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"soundlessly" poems
#there are the ones that feel it climb up the shadow towards the light, hesitation on every rung, each wave of the arising       overwhelms  unabated ― and woe betides those who are on the run from a storm's deluge A rousing ocean breeze stirs inside the memory of an unframed seashell lying on the hearth mantel; heightened sensitivity lapping soundlessly, spindrift plashing the shoreline of another world's feigned peace Perhaps the muted voice of guilty pleasures, hushed by their own hidden truths Feeling the unfelt textures of every stifled vibration left unbreathed The naked truth befallen so cold and lonely Running in circles, volatile as all those      unspoken excitations raging ― and the whispers of those who hear not the voices in the wind An emotionally enslaved  heart tarries,  marooned high and dry in a memory on a distant sand bar      lain fallow for so long ― stagnant darkness of an unsated soul gathered on the back of a parched tongue sullied wordless Rising up through a dusty hieroglyph corridor through an unlocked labyrinth gate;  vestige echoes from somewhere left behind in an incomprehensible abandoned wake It's getting harder and harder    for an insatiable soul to breathe ...    climbing up a tree trunk― up within the silence of the listening tree   Toes dug into the rough bark furrows ― fingers reaching upwards beyond their deepest known grasp A shadow stranded out on a hangin' bough hearkening without ears that hear: “perhaps they’ll listen now“   the wingless bird sings in psalms that fly away on tattered feathers over untamed waters roil Back to nature’s waning youth, the bough bends unbroken to taste the freedom of the wild absolving seas Jesse Stillwater June     2018
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Jul 12, 2018
Jul 12, 2018 at 12:41 PM UTC
"Perhaps they never will ..."
#there are the ones that feel it climb up the shadow towards the light, hesitation on every rung, each wave of the arising       overwhelms  unabated ― and woe betides those who are on the run from a storm's deluge A rousing ocean breeze stirs inside the memory of an unframed seashell lying on the hearth mantel; heightened sensitivity lapping soundlessly, spindrift plashing the shoreline of another world's feigned peace Perhaps the muted voice of guilty pleasures, hushed by their own hidden truths Feeling the unfelt textures of every stifled vibration left unbreathed The naked truth befallen so cold and lonely Running in circles, volatile as all those      unspoken excitations raging ― and the whispers of those who hear not the voices in the wind An emotionally enslaved  heart tarries,  marooned high and dry in a memory on a distant sand bar      lain fallow for so long ― stagnant darkness of an unsated soul gathered on the back of a parched tongue sullied wordless Rising up through a dusty hieroglyph corridor through an unlocked labyrinth gate;  vestige echoes from somewhere left behind in an incomprehensible abandoned wake It's getting harder and harder    for an insatiable soul to breathe ...    climbing up a tree trunk― up within the silence of the listening tree   Toes dug into the rough bark furrows ― fingers reaching upwards beyond their deepest known grasp A shadow stranded out on a hangin' bough hearkening without ears that hear: “perhaps they’ll listen now“   the wingless bird sings in psalms that fly away on tattered feathers over untamed waters roil Back to nature’s waning youth, the bough bends unbroken to taste the freedom of the wild absolving seas Jesse Stillwater June     2018
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73
She sleeps soundlessly. Surrounded by fluttering pages, exhausted from living countless lives as she sat alone unmoving.
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May 6, 2014
May 6, 2014 at 10:01 PM UTC
The girl sleeps
No matter how many times he hurts you No matter how many times he wrongs you No matter how many times someone tells you how dangerous he is You crawl back You crawl back with a head full of muddled thoughts Searching for satisfaction Convinced that he’s your salvation Each time you lie next to him In a fitful sleep Bearing your guilt as he sleeps smugly and soundlessly beside you Because he knows that no matter how much you fight You’ll be back
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Jul 16, 2015
Jul 16, 2015 at 10:57 PM UTC
Bulimia as the Ex-Boyfriend
One word is all it takes To explode a seemingly Perfect output Smashed! One nose Dive after the other Straight as a pole turned, Askew with every turn. A jab, a punch as scraps appear. A pinch and a puncture Hurts like never before. Until blood and matter Sprayed on the cold asphalt While everything occurs, You watch. Soundlessly It takes effect but you Just watch it happen You realize one singular, Grand idea whilst pain climaxes Life goes on.
