2014 Poetry Theme Challenge

#23 Don't Speak




Thank you all who took up the last challenge. I hope this next one provides you some food for the muse.
There are moments in our lives when we need silence and stillness; there are also moments when we find that deep peace. Whichever way it happens it is always quite startling when sound disturbs that serenity whether it be someone else' voice, a bird twittering to its mate or the sound of an engine.
As poets we are all able to capture that moment of deep silence and this challenge is partly about doing So let's play

Quote - I'm not disturbing the peace. I'm disturbing the war. -- Ammon Hennacy

Evening Solace

The human heart has hidden treasures,
In secret kept, in silence sealed, --
The thoughts, the hopes, the dreams, the pleasures,
Whose charms were broken if revealed.
And days may pass in gay confusion,
And nights in rosy riot fly,
While, lost in Fame's or Wealth's illusion,
The memory of the Past may die.

But there are hours of lonely musing,
Such as in evening silence come,
When, soft as birds their pinions closing,
The heart's best feelings gather home,
Then in our souls there seems to languish
A tender grief that is not woe,
And thoughts that once wring groans of anguish
Now cause but some mild tears to flow.

And feelings, once as strong as passions,
Float softly back - a faded dream,
Our own sharp griefs and wild sensations,
The tale of others' sufferings seem.
Oh! When the heart is freshly bleeding,
How longs it for that time to be,
When, through the mist of years receding,
Its woes but live in reverse!

And it can dwell on moonlight glimmer,
On evening shade and loneliness,
And, while the sky grows dim and dimmer,
Feel no untold and strange distress -
Only a deeper impulse given
By lonely hour and darkened room,
To solemn thoughts that soar to heaven
Seeking life and world to come.

Charlotte Bronte
Useful Words and Phrases:

Songbirds at sunrise
Piles of leaves
Clattering voices
Pulse of serenity
Baked apples



Don't Speak Challenge



Terry Clitheroe

Alone with my Toybox
Beach Dreaming
Beethoven
Gurney Dawn
Hot Summers Night
Nightingale
Written on a Sea Wall

Divena Collins



Silence In Space
Sound of Silence
Sweet Child

Jez Farmer

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Leny Roovers

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Terry Clitheroe

Alone with my Toybox

Silent tears are falling down my face
A place of solitude with so much space
Yet who would know just by the sound?
There is no one to understand my place.
There is a sound of silence no-one's around
A heart barely beating now love's aground.
And in the toybox is only a sense of loss
That no fancy verbiage could e'er expound.
The beings lie sentient now there's no boss
Uncared for, ignored, like some type of dross.
Aware and alive and still with some gait
For what is memory but a heavier cross?
It takes but two thoughts to break this state,
Thoughts the same from two minds separate.



-----

Beach Dreaming

A rising gentle sea-breeze blows my cares away
The day's heat has moved away from the bay
That is a welcome change from the hot north now
In that cool welcome breeze the jacaranda's play
The birds become more alive up in the boughs
Somehow clearing away all the sweated brow.
I sit back with my lovely glass of cold white wine
Savouring what wine, coolness, and music allows.
Late autumn has its own rewards I often find
Peaceful music is also a reward, relaxing, kind.
The schools are back and all the noisy kids gone.
Feeling the change, I write what's on my mind.
I lean back, contemplating the stanza I've just done
The gentle wind blows, my mind and soul are one.



-----

Beethoven

I know he was loved by God, how else could he write?
His music transcends humanity, brings peace to the soul
In silence he lived, because of his deafness
But in that deafness came sounds no-one else could create
Images were created by him placing imagination above sound
And though he is dead his music will live on to Eternity
Perhaps his secret was in his deafness
After all, there would be no distractions to his writing,
No sounds that would drive thoughts and ideas from his mind
In those days there was no cars or aircraft, what was there?
I wonder, if it would work the same for a poet?
The constant sound of motorbikes, cars and trucks and busses
Are the normal background here, but the scenery is inspiring
But how can one write about it, if noises constantly sound?



