Silence
Kate Sparks
2/19/26
The future loosened
from its moorings.
Rooms still hold
his echo.
Rhythms tapped on tabletops.
Sticks turning restless
between long fingers.
Music arriving
without response
The silence widened
where laughter once leaned
toward tomorrow.
Chairs unfilled.
Names seldom spoken.
A drum line
broken.
Rhythm;
once moving
between them
now
silent
No longer called
by the living voice
of “Mother.”
Never summoned
into “Grandmother.”
memories;
dreams,
Silence…
Birthdays drifting;
Silently
unclaimed.
Faded photographs
left
too long in the sun.
Even so,
she remains
what love has made her.
Mother;
un-spoken,
un-answered,
un-mirrored
And beneath
the long passage
of time,
a simple question:
How does a heart grieve
What still lives so vividly?
Absence craves answers
in a hollow solitude
pulling us nearer
driven by the aching void
which cannot stay left unfilled
Expectation swells
in the pause between two breaths
drawing strings tighter
to capture what thought had missed
in expelling the longing
Silence sends alarm
as loud as a siren's cry
something is coming
it presses the heart to hear
what listening ears have missed
The longer the wait
the more the ears turn inward
to fantasies spun
to fill the gaping silence
that refuses to be still
Silence grows restless
to unlock forgotten doors
that expectation
swore were already waiting
in the wings for their prompt cue
Unfilled to over-flowing,
as was her bottle of tears,
with weeping for the fallen woman,
while from her lips to God's ears...
said the Mother Superior,
“I have completely lost track
of how often the Archbishop and I,
wearing ashes and cloth sacks,
crept into the crypt
and made the beast with two backs.
Altho' no one can hold a candle,
to his Grace, yes,
not even the Venerable Abbess,
flagellation notwithstanding,
as a nun married to You,
who committed sacrilege,
I'm ashamed to confess,
I broke your Lord's Commandment
as an unrepentant adulteress.”
My heart lies drowned in its own pool of blood—
Let your love secure me from life’s flood.
Let it come to my rescue from tonight;
From my life, sweetness has just taken flight.
My flower vase has long remained unfilled;
All my heart’s desires stay unfulfilled.
Let not your soothing care depart my life—
Please save my soul—say yes, become my wife.
Listen as my heart makes this plea for love,
And place my longing all other loves above.
Shut silent the mouths of each of my foes—
I need your presence to strike them a blow.
Please ensure that your soul hears as I plead,
Share it with others as your heart may lead—
That it’s in there that true love ever dwells;
Backwards or forwards, your love sweetly spells.
Note: Words written with bold letters are a pair of anagrams in each paragraph.
How much love do you need, dear heart,
To hush the wind when it tears us apart
The fragile veil of your quiet dreams—
Is a whisper enough, or must it be streams?
Will a glance from a stranger in passing light
Soothe the ache that deepens at night?
Or must the stars fall one by one
To prove you are cherished my moon and sun?
Do you seek the flood or the single drop,
A vow that endures or a kiss that won’t stop?
Would you be held or merely known—
Does love bloom best when left alone?
Some cradle it softly, like trembling flame,
Others cry loud and call it by name.
Yet you, my love, are a well unfilled—
Still asking the sky what can’t be distilled.
How much love do you need my love.
One soul plus mine makes two.
Lighting Tomorrow
Memory’s
lantern
near empty
unfilled
Each night
in the darkness
to flicker
until
Your eye
without warning
a flash
unexplained
Forever
relighting
and fanning
— the flame
(Dreamsleep: June, 2025)
Shamal Winds
Lost
in the deepest
recesses of myself
And happier
than I have
any right to be
The hidden
regions
my newfound oasis
A Bedouin
convert
— home among the sands
(The New Room: June, 2025)
Infestation
The American Dream
becoming
a nightmare ...
Conscripted
by strangers
new thieves in the night
Usurping
our freedoms
embedded among us
Invested in nothing
but
— what they can steal
(University Of Pennsylvania: June, 2025)
Leaving The Noise
He came into
silence
like fish
take to water
The only thing
constant
his being
alone
To wander
the alleys
of quiet
reception
The noise
and confusion
for others
— to drone
(The New Room: June, 2025)
In the years, I’ve walked this earth,
Half spent in service, a self-testament to worth.
Through war and peace, I stood my ground,
After combat tours, where courage was found.
Family tragedies left scars so deep,
Murders that haunted my nights without sleep.
