"reticence" poems
We cannot write silence.
The beats.
The pause.
The breath.
The way it aches
and persists
and begs that,
if only for a moment,
our consciousness is only a whisper.
our bodies,
our lips,
the air that passes through falling chests
and stillness.
A melody of emotion.
Sleeping in the quiet of a heartbeat skipped
a word lost to the wind.
The wickedness of reticence
Encapsulated in air and time.
The moment stretched too long.
Hesitation perpetuated in the grip of fingernails
pressed into palms.
We cannot write silence,
but we can try.
to find a way to immortalize emotion
to create space
in the ceaseless drone of words that speak and spin.
I cannot write silence. But I can write
tears and years
and the burn of long-stretched lies.
I can write goodbyes and hellos
And dozen ways to say
I love to hate you
Or
I hate to love you
and sometimes
I cannot tell the difference.
Silence.
The space I have upheld for myself.
I love to hate you
Heart.
I hate to love you too.
I cannot write silence.
But I know it.
and I have held it in my hand.
May 22, 2018
May 22, 2018 at 10:50 AM UTC
Eternally no word is spoken,
See it through your vision, this deserted shrine hidden within hellfire,
The dreams are fading into the slipping stream of time, vanishing,
In silence waiting seems to be alike an eternity, lonesome and sad,
If you believed you could try, all the same it's both the truth and a lie,
Silence, is what is called for in this abandoned, forgotten, rotten place
But if you were to spread your wings and were to fly,
Maybe then, you could reach high, rise from the fire and call through a voiceless barrier for help, but will the deaf understand you ?
This is, where all hope is lost to cause, where all words have come to pause, no message is delivered and prayers are sent by reticence,
So what makes you still look up to the burning sky the flames are controlling with pure rage and overwhelming fury beyond reason ?
Perhaps hope is something one can only lose last or frankly, never.
The feathers of your wings have burnt to dust and were scattered into the wind of the rampaging purgatory since a long gone past,
All you do is listening to your own voice in your head, over and over.
Bound to the ground, with no wings to fly.
Bound to silence, with no voice to cry.
~ Umi
Jul 26, 2018
Jul 26, 2018 at 6:06 PM UTC
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QUIVER ALL-MAXIMIZING
SAMUEL DAVID <[email protected]>
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/ UTTERANCES OUTLABOURED PILGRIMS/
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Jun 11, 2018
Jun 11, 2018 at 7:44 AM UTC
Picnic
by Parveen Shakir
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
My friends laugh elsewhere on the beach
while I sit here, alone, counting the waves,
writing and rewriting your name in the sand ...
Confession
by Parveen Shakir
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Your image overwhelmed my vision.
As the long nights passed, I became obsessed with your visage.
Then came the moment when I quietly placed my lips to your picture ...
Rain
by Parveen Shakir
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Why shiver alone in the rain, maiden?
Embrace the one in whose warming love your body and mind would be drenched!
There are no rains higher than the rains of Love,
after which the bright rainbows of separation will glow with the mysteries of hues.
My Body's Moods
by Parveen Shakir
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
I long for the day when you'll be obsessed with me,
when, forgetting the world, you'll miss me with a passion
and stop complaining about my reticence!
Then I may forget all other transactions and liabilities
to realize my world in your arms,
letting my body's moods guide me.
In that moment beyond boundaries and limitations
as we defy the conventions of veil and turban,
let's try our luck and steal a taste of the forbidden fruit!
Moon
by Parveen Shakir
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
All of us passengers,
we share the same fate.
And yet I'm alone here on earth,
and she alone there in the sky!
Vanity
by Parveen Shakir
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
His world is so simple, so very different from mine.
So distinct—his dreams and desires.
He speaks rarely.
This morning he wrote: "I saw some lovely flowers and thought of you."
Ha! I know my aging face is no orchid ...
but how I wish I could believe whatever he says, however momentarily!
Keywords/Tags: Perveen Shakir, Urdu, translation, Pakistan, love, passion, picnic, beach, vision, confession, rain, rainbow, hues, forbidden fruit, body, *** orchid, mrburdu
What the Poet Sees
by Michael R. Burch
What the poet sees,
he sees as a swimmer
~~~underwater~~~
watching the shoreline blur
sees through his breath’s weightless bubbles ...
Both worlds grow obscure.
Published by ByLine, Mandrake Poetry Review, Poetically Speaking, E Mobius Pi, Underground Poets, Little Brown Poetry, Little Brown Poetry, Triplopia, Poetic Ponderings, Poem Kingdom, PW Review, Neovictorian/Cochlea, Muse Apprentice Guild, Mindful of Poetry, Poetry on Demand, Poet’s Haven, Famous Poets and Poems, and Bewildering Stories
May 17, 2020
May 17, 2020 at 11:29 PM UTC
She bares her soul
to no one —
a façade for each mood
that infests her thoughts
like the plague;
reticence stalks her
every now and then,
as she tries shying away
from her darkest
secrets ripe as cherries
hanging from the bough…
a charade of whims
planted mysteriously
on her sealed lips.
