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I was awakened by a story once,
Still gives me chills, though
it’s been months,

I know I have come far from
it somehow,
And that I have nothing to worry
about it now,

But the quiet sleep I lost that day,
Follows me endlessly till this very day,

While I am still here, patiently
waiting for it to come back,
Still at the place, to which I have
completely lost track.
July 2021
Peter B Jul 10
They're trying to keep us quiet,
but our mouths will never shut.
But we will keep amazingly silent,
when they want us to speak up or shout.
s y kalindara Jun 17
How do I go about shedding the shells
that earned me a pat on the head and a "good girl"?

I was the parent's dream,
a blue-ribbon giftee
of civility,
the picture of obedience,
​and oh so mature!
The 'quiet child' cachet was my only allure.

This caged bird didn't sing
of sentiments and other sinful things,
but spent decades nesting feelings.

When all alternatives felt illicit,
I reserved my torments for exclusive exhibitions,
where I held the only ticket.
Those showcased, glass displays are my poems now,
I've stuffed them with secrets I can't talk about,
but can write down.

Do the people who raised me deserve an applause?
I've got songs dancing in my head and they're the cause
of my closet of flaws.
Would I even have it in me if I was a happy child,
bold and wild?
They say art is for those who've lived in the rain;
Well, I've had my cup of it
and I guess, this is my exchange.


Copyright © 2021 by S. Y. Kalindara. All rights reserved.
I think part 1 and 2 say it all, I've got nothing left to explain.
Brumous Jun 15
each note is a touch
that vibrates the mind
strands of hair stands
a whisper to both ears
amidst the silence.
neth jones Jun 3
110
I enter a voiceless Forrest
quiet
           as after ******

it awaits a wind
                     to disturb
its brooks
          to run full babble
and the creatures
                 to muster bravery
and reveal themselves

Caught unawares
I feel I may have embarrassed it
I shall return later for my walk
my voice has grown tired
screaming for attention
my cries falling off what
seems like deaf ears.
I know you hear me.
I know you're in there.
I shake my fists at your face,
wanting so badly to hit you,
so that you might notice my display.
I want to grab you by the shoulders
and shake you senseless,
then maybe you'd hear my plea.
and I wouldn't feel so helpless
If you'd stop and look at me.
my voice has grown tired and quite horse
and still you remain quiet
so I wait
and I wait some more
and still; I don't hear a word.
so I curl up on the floor
and grieve everything I have heard.
please won't you listen..
Pedro May 14
Is the world too dark
too cold
too quiet
or am I just not alive?
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