This is beautiful, Sarah. Your poem pulls me in such a hopeful direction, affirming in its call to follow the quiet path. “Take a moment/listen deep/Can you hear the quiet?” Your poems are so amazing, and they start with your marvelous beginning lines!
Thank you Steven. They surely are, especially for those dear ones that died suicide, far too many in my time in ministry. Elias was a complex character who had an impact on so many in his short life.
God of grace and healing, be with those that are struggling with thoughts of self-harm, may they find the angels of humanity that help them through the dark thoughts and times. In the name of Jesus, who is your son and our Christ, Amen
This is so tender and soothing, Barbara. I like the descriptiosn for quiet you make, and the ending: "Quiet is the sound of the night/as it darkens/and softens/and tells me I am not alone." Splendid writing!
I haven't openly participated in this, but I have greatly enjoyed this month! I wasn't able to do all the prompts daily, but I've copied them all down and will return to write a poem to each prompt as time allows, like a treasure waiting for me to enjoy. Thank you so much for this!!
A heart filling, true telling of life. I appreciate it so much. You inspire us Kaitlin. I have been writing and rewriting in my journal every 3 years of May and it is so soul searching/revealing to put myself and desires and growth into so few words.
This is deeply moving and tender, Margaret. So beautiful. It is a special gift to be able to write creatively of painful experiences, grief and loss, in a way that touches the hearts of others. You do that well.
So nice and comforting, Jane. "Sitting in the quiet/The sound is deafening>'' oh yes, I know that feeling. "Breathing/I still myself/And sink deeper." The notion of sinking deeper is so real, so poignant.
I wait for quiet
so long that I don't know what
to do when it comes.
I hear this one, A., and resonate with your words.
Quiet
Not a lack of sound,
But a sound so full that other sounds recede.
Trees and plants respire,
Creatures softly pad across the ground,
While birds glide smoothly through the air.
Soft rays of sunlight arc across the sky,
While multitudes of stars glimmer unseen beyond the daylight.
The mountains nestle among the clouds,
And the earth catches its breath.
A sound so full that other sounds recede - perfection!! 💜
Thanks, Sarah.
This is nice, Karen. “Not a lack of sound,/
But a sound so full that other sounds recede.” That is a wonderful beginning. I like the notion that quiet is more than just a lack of sound.
maybe quiet
isn't a volume, but
a quality:
flowers in a breeze
hummingbird wings
a sip of tea
heart awakening
to Earth's whispers
Oh I love this Katie. “Maybe quiet isn’t a volume, but a quality.” This is true as I’ve found quiet sometimes in noisy places.
This is so lovely, Katie. The whole poem sings. “maybe quiet/
isn't a volume, but/.
a quality” Oh my, I love this starting point! “Heart awakening/to earth’s whispers.” I pray I can hear, we can hear.
Katie, not sure how I made two comments, but they both apply!
This is lovely, Katie. “Maybe quiet/isn’t s volume but/quality”. Brilliant!
I have come to a quiet place,
One of peace and rest.
It is not The Quiet void,
from whence we once came.
I sometimes catch glimpses
of you on the other side,
where you now reside.
You once told me about
the heavenly hosts that
visited you on rare occasion.
There, now…
you can be found.
Do I long for The Quiet?
No,
it is not yet my time.
I fear not what awaits
me there,
So many have gone before.
For now, I rest in the knowledge.
We all come home at last.
We learned the shape of each other’s hearts
like the routes to our lockers—
familiar, certain, sure.
We traded secrets on drives around town,
discovering a trust and safety
that would always guide us back to each other.
Now, twenty years later,
their laugh is a map back to myself—
a reminder of who I was,
before the world told me who I should be.
We used to hold space
for heartbreak caused by silly boys.
Now, we sit together in the quiet grief
of deeper aches—
the life-or-death ones
that come with being middle-aged.
We hold each other through it all,
wading through the jagged edges of the unknown.
Our silent presence is the calm reminder:
we are seen
known
loved.
In this quiet,
we are still the girls who knew each other
before we knew ourselves—
still learning, still here,
soft in the silence
loud in laughter
holding everything
that never needs to be said.
-jmt
This is beautiful, Jenny. The first lines “We learned the shape of each other’s hearts/
like the routes to our lockers—“. Those lines pull me right in in a delightful sweep through your poem and my own memories. “In this quiet,/
we are still the girls who knew each other/
before we knew ourselves—/“. Such a remarkable series of incredible verses connected so well by the rhythm of your poem. Thank you!
Take a moment.
Listen deep.
Can you hear the quiet?
Calling you
To rise from sleep -
This facade - don't you but it!
The noisy gameshow
Carefully crafted
To keep us busy - distracted -
Do more! Consume more!
Pay attention!
Makes you feel contracted
Legally - and physically -
Tow the line!
Stay In your box!
Walls of noise and information,
Plus socialisation,
Are locks.
So all the more powerful
To pause.
To drink the quiet in.
To find your true nature
Waiting there -
Away from society's din.
Sacred, blessed quiet.
Intuition, and heart,
Find us here.
In this space we quiet
The chaos and trust that
Our spirit is near.
🙂
Makes me wanna go shoot my tv
🙂
😂
😂🙌
Perfect!
This is beautiful, Sarah. Your poem pulls me in such a hopeful direction, affirming in its call to follow the quiet path. “Take a moment/listen deep/Can you hear the quiet?” Your poems are so amazing, and they start with your marvelous beginning lines!