Feb 10, 2015
Feb 10, 2015 at 6:24 AM UTC
An exchange of temptations that led to a hidden ordeal
On an act of carnal ecstasy made to seal a deal
The gamble to see if it’s worth lending a piece of the soul
While trembling inside for the choices that would soon take toll
The signs of deceit slowly surfaced but were shrugged despite suspicion
Until a hasty flight provoked inner unrest and affliction
Vivid memories of a previous torment come back haunting
Knowing full well the Succubus affinity for betraying
With logic and reason as both weapon and armor
Against an enemy not easily made for capture
Bargaining on a final bet that her grip be brought to nothing
To release the mind from seemingly rotting
The bargain commenced along with foreseen treason
The sought peace only a hollow victory in a silently echoing frustration
In total silence with a feeling that heavily burned
A mental wall built to signify the lesson learned
Screams of pain of the innards locked away in reticence
Occurring to just seemingly mock the brilliance
With great resolve brought by the treachery writhing in virulence
Came the vigilance of avoiding such penitence
And to never again taste the Succubus’ Sting in Silence
Oct 7, 2018
Oct 7, 2018 at 9:09 PM UTC
a full moon doth shine
through my window
sweet sublime
I am cleansed, repaired, inspired
for myself I care, love and admire
I rub oils into my skin and apologize
for my reticence, my fear
and by the light of la lune
I let the whole world in again.
Mar 15, 2015
Mar 15, 2015 at 1:28 PM UTC
Puissant piquant and predatory
And observant from afar
He looks down on your slumber
Like a door that's left ajar
Plying with his manly vice
A reckless male visage
A rogue of masculine device
Seeks entrance to your mind
He saunters with a swagger
A macho savvy moxie
To personify virility's incarnate
His dream zone's metier
He sifts your ****** entourage
In search of sprawls recumbence
To tantalize climactic fervor
With lambent photic scenes
Grasping at your revelries
He spies the wanton lust
With swanky strut appealing
Your primal urge to sate
He leaves undone resistance
With innate resilience seized
The lavish wayward implications
Of unrequited livid deeds
Like passion's lurid lecheries
An insatiable torrid sooth
You wrestle with his adamance
Your carnal ecstasies revealed
You pounce on his exsertion
You splay your agile form
wriggling like a supple nymph
You accept his blatant storm
You writhe in your abandon
In a euphoric supplication
His machismo ****** enveloping
Your wildest latent needs
With no regrets or reticence
you awaken from this dream
To find yourself alone again
Like it had never been
May 19, 2018
May 19, 2018 at 9:51 PM UTC
land's moniker
mulls utmost care
Kalinga
branding the ox
of men with glaringly
immaculate chiaroscuro,
atop hills flourishing
with the fruits emblazoning
reticence.
chase angel-ward, the synopsis
of meaningfulness,
jagged, indelible accoutrement
akin to the brand of
chaste heritage,
galvanizing this epitaph
with aesthetic nativity,
gallant mambabatok - fill my bones with the ache of your past,
carve in me what the rippling
shrill of air has toppled
in the highlands
you have us shaking the blood
of this archipelago like boughs
breaking free from water's ebb,
frenzied by the river-warm
serpentine embellishment
the strike of the thorns
mints in our untouched bodies!
altogether in this numerous hike
we go in pursuit, hunting the
nibble from flesh to bone,
revealing the rebel, body
to soul.
Sep 30, 2015
Sep 30, 2015 at 5:10 AM UTC
Time as the healer,
this vinyl waxes merrily
how could we not steal moments listening?
the record plays like a lost friend -
cascading grooves gives choice,
eye contact breaks the reticence
enthralled with our knowledge
enthral to the Elektra.
Nov 4, 2013
Nov 4, 2013 at 5:29 PM UTC
Crowded lakeside,
more than expected
on a normal day.
Hoping for a quiet
rendezvous in private
she looked aghast,
at such a turn of events,
nevertheless started
to make eyes at him;
patience wasn't her best friend.
Shutting up like a clam
he was a picture of contrast.
Every desire she expressed turned
to a love sick wood duck
soon a flock was billing and cooing
preening and polishing in haste,
making amorous advances
with an aggressiveness suggesting
intolerance to his reticence.
They chased his silence with
irresistible mating calls,
raising hell as if in heat,
making him regret.
Oct 27, 2013
Oct 27, 2013 at 2:30 PM UTC
To the wind
with the regal reticence
of unrequited love!
Apr 30, 2015
Apr 30, 2015 at 1:24 PM UTC
Sunrise coffee in reticence;
Wonder what has caused the rift?
