Loud Poems - Poems about Loud

What lets all likes, such a luck’s rare, What plugs panics all, such pluck’s rare, Rare are bucks that give loud a bang, Who minds no muck, such a duck’s rare. __________________________ Epigram | 02.08.2025 | luck, pluck (courage), buck (money), duck Note: A quatrain like this in Gujarati is known as muktak, a quatrain with free/independent thought. Its first,...

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They make the stereotype of the loud and angry black woman seem bad But why has nobody questioned who made us like that The language they use to belittle us Our mouths hand stitched with silence And the box of requirements we are shoved into Threatened by the mark of violence Yes I am loud and no I will never be...

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In the stillness of darkness mockery, lies, gossips like air arise dragging you down, for a penny sake Abuse of power just for wealth. Who would have thought of these silent moves? Cheating on a poor innocent While still in a dungeon of fire in a gloomy weekly days and nights in lost paradise. The so-called "smile" is a shadowed for the world to...

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Normally silence is what makes most people miserable  But if noise brings pain then silence is a miracle  The best words are the ones that are left unsaid  The battle is with yourself and the words inside your head No one can hear you and nothing is written in permanent ink Your thoughts exchange one to another faster than you...

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if any jet ever broke the sound barrier it must have been this jet her loudness assaulted our silence awakening sleeping elves and gnomes...

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Silence is rather loud when you don't have people to fill it Thoughts are rather loud when you don't have people to hear it Emotions are rather loud when you don't have people to help it Pain is rather loud when you are alone, forced to feel it...

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in the air, just after the storm there is a stillness, changing the heart, the soul so wherever light falls there are shadows of regret reflected in the music the rhythm of serenity fading beneath the sea of grief wisdoms shame our deeds as the stars reveal each pitiful pleasure, each intimate gesture in the air, after the storm in the hesitation of a silent melody in the...

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Loud thunder, coming from down under. Rain coming down, dancing in the rain like a clown, in my ballgown....

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Shame is not loud. A forest torn like paper Like the spine of a child’s book. He remembers the fire, The silence of bees. Hears cries of nature, Shame is not loud. Its a SCREAM! ...

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I am wildly conscious of the fact I don’t know how to speak up anymore. I feel like I’m yelling and no one can Hear me I was told to shut up, then told to Speak up I enunciate so much, maybe it’ll be enough. I’ll repeat myself like I can’t hear the voices of those Who convinced me I was always going to...

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He wakes up early, not because he’s rested— but because the world doesn't wait. It expects. Demands. Takes. He shows up. He earns. He fixes what’s broken. But no one asks if he’s broken. He’s the provider. The protector. The one who says “I got it” even when he doesn’t. Even when the weight is killing him. His hands are calloused. His smile’s automatic. His inbox is full of bills, but his chest is...

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I show up ready Like it’s nothing, no big deal. But calm is just a front I put on, No one sees the ache They say thanks, but don’t see the work, Only the finished things I do. They don’t know how many times I’ve held it together when it got hard. They see the results, not the fight, Like it all came...

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The precursor Who you are and what you are is your personal dream. It is only when you speak it into the stream of the world that you can claim to be a member of A Living Society. It's your obligation to do so and the only...

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At last I’m loud to speak breathless Since long, days were passing in bleak ...

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i can write it all down. every syllable, i never got to say. on paper, i’m fluent, maybe even eloquent. but in the room, my tongue turns against me. my throat locks like a vault. i’ve rehearsed it all before. in margins, in drafts, in dead message boxes i watch my voice rot behind my teeth, while everyone else converses. what good is articulation if it only echoes inside my own skull? what...

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