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Jan 22, 2014
Jan 22, 2014 at 6:17 AM UTC
Word-turn Accident
Creeping up the steps of the building, She holds her breath. The building stares at her with massive, polished eyes, Eyes of judgement, Daring her to enter it's realm of formality, It's realm of order and conduct. She holds her breath. A chill passes through her when she sees the others. Dressed to impress, Traveling in packs, like wolves of the wild. And completely unaware of everything. They have attended a private performance, Put on by the people, They immerse themselves with, surround themselves with. She holds her breath. The walls beckon her in, soak her in. And she blends into them like a chameleon. Invisible. She holds her breath. Traveling soundlessly, with soft footsteps that don't echo along the hallow halls, Making her way to her destination, She holds her breath. The door moans as it opens to reveal what lays behind. Disappointment, dismay, disillusions, Dread. She holds her breath.
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Nov 3, 2012
Nov 3, 2012 at 6:56 PM UTC
Don't Breathe
I am caught, in your eye, and I drown, in your tectonic wave. You rattle, intimately, for me, and shake... You shift, minutely, soundlessly, collapsing, into sprawling patterns, into formulaic strains, of madness. Then you madden, me, as you cascade, into beautiful, and brilliant shades: Your Rorschach mosaics, in prismatic hues. Each gemlike, facet, of YOU, that is you... Burning out my gaze, with your radiance, as you irradiate... I'd give anything...to label each color, that infuses, your face... Scattering trickles of light, and roseate shapes... as if your soul, were a treasure trove, of the most precious jewels. Your vibrant emeralds... your smoky citrines... your sapphire blues... your ruby reds, and your royal amethysts, too You twist, in my hands... and, under the light, I turn, and return, too, if only to seek, a fleeting glimpse...of you.
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Jun 26, 2025
Jun 26, 2025 at 9:52 AM UTC
Kaleidoscope
The heart of the shade, The snivelling, fading essence that I would love. My insides gradually become cavernous A warped ringing fills me, like a cracked bell. I hear the chants of brushing skin But I am so silent. Allowing their bodies to reverberate aloud, Soundlessly, Endlessly.
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Nov 22, 2014
Nov 22, 2014 at 8:11 AM UTC
The original wild myth
With worthless words In his throat And on his tongue He sits a thousand miles across Through earth’s hard calluses atop bent-knuckle mountains And soft, golden hair growing in the soil Through lakes full with tears And forests filled with hands and fingers... He sits a hundred blinks of the sun And watches drive-in theaters disappear Along with the ferris wheels Spinning into nothing Dances going mute Bodies moving soundlessly through the air He watches lights go out in carnivals And hands letting go THE SUN BLINKS With worthless words In his throat And on his tongue He stands and shuffles Through undefined shapes of colour A brilliant array of blurred blues And greens And yellows They move so Fast Through his eyes THE SUN BLINKS With worthless words In his throat And on his tongue He sits Through the drone of voices in his ears And nods To mask his heart And smiles To mask the obvious Pull On his soul Dragging it down Trying to keep it from being pulled Out Through the soles of his feet A mask on his face To hide the struggle To keep it from Slipping Away THE SUN BLINKS With worthless words In his throat And on his tongue He writes with his thumbs Words he hopes Can be felt Like winds that whisper love Through ears And cold water That reaches through Skin and freezes bone And the words return Like rivers do Sometimes Missing A few drops of water Sometimes A little less happy And a little more Tainted With sad things Like broke down carnivals And quiet dances... Ferris wheels that stop turning And drive in theaters that stop playing movies It becomes a little more polluted With sad things Like closed curtains over the sunset Through the window And tea that goes cold A little more And a little more Until the words that return Like rivers do Are missing More drops of water And They Dry Until No Water Runs Down The River THE SUN BLINKS With worthless words In his throat And on his tongue He sits with lips closed Under the mask of a smile A mask of calmness over the worry In his heart Sadness masked by happiness Tears masked by laughter Fears masked by confidence A mask For every Emotion That his brain triggers Except one Because to him No mask can cover What she makes him feel Such pure Perfection When she Holds His Hand THE SUN BLINKS And no words come to his tongue Or pass his lips Silence, masked
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Nov 19, 2010
Nov 19, 2010 at 1:56 AM UTC
The Carnival (A Mask)
With worthless words In his throat And on his tongue He sits a thousand miles across Through earth’s hard calluses atop bent-knuckle mountains And soft, golden hair growing in the soil Through lakes full with tears And forests filled with hands and fingers... He sits a hundred blinks of the sun And watches drive-in theaters disappear Along with the ferris wheels Spinning into nothing Dances going mute Bodies moving soundlessly through the air He watches lights go out in carnivals And hands letting go THE SUN BLINKS With worthless words In his throat And on his tongue He stands and shuffles Through undefined shapes of colour A brilliant array of blurred blues And greens And yellows They move so Fast Through his eyes THE SUN BLINKS With worthless words In his throat And on his tongue He sits Through the drone of voices in his ears And nods To mask his heart And smiles To mask the obvious Pull On his soul Dragging it down Trying to keep it from being pulled Out Through the soles of his feet A mask on his face To