As always, thank you for the encouragement Larry - you play a special role in this community 💜
You are welcome, Sarah! I so appreciate your graciousness and poetry!
The Quiet
For Elias
^
I rose and moved toward to podium,
a eulogy I never wanted to give.
The stillness of the sanctuary is stunning;
I wonder what you would have thought of
the Quiet.
^
Your beautiful mind had many volumes.
None of them seemed to equal zero,
the complex conversations that only you could hear.
The person you wanted to show
Is who we were able to know.
^
Do tears make a sound?
Can we hear the crack of a broken heart?
Didn’t we hear your cries in the dead of night?
Did your active mind quiet as you made your last dive?
We will never know.
^
I hope your loquacious mind has found quiet.
I pray your broken heart has found rest.
I see you standing just beyond the veil,
waving to get our attention and whispering
“I am free.”
^
"Do tears make a sound? Can we hear the crack of a broken heart?"
Heart-rending and beautiful.
May we all have the ears to listen.
Thank you, Larry.
Thank you for your generous comment and your ever shining kindness, Barbara!
Larry, this is a beautiful send off for Elias.
Thank you!
Thank you for sharing. I think eulogies are the toughest part of ministry. Some are tougher than others. Prayers for you and all that miss Elias.
Thank you for sharing
Thank you Steven. They surely are, especially for those dear ones that died suicide, far too many in my time in ministry. Elias was a complex character who had an impact on so many in his short life.
God of grace and healing, be with those that are struggling with thoughts of self-harm, may they find the angels of humanity that help them through the dark thoughts and times. In the name of Jesus, who is your son and our Christ, Amen
Very nice Steven. Thank you.
Quiet
Quiet is not silence.
It is the small night noises of bats
flapping translucent skin, winglike,
to glide toward bugs.
It is the soft chirping of crickets
far from city streets
as they rub tiny wings together.
It is the rustle of leaves
as the fox
lopes into the moonlight.
It is your breathing, evening out
as you fall asleep
Quiet is the sound of the night
as it darkens
and softens
and tells me I am not alone.
This is so tender and soothing, Barbara. I like the descriptiosn for quiet you make, and the ending: "Quiet is the sound of the night/as it darkens/and softens/and tells me I am not alone." Splendid writing!
I haven't openly participated in this, but I have greatly enjoyed this month! I wasn't able to do all the prompts daily, but I've copied them all down and will return to write a poem to each prompt as time allows, like a treasure waiting for me to enjoy. Thank you so much for this!!
So glad you’re here! Thank you ♥️♥️
Quiet replaced fast
As the submarine lead trait.
Once you're heard, you're toast.
Good one, brother of the 'phin. Thank you for sharing
🙂
Boom, Chuck! Your poems pack a wonderful punch!
My quiet - I searched
All day long for a moment
But could not find you
Very nice, Claire!
Wow,
A heart filling, true telling of life. I appreciate it so much. You inspire us Kaitlin. I have been writing and rewriting in my journal every 3 years of May and it is so soul searching/revealing to put myself and desires and growth into so few words.
♥️♥️♥️thank you! Thank you for being here with us
On the not-so-quiet
City bus
I find my morning calm
With birdsong on my headphones
And this poem on my pen.
Love every word of this. “This poem on my pen”
DIY quiet
This is beautiful, Jess. I like how you describe the creation of your own quiet space amid hubbub and noise.
She walked intrepidly to the very edge of the rickety dock
Bending her body as if in prayer
To peer at the little fish that congregated around the piles
And all was quiet
For those minutes of the day.
Lifting her gaze to greet the oranges of the sun
Her thoughts unraveled into whisps of gently rolling clouds
She let them pass to take up space another day.
–
They walked up tenderly behind her
Not wanting to disturb this moment of dawning grace
But drawn to share it in its depth
Their hand around her shoulder and a head leaned sideways
As a bulwark for her pain
Her body had betrayed her
Stifled life where life was meant to grow.
–
The touch of love released the moan she held too deep
Her folded body crumbled in a mound
She placed her forehead to the wood
Beside a rusty nail protruding from a plank
Unveiled her head
Cried anger to allah
Released the dream to fishes and to clouds.
–
They walked back reluctantly
Leaving grief to cry alone
Knowing some moments are best
Left
In quiet.
This is deeply moving and tender, Margaret. So beautiful. It is a special gift to be able to write creatively of painful experiences, grief and loss, in a way that touches the hearts of others. You do that well.
Thank you, Larry. I tend to write in 1st or 2nd person and today I thought I would create a scene where I could imagine the quiet holding many layers.
You've done it well!
The imagery in this is so powerful, Margaret.
"The touch of love released the moan she held too deep
Her folded body crumbled in a mound
She placed her forehead to the wood"
Sitting in the quiet
The sound is deafening
Enveloping me like a weighted blanket I sink downwards in a sea of solace.
The inner chatter, so obvious now, gets swept away in the silent waves.
I feel overcome - overwhelmed by this Quiet.
Breathing
I still myself
And sink deeper.
So nice and comforting, Jane. "Sitting in the quiet/The sound is deafening>'' oh yes, I know that feeling. "Breathing/I still myself/And sink deeper." The notion of sinking deeper is so real, so poignant.
This is beautiful Kaitlin. Thank you for providing this space.