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syncopation Oct 10
If you believe life has a way
Of telling you what it wants to say
Without having you ask or listen very hard
You may have unlocked its secrets, seen its cards

Because sometimes I find life will get what it wants you do to
But don’t get me wrong, it listens too

Wishes you may have wished hard and long
Has been distilled into its ear as a song
And sometimes its melody will playback to you
In ways you never expected it to

But hear it you will,
the lyrics now different but still
Fills your Soul
with the same familiar glow

And that’s when you know.  

Life has a way
of telling you things that you hadn’t expected it to say
But things that are supposed to be at the end of the day.
voices in the walls
I hear in my dreams
choirs of faceless whispers
singing me to sleep
kiss on my shoulder
bestowed by lips that aren't there
soft and sumptuous name
borne on breath of midnight air
voices in the dark
the flicker of a flame
light to guide the lifeless
through the shadows of a day
In honor of Halloween, enjoy my spiritual children.
some goddess
inside my body
she whispers
things I don't
things that echo
in the darkness
of unconsciousness
her eyelids
when and earthquake
my soul
but she
has not
I don't think
she knows
Amber Sep 25
walking down the dark corridors
turning behind every few seconds
scared of what was going to be behind
fear that i go through while waiting
sitting alone in the classroom
dull dimly lit
seemed so eerie
the four walls of the classroom
that seemed to cave in
u have no idea
blasting music in my ears
hoping i won’t hear anything
any whispers
closing my eyes
hoping i won’t see anything
any shadows
hoping that u would come quickly
and keep me company
laying my head on the table
eyes closes
earpiece on
but every single small noise i hear
i awake
feeling scared
or hoping it was u at least...
Once upon a time
In the forbidden kingdom
To the beloved enchantress
King whispered, "you are naughty."

Queen replied,
"Show me, who isn't?"
Genre: Romantic
Theme: King N Queen things
J Oaks Sep 11
My feet straighten out as I walk up the road
A typha in my left palm and a worn warm stone
Or just the dust of petals in my mind?
I just passed a great big pine
What is mine? Is that mine?
A great fine diner is up ahead;
entrance of town and once my homestead with
a paint chipped door schedule written in lead
Peering through the window
There's no breeze though
but the lights glow
but the plants grow
How can I know?
What do I know
The small bell dings and I crash back
The legs walk in let the door smack
I grab my chest and eyes wet my chin
When did the shudder begin?
Felt a soft red cloth wipe my cheek
Is it her or is it what they think?
a memory
it can be
and certainly hurts
like a memory
A sip from a coffee
she blows on it softly
a snapping blink in the glass
whispering with moments that pass
as much as I want to try to be
Lily Sep 6
The whispers
                 behind his back
                                killed him.
I'm sorry I haven't been posting recently; there was a tornado touchdown in my area, a lot of damage has been done to my town, and I haven't had power for a couple of days.  I hope you are all well!
Cold winds, unheard whispers and street lights.
For a city, it is such a typical night.
This calmness and this warmth,
All like the silence before the storm.
A few hours, just a few hours more,
Ships don't always have to sail to some shore.
Let it sail now on this ocean of silence,
Without a sound, without any violence.

Let there be only sounds of heartbeats, breaths and whispers.
Just heartbeats, breaths and whispers.

Tanay Sengupta, Copyright © 2018.
All Rights Reserved
This is rather recent, I hope you like it. Happy reading!
Cherisse May Aug 13
A deafening silence settles,
Leaving only dust and some movements,
Rustling in the sheets, tossing and turning,
Trying to get some sleep.

But where is the peace in the silence
When all you can hear are
The whispers, an illusion,
Yet there is nothing to be heard.

Slowly, out of reach,
My hand tries to grab
What is left of my own sanity;
And every night, I wish it were over.

End me.
I don't know. I **** at writing poems but i have no one to talk to, anyway.
Once, the rain spoke back
In drowned tones from
Lessons learnt long before
Our grey tomes, wisdom
Without wearisome, a
Water sanctified in cloud,
Proud protectors of the
Above, below.

She was not of sorrow, not
Sanctuary, only servitude to
Sense, dense tentacles
Pulling me further down,
To drown in her watery halls
Where the wild kings fall and
The paper boats swim tall,
Above us all.

She told me of the lord so
Loud, lightning in name and
Devastating in fame, tamed never
And maddened always, by the
Drip drop bottle tops, silver
Songs, throngs of metal shine,
Time counting tiresome till
The strike above

Hitting below,
And then the rain will fall ever so
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