"listens" poems
When eyes talk to eyes
All of world stands still.
Time waits and the nature listens.
They invite the inquisitive while all of existence celebrates eternally.
-The Silent Poet
Dec 5, 2015
Dec 5, 2015 at 10:53 AM UTC
---
i
blue grey clouds
of crushed
velvet
sunlight
tears
the
seams
ii
embers of
delicate peach
ignite flames
of fuchsia
the orb of
sun burns colors
away to ashes
blown into floes
of white
mare's
tails
iii
tiny bird
settles restless
on the
highest
branch
flits
away
iv
wind
through
the weathered stones
cries then whispers
luring
the children
who lie within our ribs
to break free
and sing
songs
of
play
v
mamalaria
cactus
wears her
wreath
of
pale
lavender
flowers
sings to
her babes
clustered
below
saguaro
listens
soulsurvivor
(C) 9/13/2015
Sep 13, 2015
Sep 13, 2015 at 12:29 PM UTC
As night falls, the air thickens
her pulse races and his pulse quickens
the depths of their thoughts rise to the surface
her body language speaking tongues
their eyes contact and the translation is done
his soul listens
heart beating fast
flesh burning like a furnace
flame lasting longer than they last
lust coursing through her body's viens
like lava melting a porous surface
her window panes with purpose
as their bodies join like cursive
bulging with awareness
his presence is her nearness
their bareness
flipping her world
altering her state of mind
impulse triggerin pulse
a his embrace
tightens
May 29, 2017
May 29, 2017 at 4:10 PM UTC
When no one else was there to save me,
it was.
It always wraps me in its warmth,
Listens to my every sob,
Pats me in sympathy and comfort.
It's been my lifelong friend.
Most kids are afraid of the dark,
But really there's no need.
Darkness has always been my friend
Jul 23, 2014
Jul 23, 2014 at 10:35 PM UTC
By Arcassin Burnham
Its surprisingly amazingly,
Bad enough that I don't give two ***** about the human race,
But when you encounter,
A delusional crazy dumb ***** that listens to ghost call her name,
You wonder,
Man!!!
She is a lyar,
***** you should burn in fire,
Along with all those ghost,
And when I try to help you,
***** I swear you're doing the most,
So **** you.
Jan 11, 2015
Jan 11, 2015 at 11:03 PM UTC
She lives a quiet life,
she tiptoes around,
she whispers when she speaks,
she hardly ever makes a sound.
Although her words are quiet,
her mind is very loud.
She has so much to say,
but no one listens for soft sounds.
She's an invisible girl,
who doesn't want to stand out,
she just wants to be heard,
without having to shout.
Sometimes the loudest people,
aren't saying much at all.
Empty words and promises,
just leave their mouths and fall.
But whispered words fly high,
and catch peoples attention,
they're intriguing, so amazing,
but only when they listen.
So look outside the spotlight,
because often the real star,
isn't anyone on stage,
but the mind behind it all.
Mar 7, 2013
Mar 7, 2013 at 2:31 AM UTC
At the lowest point of my life
He never leaves me alone
I don't get to see him
to worship him
But i feel him
his spirit surrounds
He guides me in the most
holy way...
just when there is no one to talk to
He listens to each prayers of mine
he may not solve all my troubles
but he shows me the way...
he may not grant all my wishes
but he teaches me patience
tests me and directs me
till i accept all the challenges
as i keep my faith stronger
he is the only one god
who will save me from
evil deeds and makes my life complete
In my darkest days,
when my spirit the weakest
I am not alone
Allah is always with me...
Jun 13, 2013
Jun 13, 2013 at 9:58 PM UTC
We live in a world filled with stereotypes.
Stereotypes that make us ashamed of who we are.
There’s a woman in my neighborhood who wears tight clothing and high heel shoes but that doesn’t mean she’s a ******
There’s a boy in my class who listens to rap music and wears baggy clothes, but that doesn’t mean he’s out on the street selling dope.
There’s a girl in my class who rarely says to words and get’s straight A’s, but that doesn’t mean she’s a goody goody.
People ask us all the time of who we think we are,
but it doesn’t matter to them because before we can even digest the question and regurgitate the answer they have already made their mind up of who they think we are.
