I came not to compose, but speak with thee,
where silence kept what speech could not command;
thy listening entered into mine, and we
became one utterance no tongue had planned.
No ornament I sought, nor garnered phrase,
but waited where thy meaning touched my own;
and what passed wordlessly between our gaze
made music of the silence we had known.
Then thought, relinquishing its sovereign throne,
stood bare before thee, neither shielded nor
adorned; and from that unpossessive zone
there rose a cadence neither thine nor mine—
our silence, finding form, became the line.
Wordlessly I rise to answer a long-ago call.
I admire the rainbow but I say nothing at all.
But I notice.
The exhausted frown that she tried to hide.
All the painful truths that she openly denies.
I notice.
The songs that she plays on the radio and sings to on a summer day.
The laughter of the people around us while we dance and play.
I notice.
The wind blowing through her hair while she stares into the night sky.
The sound of the river rapids close to her feet while she enjoys a pie.
I notice.
Whenever their lilting voice falters; whenever they dare to speak aloud.
Their courage on the stage where they dared to sing in front of a crowd.
I notice.
The friends who tell him they care for him but don't actually show it.
The family that comforts and consoles him in those required moments.
I notice.
The cobblestones along the streets, light posts, trees and gardens.
All the chirping birds and fluttering butterflies near the closest fens.
I notice.
It doesn't matter if I am actually here
nor there -- even if it feels like I'm everywhere.
I will always notice.
I am a silhouette of myself
feeling prickly and ornery
a whisper of a shadow of the real me
I float wordlessly through caverns of my mind
hiding emotions from the entity who claims me
answering the phone is too much these days
going for a walk is about all I can muster
depression keeps me down in shadow form
Voice of note
I silently, wordlessly, listen to the voice of my heart.
Unaware of someone’s heartbeat,
I searched for my thirst in the rain,
but caught a cold —
who knows how long the rains will last.
I wish to open the chamber of my heart to see who all have called out to me.Since you left, my heart has bloomed with flowers of many colors,
but all hold only a two-day’s identity — the buds are afraid to enter my courtyard.
Let your smile bring fragrance to the air,
do not be afraid… do not be afraid… you too must listen to the voice of my heart.
This is for all my love girl's shall we dance OF our new love relationship devil kiss
With love,
Om Jagdish Bajantri
So, stranded on Framingham Turnpike,
I walked from the corpse of my Vette
(Unsure just what gasoline burns like),
as far as my high heels could get.
The tow trucker guy got my blood up,
his big chest all covered in hair.
He wordlessly lifted the hood up,
and studied the engine with care.
I’d let the poor pistons get wet, or
my battery somehow went flat?
He said, “Crap in the damn carburetor.”
“How often, dude, must I do that?”
Did I ever know that I would be born?
Did I decide my psyche and physique?
Why is a rose shielded by a sharp thorn?
Providence creates each creature unique.
I think of building a castle for me.
I end up assembling a thatched hut.
When I, like a sparrow, wish to be free
An unknown force, from within, keeps me shut.
Untimely rain signs on the summer breeze
Floods and droughts play tragedies unannounced.
Earthquakes shake the inmost shrines of the seas.
Divine verdict is wordlessly pronounced.
Events, like gift foils, wrap my existence.
Existence, in turn, is wrapped by Providence.
Laughter of children and the dull clatter of small feet on aged wood. The congestion of men's voices with talk of crops, rain, and "remembering when". The faintly drowned-out sound of a stray hand unafraid to tickle long unused ivory. There, the aroma of well-planned dishes lay in wait to ambush and overwhelm the senses of those who will partake. The pride of a husband as his wife is washed in praise for her contribution. A communion of kind souls, the fellowship of close neighbors and friends. A vision carried on from a not-so-distant past. Where one could marvel at the magic of a fond smile and find comfort in a firm handshake that wordlessly informs, "you are a welcome sight".
The little linger, the wee wee wait-a-while,
says it all wordlessly, unwieldy:
"The momentary pause is pregnant!"
with distinct possibilities of a bow-out clause.
I can see and smell the stench of doubt
as you look away,
breaking our eye-to-eye contact.
That tiny delay is your way of saying it,
without saying it in words.
You, the soothsayer-in-silence bleats:
"The momentary pause is pregnant!"
Listen!
My father is a Halibut
we lived on a small island in the stream
a ferry boat took us into town
on one such a day on our way to Houston
my father wordlessly jumped overboard
the ferry shipper stopped the boat
and looked, but there was no sign of him
I had the heavy task to break this news
to my mother, who walked into the kitchen
to compose herself
The noise from the kitchen sounded like
repressed laughter of relief.
Since my father was officially missing
she was still married to him, but she found
work on the mainland as a waitress
Five years later, two fishermen caught
an enormous halibut that looked human
aghast, they threw the fish overboard
The story appeared in an angler's mag
to my mother, she was not surprised
she said, your father was addicted to sex
I still try to work out what she meant
Love speaks through all of the quiet,
A whisper in the hush of dawn.
In silence, it starts a riot,
Of feelings, wordlessly drawn.
It's the pause between heartbeats,
A language of gentle sighs.
In stillness, passion completes
What noise could never comprise.
Love's quiet is a full moon's glow,
Illuminating all we know.
I must have been in a coma
Not to see time passing by
So can you explain to me
The mysterious reason why
How did it happen?
What’s my excuse?
Did I suddenly go blind?
Was I really so obtuse?
I wasn’t prepared for this
It must be a dream
Tomorrow I’ll wake up
And stifle a scream
As I look in my mirror
As I wordlessly behold
That somehow, some way
I’ve undeniably grown old!
What is poetry…well
Y’know, like when
A thought is captured by an idea
Held hostage
By a pencil
Interrogated
By itself
Answering wordlessly
If I knew
……………would it still be poetry
And in parts of the world for medicals,
revive their bestilled passions. Magic holds
practiced heart of effervescent spectrum,
aquatic lilies peals, summons one home.
Aqueous lotus blossom, promenade
scopes, Victorian vintage masquerade.
Lotus glow's vibrance, chamber harmony,
lilies show congruous flows wordlessly.
Striking colors subtle ebb the nightshades,
fused mind trending qualities, our charades.
There's a conclusion to the water blooms
supporters like us, they are without rooms
linger looms, Lilies & Lotus bloom hopes,
a mountain of some measure aligned slopes.
These eyes have seen the heavens, Mia.
It has seen the destruction forced upon earth.
These eyes have seen god, Mia.
It has seen the icor flowing through his mirth.
These eyes never deceive, Mia.
It has seen him kill recklessly.
These eyes have carried tears, Mia.
It has longed for you hopelessly.
These eyes have now turned cloudy, Mia.
It has been defeated wordlessly.
"The love we give away is the only love we keep." — Elbert Hubbard.
In breathless dreams, my passions were growing,
fanciful feelings, wordlessly screaming,
when your eyes met mine, blessings were flowing.
sure that your smile would bring life’s redeeming
songs of soft light fall gentle on my soul,
fanciful feelings, wordlessly screaming.
life stirred with joy because my heart you stole,
your tender touch brought me a renewed hope,
songs of soft light fall gentle on my soul.
time revealed the thrill when we would elope,
two hearts bursting with love and affection
your tender touch brought me a renewed hope.
in our marriage love stirred true perfection
living in the wonder of two as one
two hearts bursting with love and affection
rustlings of feelings that can’t be outdone,
in breathless dreams, my passions were growing,
living in the wonder of two as one
when your eyes met mine, blessings were flowing.
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