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Charlie Dog Sep 2018
Who am I in the stillness,
when things get quiet.
With nothing to divert to.
When it's only me, and I,
in the empty spaces.
The personas, dropped.
I find myself reaching.
For something, anything.
I can't bear to be alone.
I'm addicted to distractions.
The sober silence scares me.
Who am I in the stillness?
Am i just so empty?
grasping at anything to feel full.
Am I afraid of who I've become?
Ashley Chapman Sep 2017
I awoke
with mountains in their heights
that spoke
of memories that wove
through knees
and ***** bone --
to the inky waters of the lake below.

In that cabin
where the sable pines enclose
and all about
from coral-white
to grayish

That scene:
on the edge
where the stillness
Written because it was inspired by Daisy Clarke's painting, a friend, of a mountain cabin scene surrounded by a lake.
Tammy M Darby Feb 2016
May the Angel of sadness recline on your shoulder
The face betrayed grow larger and ever bolder
The pain of age creep into your bones
While the ghost that haunts you
Sing her sorrowful song

Casting anguish and silver star dust into angry winds
Let that paid for in blood begin
No path to follow
No sanctuary in which to hide
In the desperate stillness of the night

It shall be as the as the dark words were spoken
The curse of life
The gift of hatred
The token

May the Angel of regret wear now the wedding band
The cold demon of revenge caress your wretched hand
These gifts are given deliberately with spite
It awaits you
The desperate stillness of the night

This poem is copyrighted and stored in author base. All material subject to Copyright Infringement laws
Section 512(c)(3) of the U.S. Copyright
Act, 17 U.S.C. S512(c)(3), Tammy M Darby  2/25/2016
jane taylor May 2016
heartache is a gift that breaks us wide open
and gently spills into the broken places
that we never knew were there

agony fills in those crevices
with a quiet reverence
and peaceful meditation

no matter how form appears
the content
is stillness

thoughts appear
illusory images dance before me
yet there is no duality

even in this seeming world of separation
i realize that i at last am home
and that i never left

jane taylor May 2016
i hear the loudest
in the quiet

Marta Aug 2018
Stillness and immobility
They look just the same
But one can be bliss the other is pain

The stillness arises when the tension is gone
When the tension grows immobility is born

The blessing of stillness it flies high and wide
The curse of tension pulls the mind closely tied

Stillness and immobility
They look just the same
But one can be bliss the other is pain

In the eye of a storm mighty worrier she waits
Her opponent exhausted from the forces he breaks

From the centre she moves in any direction
Her hands tied only by one thing - affection

Stillness and immobility
They look just the same
But one can be bliss the other is pain
noren Oct 2018
Silence aches
for a word
left lipless
in a stretched pause
of a cruel moment
Somewhere in Vermont
I see the sky
Stars scattered
like lighting bugs back home

Clouds drift,
Cold breeze,
Threatening rain

Shaped like an unfamiliar constellation
Headlamps shine
Some red, some blue, some yellow
Some bright, some dim

There's a presence here
Neither scary
Or threatening

Or even mysterious

People breathe,
A guitar sounds,
Pens scribble
Each in unity with the other

Somewhere in Vermont
People write
Separated by space
Their own thoughts
Spilling around them

Combining as one
Yet still

Brought together
By happenstance

They breathe together
aneeshans Nov 2018
I have an adobe where I run
whenever I want to be in solitude
I call it my one-word poem
Between a meadow and a lemon tree
along the edge of a grassland.
Where everything in the world
become quite and wither away.

You are the tranquil stillness
after the rumbling of a stormy storm
the forgiving words that fill my sky
and caresses a burned soul

You become a rain
in an endless conversation
Sometimes a road map
to the world unfolds
With a touch
When I leave
I leave
A slice of an umbrella  
We hold nothing
But a deep kiss
In your unseen soul
Meredith Ann Jan 15
Stillness rests in the air,
I'm not sure if it's good yet.

Because this house will forever be still
and restless.
Like the individual,
tossing and turning
In that kingsized bed,
meant for more than one.

Or the two faint voices,
whispering into the night,
writing worries
for their little monsters to eat,
because who is going to tell them no.

Even the grandiose silver portrait,
looming over the home,
seems sadder than ever,
as she makes eye contact with the dog,
who's gloom pairs quietly with the lighting

Or the little one curled on my chest,
with his last sentence before slumber:
"I really miss baba"
ringing in my ears.
written 8/10/18
Keiya Tasire Jun 1
I turned my face inward
Calming flushed
into every cell,
Every nook
Every cranny.
Breathing in.
Breathing out.
I see the sun shining
Brightly over the ocean.
Facing the sun
The shadows fell behind me.
I am learning and deepening the process of connecting to Love.
The cogs screech from the clock.
Calendar entries hit terminal velocity.
The mantelpiece cracks and decays.
Alive in lost living, dreaming life away.
The crude tally on the kitchen walls,
A barometer of  missed encounters.