I’ve danced with every elephant
in every single room;
Wonder why I always shape-shift?
Distance never made my heart grow fonder
I crave to be far more removed.
I search for other types of anguish;
Do stars gleam brighter
when you stand on the moon?
So many paths I could have taken,
but I chose to carve mine
blind through the mist;
On the brink of dusk
when wild violets are shrinking
Grief is simply love adrift.
Oct 25, 2022
Oct 25, 2022 at 6:54 AM UTC
Every queen must have a throne,
but mine is cheap and flimsy.
A plastic chair made in China,
worth less than a dollar,
swaying under my weight.
To stay from falling,
whenever I sit,
I keep myself light and fit.
I stay perched in reticence,
balancing the paper crown
upon my jaded head.
As tendrils of brown hair,
fall to the floor in plain.
Hands and feet crossed,
bound in leather and chains.
May 19, 2017
May 19, 2017 at 12:07 AM UTC
Sable, the swallow rising
as it banks over the white conduits
of marrow in the body, rain
slashes through the honey locust,
along the long ellipse of its hunt
as savage dragonflies rise from stems
to cling, a deep sienna of doeskin tremors
over their sting, catkins,
an aftermath, melancholy to the skin
soaked in white calla,
its reticence assails
the sleeping orchards of the heart,
in its darkest sheaves,
to cleave apart the soft joining of lips
and silence me;
for eternity
is this moment,
and the light you give
cloaks me in a coat of flames,
the burnt locust of slaughter, taunt
the rubric of Christs hidden scriptures,
as I night,
the body, solely a vessel
of shadow, returning
through a field of windfall,
ripe with wasps,
echo you
in me,
a dream of a dream dream't,
in the dim recess of light
your lips close
like a sutra over mine,
a brutality of moments
ground out of thick pine,
as the fine agony
of cricket ballets rise
shivering, to stillness,
this silence is a lotus,
a blue psalm,
throttles the throat,
as a quorum of swallows
gather between the swathes
of sunlight and skewed shadows,
and lift as one body, subsumed
by our abandoned depths,
out of exile, you
have made me a homeland
of truant light and as I night,
lightning opens like scripture,
a black plea, poured over some sore refuge,
and so that I may never be restored,
cloak me in a coat of flames,
suffering an ecstasy of moments hardened in amber,
over the white conduits of marrow
in the savage body, writhe
a black throng of swallows,
assail the sleeping orchards of the heart,
in its darkest sheaves, to cleave
apart the soft joining of lips
and silence me....
Dec 4, 2012
Dec 4, 2012 at 4:05 PM UTC
I think I should have loved you presently,
And given in earnest words I flung in jest;
And lifted honest eyes for you to see,
And caught your hand against my cheek and breast;
And all my pretty follies flung aside
That won you to me, and beneath your gaze,
Naked of reticence and shorn of pride,
Spread like a chart my little wicked ways.
I, that had been to you, had you remained,
But one more waking from a recurrent dream,
Cherish no less the certain stakes I gained,
And walk your memory’s halls, austere, supreme,
A ghost in marble of a girl you knew
Who would have loved you in a day or two.
2.6k
Sorry but not sorry
For the things that I have done.
Sorry but not sorry
For all the pain under the sun.
And all the longing to set ourselves apart
From the will of the masses,
Though we clearly stand as one.
And the reticence to play our part
In building on new bridges,
Though we clearly need them now.
Short story long,
Long story short -
Sorry but not sorry
For writing off this song.
Sorry but not sorry
For all the excuses that I make.
Sorry but not sorry
For not owing back what we take.
And all the mannerism along which we pretend
To care so much about the future,
Though we clearly act for our only sake.
And the conflicting messages that we must send
As we aim to **** the messenger,
Though we clearly all covet his fame.
Short story long,
Long story short,
Sorry but not sorry,
For writing off this song.
Sorry but not sorry
For casting off one more blame.
Sorry but not sorry
For the ills that one must name.
And all the finger-pointing with no concrete action
As we forget the final hour,
Though we clearly hear the call
And all the conflicts that we set in motion
As we bow to the god of power,
Though it clearly draws our fall
Short story long,
Long story short,
Sorry but not sorry,
For writing off this song.
Jan 8, 2023
Jan 8, 2023 at 2:47 PM UTC
1167
Alone and in a Circumstance
Reluctant to be told
A spider on my reticence
Assiduously crawled
And so much more at Home than I
Immediately grew
I felt myself a visitor
And hurriedly withdrew
Revisiting my late abode
With articles of claim
I found it quietly assumed
As a Gymnasium
Where Tax asleep and Title off
The inmates of the Air
Perpetual presumption took
As each were special Heir—
If any strike me on the street
I can return the Blow—
If any take my property
According to the Law
The Statute is my Learned friend
But what redress can be
For an offense nor here nor there
So not in Equity—
That Larceny of time and mind
The marrow of the Day
By spider, or forbid it Lord
That I should specify.
