Poetry: Silent Tears
Here’s the thing about crying,
If it’s not out of joy, or loss from dying-
I wouldn’t break one.
Not all shoulders are good to lean on.
The waters warming in the Mississippi
Get to cool off in another sea.
I don’t harbour silent tears,
The loudness is one of my fears.
When nights stay longer to keep days out,
My eyes still find friendship in drought.
This dream is not about me
A time came when he couldn’t pay a fee
Sincerely we wanted to see
If the work of his hands had some glee
Until he met a pin in the middle seat
Rubbed his sweat and threatened to beat
The diamonds were near but he couldn’t reach
His end drew close and heard the Prophet preach
Breath ceased at the peak of his glory
Wolves in sheep cloaks are a thing to worry
Hiccups and coughs don’t always come as cold,
Study the pose, the one that strikes as bold.
Silent sobs reverberates from the soul.
Swimming down a bottomless hole.
They roll down along the dry edges,
Past the open sores the chest wedges.
Its drops are swallowed by a pillow
Dripping yellow, oozing billow.
I know them well
Every sigh heaves a bell.
Heart sank, cracked,
Hot tears cascading,
As pain hived,
Words unspoken, tears rained.
Cascading down the rocks
This water all but mocks
Reminding about a place
Contained within a space
Telling of time, of memories, of plants
Of trainings put forth by debutants
If tomorrow must shine bright
Today mustn’t be held tight
By the bank of these falls
Silence permeates its walls
Silent tears fall to the ground
They well from emotions profound
One sniff to set it rolling
Like a star that’s falling
A heart clamped in a choke hold
Causing the eyelids to fold
But silence is the hole
Where these tears find home
Bubbles like molten magma
But silent from wicked anger
Your right hand should learn
His left left before the earn…
I read of lights and shadows,
They divorce in shut windows
That shoulders are broad,
Burdens may not lean past the road
Tears are outcomes of emotions
Dry them on self-thought solutions
Cry this pain alone
Their care is tricky and crone.
The one that breaks the shell
also quenches the fire of hell.
It carries so much weight
rippling its curved edges to be straight.
some are a mixture of love and joy
pouring from the wetting girl or boy.
No matter how little with its wind and mind.
look out for the trouble and how it will unwind.
Silent tears come sometimes with a heavy noise.
It cares not who would let it have its choice.