Long Quiets Poems
Long Quiets Poems. Below are the most popular long Quiets by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Quiets poems by poem length and keyword.
abecedarian
God is absolute; God is able; God is almighty.
God beckons; God bestows; God blesses.
God is the Creator; God is the Christ; God is the Comforter.
God designs; God directs; God delivers.
God exonerates; God encourages; God empowers.
God forgives; God is faithful; God is forever.
God is good; God is great; God is grace.
God hears; God heeds; God heals.
God initiates; God invites; God intercedes.
God is joyful; God is jealous; God is just.
God knows; God kindles; God keeps.
God listens; God lingers; God loves.
God is masterful; God is merciful; God is majestic.
God nurtures; God never fails; God numbers our hairs.
God is omniscient; God is omnipresent; God is omnipotent.
God is patient; God pardons; God provides.
God quiets; God quickens; God qualifies.
God is real; God is right; God reigns.
God is strong; God is sufficient; God is sovereign.
God is timely; God is timeless; God is the Timekeeper.
God is undeniable; God is unchanging; God is unending.
God is victorious; God is vigilant; God is vast.
God is worthy; God is wise; God is waiting.
God x-plains; God yearns; God is zealous.
written Augst 31, 2014
Sound of silence means to me, someone communicates to the blackness, hush rest!!
Darkness overwhelms the night, it’s Quiet!!
Sound of silence communications forward shuns the distance lights; hush rush!!
Darkness was and yet is, still a friend; it’s Quiet!!
Sound of silence covers my pupils, can’t see yet I am;
Surrounded by the muted sights; Muted scenes Quiet screams
Of longing black, yet still, always here; peace is still…
Sounds of quietness, bound by the darkness;
Sound of silence means to me, nightmare gleam, yet still dark it seems;
The Black is bright as dark is, It’s dark as blackness;
On the aged, ancient cracked streets;
Walking barefoot with bloody feet;
Conception nightmare darkness births daylight;
Sound of silence means to me, there’s no noise because creations quiet;
Newly birth color darkness turns to light;
Sound of silence means to me, raging voices screams of blacken silent;
My nightmare dream has just came alive;
Black darkness birth in the sunrise;
Now screams the light…
With all the demons screaming
With fears impending streaming
I stand with my mouth wide open hollering, screams
Yet I am frozen. Quiets are my screams as the darkness be my dream..
Sound of silence means to me, heighten fear screams of muted calm;
Nothing seen, nothing heard alas sounds of silence means dead-peace;
Dead to myself only spirit speaks to my subconscious ear
Now screams the light…
7/28/19
Sound of silence Poetry Contest
Free verse poetry form only.
Sponsored by: John Hamilton
God and love are synonymous. Love is not an attribute of God, it is God; whatever God is, love is. —Oswald Chambers
Just as the dew quiets the star’s gentle song,
Kissing away dark shadows of night
Remembering His love is so alive, so strong,
Melodious grace glistening in the light…
Softly playing, like tears on the softest snow
Whispers of joy calling from the soul
Breathing hope through the spirit who must know
What it means for God to make them whole…
Just as the reflections of a heart who believes,
Stirs the music of God’s unending peace,
Soaring on the wind just like autumn leaves,
Remembering the faith that can only increase…
Because I know Him, the One who lives above,
Silencing all doubt, amazing the earth,
With His song of faith, hope and love…
All the wonder of knowing He is worth…
Every hope, every prayer, every feeling
All the beauty that comes to those believing
He is light that shines on those who’re kneeling,
And He frees the souls who’re grieving…
Without His light, there would be no hope
Without His life, there would be no reason
Without His love, there would be no way to cope
Without His grace, our faith wouldn’t be in season…
Because He lives, I know that I am blessed
By a promise that God Himself expressed
When He gave us the way, the truth, the life
The One who is love and settles all my strife….
Without Jesus, I wouldn’t be able to say
Life is worthwhile and I look forward to that day
When I’ll meet Him in that land far away,
Where there is love that will never betray!
And I stand among the trees listening,
to bird songs drifting when I notice a tall white Egret;
resting on one leg in the marsh, hesitant to put down both feet.
It's a lovely day with fluffy, white clouds dancing across a blue sky,
and the marsh is lush and verdant, with long-bladed grasses,
it is then, I hear the wail of baby birds.
The mother silently, quiets her babies,
and she steps into the shadows, blending into the cattails;
I ponder this siting and conclude it a harbinger of good tidings.
perhaps the beginning of a new endeavor, an idea to start anew,
the babies representing the birth of ideas, and trying and doing,
then I turn away, and wake in my bed.
____________________
November 25, 2016
Poetry/Verse/It Is Quiet
Copyright Protected, 16-852-819-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
If every man, ...ceased to hate and blame every other man for his own failures and shortcomings, we would see the end of every evil in the world, from war to backbiting.