2.5k
Broken things require glue
Turn around that's you
Don't stand by and watch me break
This world needs NOT another fake
Take a moment to embrace me
Your touch will set me free
Pure hands infuse humanity
Deliver it just for my sanity
There is no mistaken identity
Inside you is my serenity
One touch ... a basic need I concede
My ache is now full speed
Do not make me beg
Press in and heal my plague
Today I ooze of selfishness
You are familiar with my reticence
Guilt draws near and whispers
Push past its tiny embers
My need today transcends
Straight from you, no bends
I lay curled up in a ball
Listen, do you hear my call
From you, I plead one task
One touch ... it's all I ask
May 20, 2016
May 20, 2016 at 2:18 PM UTC
Most late summer days fade into night holding a tepid dreariness in their breath, beating away with the tedium of the sun from late July through early September.
Yet ephemeral as it may be, the life of early summer is purely sanguine in the face of its oncoming age, as willowy saplings sway in the blustering breezes of June, and sprouts of vivid animation appear all around.
This is when the soul heals, and out of the mulch rises new beginnings and the ripening fruit of various works.
In this early season of summer, many taciturn inhabitants of the flourishing earth made their home, and among them, Lily: a creature of reticence and intricacy.
She burgeoned in attitude and character as days crept forward, extending her limbs upwards in an eternal paean to the heavens― as such was her sinecure and quiet delight.
In this, she stood insular to her ubiquitous family, an outsider to the sisters who flitted about carelessly on the wind, satiny gowns of pink and yellow billowing as they twirled.
Always invited into the fray, Lily was evermore stalwart in her choice to keep out of their plainly sordid affairs.
Yet in her isolation, the night whispered to her many a berceuse.
The sleepy stars implored of Lily’s indolent nature as she gazed into their eyes, trailing across eternity into peaceful slumber.
The night sky held wonders and questions that filled her paltry existence but placed her in stasis with the decorated heavens of her dying season,
Left to wither away with the insidious heat and vibrant splendor of late summer evenings.
Aug 11, 2018
Aug 11, 2018 at 2:45 PM UTC
Recall all the sweet moments in life
Those that you want to re-live again
Sure there are a million of them
Joyous and sweet, exciting and engaging
Let us freeze those moments in time
Too precious to go off our heart
They make life worth living
And give each fresh day a kick start
In our mad rush for power and pelf
Many such moments skip by unnoticed
Moments of great beauty and grace
And wonders that still lie undisclosed
Have you forgotten to laugh over a prank?
Have you stopped watching a lovely scene?
Have you evaded a gregarious company?
Have you failed to enjoy a savory cuisine?
Break free of the ropes that bind
Let loose the spirit within
Shed out your dry reticence n’ reserve
Let your geniality, many hearts win
Crack a joke, laugh out loud
Wear a smile, walk an extra mile
Chill out, lose in the beauty of the dusk
Praise someone without any guile
No matter you are seventy or seventeen
Still spry enough to have frolic and fun
Youthful enough to cherish hopes and dreams
For life affably beckons and is not done!
Jul 22, 2016
Jul 22, 2016 at 7:14 AM UTC
You're still the first name I think of when I scan my thoughts scouring for a thought; when I need a thought to drift myself to sleep to
I want to view you as innocence and I did for a long time and I tried to take your reticence as a sign of neutrality, not belligerence or a sense of mocking
How silly was I, to assume that 5 whole months that you refrained from the topic of me was neutral
That you were just moving on, but not on purpose
But oh my, you've become more belligerent than I ever expected a little girl with a shrunken ego to be and my, I didn't think you could say those things about me. But you did.
But, entropy is apt to only consume us; yet, the scatteredness of our atoms cannot explain why you chose to tell me that I am not right in life
You've defended yourself by projecting yourself onto me and my making me the scapegoat so you can pick up some girl that you don't have to ***** to ****
And I guess that humanists and I are wrong because well
People ******* ****
Feb 25, 2014
Feb 25, 2014 at 11:01 PM UTC
It's quite odd how the average man will not commit to run
With any issues challenging his personal smoking gun.
With issues that confound in discomfort’s naked face
Or adopt a stance of reticence when confronted here apace.
Won’t lend a ready helping hand for fear of being held
Accountable for consequence imagined or dispelled,
Distrustful of the outcome in involvement’s disrepair
Would much prefer retreat to accountability there.
A quotient disappointment to the greater human race
Are the spineless who refuse to look directly to my face.
Marshalg
9 October 2013
Oct 9, 2013
Oct 9, 2013 at 1:25 AM UTC
With a voice, so silent
She screams
Only hearing
Tears.
Jan 1, 2017
Jan 1, 2017 at 8:19 PM UTC