Welcome to Song in the Silence

This blog was started as a single place to put all of my poetry, and even prose, that I have written. From my very first poem when I was 13 years old to the slower paced, and more rare, poems written in my mid-30s.

Constructive criticism is always welcome. You can find a mirror of this blog on http://song-in-the-silence.tumblr.com/.

Thank you for the visit and hope you enjoy.

Icon: Books by sunlitsundays (livejournal)

Header image: Ghost Mountain by Caffeine_Romance (Deviantart)

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859 Benediction [10 April 2012]

Benediction (noun): meaning, among other things, ‘an utterance of good wishes’.

To describe him is thus:
Eyes full of starlight,
hair of sunset-tinted chestnut,
and a voice so deep,
rumbling like rainy day thunder
throughout his chest.
He shines bring in the world,
a light of cerebral appeal
to a thirsting audience,
aimlessly flailing in a desert
bereft of intelligent discourse
and artful brilliance.
He belongs to no one
and to everyone,
though my arms do wish
to hold him close,
perhaps just once,
to walk beside him,
in his ever glorious rise
towards legend.
A continent and an ocean
of land and of social circles
do separate myself from
rare chance to even shake
the warm hand that is his.
So shall I dream then,
joyous from a distance
in his climb towards renown.

© Johanna Fugitt 2017

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858 Love poem for the unknown [09 April 2012]

How shall I quantify that which I want most?
A warm heart, gentle voice, strong arms.
My heart will be warm if your arms be strong,
while both our voices will be gentle.
Alternately, my heart will be strong,
while your arms be warm around me.
I want to taste the masculinity in your lips,
while you draw within yourself my femininity.
I need your solid, real, TRUE presence at my side,
and often inside me.
Perfection is not what I desire,
but a life built on a solid framework
of friendship and love.
We’ll figure out the rest as we go on.
I’m not sure who you are yet,
but I will be ready for you when I arrive.

© Johanna Fugitt 2017

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857 Traditional Song [04 April 2012]

Song will rise from my throat,
full of the remnants of those before.
Form will remain similar,
lyrics as if written yesteryear,
but upon this shall be
mine own impression.
This will be my tribute,
to embrace and change
into a song I would sing.

© Johanna Fugitt 2017

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856 [24 February 2012]

If there ever was a me,
then surely there must have been a you.
Crossing through time as we do,
how many times did we meet,
and how many where I
was unknowing of you?
There will be a time
when I will know you,
will recognize your presence
as if a part of the whole of me.
You will know me,
as I shall know you.
Until then I will keep watch,
waiting for the next time
when we will meet again.

© Johanna Fugitt 2017

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855 Far Less Yet Still [08 February 2012]

I do not die every night
waiting for you,
most days I get along
fine without you.
But some days I do die
painful, horrible,
loneliness clawing inside,
tearing the edges of my solitude.
With a fierce determination
I think about finding you,
on a site, on a blog,
wondering if I could spare
time to spend learning you.
I have other things I wish to do,
things that fill the emptiness
with far less complication.
Yet still the shredding
of my unloved heart
awakens inside.
Yearning, pining,
for who you might be.

© Johanna Fugitt 2017

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854 [10 January 2012]

in the heart of me
I wish to burn
engulfed in flames
of a fire so bright
the rest of the world
seems so dark
and all I see
is you
at the center of it all

© Johanna Fugitt 2017

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853 Reaching. . . [09 November 2011]

The gaping cavern in my chest
is hidden from unknowing eyes.
Mine seek yours
everywhere I go.
Should they find what is sought,
would I be made whole?
The possibility exists,
I may be whole already.
Still,
it is my wish,
my dearest dream,
to find you.

© Johanna Fugitt 2017

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852 A Fine Vintage [15 August 2011]

Words no longer flow like they used to,
Stoppered up like a fine wine
Waiting to mature before pouring out,
Sluicing into a fine crystal glass.

These letters and spaces are tempered
By years that pass,
Soaking up the taste and experience
That life holds in its round cycle.

There are moments when
The opened barrel is ruined
By a weakened seal,
The words lost long before.

Echoes of those emotional torrents,
Still fill the space left.
The broken is then fixed,
Filled again to soak in those experiences .

Steady traditions and techniques
Ensure that within these vineyard tears
Form a tale in each splash upon the tongue,
Sorrowful or hopeful.

One day the place these vintages are kept
Will be discovered.
Their individual vast experiences tasted,
Revered by an appreciative lover.

© Johanna Fugitt 2017

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851 [11 April 2011]

Poet’s note: I started this one intending to be something called “lyric” but it turned into something else.


 

I remember.
Love seemed so incredible and magical.
Love was true and possible.
Love was a bond between two of the same.
Love seemed to be waiting just for me.

I forget.
When love became a far-off fantasy.
When love became impossible.
When love seemed stuck on appearance.
When love seemed not meant for me.

© Johanna Fugitt 2017

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850 Revolution (an attempt at a quattrain) [10 April 2011]

Shots echo, rockets destroy,
instinctive hearts wish to run.
But for love of free words and country,
harden fear around a gun.

© Johanna Fugitt 2017

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