Some people are considered a brain.
Some a trouble maker
or a ****
A princess
or a ******
But the truth is we are all smart, just in different ways.
Everyone of us has some athleticism in us.
Everyone one has gotten into some trouble.
We have all had are princess or prince moments.
And everyone of us is weird,
some people are just better at hiding in it.
You remember my neighbor I told you about?
She dresses like that, not because she is trying to sell herself
but because when she was younger she got bullied and no one ever noticed her because she never had designer clothes because her mother had no job and her father left when she was 4. And ever since then she made herself a promise that she would make sure people noticed her.
And that boy with the baggy clothes?
He wears those baggy clothes to cover up the cuts and bruises his father comes home from the and had one to many drinks.
And the girl who get’s straight A’s and doesn’t say much?
She get’s those straight A’s because if she doesn’t she gets a straight hand across the face and she doesn’t talk because she has sever anxiety.
So the next time you point and laugh at someone remember that they’re 3 fingers pointing back at you.
And the next time you assume something about something remember that when yo assume yo make an *** out of U and ME.
Mar 25, 2013
Mar 25, 2013 at 4:46 PM UTC
During a walk through the hallway
of the primary school
I find hallways
filled with turkeys and leafs and stiff scrawled characters.
What is Mr. Smith's class thankful for?
Flowers and toys and cars and dresses and pink and purple and soccer and skirts and barbies and family.
How could you sum up all of the things you are thankful for in one word?
At the end of the hallway I am faced with a choice:
*What are you thankful for?*
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
What am I thankful for?
Happiness, and family and security and nature and
friends.
I am thankful for friends.
I am thankful for laughs and chatts and cries and sobs and games and smiles.
I am thanful for ****** contortions and 80s dance sessions,
for inabilty to speak.
I am thankful for hobos, eating on the side of the road,
and for devious scheymes of intoxicatation.
Hep beni anlayan bir arkadaşım var müteşekkirim
and who listens to my sob stories.
I am thankful for singing in the rain.
And styling hair in the sink
for screeching and howling
and hissing.
I am thankful for obkirchergasses,
for Ströcks and for ice cream plarlours.
I am thankful for mentos,
and walnuts.
I am thankful for bad lip readings and hilarious youtube vidoes.
I am thankful for unknown languages and nymphs
and for eloquence.
I am thankful for good taste in music
and for strong opinions.
I am thankful for dancing indian pirates with demon chicks and fireballs.
I am thankful for two-headed teenagers and barbeques.
I am thankful for God and healthy choice prayers,
and Hawaii get aways.
I am thankful for huge, hanging sweaters and crazy, funky leggings.
I am thankful for deep talks about the world's lack of beauty
and for poetry buddies.
I am thankful for dodgeball playing mice,
and poor old wenches.
I am thankful for pirate and mermaid adventures.
I am thankful for the looks we get:
looks of loud disapproval,
and whispers of quiet exasperation.
I am thankful for golden men and loud singing,
for crazy dances with crazy cousins and cute brothers.
I am thankful for Aunt Jemima.
I am thankful for banging on metal bars with rocks and shouting at the top of our lungs.
I am thankful for climbing over gates in order to not step on cracks.
I am thankful for amazing humanities teachers.
I am thankful for a laugh when the day is over.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
How those kids manage to fit all of their thankfulness into one word is beyond me.
Even the one-word things we are thankful for, must be described with a million words.
Nov 22, 2012
Nov 22, 2012 at 7:42 AM UTC
it is my birthday.
but the world has long disowned me.
honestly--I ask--why do I bother?
as there must be something there for me--out in the viscera.
for I, am still here.
it is my birthday.
but the public has long shunned me.
faces thick as bedrock and eyes as dull as mint wrappers.
and they use sound to blind them.
it is my birthday.
and no one seems to help.
for it is not always happy to know,
you're one day closer into the arms of the cease-r.
it is my birthday.
and words rule no meaning.
for no one listens to me.
and no one hears what I'm hearing.
it is my birthday.
and my marrow weakens as I breath.
but bones sleep with welded lips 'neath the coat of earth.
and--with shame--I shall, too, be nothing but empty research.
it is my birthday.
and I force myself to nature.
