Alone lost in a crowd
bold silence overpowers the roar of traffic
~ the world perseveres without hesitation
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: 1st place 2025
let's make a joyful noise
as we sing songs to our Lord
let us strum a guitar, beat a drum
and tickle the piano key board
in harmony, in sync
let our voices now be raised
as we give our Lord God
all of our praise
with pious psalms of devotion .
theological tunes of a spiritual notion
reverent rhymes of acclamation
loving lyrics of a Christian affiliation
so let's make a joyful noise
as we praise and worship God
a Christ filled cacophony
from the depths of our hearts
This limerick is about a clown,
who when shopping in a nearby town.
A mother with small boys,
said his giant shoe made too much noise.
Shoeless he shopped while tip toeing around.
The city speaks in static
not loud, not soft, just
indifferent.
It hums beneath the sky's neon bruise,
where overpasses arc like broken spines
above rivers of unmoving faces.
I wait for nothing at the pedestrian bend
a chipped corner where the dust
gathers like the memory of a voice
I haven't heard since home.
The gum-stained cement remembers me.
The railings dull with a thousand greasy hands
do not.
Trees here wear ash instead of green.
They do not rustle,
only sigh
when jeepneys groan past
with their lungs of diesel and plastic saints.
I sit in the cubicle I do not own,
trace the fake leaf of a plastic plant,
watch the blinds half shut,
half giving in
flutter like someone trying not to cry.
And no one sees me.
And that is the loudest thing of all
"No one dare
Disturb the sound of silence"
Quote taken from the Sounds of Silence by Paul Simon.
Echoes of a lingering quiet time,
When no one hears the bells that chime.
Through the abyss I feel myself falling.
My voice cant be heard, although I am calling.
Silence has deserted me so it would seem.
There are no pins dropping in my dream.
Is this the day they freed the noise?
Dulcet sounds that bring everlasting joys,
Words uttered loud and clear,
Though I implore, she will not hear.
My song is old, bordering on archaic.
Like shattered glass that forms a mosaic,
I need to suppress it and turn it all around,
Stifle the silence and bottle the sound.
The silence is definitive, no volume switch to turn.
The sound infinitive and audibly I yearn.
Into my muted dreams she often sneaks.
Its louder than words when silence speaks.
Its like gold that glistens,
When silence listens.
Silent Sounds
And in the naked light I saw
Ten thousand people, maybe more
People talking without speaking
People hearing without listening
From The Sounds of Silence by Simon and Garfunkel
We speak in sentences that
have no meaning
Empty words flow from the mouths of
fatuous politicians, but who listens.
Earbuds drown out the cacophony of crowded streets
as we hurry to the safety of our silent home.
We sit in silence hoping our years of love
will drown out the noise of the supper television.
Shrill voices, meaningless words spill from flapping lips
fall on deaf ears.
Real silence is refreshing when nothing is said
and human voices are stilled.
I never liked loud noise.
As a child I would run inside
terrified by the sound
of an aeroplane flying overhead,
cower under the wrap
of my grandmother's thick coat
on the rumbling roar
of a passing truck.
There was always menace
in sounds that exceeded
a threshold which for me
was barely above that
of the spoken voice. Even then,
crowded spaces chorused
in talk would smother
and send me into panic.
I liked soft sounds
that came gentle to the ear.
Rainwater whispering in gutters,
leaves rustling in a light wind,
noises distilled to a murmur
when filtered by distance.
I liked the volume
of being alone.
Not much has changed.
The loud noises that manage
to penetrate an aged ear
still raise the heart rate.
Crowds still press their panic.
Now, at night, I like listening
to the stars and clouds nudged
by the wake of a passing moon.
The dins of war un-hushed
the jarring of munitions
the cacophony of starvation
the grating contempt for humanity
the discordant silence of the Free
. . . The World
She smiles like a mission statement—
all vision boards and decaf compassion.
Says she’s rooting for you,
then plants rumors like heirloom tomatoes:
carefully spaced, watered just enough
to grow wild in someone else’s yard.
You know the type.
Squeals I'd never
right before she does—
but soft, with mittens on.
The kind of sabotage that
leaves no fingerprints,
just your name
smudged under a headline
she pretends not to read.
It's embarrassing.
She curates concern like a lifestyle blog.
Screenshots your grief as hers
for group chat empathy drills.
Leaves the door open on purpose,
then texts you
how sorry she is
that someone let the cold in.
You never asked her to stay.
But you notice—
she always stands in the same frame,
just close enough
to gobble up the good lighting,
to crop you out.
white noise
static in the night
the promise of sleep
So much noisy garbage going around:
empty words,
empty conversations,
empty excitement,
empty goals,
empty objections,
empty recommendations,
empty decorations without guts.
Noise for the sake of the Dirty Politics.
Recycled, sensationalizing, fake news.
Cycled storing of energy in a void -
In a trash bin of the abyss.
foghorn in the night
daunting the road less traveled
white knuckle affair
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
Late is the night
pulling a trailer
we are tired tonight
a day spent riding dirt bikes
our headlights failed
we had to stop it was dark
we called out for help
hoping someone would hear
there was no echo, no noise
it was quite spooky
there were no stars, no moon
the sky was black
we would call out again
there was no echo, no noise
but it would sprinkle and stop
we had no flashlight
no bars on the cell phone
we understood that darkness
was the absence of light
we decided to not move
dare to go anywhere
the night was spent in the car
morning begins to arrive
we see that the road stops
with the light of the morning
we decided to head home
Edward J Ebbs - 03/22/205
too much loud noise when I am in the crowd.
In the restaurant, someone drops a plate.
a child cries but I can't wait.
The speaker plays a long song.
too much loud noise when I am in the crowd.
In nature’s hush, stillness is found,
far from cacophony of noise
and hate-hurled words in which we’re drowned.
In nature’s hush, stillness is found;
quietude exudes all around.
Racket annoys like raucous boys.
In nature’s hush, stillness is found,
far from cacophony of noise.
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