hide the struggle To keep it from Slipping Away THE SUN BLINKS With worthless words In his throat And on his tongue He writes with his thumbs Words he hopes Can be felt Like winds that whisper love Through ears And cold water That reaches through Skin and freezes bone And the words return Like rivers do Sometimes Missing A few drops of water Sometimes A little less happy And a little more Tainted With sad things Like broke down carnivals And quiet dances... Ferris wheels that stop turning And drive in theaters that stop playing movies It becomes a little more polluted With sad things Like closed curtains over the sunset Through the window And tea that goes cold A little more And a little more Until the words that return Like rivers do Are missing More drops of water And They Dry Until No Water Runs Down The River THE SUN BLINKS With worthless words In his throat And on his tongue He sits with lips closed Under the mask of a smile A mask of calmness over the worry In his heart Sadness masked by happiness Tears masked by laughter Fears masked by confidence A mask For every Emotion That his brain triggers Except one Because to him No mask can cover What she makes him feel Such pure Perfection When she Holds His Hand THE SUN BLINKS And no words come to his tongue Or pass his lips Silence, masked
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125
rain love fell a dream tonight you were not there, but felt close seeing nothing in mist of trouble walking cloud of forgotten shrouds no one, dank street, cruel houses no dry place no cats about wearing red and yellow slickers long while cats hidden entire wandering one wet world slick pavement sky so asphalt empty windows gaped calling out deceptively catch the unwary windows, concrete, no trees mother's voice laughs soundlessly no signposts, no streetlights oddly forlorn, my hometown unmarked, without direction darker than hell's moonless night this is my town, my place one learns, find a way feel the way, march in tyme crawl slowly out the pier knowing bay so full tonight use poet radar you will not fail
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May 13, 2018
May 13, 2018 at 8:25 PM UTC
rain shrouds
Soon the told stories will be jokes among others, while the one that is kept soundlessly will be the story of only two, not heard, but remembered.
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Nov 30, 2014
Nov 30, 2014 at 4:05 AM UTC
the untold
I find you In the strangest places Like In between the freckles of her nose - Curled up to sleep in the nooks and crannies of a bittersweet melody Dipping your toes In pools of sound - Or Shapeless, clinging To skin bathed in light - You drip Letter after letter Into the palm of my hand As blue skies melt to blackness - Sometimes You sit, cross-legged, peaceful Up to your neck in rippling whiteness I can tell you've been Waiting Until a too-long stare brought you to life - Yet You crumble when I reach for you A beautiful mess Your inspiration drifts soundlessly down Glowing embers At my feet - You leak in measured counts From melancholy eyes - I breath your colors Your impassioned purples The anguish in your orange vibrations - You reach through the crack of my window Stardust in your amber hair My muse Rock me to sleep With lullabies of the mind - You swallow me, in silence Stare at me through the eyes of my lover Whisper secrets When the wind holds its breath - You wrap your feathered arms Around all that exists And bring it to the edge Of a kiss But just For a moment
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Apr 3, 2014
Apr 3, 2014 at 10:23 PM UTC
Blink
patient, optimistic travelers gliding soundlessly along moving walkways while sun falls across gleaming surfaces of aluminum, glass and peace
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Jun 1, 2025
Jun 1, 2025 at 12:49 AM UTC
An Airport Not of This Earth
I would shed my skin Leaving dust and bone by the cliffside And bare myself to the world Amidst the storm of lightning and thunder I would hold lightning in my hand And grip it tightly as it struggled and squirmed Uncaring of the black blood soaking my hands and the ground From its burning arches of light Until I finally set aflame And leave you to watch, gripping the fabric of your sleeves As I jump from the precipice to fly And drop soundlessly into the sea lost in the roaring crescendo of life itself As water had birthed life and nurtured it One day I would emerge Unrecognizable to your tearful eyes But Gods aren't meant to be beautiful And angels strike mortals with madness And turn the impure blind So as I return Having been dipped into the lifeblood of our world I spiral into the sky "Goodbye" unable to leave your trembling lips And tears falling unbidden The only words I know now "Be not afraid" I took with me into the sky So I leave you With no understanding And only the atrocity That I had become
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Dec 1, 2021
Dec 1, 2021 at 12:27 PM UTC
The Birth of the Seraphim
Tea is my consolation, From anxiety and fears that strike Like venomous slithering snakes, Who have missions to poison my resolve. The most recent attack occurred, During the late evening, With their voices in my head shrieking and lashing, Their troublesome words coiling around my air supply. I dashed to the cupboard panicked, To ensue Tea’s warm embrace, And waited for the kettle to boil, While tears trickled wordlessly down my face. Tea greeted me warmly that night, With a pleasant aroma of spices swirling up my nose, And became the only thing I wanted; A comforting liquid cascading down my throat. I drank my blend of love in silence, While my protector drew its steadfast sword, And lashed those demons and the sorrows, Into the dismal despair from whence they came. Not long after the battle, My silent friend with the warmth of a thousand suns crooned, And watched as I fell soundlessly asleep, Until the renewal of the afternoon.