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Gurney Dawn

There are grey colours in the morn
Caused by morning mist hiding the dawn
My room is now lit once again with sun
It's 0715, I realise the day has been born.
The mist had hid its birth from everyone
Now after my shower my day has begun.
And the scents waft to me once more
As dressed, close the door and leave my room.
I'd looked out my room on the 34th floor
Saw fishing boats moored close to the shore
The pollution in the water here's a disgrace
Only later will they start work once more.
Greys are gone, rightful colours take their place
Down below the morning traffic starts its race.

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Hot Summers Night

Hot summer nights the Cicadas calls
Trembling waves emanate from walls,
And in the distance hear music's beat.
Alone with my thoughts as music calls.
My love lies isolated from their noisy beat
And in her garden winter still lays in retreat
Whilst her gentle thoughts and tiptoe dreams
Still remember nights stifled by nights heat.
But I am cool and conceiving poetic schemes
With memories of loving amidst light beams
After other things that remain in my heart
Reality and love must separate now it seems.
Spending nights no longer together but apart
But I promise I will never remove Cupids dart.



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Nightingale

I'm a nightingale and a singer of truth
I've sung in this place since I was a youth
This flower is my love and I sing to her
She always ignores me remaining aloof.
Each night I sing her praises in vain
Lovers listen, each girl with her swain
They speak of dreams and make their plans
But my love and desires I can never attain.
If they knew my song was of unrequited love
Would they have made vows to him above?
Each dawn the Gods reward us with fresh hope
With a problem and the solution thereof.
The coming of dawn I'll sleep, that way and cope
Much better than being awake all day and mope.



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Written on a sea wall of the Persiaran Gurney

I'd like to say everything was quiet at dusk here
But nothing could be further from the truth
A couple of noisy teenagers stopped to have a smoke.
Then with their silence comes the noise of cars
On the road in front of my hotel, all was quiet for awhile
Somehow it seems noisier than the morning rush hour.
There is a rich man's yacht moored on the horizon
With all its bright lights it looks less quiet I'm sure
They'll be talking financial rubbish whilst smoking cigars
Holding glasses of Chateau Kentucky topped up with ice
Come to think of it, I'm much better off here writing
I'm not fond of Bourbon, and really hate smoke.
I think I'll move over to the swimming pool area
There is no light here and at this time Silence there.

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Divena Collins

Silence In Space

What would happen if earth lost its gravity
to change our universe unto pure depravity
of a world that we had all once dwelled on
that shall change our way of life so rapidly
for air that we breathe shall soon be gone
there maybe nothing as solid to hold upon
when we start walking completely upon air
somewhere betwixt the dusk and the dawn
angels watched but no knowledge to share
we came from earth to we know not where
I suppose we were to them aliens detected
yet to us this should appear no social affair
for we as earthlings may ever be rejected
but after all that was only to be expected.



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Sound Of Silence

Come listen to the sound of silence
when there is nobody else around
no sound upon the autumn breeze
so strange this all may seem to be.

Even the birds have all flown away
come listen to the sound of silence
no noise from traffic driving forth
nor children on the way to school.

Trains go by upon the railway track
I cannot hear the planes in the sky
come listen to the sound of silence
all is so peaceful but why I wonder.

Maybe we moved to another galaxy
where only archangels softly tread
no sound barrier shall break adrift
come listen to the sound of silence.



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Sweet Child

Sing me a song of the oceanic waves
mermaids of which sing within caves
may this be her sleepy time lullaby
that lulls away sad tears that deprave
what a sleepless child shall ever deny
that fatigue within shall make her cry
but to fight back tears she surrenders
complete fatigue is the remedy why
within the silence remains as tender
a far cry from the mindless offender
of a child within in need of attention
yet within her own will may surrender
gone are the reasons for hypertension
within the dawn none shall mention.


Art by Robert Papp

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Jez Farmer

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Leny Roovers

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