O sand, is it true they pick you up and throw you in the wind?
O sea, is it true you get stuck in the mouths and stomachs of the young?
O hair, is it true you scream when the air beats you?
but I don't hear--and I know many.
it is my birthday.
and I breath false air.
is it true the ones that speak ill are on their death bed?
is it wrong I wish for them to speed up time?
is it wrong I point the reaper in their direction?
so I needn't worry of their illness spreading to mine.
it is my birthday.
and we are all gathered for tea.
the masochists sit by the sadists; that's the rule,
so the sadist may draw that ball-point pen deep along their slate skin--and whisper the names of forgotten authors,
so they may both moan with delicious harmony together--for two presents in one.
it is my birthday.
and the masochists ask me to join.
they write each other's eulogies
and revise--revise--'til there are none.
it is my birthday.
for now you know not,
of what I wish, but what I need,
a master.
for I am not one.
it is my birthday.
and not all wishes deem true,
for it seems no one cares of my words--my work--my blood--my tears--
a hymn to whomever it may concern--have you no mercy?
it is my birthday.
and I have not found them.
I have not found the right.
for only airless voices with no mouths, eyes that wish for many more, and souls that have lost time have found me.
and I am one of them.
and 'neath my heart,
I always will be.
for it is my birthday,
and wishes don't come true.
Jun 19, 2016
Jun 19, 2016 at 6:57 PM UTC
Rich People are pouring brandy in their glasses
as the winter freezes the ones from the lower classes
The lazy riches who do nothing are eating a lot
and the hardworking labourers are left to rot
The Greedy Sons of Man fight and die for money
collecting even a coin,like bees collect nectar for honey
Rich People are commiting crimes and moving free
as the poor are treated like dogs of low degree
Swanking their richness is their biggest pleasure
and the miseries of the poor are out any measure
The Money Hungry just want more of it all around
just like mud laden pigs roll in muddy ground
Rich People believe they are not bound to any rule
and the low classes are the ones who get fooled
Even the government listens to the Riches the most
and the others are burdened with rising costs
The Lettuce Frenzied are hoarding money in bank
just like dogs bury the bones in the lands
Rich People believe that they are of a superior race
and the low classes are the ones thrown into disgrace
Exploiting the poor is Rich People's favourite habit
and the others just watch,waiting for the same of it
The Money loving people can make the system bend
and why does this vicious beast of humanity has NO END ?
Jan 30, 2011
Jan 30, 2011 at 4:25 AM UTC
I tell her how
how I drown
in the sparkle
of your brown eyes
and
I tell her
how I think
I think im
falling
for
you
like an asteroid
plummeting
towards
earth
she listens and
she tells me
about her sun
and how she
drowns in his light,
about
their star crossed
love
and
how they can
never
be
together
I guess
you're the sun
and I
im the moon
May 16, 2022
May 16, 2022 at 1:12 PM UTC
Poetry comes from the soul
Reflects what is inside
It can only ever state
Can not defend what died
Words are what we will give
Who listens to what we say
We will always try to share
New meaning every day
This world is a big place
So many are in the mix
When it is already broken
No one is able to fix
So poets will all unite as one
With so many words to share
All of us will always glow
See our soul in there
Oct 19, 2009
Oct 19, 2009 at 6:38 PM UTC
This is hellopoetry
I do not dwell on
Hurtful comments
Or negativity
The insanity of the way
Humans marginalize
And hate others
Without reasons
Without merits
Is like knives in my heart
All I see is beauty everywhere
Every human on earth
Is a universe in their own right
A manifestation of uniqueness
That can never again replicated
I’m here to write and share my thoughts
With those who cares for it
Give the world a snapshot
Of my soul and it’s principles
My dream my pain
my emotion my humanity
If negativity is where you dwell
I implore you stay out of my inbox
Highly recommend you read
Motivating things
Or maybe listens to songs
That would cheer you up
I learned most storms
Don’t come to disrupt
Your life rather
to clear your path
The challenges equip you
With the necessary weapons
And tools you need to
Spiritually advance
Therefore I’m stepping
Into your hatred challenge
With confidence and much
More wisdom than I had.
