Taps" for a fallen hero causes me to mourn.
I've heard the soothing hymn of water flowing o'er rocks in a mountain stream.
I look up in the pristine Colorado sky and hear majestic eagles scream!
Ah, to relax and listen to the beautiful harmony of a hundred violins!
Have you heard the fans cheering when the hometown ball team wins?
I've heard the vagabond winds soughing softly through the towering yew.
I've heard the dissonance of His beasts howling and roaring at the zoo!
Alas, I now hear the creaking of my bones when arising from my bed!
Oft I've heard that still, quiet voice as I thank Him for my daily bread!
All about us are pleasant sounds to savor if we take time to hearken!
(That is if you can tune out that mutt down the street that's always barkin'!)
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
It's strange how God talks to us.
Sometimes in the wee hours of a sleepless night,
Sometimes a sweet voice appears in the background music of the vaccum cleaner.
Maybe while driving home from a tedious workday with the radio turned off.
Maybe awaken from sleep words pouring from your heart and soul that makes you
Jump out of bed and scramble for pen and paper.
I'm not the least surprised that the words jump out of me,
For God has talked to me many times in this manner.
You see, they all have a common denominator. Its when you tune out the
Distractions of your surroundings that God can talk to the innermost parts of your being.
He leaves your heart and soul in awe as your mind comes back to earth.
No, I'm not a bit surprised that he woke me from a deep sleep.
I pray for him to talk to me. He knows I need his inspiration. It's like bread and water
To sustain me from the hum-drum of everyday living.
I'm not a saint by any means, probably worse than the worse, lowest than the lowly.
God knows me and he loves me anyway. Maybe I disappoint him with my selfish, stubborn
And sinful ways, but he knows I love him and trust him in all things. Jesus is my
Redeemer and salvation. He walks by my side thru tragedy, he is my healer through
All my sicknesses. My faith is strengthened in him until my back feels it will
Break into. Oh, what a friend I have in Jesus. A young man once said,"We young people
need to hear from our older generation the experiences they have overcome in all
Situations." "We hunger for your testimonials to help us to know what to do when
We are faced with our own trials and tragedy's."
Maybe, when God speaks to us, even thru poetry, the real circumstances that we have faced
He is only giving us the gift of being able to see the blessings that come from tragedy to
Make our walk so much more easy.
I tune in, tune out
Truths, lies, a mix in between
Now shut the hell up!
My quiet place is when my son is at school and my husband is at work the house is so quiet at times I can't remember the joy and fun. I get mighty lonesome at times but I know that I will have Caleb home soon and Wayne sometimes gets to drop by and say hello. He comes and goes so fast I get to feeling like we don't connect with eachother very much.
I get in my comfy chair and open the door and blinds to see the nature outside. Nature is my most written about subject especially the birds and flowers.
The different colors in the sky and flowers are a great inspiration to me. I know others who can be in a room full of people and tune out life and keep on writing. That is not me.
I need to be in a comfy envrionment.
My home is a quiet lonesome
Other dwellers roam free
My home is lonely with just me
Others don't care to be
Informed of my heart and souls depth
My home calls me to go
Where One knows and is known truly
Beyond the sky's rainbow
For Sara Kendrick's contest My Quiet Place
At three a.m. the annoying telephone rings
“Hurricane Kate will soon be making landfall;
Drive to Panama City, start collecting your things”
Microphones and tape recorders, I pack them all
Just one week till the end of hurricane season
“Thanksgiving’s coming,” I grouse as I hit the road
Scrub pines twist furiously; I know the reason
Five months of calm weather, but now the motherload
A drive that is usually two hours now takes five
Lightning strikes everywhere, brightening the night sky
Approaching the beach, I’m lucky to be alive
I sit in fascination; the waves are so high
The fisherman’s pier collapses into the sea
A spin-off tornado tears the roof off a school
Disoriented, a man wades through the debris
I invite him to my car so we can seek safety
A vivid bolt of lightning sends him to his knees
He covers his ears as thunder roars ominously
I toss my raincoat over him, watching him freeze
He can’t tune out the noise and acts irrationally
When we arrive at the emergency center
People gather round him and I ask who he is
“We call him Crazy Mazy,” says the director,
“He served in Vietnam, many medals are his.”
With Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, he’s homeless
Living on the streets, Captain Jim Mazy seemed strange
The locals knew him well and offered him kindness
But to outsiders like me, he appeared deranged
For seventy-two hours, I stayed on the air
Talking to officials and those who assisted
As death reports came in, we bowed our heads in prayer
When I tried to talk to Mazy, he resisted
It was he I remembered most when I drove home
Members of the Capital Press Corps united
No longer on the street would this veteran roam
Compassion for a war hero had been ignited
Habitat for Humanity gladly pitched in
As did the public, when Mazy’s story was broadcast
Never again would he writhe in a hurricane’s din
Storms were behind him, Mazy had a home at last
*True account, written June 28, 2014
Just pick me up and twiddle me,
Strike some soulful chords,
Sweet melodies are hid in me,
Unravel records;
Together let's tune out today
All sorrows and fears,
With dulcet cadence let us play
Lilting souvenirs.
02/03/17