stillness

April 23rd, 2014

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91 Responses to “stillness”

  1. I like the stillness at the lake. When it’s summer the times are hard. But winter, when everything is green, is the warmest and best of all times of the year. Only my Mom would rather sit in a tree in spring time.

  2. Stillness was all I felt. That was it. It still is. There are no other emotions. There’s no other anything. There’s just nothing. For a while it felt like there was movement around me and that the only stillness was me. That I wanted my world to be as still as I was. I mean I still want that. But that can’t happen. One day you have to start moving again.

    by Ainslie on 04.24.2014
  3. “Be still and know…” what? Why not move, go, stand, shout, breathe deeply this thing called life by going forth and sucking the marrow from it! “Sleep when you’re dead,” and all of that: our society’s mantra.

    We have forgotten what power comes from stillness.

  4. the stillness drove her crazy. too silent. too calm. too clear. she could now hear everything—-feel everything. she hated that. it was this time that she invited noise with open arms. clouding, smothering, loud noise. the noise remained absent as stillness stood strong. unwilling to be denied.

  5. he doesn’t talk to me about the silver lining
    he says, if i don’t know it, he can’t take me there;
    it’s a stillness in the collapsed lungs between our breaths,
    and in the morning when he wakes up beside me
    he pulls a journal from underneath his bed
    writes down last night’s dream
    and doesn’t let me read

    at breakfast he will peel an orange
    and for the rest of the day his hands will smell like sweet citrus,
    but by breakfast i’ll be gone
    and have to remember them from the moving distance of my car

  6. In the stillness I long for the presence of God. That deep feeling in my soul that I am not alone. The still, small whisper that guides me. If I am quiet i can feel and hear the Divine.

  7. wierd, creepy, silent, not very fun to be in just one position, i personally don’t like be still its akward, and very very uncomfortable nobody likes it i think of a dead person i think of a mummy i think of someone who is paralized i think of someone who can’t walk i think of the commercial “help i have fallen and i can’t get up”

    by Brielle Smith on 04.24.2014
  8. It’s the one thing I want more than anything else at this tie of year. As the days fill quickly with whining students and helicopter parents, my inner dialogue is a continuous string of complaints about poor writing, muddled thought, and ill-advised decisions; I find myself counting the days until I submit final grades and retire to a quiet place and embrace the stillness.

  9. My voice
    of the daylight
    rips into night’s
    calm void

    It penetrates
    a star’s inside
    splitting
    exploding

    Destroyer of stars
    space can’t stop it
    wrecking
    breaking
    quiet’s definition erased

  10. ahhhhhhhhh, i dont want to be timed. I didnt think this was timed. im kind of freaking out to be honest. I think this time needs to be still. hahah get it. no? i dont either. okay. well i am actually freaking out. times almost done. make it stop. slow downn

    by Lacie Peltier on 04.24.2014
  11. I’ve been
    writing everything but
    what I know I should.
    It’s about the caller’s calling.
    It’s about brainstorming a storyboard
    of a night told in reverse
    from early morning
    to late night

    because then it would be
    like a normal shift
    from early morning
    to late night
    in forward.

    It would be about the
    unknown wickedness
    wrapping my soul
    barbed coils piercing
    my values.
    I breathe relief. Puncture
    the anger, relieve me of it.
    Is my punishment eternal?

    But it’s not the same, I can’t
    start in reverse.
    All the subdued anger
    but no subduer in the weak
    of night.

    The stillness of dusk.
    I am alert for the entirety,
    though short
    and insignificant,
    of night. I know
    the dusk written across
    scars, more scars still.

    There is one redeeming
    quality, that outweighs
    anything.
    That renders the anger in the first
    half of the night
    and its echo in the second
    meaningless.

    Just past midnight
    when the night is weakest
    they watch me
    in stillness
    and I dream
    my cherry dream awake;
    I am me looking down on myself
    looking up at myself. Their twenty five
    hearts blink redder than cherries
    brighter than stars
    where sky
    becomes space,
    where these radio
    towers are the callers
    calling.