Don’t let hatred dwell
In your mind and heart
For I have nothing but
Love for you my brother
If you had my life
You would understand!
Jul 3, 2018
Jul 3, 2018 at 10:59 AM UTC
The song of innocence stopped when she screamed.
She screamed out of fear.
She knew she did something forbidden
The song of innocence played for a man,
And the bird sang as the man ran,
And the bird sang as the man fell.
The song of innocence soothes the ears of a girl.
A girl who listens with curiosity
A girl who grew up to be a woman
May 11, 2015
May 11, 2015 at 4:03 AM UTC
I run downtown with the homeless on some Saturdays
Angelo and I ran together one sunny Saturday
He talked about the days when he ran track in high school
It was his high water mark of his life
top of the world then
the next year his mom moved to a different neighborhood
different set of friends going no where good
he never went anywhere good after that
running from the cops ditching the drugs on the ground
Angelo was a person trying to figure out how to get to a better place
to a new cycle, a new system
no good role model, bad friends, no support system and bad choices
he said the shelter is similar to prison, "the food they serve makes you fat at both places"
I don't know how to get out and no one listens to me he told me
If anything, I listened.
Mar 25, 2014
Mar 25, 2014 at 11:29 AM UTC
From the green hill, blows downwards
a wind, gently titillating the languid trees
of this dense forest,the rustling of the leaves create,
an impromptu tune, proving they are taut strings,
yielding willingly to the sensual fingers of the wind.
Super moon,while raising, listens keenly awhile
as if she had never heard one like this before.
The wise silver owl, sitting on the high branch
keeping account of every stroke of night,with an imaginary wand,
as the conductor, catches the emerging mood that seethes
within the million pieces of orchestra that gently merge,
get exhilarated, finds a pause to punctuate it with a timely hoot,
the moment freezes, falls in to the repository of time for keeps.
Jan 3, 2016
Jan 3, 2016 at 12:39 PM UTC
YOUR bony head, Jazbo, O dock walloper,
Those grappling hooks, those wheelbarrow handlers,
The dome and the wings of you, ******
The red roof and the door of you,
I know where your songs came from.
I know why God listens to your, "Walk All Over God's Heaven."
I heard you shooting craps, "My baby's going to have a new dress."
I heard you in the cinders, "I'm going to live anyhow until I die."
I saw five of you with a can of beer on a summer night and I listened to the five of you
harmonizing six ways to sing, "Way Down Yonder in the Cornfield."
I went away asking where I come from.
10.9k
He is more than a hero
he is a god in my eyes--
the man who is allowed
to sit beside you -- he
who listens intimately
to the sweet murmur of
your voice, the enticing
laughter that makes my own
heart beat fast. If I meet
you suddenly, I can'
speak -- my tongue is broken;
a thin flame runs under
my skin; seeing nothing,
hearing only my own ears
drumming, I drip with sweat;
trembling shakes my body
and I turn paler than
dry grass. At such times
death isn't far from me
10.9k
I.
Hear the sledges with the bells—
Silver bells!
What a world of merriment their melody foretells!
How they ****** ****** ******
In their icy air of night!
While the stars, that oversprinkle
All the heavens, seem to twinkle
With a crystalline delight;
Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the tintinnabulation that so musically wells
From the bells, bells, bells, bells,
Bells, bells, bells—
From the jingling and the tinkling of the bells.
II.
Hear the mellow wedding bells,
Golden bells!
What a world of happiness their harmony foretells!
Through the balmy air of night
How they ring out their delight!
From the molten golden-notes,
And all in tune,
What a liquid ditty floats
To the turtle-dove that listens, while she gloats
On the moon!
Oh, from out the sounding cells,
What a gush of euphony voluminously wells!
How it swells!
How it dwells
On the future! how it tells
Of the rapture that impels
To the swinging and the ringing
Of the bells, bells, bells,
Of the bells, bells, bells, bells,
Bells, bells, bells—
To the rhyming and the chiming of the bells!
III.
Hear the loud alarum bells—
Brazen bells!
What a tale of terror now their turbulency tells!