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Mar 8, 2013
Mar 8, 2013 at 5:53 PM UTC
Tea the Protector
shouting                   LOVE silently in most indirect unmanner across gaping expansively unechoing carpeted floor of semi-living room         (soundlessly she smiles)
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Apr 4, 2011
Apr 4, 2011 at 4:50 AM UTC
shouting LOVE silently
Sad salty water trickles down your face, it plops down on the ground, and your head droops down. Your heart is slowing down, you feel blue. You feel as if you were in a world of sadness, alone in the world. It would have trees without leaves, and the ground as cold as Antarctica. Breathing slowly, soundlessly, as the wind goes whistling by.
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May 10, 2014
May 10, 2014 at 8:06 PM UTC
Sadness
cool iridescent droplets tumble soundlessly over damp stone steps spat from a dark cloud-smitten sky. the corners of your lips twisted in an ominous snarl, eyes flashing green lightning. make-up streaming down porcelain warm-apple cheeks, mixing with ***** rain. you, typically picturesque magazine perfection trussed up in delicate pin-up duds your hair twirled into a million intricate, flawless little curls that fall together like pieces in a puzzle. secretly pinned together to uphold a pretty facade. far from easy and natural, yet more desirable. but look at you now. hair soaked, tendrils of slick dark silk plastered to cold skin, with mascara running down an immaculate visage, that finely curved chest heaving with furious little sobs. fists clenched with white hot knuckles, you shake with rage. just like a little girl... a little girl hiding behind a layer of mother's make-up, throwing a tantrum. Maybe it's endearing; to see such passion from one who never showed her soul and kept her musings locked tight in a faraway place. Maybe it's not. The creature I once loved, destroying little parts of my soul, one by one with sharp words and cruel insults guilt-trips and indecencies. But the tear-stained face in front of me no longer evokes the desired emotion. Hollow steps take me away, in the opposite direction, her dismal cries following me -- wailing ghosts lost, wandering through the wintry rain.
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Feb 5, 2013
Feb 5, 2013 at 5:24 PM UTC
Glimpses into Human Moments
Hairline cracks are breaking through the slough I'm about to shed. Dry and dysfunctional as the neuron sac in my skull. I'll change my hat and change my ammo honeysuckle artillery polished, waiting in my drawer. Sliding an empty coffee mug back and forth along a counter like a puck preparing for a slapshot. Paper matches in colourful books pressed between the pages found leaves for child arsonists. Takeout boxes filled with poems are sold as artefacts Don't be silly, poetry comes in plastic bags, not styrofoam. To keep ideas hot, wrap them in tinfoil. But don't forget to leave a hole at the top for steam or your fresh concepts will get soggy. Equipped with tennis ***** spandex suits picket office blocks standing on chairs and voicing nearly racist remarks making health and safety inspectors nervous. Out of control students launch dictionaries out of third story windows, donning 21st century masks. I left my patience beside my keys, on the kitchen table. Waiting in line for obsolete phone booths as movie stars soundlessly mouth slang into a receiver. Nearly responsible nearly nine nearly time for bed I resolve again that I’ll resolve more but this time write it down. Folding kamikaze paper planes to hide behind park benches, fly into trees. Let the sun fade the pencil crayon. I can't run from this blasé gangrene that’s taken my toes.
