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Jess Carroll Jul 11
Dripping quietly
Leaving trails; clean and crisp
Down the glass
Or racing
Or fizzling out
And dying
Eventually ending
Upon the next sunny day
My Dear Poet Jun 21
Because you’re upside down
in my mind
You may as well change the light
Or keep us blind
As we sit here in my head
all night
Kellin Jun 7
Take me back to the desert this place is too quiet
Alicia Moore Jun 6
Claim me to rid my mind of misery,
although do not weep when my inner grief
grants you no extra power like the ones before me.

I’m warning you now, dear Beast,
all you can gain from this consumption is weight -
I have no power left in storage - but I beg for this.

On my hands and knees; I beg for you
to quieten my screaming weakness.
When words don't have
The capacity to bleed
Out what you feel and
Inhale what you need

You begin to lose
The narrative, the why
The who, the detective

You play the ploy
Of mind and then
You cannot even move
The bed

You will stay still
You'll crumble down
Until no one else
Creates a sound
Staid solitude and silence lend me ease
from mind’s congestion, tongue’s propensive burl
toward chatter’s looping, irritating whirl—
exchanging dervish dust for bonny breeze.
My soul may sing and soar from quiet’s nest
or sit in stillest calm without weight’s care
within the waiting, because God is there
who knows me, hears me, grants me sweeping rest.
The Everlasting God, the LORD o’er all
who understands me, loves me with no end—
most faithful, fervent Confidante and Friend—
pervades the sweet quiescence with His call,
“Here in My peace, come find your heart’s desire.
Serene in Me, soul catches My love’s fire.”
Steve Page May 14
Let's raise our glass to the many and the few
and far between two stools waiting at the bar
with contaminated peanuts
for company and an empty
beer mat ready for the happy
hour rush. And only the lonely truly know
hurt only makes you stronger
and the truth of needing
a glass of something stronger still.
started playing with idioms and ended in a quiet bar
Merlie T May 3
Quiet mind, easy thoughts
Like wisps of wind
Warm sun
Against soft skin
Debbie Lydon Apr 26
Inchoate truth,
No, you are not yet real,
How quiet you are inside,
As though I'm seeing but not hearing a family through a window,
Oh, my very own inchoate truth,
It would not do to love you,
It is not yet love that will see your arrival into the world out there.
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