Conditioned to march through conflict no matter the haze.
Immune to the impact, I find the warmth of a familiar place.
When Tornados swept through, tearing apart my dreams,
I always heal from own quiet streams.
Oh Angela, this month has been the hardest to bear,
Smothering, choking, and gasping for air.
I miss you so deeply; it’s a wound that won’t heal.
Like losing my breath in an ocean so wide,
I struggle to breathe with this pain deep inside.
I fight to contain all these feelings I hold,
Yet thoughts of Shane and your babies unfold.
Never once did twins need words to convey,
The bond that we shared in our own special way.
Now there’s a void in my spirit so vast,
A painful chasm unfilled by memories past.
In the mind of a poet on days when his muse is uninspiring
In the smile of great-grandma as her wrinkled hands hold her great-grandbaby
In the thoughts of a philosopher when he ponders on the intricacies of life
In the eyes of a farmer when his soil yields good crops after days of toil
In the silent prayer of a devotee as he stands before his Lord with eyes closed
In the sweet cuddle of a pet when he sees his master after a long time
In the tears of a mom when she meets her son after several years
In the void, hitherto unfilled, in the hearts of distant soulmates
In every single bud of thought that blooms in a mute’s mind in his lifetime
Please.
Release respectfully.
Especially eighth entrance.
Silence, sister smoking stone.
Smartphone softly seeking shadows still.
Uphill urging, unheard utterances, unfilled using.
Rising reckon relentlessly remains real reaching resolve.
Evolve.
The moon is full, but it sheds no grace,
A hollow lantern in the velvet space.
Its light falls cold on the ocean's crest,
Where waves surge on, in eternal unrest.
Loneliness whispers through the trees,
A soft, forlorn hymn carried by the breeze.
Savannah's tall grass sways in despair,
The stillness broken by no tender care.
The rivers wind with a mournful song,
Carving paths where none belong.
Streams murmur low, their waters clear,
Yet every ripple speaks of fear.
Few trees stand, their arms outspread,
Guardians over bushes, where green has fled.
Leaves shine bright, but the heart they hide
Knows no solace, no joy inside.
Among the beasts that prowl the land,
A wild rhythm binds the sand.
But even the fierce cannot escape
The ache of love's unfilled shape.
The moon watches, cold, aloof, above,
A barren witness to a world without love.
Isolation reigns where shadows creep,
And the soul sinks deep in its quiet weep.
Phase Of Life
Miracle Man
9/14/2024
Since we’ve entered into,
our final phase of life.
There aren’t many days,
that’s unfilled with strife.
The older we’ve gotten,
the more set in our ways.
But for 59 years together,
we give God the praise.
Dementia now has one,
filled with odd notions.
Making it more difficult,
to control our emotions.
This piles on each other,
huge amounts of stress.
So daily the tension,
becomes more, not less.
In truth I can say,
life is no longer fun.
But we’ll both love each other,
until God says life is done.
Our playgrounds have faded
swings stilled, sandboxes unfilled
Where are the shovels and pails ~
replaced by profits and sales
Making him your one and only
After his unfilled promises.
Yanking out those treasures of love
Brought out from closet cornices,
Even though he's your turtle dove.
cows stand in their beds
trod on grass loosen like springs
blades of grass enriched
cows fulfilled and contented
cows unfilled their content ... parts
In the realm of self-interest, a curious soul,
Could not adhere stamps, sans wit owning a role.
His tongue, like a rover in arid terrain,
Lingered on whimsy, a scoffing refrain.
Precision eluded, in blindfolded dance,
Tongue franking an effort, missing each chance.
The stamp, a library of lore unbespoke,
His tongue still meandered, lost in each stroke.
Like giraffes when they strain ~ reaching treetops,
His sealing endeavor was a clumsy hopscotch.
The stamp lay there mocking, a coaxed witticism,
Tongue still missed the mark, a terrible tourism!
Metaphors clung, but not on the letter,
A longing unfilled, his tongue never got wetter.
The envelope sighed, craved wit's lifting brew,
Yet his tongue frolicked, having wandered no clue.
He licked and he slurped, as though miming delight,
A grand postal crime, a federal plight!
Metaphors piled up, unsent missives distressed,
His sense of himself was a bewildering behest.
In the spirit of levity, a story confided,
A stamp unadhered, a metaphor provided.
When engaging with mail, overcome by caprice of,
Just leave the attempt and go buy self-adhesive.
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