The hallways buzz, the clock ticks slow, There’s something real you ought to know. Forget the past, the family tree, This isn't about history.
Beyond the grades, the age, the noise, Above the usual crowd of boys, It’s you I notice, clear and true, I just needed you to know I like you.
Blah blah blah
blah blah blah blah
blah blah
blah.
Blah
blah blah
blah blah blah blah
blah blah blah.
Judgment
and criticism
from people
who fear
the unknown
and want to
control others
do not carry
much weight
when it is
known that
most of these
same people
have already
thrown their
own personal
ethics out
the window and
have also
contributed
to the karmic
messes being
cleaned up
to this day--
which is why
we must carry on
and go forth
knowing that
someday our gifts
will help
the community
see more clearly.
my thoughts lost within
city's night life and bustle
waiting to be heard
tree of cicadas
munching happily on leaves
perfect harmony
Today, I took a deep, sweet holiday to rest,
To listen to the silence inside my own chest.
A single glass of wine, all by myself,
And sweet, spicy rice cakes from the kitchen shelf.
The moment I take a bite so sweet,
The ceiling starts shaking with heavy, dancing feet.
Ah, the neighbor above must be possessed today,
Dancin' like a witch, chasing spirits away.
"Surely, this wild dance will soon be done,"
But the thunderous beating has only just begun.
It strikes my poor heart, so loud and so near,
And the taste of my wine and rice cakes disappear.
Without even knowing, in the middle of the deep,
With drool on my cheek, I drifted fast asleep.
I heard a rumble,
low and deep,
like thunder in the distance.
Or was it a bear,
wild and fierce,
making lunch inside my kitchen?
I heard it again—
that rumbling sound.
Was it an earthquake now?
What is that noise?
That scary noise—
It's just my grandpa snoring!.
Have you ever wondered what I was thinking?
When I look at you, my mind spirals.
I see you yawn and wonder,
Does your mind sound like mine?
The voices talking over each other.
Interrupting each other,
Never finishing one thought
Before beginning another.
Eventually, one rises above the rest.
I asked you if you had heard the noise and
You looked at me as if I were broken.
My mind is upset tonight.
Loud.
Angry in a language only my ribs understand.
I’m trying to evict memories that don’t pay rent.
They sit in my chest,
replaying the scene,
rewriting the ending I never got.
I’m sick of complaining to myself
about a past I can’t edit.
Sick of the reruns.
Sick of _you_ in my head
when you don’t deserve the space.
I hate it now.
There — I said it.
Not pretty. Not healing. Just true.
You took something.
Peace, maybe.
And I don’t know how to bill you for it.
They say “forgive and forget”
like it’s a two-step dance.
I can’t do either.
Maybe I don’t want to.
Does that make me bitter?
Maybe.
But bitterness is honest.
And I’m too tired to lie today.
I want quiet.
I want the version of me back
from before I learned how much words can cut.
But she’s gone.
So I’ll take quiet in _this_ body,
with _this_ anger,
if that’s all I get.
So for tonight,you live here,on paper.
Not in my chest,not in my sleep
I'm changing the locks.
You can keep the damage ,
But I'm keeping me..
A quiet madness blooms
to the rhythm of restless thoughts,
unraveling a vast uncertainty
my mind cannot comprehend.
It whispers through the hollow spaces,
soft as breath, yet sharp as truth—
a lingering fracture in my being
I cannot seem to soothe.
And in its shadow, I remain,
half-known even to myself,
aching for a silence
that never truly comes.
music pollution
neighbors outside party
my dogs are howling now
natural protestors minus signs
There are sentences that are inaudible
And words that are passively silent
Oh! Words, verbs, innuendoes and pirouettes
We instantly ask incredulous questions.
Their gestures sometimes are understandable
Clever foxes hide behind vices
We comprehend very well why racists
Are intermittently invisible.
Oh! Silence that is when words do not exist
We see rats robbing the store at daylight and the cats
Patiently and intelligently examine the list
Of the remaining victims peacefully and wisely.
Words are often deadly dangerous
Daring the weapons of inequality around the hellish fire
Which is about to consume the desperate city
Where the words are silent and strangled.
Hebert Logerie , September 29, 2013
I carry quiet things
which I keep in my pocket
as folded notes
that I never read
but I always keep with me.
The sound of a laugh
that didn’t last long enough
the way the sky looked once
when everything felt possible
some days
i am made of questions
stacked like unfinished homework
what if
why not
when will it make sense
other days
i am just breathing
in
out
like that is enough
like that is everything
I have learned
that growing feels a lot like breaking
but softer
slower
like cracks in glass which remain hidden
until the light strikes at the exact moment.
I keep going forward
through all obstacles.
I exist
between the loud sounds
and the complete quietness
that exist between my past self
and my future self
my authentic self
stands under the sun
without any fear.
The person who waits
for me to arrive
has always believed
that I would reach this destination.
Snow
frosting
woodlands white;
sun beating down
on barren landscapes;
the floating solitude -
of being immersed in space
or in the depths of an ocean
that resonates muffled quietude.
How fickle is a world in which we
can experience elsewhere the
tumultuousness of storms
pelting crops or thrashing
seashores, and the mad
roar of dragons
in forests
spitting
Fire
The thunderous noise of death fell from the militarized sky
And blasted the silence of my secret refuge piercing my eye
Spilling its cracking violence over not only me and my resting dog
Sitting in peace on the sun covered grass far from war
But it also wrapped itself around every single garden flower
Forcing itself with deafening thunder against the tolling sounds of time
Cascading down from the church steeple’s bell tower
Reminding us of another world lost from view and hanging
On a silver thread from the voice of God’s world and once mine
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.