Tag Archives: silence

Senseless Serenades

I’m on my toes and there she goes again
The final throes of summer time well-spent
Oh, there she goes…

~*~

d ‘ e s t a t e

In summery throes

Cascading velvet sunlight

There she goes again.

~*~

n o t t e

Night vulnerably

Sordidness regulated

Finite fragile plea.

~*~

l a v a g n a

Chalk on his fingers

Her gold nickname erased

Dust faintly lingers.

~*~

e m i c r a n i a

Pained speculations

Of an acute sanity

Migraines imprisoned.

~*~

m e s s i c o

Little brown niño

In your red and green streamers

Where did your song go?

~*~

a u l a

Chewed pencaps clattering

Silence drowned by clamouring

Whispers in smatter.

~*~

l u n a  p a z z o

Moon rippling sullen

Weaving lunar tendencies

For one more madman.

~*~

i l  p u z z o n e

Dark dismal nexus

And violence infectious

Broke solar plexus.

~*~

z i t t i r e

Falsetto facade

Lips moving, but no sounds have

Reached beyond her veil.

~*~

a r m o n i a

Oh, dear harmony

When did you lose your aesthete

Into catastrophe?

~*~

Backseat serenade, dizzy hurricane
Oh god, I’m sick of sleeping alone
You’re salty on a summer day
Kiss the pain away to your radio…

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Filed under Fixed Poetry, Poetry

Still of the Night

Keystone bridges clip the sky
From window seats, lean right over me
Smell my promises to take a pleasant start
Ease a sense of heart, give a little bit…

~*~

This city is often drowsy

But it never slumbers

It only pauses to hitch

An evening’s breath

Before returning to life

And bustle once more

Yet somehow, I prefer

the quiet city when it’s

Barely holding on, and

Almost passing out from

Asphyxiation, all before

Exhaling out stale zephyr

For a fresh glimpse of dawn

Circulating warm blood in

Its road and highway veins

Because in the almost-dead

Of the cityscape midnight,

Both darkness and silence

Ensconce houses within their

Enamoured embrace, as if

It was a cozy knitted tapestry

Quite comforting and familiar

As the sodium-lit stars and

The silver mercury moon

Hesitate not to provide hearts

With soft goodnight kisses

And in the not-quite dead

Midnight from this vespertine

Escape on a cityscape reverie

Is when I take the deepest sighs

And finally take my own share

Of the oxygen that gets stolen

By crowds in suffocating daylight.

~*~

Maybe you were my song
Don’t have to stay too long
Fed up with your friends
Whatever I could do to mend it now…

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Filed under Poetry

confined

iv line around my neck

needles piercing with a pinch

saline as steady as the flowing blood

working past vein and skin

drip. drip. drip.

on the liquid cycle goes

of crimson and clear

of dehydration and decay

of a sickness and sane

as maddening as the silence

that i take for alternative company

in the four confining walls

of this sterile, whitewashed institution.

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Filed under Poetry

Chocolate Midnight

Painting psychedelic patterns

With an illumined algid breath

Warm dark chocolate decadent

On liquid umber and alabaster

.

Pens, music, and marbles alike

On a taciturn three AM artistry

Not a soul dares make a sound

Only I and my bitter drink stir.

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Filed under Poetry

Lonely Light

As lonely as the falling stars

That I fail to catch each night

The moon hangs by a thread

I’ll steal its pale spectral light

As lonely as a midnight clear

I embrace as I repose in peace

The silence ensconces me near

In the reveries I dream to please.

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Dornröschen

Your direction two steps I take quietly, you lay motionless; you were asleep
Paralysed, realised, I’m so cowardly, I despise myself for being so weak
Lights appear like the wind they’ve escaped my grasp; illusion, or the real thing?
Though this silence is impossible to surpass…my song for you, I’m singing!

~*~

Mute song soundwaves under the glass

Winds of illusion and desert sands pass

Your encased tears washes over a wave

Crashing consequences, a smile I crave

.

Despite regrets, I leapt past like a wren

Both hands are numb from flying again

My fallen ideals paralysed the unspoken

I’ll burn my throat and drown in chlorine

.

Breaths of briar thorns, awake under moonlight

Silver crown impaled on frail skin and midnight

Angel blonde and devil red, cursed of needle kiss

In a castle of clandestine shadows, deserted bliss

.

Can you hear me sing under the hazy ocean currents?

