Silence Poems
Mandalay
by Rudyard Kipling
By the old Moulmein Pagoda, lookin' eastward to the sea,
There's a Burma girl a-settin', and I know she thinks o' me;
For the wind is in the palm-trees, and the temple-bells they say:
"Come you back, you British soldier; come you back to Mandalay!"
Come you back to Mandalay,
Where the old Flotilla lay:
Can't you 'ear their paddles chunkin' from Rangoon to Mandalay?
On the road to Mandalay,
Where the flyin'-fishes play,
An' the dawn comes up like thunder outer China 'crost the Bay!
......
The Faerie Queene: Book I, Canto I
by Edmund Spenser
THE FIRST BOOKE OF THE FAERIE QUEENE
Contayning
THE LEGENDE OF THE KNIGHT OF THE
RED CROSSE, OR OF HOLINESSEProemi
Lo I the man, whose Muse whilome did maske,
As time her taught in lowly Shepheards weeds,
Am now enforst a far unfitter taske,
For trumpets sterne to chaunge mine Oaten reeds,
And sing of Knights and Ladies gentle deeds;
Whose prayses having slept in silence long,
......
Duino Elegies: The First Elegy
by Rainer Maria Rilke
Who, if I cried out, would hear me among the angels'
hierarchies? and even if one of them suddenly
pressed me against his heart, I would perish
in the embrace of his stronger existence.
For beauty is nothing but the beginning of terror
which we are barely able to endure and are awed
because it serenely disdains to annihilate us.
Each single angel is terrifying.
And so I force myself, swallow and hold back
the surging call of my dark sobbing.
......
Pigeons
by Richard Kell
They paddle with staccato feet
In powder-pools of sunlight,
Small blue busybodies
Strutting like fat gentlemen
With hands clasped
Under their swallowtail coats;
And, as they stump about,
Their heads like tiny hammers
Tap at imaginary nails
In non-existent walls.
......
Sun
by Michael Palmer
Write this. We have burned all their villages
Write this. We have burned all the villages and the people in them
Write this. We have adopted their customs and their manner of dress
Write this. A word may be shaped like a bed, a basket of tears or an X
In the notebook it says, It is the time of mutations, laughter at jokes,
secrets beyond the boundaries of speech
......
i want to stop poking out side of me
by atef ayadi
we’ve been poking ourselves,
or the ghost we call self.
(first, with no fist, no force,
just the hollow hum
of who’s poking who?)
we poke anything we touch,
anything we want,
under the will of the no-thing
or the collective crammed into
......
Where silence breathes
by Mario Odekerken
There,
where no word comes,
something ancient stirs.
A tremor
without voice,
filling the space
like mist
between trees.
......
Waar stilte ademt
by Mario Odekerken
Daar
waar geen woord komt
ontwaakt iets oud.
Een trilling
zonder stem,
die de ruimte vult
zoals mist
tussen bomen.
......
one day of sielence, the day of unplugged sky
by atef ayadi
today is the day of silence.
we agreed to bury the clocks at dawn.
to dawn.
done.
now time is a river
with no hands.
deal with that!
children inherit the streets,
mapping countries
......
el silencio que quedó atrás
by atef ayadi
un robot meditó durante 30 años,
buscándose a sí mismo.
un día, se le agotó la batería.
por fin, lo fue."
el silencio que queda atrás es lo que eres.
deja de leer.
desaparece.
si esto fuera cierto,
......
-
Henry Wadswor Longfellow (36 poems about Silence)
27 February 1807 – 24 March 1882 / Portland, Maine -
-
-
-
-
-
Christopher John Brennan (5 poems about Silence)
1 November 1870 – 5 October 1932 / Sydney / Australia -
-
-