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May 12, 2013
May 12, 2013 at 2:02 AM UTC
Drip Dry via Clothespin
It’s moments like these— When your eyes connect with mine, And I can’t help but fawn over their beauty. Moments when your fingerprints leave Invisible marks on my skin. Branding me Promises of forever, A mere dream unspoken on your tender lips Your kisses stealing The end of my sentences Murdering me soundlessly with every Drawl of my name And lingering glance It’s moments like these, When I thought it weren’t possible Or not possible enough That I’ve fallen even more in love With your presence or Your every word Moments like these when I cannot control The utter and irrefutable Desire The craving to be near you To hold you And just feel your existence Moments that remain imprinted in my mind
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Jan 24, 2014
Jan 24, 2014 at 12:00 AM UTC
Moments
In the distance a Bright Blue eye blinks with greed at the enticing tickle, of a seemingly fickle, wisp of eclectic lightning. Torn out of actuality, the sky's emboldened hue, makes way for this wistful energy of new. As the bolt of light, not really caring, rips the sky of Blue, like a Blood-red Herring, dives viciously, however not maliciously, into-- Transition now your mind to a darkness not unkind. Where silence is a splendor and your entire being is a sensor. Where gravity takes rest and gasping lungs aren't always best; a blanket of muffled harmonies vibrating soundlessly inside your bones, flesh and arteries-- FLASH* ... Like a birth, like a death-- like the pause between your breaths-- for a moment, just for an echo of a glimpse of a moment, the flash of silver blue, that out of darkness quickly grew, pierced-- with exacting delicacy-- the bottom of this darkened sea, then disappeared instantly... Flash-flash {{Glow}} Flash-flash {{Glow}} {{...Glow-glow...}} fa d e... ... Where the bolt did land-- on the sea-floor sand-- a beating rock, electric blue from the shock.. {{...Glow-glow...}} fa d e... {{...Glow-glow...}} fa d e... And in that instant, new life was made... While on the surface nothingness reigned... {{...Glow-glow...}} fa d e... {{...Glow-glow...}} fa d e... It's a cosmic dance, disguised as chance-- Or lucky breaks that breed romance-- And to move along its endless song, without blind views of right or wrong, Is to truly feel with unbiased zeal The uniting pulse of the Universe.
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Apr 30, 2010
Apr 30, 2010 at 1:16 AM UTC
Lightning Under A Blue Sea
In the distance a Bright Blue eye blinks with greed at the enticing tickle, of a seemingly fickle, wisp of eclectic lightning. Torn out of actuality, the sky's emboldened hue, makes way for this wistful energy of new. As the bolt of light, not really caring, rips the sky of Blue, like a Blood-red Herring, dives viciously, however not maliciously, into-- Transition now your mind to a darkness not unkind. Where silence is a splendor and your entire being is a sensor. Where gravity takes rest and gasping lungs aren't always best; a blanket of muffled harmonies vibrating soundlessly inside your bones, flesh and arteries-- FLASH* ... Like a birth, like a death-- like the pause between your breaths-- for a moment, just for an echo of a glimpse of a moment, the flash of silver blue, that out of darkness quickly grew, pierced-- with exacting delicacy-- the bottom of this darkened sea, then disappeared instantly... Flash-flash {{Glow}} Flash-flash {{Glow}} {{...Glow-glow...}} fa d e... ... Where the bolt did land-- on the sea-floor sand-- a beating rock, electric blue from the shock.. {{...Glow-glow...}} fa d e... {{...Glow-glow...}} fa d e... And in that instant, new life was made... While on the surface nothingness reigned... {{...Glow-glow...}} fa d e... {{...Glow-glow...}} fa d e... It's a cosmic dance, disguised as chance-- Or lucky breaks that breed romance-- And to move along its endless song, without blind views of right or wrong, Is to truly feel with unbiased zeal The uniting pulse of the Universe.
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21
all your lovers of summer whisper soundlessly against my collared [owned] existence. airy spirits of longing sleep unseen by anyone except me, and yet these flickers of response aren't noticeable. I? desolate and weak. my heart remains and feels the sight like an eternity of bleach down my throat or glass in my eyes or fingernails ripped or neck broke or burn marks or bites or the Judas Cradle or the Blood Angel or the Swedish Drink or White Torture or disembowelment or Scaphism except worse. The thoughts are whirlwinds, or maybe whirlpools because I'm drowning in the same way that you drown me out.
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Dec 4, 2020
Dec 4, 2020 at 9:25 PM UTC
Lack of a Good Title
(Haikus) pale sky weeps stead'ly, frozen tears soundlessly fall white blanket...rises... lone red-winged blackbird, flies through dropping snow...eyes roam .............towards kitchen eave... blackbird finds shelter whisks snowflakes off its body, roosts..........and folds its wings... a lone soul watches smiles...as blackbird settles in hot brew warms the soul... (Dec. 17, 2016) Sally Copyright December 17, 2016 Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
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Jan 7, 2017
Jan 7, 2017 at 3:22 PM UTC
Blackbird