Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Zywa 1h
High in the mountains:

the silence, the absence, most --

of all of myself.
Story "Edith Wengler" (2020, Jens Christian Grøndahl)

Collection "Inmost"
and so I search
it is still there
into the otherwise glowing abyss
this incredibly beautiful
incredibly lonely universe
this dying star
from eons past
a silent twinkle of light
if we happen to be looking
but the cries go unheard
Kassan Jahmal Dec 2022
Silent things
Silent sins, and it's silent king

Silence in all but once perfect dreams
Silence the lambs of their bleeding sheep

Silent are the hills of the new mountains & their peaks
Silent pauses; a man wondering if still good in the sheets

Silence is the violence of a mind without any peace
Silence in the times of a writer's block searching for a piece

Silent responses for a lover begging on their knees
Silent witness to the crime of love scripted on life's t.v. screens

All wanting of a silent death;
in the end—death comes much closer in every breath
Pain hurts more in silence, but it's voice often remains silent
Pepper Dove Dec 2022
I catch a break
from the clattering chatter
of complaints
To melt into this cozy chair
and rediscover my own thoughts,
who I have lost
somewhere in the noise

I catch my breath
and slowing its pace, I embrace
the silence
This temporary peace I seldom
catch hold of these days

And just as I finally start to see

It's taken

Shattered and scattered
like a cars side mirror
by the haphazardly cluelessness
of another

My reflection

My inner self


Once more
leeaaun Dec 2022
why we hurt and heal
in silence
like it's a must step
we all go through
to proof we are humans
Coleen Mzarriz Dec 2022
The slit between the roof and the abandoned house gets me—the moon drowns in his own mystical clouds, wavering and so full of light.

I squint my eyes as the moon hides his presence from me. Almost knowing I had captured it with my own eyes and the grey clouds scattered like waves, consuming my breath and taking it away.

He knows it still haunts me from time to time and he gave his best to give me an embrace—even when my very own existence is running cold and dry and my breath thickens with the mist of unwavering thoughts coming from the night and the stars twinkle at the sight of people looking at them—like a mirrorball entertaining strangers from the club and they shine in their spot. Even when I close my eyes, the moon peaks in its stillness. All the poets used him as their muse, radiating this mellow one could think of when the sun sleeps in her slumber. The poets had perfectly described him in thousands of words and painted him over the mural where I can see him directly and the strangeness of him calms the raging waters in me.

Even when peace is quite chaotic and chaos is peaceful, a trap between the slit on the roof and the abandoned house, squinting my eyes as the moon hides his presence from me. And she haunts me as the sun begins to show herself in ways I am blinded by her light.

In some ways, she shines even when it is night.
In a way, she looks over the moon when he wakes up from his slumber.
In a way, the stars and clouds enveloped her with the warmness of their breath.
In some ways, I couldn’t look at her for too long.
In some ways, I am silenced by her beauty.
Wrote this around October and as I’m scrolling through my notes, I found this. Glad I still have this poem.
Strying Dec 2022
the silence hangs in the air suspended,
it doesn't drift,
it just floats,
waiting for someone to make a move,
waiting for something to improve,
but instead,
all that's left,
are careless words,
and broken souls.
just came home and wanted to eat calmly but I guess that doesn't happen in my family lol
relahxe Jul 2020
I choose to love you in silence…
For in silence I find no rejection,
I choose to love you in loneliness…
For in loneliness no one owns you but me,
I choose to adore you from a distance…
For distance will shield me from pain,
I choose to kiss you in the wind…
For the wind is gentler than my lips,
I choose to hold you in my dreams…
For in my dreams, you have no end.
A quote by Rumi
Next page