Short Quietest Poems

The quietest words
—bring on the storm

(Dreamsleep: October, 2022)...

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Sun quietest
In the 
Morning, after
Because, there is
A place for us...

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Silence is the quietest of sounds.
Darkness is the least bright of light....

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during the quietest nights
the rain sobs discreetly
and time cries softly......

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miss take or given
           no is the quietest word

         her (your choice) says yes...

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Here I shall deeply slumber
Even through the rain and thunder.
As I patiently await for the louder
Of all of the quietest people to whisper....

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I
Siblings stolen
Why list the nations ills ...
Bring Chicken Little home

II
Kuiken has cage during light
Twilight cheeps, louder -- plaintive --
Back in box, quietest baby...

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Whatever else he was, recall
He was a Bookman after all,
And at his quietest, a poet too.
Redonda…wine…the sordid rest
Ignore for now—extol his best!
For there was good in Gawsworth, as in you....

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On the quietest of nights
I can now hear its roar

This current hides calmly 
what fate has in store

Its crashing is consummate,
my drowning awaits

Last bend now approaching
—the hour grows late

(Villanova Pennsylvania: August: 2020)...

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Butterflies have the quietest wings
Defying the weight of their flutterings
Your red face has shown
What you did not want known
Your fight to keep them from escaping




10.02.2019

Writing Challenge, October - Butterfly -
Sponsor, Dear heart - Wiishkobi Ode...

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Writing out loud to solitary crowd is a sombre affair
Without an audiences touch the word’s appear a crutch
A diary in testament to isolation
The quietest spoken word reverberates loudest 
In the noise and angst that in the pen resides
Cornered on all sides the festering never subsides...

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  Stitched in braille from life's mishaps
    the horrors and the pain relapse
  Even on the quietest shores
    his haunts invaded evermore

  Long ago, the peaceful dreams
    buried deep by sirens' screams
  Transports rushing through the night
    the ghosts of war, never white...

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I do not always stay on top of the mountain

The room is empty, tears produce no sound

The silence answered with deep thoughts

Grief feels like to drown in the depths of darkness

In my quietest and lonely moments

As the black chords in a sad play













  10.06.2016
- Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
- Copyright © All Rights Reserved...

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Sometimes in the quietest, loneliest parts of the night
When it seems like I miss you most
I somehow get the sense of you near me
Never fully materializing, but there…
The flash of your smile-The whisper of your voice
The taste of you lips-The heat of you body
The beat of your heart
There in the darkness-Just beyond reach
Part of myself I can’t quite touch....

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Christmas Day is quiet – 
Traffic’s light and stores are shuttered.
All the hype preceding it
Has fizzled out and puttered.

Families turn inward
And the streets are near deserted.
Temptations from the outside world
Are easily averted.

If you took all the Sundays
And you rolled them in a ball,
They might finally rival Christmas – 
It’s the quietest of all....

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I was born in rehab.
Hearing the hollowness of my own ear drums,
I felt loose and without words.

I love windmills,
As the world echoes around me:
With the girl who can't walk.
And the giant, angry one.

I hate work.
I want balloons, bubbles, and windmills.
I want them now.

Somewhere I will open up the quietest of dreams.
And round and round we all will go
As big as a hot air balloon....

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Sometimes I am an intimacy lush
the quietest of the calming storms
that soon relapse...
Eternally affects the truth much
effuses a scent without reform
of my recurring past...
Eventually is a common touch
that closes each day before,
for nothing to again restart...
Often renders my heart shut,
drenches our reluctant shores
with each uncomfortable fact...
Sometimes eternally is
a rare form of endurance...

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With my mouth
Gone quiet
So to the light
With a click
I lay my head down
Waiting for the quietest hour
I close my eyes
And see again
The day’s events
From woe to go
And back again
I question my responses
Acknowledge new guilt’s
And pay homage to old
Finally
My mind is done with this day
As I wait for the quietest hour
It now has
The space it needs
To flourish and meander
Toward that 
Stillest hour...

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I heard myself speaking in the midst of the quietest crowd,
it's like jingling car keys, swinging on the holder,
running feets on the marathon ground
Acapella harmonies, moving in the music room,
jolting piano notes from one to two,
two to three,
I heard myself speaking,
like splashing waters
slapping the gigantic whales
waves coming in and out,
but then, somebody snapped a finger;
and I, never spoke again......

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The quietest hour
Has come 
And gone
Along with the 
Still Darkness
All night long
A bird call now and then
Heralds the waking day
As the sky 
Is licked orange
By the rising sun
The coldness 
Of darkness
Turns into 
Morning cold air
That still wants 
To wrap you
To maintain the
Misere
Which makes
It easier
To accept the
Warm comfort
Of the night nest
Rather than
Take that first step
To acknowledge
The new day...

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white surprise drifting and swirling outside my house
dancing and prancing and glancing around my dog tiptoes on the ground 
a sound! no sound! 
it's early morning and we are all awake now
April showers bring snow flowers
it was funny to see them like that 
those pink little petals laced with ice 
some walk past and never think twice 
the greatest gifts come in the quietest moments
I think I shall sit here and take in this silent wonder...

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When I reflect
The advances of today
And the progress of tomorrow
Gratitude is not forthcoming
Desire is kept in a shallow pool within
Beautiful a distant memory

The ethereal, unwavering presence of a human
Whose love makes one grin with a simple thought
Where memories surface with the slightest of ease
Brighter than the hottest summer days
More peaceful than the quietest of cool nights
Simpler than the most distant star

That is beauty to me...

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Now there’s a sound I’ve heard before,
The quietest knock on plastic door,
The squirrel on the other side,
Boldly stands, no need to hide,
He knows that there’s nothing to fear,
From the people within here,
But if he can just look so sweet,
He might just earn himself a treat,
And so he stands with widening eyes,
Hoping for a small surprise,
He waits patiently for bread,
With his tail so bushy and red,
Give him it dry and he might just utter,
“Thank you Miss, but where’s the butter?”...

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