-Grace Metalious from PEYTON PLACE
It happened on the fourth floor
Where there is no one to console
And every man feels sure he’s lost
The heart of his own dancing soul
It happened on the fourth floor
Where intimacy quiets the spirit
And candlelight muses are aware
There is truth beyond their conscious
It happened on the fourth floor
Where gentle waves of compassion sing
To those who share the blessings there
Amid a forest of sweet dreams and ideas
It happened on the fourth floor
Where there are echoes of truths abiding
Creating promises of love forevermore
Praising God for His unending love
It happened on the fourth floor
Brothers and sisters and mothers and sons
All came together to shine in the sun
Beneath God’s touch of unconditional love
The Fourth Floor of Nowhere Poetry Contest
Sponsored by craig cornish
September 15, 2020
I stitched my Wounds in borrowed Dark —
Where comment cannot pry —
The Noise of mouths was everywhere,
Yet Silence endured I —
From serious Pain — the Chronic kind
That teaches Breath to hide —
I fled the marketplace of words
Where weary meanings died —
The Chatter spent me poor of strength,
Each syllable a tax —
I learned to leave with empty hands
And fewer looking back —
Terrified of the self that feeds
On mirrors, not on Truth —
I guard the gates of my own Pulse
With almost holy Ruth —
So quick the Tongue is now to pause —
A practiced, sacred brake —
For speech once loosed cannot return
What careful quiets make —
My Ears remain — wide-open Fields —
My Eyes — an unslept Sea —
I watch the world without a claim
That it must answer me —
And privately, the Healing grows
Like roots that work at Night —
No witness but the tender Dark,
No proof — except the Light.
I write these words from my heart, just to say to you,
that in this world, many things are not true.
Our eyes can deceive us, as we’ve been deceived,
not everything was right, just as we believed.
There are those who do things, without choice,
they are seen by others, with out voice.
Always be gentle, always being kind,
no matter what situation in life that you find.
Its time for yourself, when you’re alone, you see,
replenishing, everything, drained from you and me.
Solitude, and peace, quiets a beating heart,
while yielding and surrendering do there very part.
Be careful of how you see yourself, no matter who you are, I say,
Our own eyes can deceive us, in a very subtle way.
In a quiet sunlit room
free from the world
without the things
that fills other rooms
A bare wood floor
white walls without
pictures nor windows
nothing to think upon
I enter in
close the door
drop the world
open my mind
I carry with me
a stick of incense
a stand to hold
a match to begin
I sit on the floor
cross my legs
calm my breathing
prepare to start
Set down the stand
place the stick within
strike the match
light a flame
the incense burns
the fire bright
then it flitter
flame no more
I put down the match
lean back and breath deep
rest my hands on my knees
grow quiet and watch
Smoke begin to rise
wavering and scattered
disquieted by moving air
set moving by my movement
Smoke slowly quiets
moving straighter into air
up to the ceiling
making a small cloud
The rising smoke shows
my every move
each breath
perhaps even thought
I seek to see
no movement
no scattering
no change
Just smoke rising
up and up
without change
without moving
Written: August 9, 2026, for a contest sponsored by Unseeking Seeker.
******************
Line of inquiry:
The dream seems real since we don a form,
borrowed from elements of that domain,
but if we simply chose not to conform,
we wake up when desires to rest are lain.
******************
We are the shimmer; darkness cannot reclaim.
Flickers of fire on fathomless ocean's frame.
A silver silhouette against the scythe stone,
A borrowed brightness feigning as our own.
The moon quiets the lake, then lets it speak.
Standing reflected, a promise we never meek
We name the glimmer, whisper "this is real",
Holographic worlds—slide beyond a thick veil.
Body is dust that divaricates dawn-lent flame,
Seeing self as secrets with flesh called by name.
We gather our shades—shield what won't stay,
While stark certainties leach their hue to gray,
What seems solid is but a palimpsest stream,
Matter made radiant by an evanescent dream.
The mountain, the moth, the marrow, the star
Are one vibration haunting forms afar.
And when the last light slips from the land,
When time lets all faint-shaped figures disband,
Nothing is lost in the vastness we fear—
The wave folds back to the ocean ever near.
Perhaps existence isn't alabaster grace,
Still, its elfin alchemy we chase and trace.
A thousand lives tangled in an eolithic breath,
One archetype shifting shape beyond death.
You came—not as an Olympus-evoked ghost.
Nor as a celestial fire from genesis frost.
But silent silence invaded my Elysium pen.
As ink flared fact fibers, fathoming zen.
Words float through the eternities,
flown on the wings of souls.
They're born within,
when the heart gives an offering,
rippling like blown rain when the mind takes control
and quiets the heart's emotions.
Words are the bridge between what separates,
and contains both truth and lies.
Words express what cannot be expressed,
when death haunts.
Gives voice to the musical notes of sadness,
that dwell within.
Words paint the skies with tenderness,
when spoken with love,
gives gratitude to the helping hand.
Words live forever,
they are the mirror of the spirit,
that walks alone in its surrounding flesh.
Words are a way for the soul to be heard,
released from its universe as a tool,
or a weapon that conquers minds and leads the senses,
to expectations or a fall.
Words matter.
10/19/14