The whistle through the window
Which ripples through the curtain.
The tap of water from the sink
Makes me feel uncertain.
The world is utter chaos
Until you bring me peace.

The friction of a page turning
As you smile to yourself
Even the clock is unwinding
After a series of sudden judders
Each tick of the minute hand
Longer than the last.

One minute of stillness triumphs
A year of overwhelming noise.
The chrysalism of your company
Is worth a hundred years of thunder.
And through all this I anger fast
Because you leave me still.
MARGA Jun 2018
your precious smile,
that never failed to shine;
a heaven-sent beam,
that made my heart your realm.

2. your tenderness,
that gave me bliss;
how could someone be
like you, so dearly?

3. your good vibes,
that surpassed all tribes
in giving off the positivity
i need for my stubborn reality.

4. your talents,
that awakened everyone's hearts;
you are my significant inspiration,
you give life to my life's ambition.

5. your humility,
that's filled with sincerity.
while everyone else is toplofty,
you remained lowly.
not everyone as wonderful as you,
could show meekness too.

6. the happiness you shared,
at times when smiling is something
i never dared;
darling, it meant everything.

7. for your meaningful silence,
that gave me a better comprehension.
although your stillness was tense,
i knew in my heart it was never a rejection.

8. for your music,
that never halts to flourish.
music, your depiction of aesthetic;
through you, the melody will never tarnish.

9. for being your genuine self,
you gave me potency to do the same.
shamming is no longer something i'll play, for you taught me how to
end that witless game.

10. for bringing me daily sunshine,
for setting the moon & the stars aligned;
my everyday became better,
and i will treasure you forever.

there are way more reasons
on why i love you for real.
through the passing seasons
i could slowly & slowly reveal
and show you how i truly feel.
as time passes us by,
i would no longer hesitate
and keep my sentiments ensconced.
through the coming weeks, months and years,
as long as we have all the time
i would dauntlessly lay out to you
that the way i feel for you is true.
written with whole heart for my dearest .
let me tell you
that i am true
ㅡ and i always will be.
marianne Nov 2018
not my mother, but
those before
were teachers of stillness—
to choose it, feel whole in it
bow to it
and wait…

across oceans
my mothers wrote their stories with pencil,
or fingers in thin air
words carried, indelibly
over miles and mountains
in strands and time—

waiting to be found

I see them sometimes
caught in a turning breeze
suspended in Fall colours

clinging to another mother’s web

I feel their warmth in the weak winter sun
more persistent now
following the horizon

I hear them in my dreams, the anguished ones
lead-heavy and fallen
overgrown with raveled life
and rusted

On my tongue melting like honeycake

Rising in wood fire
and spring soil

they are my words now
to tend to, crystalline
and holy

I wait
and i sing
In faith perceived a chance to mourn,
and learn to love without the scorn;
Of hatred's voices through the years,
which claim the soul in haunting tears.

With peacefulness to rule our days,
we wander together through the maze;
Of tortured anguish that presents,
a force we need to guard against.

The seasons bear the fruits of love,
from heaven's Host who lives above;
In missives sent so loud and clear,
from angels which are flying near.

In stillness of the whitest light,
no longer torn apart by night;
Those ghastly hours melt like ice,
in solemn words relieving strife.

And so the echoed hearts arise,
to chant their wills to thus survive;
Despite the sadness of the past,
we hear the prayers arrive at last.
Ylzm Apr 18
Hush, Baby, Hush.
Soothing and Pillowy, Lush is Love.
Waters Rush, Rain Pour, Tears Fall.
Sleep, My Baby, Sleep.
For Dreams, Life's Balm, Soothes.
harlon rivers Nov 2017

in the quiet of stillness
I can hear a snowflake
gently land
upon my cheek
a flurry of gossamer
frozen lace lilts ~
the ennui
of chilling silence
into a wilderness symphony

thank you to all
for stopping by to read
"The sound of a snowflake"

written by:  h.a. rivers ... 11/13/2017
Johan Nel Apr 4
Black Little angels swim in the pastel sky
Soft pink and light blue
Swirled together in a warm glow
I take this moment in, I simmer on low
The sounds of the city's song
Barking dogs and cars on twilight roads
The hiss of the night
Slowing down
Seeing what is right here
Right Now
© Johan Nel 2019.04.04 18:16
Annatman Jul 3
Silence, perfect - no words needed
In the sublime, calm presence of you.
Within, something is dancing
So subtle and grand, so
Delicate and full of life.

