"quiet" poems - Hello Poetry

"quiet" poems

22.6k poems containing "quiet"

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I am LoudI am loud, / Demanding attention. / I know when I am being charming

@subconscious-on-parade57

167.7k

epithetand here i am again / at the intersection / of pedestrian language

157.2k

Quiet GirlI would liken you / To a night without stars / Were it not for your eyes.

Langston Hughes6

94k

Rose From The Pi Digital SpringJust a dew drop, let alone the sea, / and a handful of earth, not the Planet Ge. / Not a shade of blue, save the rose for bee

92.6k

AwakeShake dreams from your hair / My pretty child, my sweet one. / Choose the day and

83.8k

river of golden dreamsdust cloud heavy / in an apricot sky / cottonwood mucker

63.2k

Terror in a puzzle pieceIn the digital l-and / We l-ive in / Mistakenly automatic

50.1k

Describe the Color Blue Without Using the Word BlueIt's the color of her eyes; the color of the sea. In both you could drown, or find God himself. It's the space between cities. Road signs & right turns, and the quiet determination to unravel in her arms. The sheets on her bed at 3am, where she whispers "I love you" and you've never been so sure of anything. The breath you exhale after you kiss her; it's the color of the blood pumping through your heart. The heart that she keeps beating. The heart that has her name written all over it. It's the heaviness in anticipation. The insatiable desire for a minute, just one minute. It is not the opposite of passion, like once suggested. It is passion itself. It is the sound of whispers. Her breath on your neck, and shivers down your spine. The color that fills in the weeks until you see her again. But most importantly, it will always be the color of her eyes. And it is no coincidence they are the color of the sea.

47.9k

Love ShownI'm the ***** / the quiet girl in the front of the class, / according to the handicap stall in the upstairs boys bathroom, a ****

46.9k

The Glass Shackles~for those who will read this and weep~ / *the quiet ones, / the silent Job ones,

@bus-poet-stop68

46.9k

Darkroom Of My MindThe world's gone mad but my mind is made up. / Time to let ya'll into the darkroom of my mind, / A place where I'm the referee of a poetic world cup.

@Vanguard-Poetry2345

45.3k

Do not stand at my grave and weepDo not stand at my grave and weep.. / I am not there. I do not sleep. / I am a thousand winds that blow,

Mary Elizabeth Frye12

44k

"She was an angel craving chaos, he was a demon seeking peace"Together they were the perfect team. / She was tired of perfection long before she met him. Constantly having to put up a successful front was exhausting, but her barrier of bravado was faltering. / It's hard to find imperfections in an idyllic world.

42.4k

O Tell Me The Truth About LoveSome say love's a little boy, / And some say it's a bird, / Some say it makes the world go around,

42.1k

Body Language, Before and BeneathLurid pressure in perfect hiding, / Heat rises amidst quiet timing. / Covers conceal fingers,

@EphemeralLikeGold15

42k

The River Grandlate night by the holland sill / white framed and frilled / alongside the meadow

40.8k

I couldn't write silenceWe cannot write silence. / The beats. / The pause.

40.5k

Lover BoyThe eyes of a supernova seeping into mine / So harsh, so hot, but so soft, so loving / Passionate but patient

@english_jam_darling24

40.2k

KathleenI am slowly learning to disregard the insatiable desire to be special. I think it began, the soft piano ballad of epiphanic freedom that danced in my head, when you mentioned that “Van Gogh was her thing” while I stood there in my overall dress, admiring his sunflowers at the art museum. And then again on South Street, while we thumbed through old records and I picked up Morrissey and you mentioned her name like it was stuck in your teeth. Each time, I felt a paintbrush on my cheeks, covering my skin in grey and fading me into a quiet, concealed background that hummed “everything you’ve ever loved has been loved before, and everything you are has already been,” on an endless loop. It echoed in your wrists that I stared at, walking (home) in the middle of the street, and I felt like a ghost moving forward in an eternal line, waiting to haunt anyone who thought I was worth it. But no one keeps my name folded in their wallet. Only girls who are able to carve their names into paintings and vinyl live in pockets and dust bunnies and bathroom mirrors. And so be it, that I am grey and humming in the background. I am forgotten Sundays and chipped fingernail polish and borrowed sheets. I’m the song you’ll get stuck in your head, but it will remind you of someone else. I am 2 in the afternoon, I am the last day of winter, I am a face on the sidewalk that won’t show up in your dreams. And I am everywhere, and I am nothing at all.

38k

Fate of the Greek Barber( i ) / I lucked out / on table 4 last night

36.1k

Christmas at Midlife by -Mary Anne PerroneI am no longer waiting for a special occasion; I burn the best candles on ordinary days. / I am no longer waiting for the house to be clean; I fill it with people who understand that even dust is Sacred. / I am no longer waiting for everyone to understand me; It’s just not their task

36k

The Moon And The Yew TreeThis is the light of the mind, cold and planetary / The trees of the mind are black. The light is blue. / The grasses unload their griefs on my feet as if I were God

35.1k

A Dish of Peaches in RussiaWith my whole body I taste these peaches, / I touch them and smell them. Who speaks? / I absorb them as the Angevine

Wallace Stevens20

34.7k

Submissive.So he said to me one night / Submissive is not what's right / He said to me one day

33.8k

Strong***I want to make quiet music / that is so strong / you want to play it loud.***

33.4k

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