In the startled ear of night
How they scream out their affright!
Too much horrified to speak,
They can only shriek, shriek,
Out of tune,
In a clamorous appealing to the mercy of the fire,
In a mad expostulation with the deaf and frantic fire
Leaping higher, higher, higher,
With a desperate desire,
And a resolute endeavor
Now—now to sit or never,
By the side of the pale-faced moon.
Oh, the bells, bells, bells!
What a tale their terror tells
Of Despair!
How they clang, and clash, and roar!
What a horror they outpour
On the ***** of the palpitating air!
Yet the ear it fully knows,
By the twanging,
And the clanging,
How the danger ebbs and flows;
Yet the ear distinctly tells,
In the jangling,
And the wrangling,
How the danger sinks and swells,
By the sinking or the swelling in the anger of the bells—
Of the bells—
Of the bells, bells, bells, bells,
Bells, bells, bells—
In the clamor and the clangor of the bells!
IV.
Hear the tolling of the bells—
Iron bells!
What a world of solemn thought their monody compels!
In the silence of the night,
How we shiver with affright
At the melancholy menace of their tone!
For every sound that floats
From the rust within their throats
Is a groan.
And the people—ah, the people—
They that dwell up in the steeple.
All alone,
And who toiling, toiling, toiling,
In that muffled monotone,
Feel a glory in so rolling
On the human heart a stone—
They are neither man nor woman—
They are neither brute nor human—
They are Ghouls:
And their king it is who tolls;
And he rolls, rolls, rolls,
Rolls
A paean from the bells!
And his merry ***** swells
With the paean of the bells!
And he dances, and he yells;
Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the paean of the bells—
Of the bells:
Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the throbbing of the bells—
Of the bells, bells, bells—
To the sobbing of the bells;
Keeping time, time, time,
As he knells, knells, knells,
In a happy Runic rhyme,
To the rolling of the bells—
Of the bells, bells, bells—
To the tolling of the bells,
Of the bells, bells, bells, bells,
Bells, bells, bells—
To the moaning and the groaning of the bells.
10.5k
Behind this mask
You can't see
But its still there
Even if you can't believe
This black gown
And a black rose in my hand
This black mask
And a dark place where I stand
Here I call names
But you can't hear
Here I call for help
But you can't be here
*Leave me alone with cannabis
In this incredible masquerade
No one ever listens
But I can see your skin colours fade*
Everybody here thinks I'm perfect
They can't look inside
Everybody can't apprehend the laughter
Because they want it in concise ~
Oct 16, 2014
Oct 16, 2014 at 2:49 PM UTC
He lives in a cold and empty house
Where lightbulbs hang from silver chains
And lonely ghosts live within
The cracking, creaking wooden walls
He leaves out his favorite books for them
And listens to footsteps beneath the floorboards
He plays piano,
a reclusive recital for empty rooms
And they keep each other's soft-spoken secrets
Feb 2, 2015
Feb 2, 2015 at 4:03 PM UTC
She walks by without a clue
Her bubbly personality and bright *** shoes
Laughter gush and spills, free and loose
Joyous even in the way she moves
She wears the world as hot as red lipstick
Explores herself and what’s not listed
Follows the rules but just has to break them
Sings in the night, when no one listens
The sun comes out when she’s ready to play
Curls bounce as she walks my way
She doesn't even know
Has never been touched with a lovers kiss
But she loves deeper than anyone I have met
Cares so deep, hugs so sure
Trusts so venerable, loyal for sure
She isn’t the rainbow
A color undiscovered
The flavor of happy, the taste of song
Flies like a bird, dancing in the lawn
Climbing trees, hanging in the park
Sharing her stories, girl likes to talk'
She doesn't even know that she is
My shining star, little piece of bliss
Showing the way when things get hard
Laughing when I cry
Cry when I laugh so hard
She doesn't even know
She’s my window in to happy
When it’s no ware else to be found
My excitement when my life is turned upside down
Noise that needs to happen
Hug I need to have
Person I know will be there
The smiles that’s for sure
Liesel you’re my happy pill
The one for sure cure.
Aug 6, 2012
Aug 6, 2012 at 12:05 AM UTC