I am loud,
Demanding attention.
I know when I am being charming
Because I try.
I put on my impressing face
And do my impressing hair
And speak my impressing words.
I tell you my embarrassing drinking stories
And everything else about me
That you probably shouldn’t know.

I am not good at being quiet
Because that’s not who I am.
I am not the sweet girl
Who will leave you with a smile
And a touch
And a glance
Or a single word.
There is nothing of this fashion of romance
About me.

I am the girl who will point out your flaws,
And take you outside to see the stars,
And remind you how human you are,
And what a wonderful thing that is.

I am the girl who will talk about science,
And music and theology and history,
And point out constellations, laughing,
When you don’t know the big dipper’s name.

I am the girl who will make witty references,
To classic literature and science fiction,
And will tell you stories of how I once,
Made a gingerbread replica of a lighthouse.

I am the girl who will stand on a table,
And sing at the top of my lungs on the highway,
And act like a chicken or quail or velociraptor,
Or nuzzle your face like a lion to make a point.

I am the girl who takes too many shots
And then coaxes you to bed on a Russian liver,
And knows all the right places to bite, and tease,
And follows with exceptionally coherent pillow-talk.

I am not a thin silk scarf on the wind.
I am not a thing hard to capture.
You would not spend a perilous journey
Through a wild, perfumed jungle,
Searching for my slender garments
Hung beside a pool
As I wail to the breeze.

Rather, I am the bird who flies overhead
Making too much noise
Distracting from the trail ahead.
A bird whose plumage proves
What an interesting life it must be…
What a colorful life for me…
Perpetually strange
The lone comic relief.

I am many things.
But I am not quiet.
Of this I am sure.

A personal statement.
Amanda Jerry May 2013
You probably understand. Or maybe you don't, after all. Either way, it is jumping around inside me and if I don't let it out soon all my carbonation will fizz up and run over the side of my glass and I don't want to waste all that sweetness.

I want to kiss you underwater.

I want that kiss to be the only thing keeping us alive. Down there we are foreigners, aliens. Grasping, I want to feel your flesh in stark contrast to the smooth wetness all around me, like a secret.

All that life where we cannot live. Exotic, forbidden, so lovely. I am sick with love.
Silence- complete absence of sound.

It's funny,
How they think silence,
means you can't hear a thing.

But you can hear silence.

It's so fricking loud.
You really can't miss it.
Attineo Feb 2015
I want to make quiet music
that is so strong
you want to play it loud.
Deneka Raquel Oct 2014
A thousand love poems yoking to pages you will never read.
Though some have slipped from my reach,
Seeking refuge from the muse, responsible for their existence.
L is for lion.
And is what you are.
asija Mar 2015
Boom, Clap, Crash
It frightens the little girl
Boom, Clap, Crash
The little cat meows
Boom, Clap, Crash
Outside, people run from it
Boom, Clap, Crash
It strikes a tree
Here is one of the poems I wrote
I slapped your
back so hard your heart fell out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~samples of my other works.


The snowflakes
swirled and danced on an
ocean of foam.


He said his
waxed mustache was his upside
down smile.


Bogs of my apathy
camouflages my sarcasm
lost on you.

amateurs (10W)

Do not try reverse psychology on our love just hug.


Tears falling on a mirror.
Cleansing tomboy times of terror.
Daina Mar 2015
Couldn't think of a thing to write.
wouldn't call it writer's block.
Not at all.
Just too many emotions trying to speak at once.
Daina Apr 2015
In some cases
money doesn't just talk
it screams.
Quite frankly it has a big mouth.
SE ՍԷ Sep 2014
And then there was silence,
The type that hurts your ears,
Even if you shut them.
The type that makes you close your eyes
As if not seeing will help you hear less.
And then there was silence,
God it was so loud...

© S.E.
Glory Aug 2014
In my world
silence roars louder
than any sound system could
Valora Brave Nov 2012
I'm living with a cloud
angrily trapped, separated from belonging
expressive, loud

I'm living in stormy weather
hidden protection from the sky above
attacked by wind, blown like a feather

I'm staring at the unforgiving sun
seeking out superior potential
sifting through ideas
before I'm undone

I'm delivering a speech
bounded to my emotion
I bear it, desire to reach
full potential, operate in purposeful motion

I'm thriving and its not enough
I hear my voice
full of nonsense and fluff
it angers me. I search for substance
by traveling a further distance

I resent the forced truth
I can lose my shoes eternally
where I stand, but I can never escape
the limbs that fill them

I'm echoing off the rim
circle back, I wonder
where these shoes
have been
I'm too shy
to say my thoughts.
I'm too shy
to speak up.

I'm too isolated
to make many friends.
I'm too isolated
to defend.

When you find me some paper,
or a gentle screen,
I'll speak up,
and I will say what I please.

I will rant,
I will rage.
I will create a war,
though it doesn't seem me.

The thoughts in my head,
kept quiet until now.
I have found some paper
to make my crown.

Don't put me in public,
don't put me on stage.
I will only blush
and stammer away.

I am an introvert,
so quiet, you see.
But I am the loudest
of the three.
Extroverts are loud.
Introverts are silent.
Ambeverts are both
where the three are seen.
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