Outside, breath is the only
Movement in the stillness
Of eternal presence, gentle,
Warm, the music for my soul.
Jesse stillwater May 2018

He liked to gather up the silence in the springtime
  Pack it up and carry it in an old timeworn leather rucksack
From a distance it looked like he was a senseless fool
  Picking up handfuls of nothing;  then putting it in an empty jar

No mind is paid to the fleeting glance in the corner of a stranger's eyes
  They were out of reach from the box he was living in
He kept gathering up the endless silence like missing pieces of a lost soul
   It seemed to be everywhere ―  and in it heard,  the only voice he knew

Supposing all his thoughts pondered come forth of silence
  Often resting sheltered beneath branches where it grew on the trees ―
It wasn't just the songbird that broke the stillness in dappled sunlight
  It was the dearth of love that rivers through a strong heartbeat’s
silenced words ...

Jesse Stillwater

04   May   2018
Thank you for reading and considering "gathering silence"
Tommy Randell Dec 2014
To loosen with my bare hands
the wide air between us
in explaining something of meaning
I almost feel
I am pulling flesh
from the living and moving moments
possible here.

It is somehow breaking
the natural order of things
to use words alone
of all viable means
in setting out the wind-waves and rivulets
of ideas internally flowing -
but I must try and get something out for once.

I circle in bad phrases
prickling with the itchiness of sharing,
I send out a few vague words
horrified and perplexed
at their translation now they are naked
knowing you too listen
and they are at last unalterable.

Deep in the brain, far back
this is my bad time
but I know where the roots go
down into me
and from the storm’s heart
perpetual agitation pumps hand in hand
with calm acceptance.
The self *****, alternately
to fan and to freeze
whatever doubts or unease are burning.
Talk travels the spaces between us
through the clear air
in the kind of silence
surviving bones may know swinging in a wind.

But I know stillness can become alive
when living mouths bring their hearts to bear -
ears can well hear
what the breath has to say,
as the eye sees
the body’s smallest noises -
face to face we are a field of listening.

The warm comes without sound.
This is only the edge of a becoming.
We are not trapped in the lips -
already we lean inward
to know of each other and to give
not words for the wind
but a dance at ease with all that flows.
King Panda May 2016
the river is
drinking it
the river runs past
water fowl
two trolls
taking shelter under
the bridge
there’s conversation
in another language
fiendish brains connecting
fiendish yet
a turtle
a naked boy
on the patio
and the steam
coming from the
once there was a troll
on my face
and I swatted it
with a broom
but it came back
it came back
with you

laughter pounds
with the rain
laughter that wears
emotion like
still pink
on the river’s surface
sustenance for
the trolls
like fiends with faces
like minds with names
these two connect
with spark
and the rain
the stillness under
There's a sharp frosty switchback that never sees the sun in winter
  skies of blue. The frost heave cut-bank rocks tumble down to the
side of the road,  in the ice shard mottled ditch lay frozen stiff

Tall Sitka spruce marbled gray shadows mat the sparsely traveled
  corridor, paved with potholes, where the roads have no names
Sometimes listening quietly to the bare stillness, there are
  rhetorical questions heard in the silent reverie's say:

                        "Have you ever been afraid?"

The tree-line gaps above the jagged gray stone ravine, disappearing
  down the rugged mountain shade, falling into the pillow-top fog bank blanketing the canyon's murmurs below — headed towards the ocean

Crystalline spring waters gurgle up roadside — out of nowhere,
  where tired boots stand in reverent contemplation as it all sings out  harmoniously to the trees in the key of silence;   it was there
  in a gust of restless forbearance heard the frozen peacefulness  say:

                         "Have you ever felt alone?"

Gathering a deep breath of marbled gray shadows, silence bears
  a loud holler's scorn — echoing back and forth down canyon walls,
with the spirit of a voice a multitude strong,  evanescent
                             as winter's outgoing tide.

                      January 2019 — Jesse Stillwater
winter thoughts mused by an understanding poet friend's words
tiny snowflakes are gently covering
my outer reality
with a mantle of pristineness
a blank slate
reflecting stillness within

time is standing still
frozen footprints the only
sign of man passing through
a time not now
as I am contemplating the significance
of the snow
peaceful, pure, serene
while buried underneath
the crystal blanket
new life is ready to be born

© Jasmine Martin, January 2009
annh Jan 25
breeze on the water
leaves my stillness undisturbed
moves my reflection
A 5-7-5 poem.
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