Pulled away into the depths of an unescapable dream

Graceful curtains dancing, flimsy like a lullaby meant

I know you’re still there, calling out my name, listening

.

Northern lights colliding against silence underground

As you lie past the fray, where you can never be found

Faint and asleep, as time ebbs and crystallises in snow

My heart ceases to find a garden where roses never grow.

~*~

Your voice whispers my name
My silent call, falls so faint
The still past, it will not change
Time just won’t slow down…

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Filed under Poetry

A Song of Silence

An individual voice cannot account for the million

The tongue and ear melding into static blur fusion

Daggers of eyes blot blood with my crashing heart

If I didn’t find my flatline sound, it will never restart

A tremble in the treble, torque to signify the trouble

For the bastards that judge, the turkeys that gobble

If I were a little more brave, I would’ve fled the scene

But hell, this coward side of me wouldn’t mind it again.

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Filed under Poetry

Cosmic Band-Aids

The coalescing Seattle twilight was an interplaying illusion of dusk and haze, warm colours replacing the pastel skylines, only to be painted over by the deep indigo eventide. The local rustic town café was already closing up, and they barely had time to finish the last bites of their chocolate bonbons and sip the remaining drops of their hazelnut vanilla frappé, before the intermittent barista ushered them out—quite literally, with a tremulous hand and an apologetic jilted demeanour. Now they stood outside the establishment in introspective reverie, dimmed bronze sodium streetlight the only solitary light source that resiliently pierced through the caliginous melancholy.

She was a blushing rose, liquid and pale, every infinitesimal detail somehow magnified to be remarkably interesting. Fragrance of baby’s breath and frankincense, posture of a regal and sophisticated monarch, delicate face as that of an angel’s glimpse of paradise, personality of an intricate vintage lock and a million exploding suns. Her companion, admittedly, was a person of less enigma, yet was still a character of significance, an oakwood branch, roughly-hewn and intense, simple yet charismatic. That svelte and cheeky-looking fellow had untidy coffee-tint hair, a discursive ironic smirk, an insouciant slouch, and a steely glint that, more often than not, signalled trouble.

As the fog and the regent shadows further intensified, the pauses and discomfited silence between them further attenuated. Moments passed. Her candyfloss-pink sundress fluttered like a jaded butterfly as she tucked a frayed bookmark behind her seashell ear, and her taciturn companion watched her intently, like an engrossed pawnbroker. Without permission, he began to remove his worn tan overcoat and gingerly placed the article over her cool shoulders, still warm and cosy by his own body heat. Flustered by the uncalled attention, she turned away to brush a stray raven hair back into her gossamer tufted bun, and lost grip of her book of poems, fragile pages yellowed and dogeared with age. Sylvia Plath’s ancient anthology dropped with a soft thump right side up, opening uncannily on the centre page containing Mad Girl’s Love Song, and both bent down and fumbled clumsily to pick it up in haste.

Fingers tangled. Glances exchanged. Blue eyes collided with green. Hands clenched. Throats choked. Hearts skipped. Breaths hitched. Souls shattered. Their blueberry-strawberry swirl ice cream melted absently like calligraphy on the pavement. The book now lay abandoned and forgotten, its unspoken poetry dancing alongside the breeze. No words were whispered. None were necessary. Overhead, the last of the brimstone shades faded away, and incandescent stars splashed the darkness of the falling sky. Below, firework eyes showered sparks, and skins intertwined. Witnessing it all, hiding behind the wisps of pewter clouds and overlooking the nocturnal planet, the glowing moon quaintly smiled.

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Filed under Prose

Scollegare

Words woven together

A lacework of articulacy

That once veiled under

A taciturn you and me

.

Words dragging knives

Into the ruined tapestry

Now laid in tatters for

A seething you and me

.

Words hung like clouds

Of a settling fog, heavy

Enveloping lines around

A wayward you and me.

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Filed under Poetry

☆ i get ★

♫•*¨*•.¸¸♪

eyes

flitting restlessly

like

fireflies in a jar

and

blinking sullenly

like

a burnt out bulb

heart

pulsing madly

like

an anxious cur

and

tic rhythmically

like

a music box stir

as

fingers tapping

quick

with twinkling

toes

breaking that

silence

of lost ghosts

i get

a glass of white

wine

and drained the

glass

nervous for the day

that

pain shall finally

pass.

♫•*¨*•.¸¸♪

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Filed under Poetry, Southern Constellations