overwhelming. to quiet for my tatses. wishing I could move but im stuck. its lik my feet are in cement and I don’t have a hammere to break them free. I wishi could move.
john
stillness is the remnants of our silence, the doubts in our day,
keeping in reach the movements of our silence, bestowments they will be
content with the climate, the starry maneuvers uncontrollable to existence beyond beings,
turning off the lever that initiates rapidity in sliding open the front door, patience for past perseverance, a savant who rejects a yuppie’s claim or request, contentness with such,
tears of joy, acclaiming their righteousness, is stillness. Monsoons strike at random, unknowingly man is doomed by the wretched disasters of the naturalist realm. Man touts otherwise, conceiving remedies, denying acceptance of redirecting stars–this indubitably is his/her greatness yet inevitable weakness.
As she lay there gasping for air and wincing in pain, there was a sudden stillness in the air. All sound around her stopped for a brief moment as she lay there focusing on the still a voice in the distance became clearer to her. “Angel, Angel” it screamed as if calling her back to the pain. She recognized the voice of her wife Samantha. She was pleading with her to come back, to fight, to live. Angel knew she could handle the pain ahead as long as Sam was by her side.
Stillness overcame the world around her. She was lost. Lost in his eyes, and his smile, and every bit of him. His voice felt like like warm rain on her skin, and she knew she was in paradise. No one would make her feel the way he did. No one could stop her from standing beside him. AND NO ONE DID!!! They fell in love, two hopeless children. One 20 the other 15, but age is just a number if you’re honest with yourself.
He stood in the stillness of the forest, listening intently. There it was again: the distant, urgent flutter of wings, drawing closer. He turned toward the sound just as a small brown bird burst out of the tree and headed straight for him.
You’d think that after this time he’d be able to speak. Maybe even move. But he was just there. The rest of them didn’t do anything because they knew it would only make them feel worse when they got no reaction. It wasn’t like he’d give them any reaction though, he had bound himself to being still. The last time he had spoke had been at the funeral and he had barely spoken then. Now, all he did was sit and stare wondering why the world still existed when he was in this much pain. No movement occured as he sat there, with empty eyes without tears. His eyes were still, though they needed to have tears pour out of them. His lips were still, muttering no words. His body was still, unable to move through pain. His heart was still because he felt nothing. But he felt as though he may never feel again.
Justice
i don’t hear you
over the sound of the music
can’t it be silent for a minute
or two
because listening to your voice
calms me down
anna
Humming in the stillness of a calm summer evening made me realize that I am still alive.
Liam just came home from working a long night shift. He made his way through the house. As he entered the white and pale pink nursery he could see his young wife sitting in the rocking chair, holding their newborn baby girl, Adelaide, facing the window as the sheer curtains waved gently in the cool spring air. The stillness in the room is palatable. Not a sound could be heard aside from a soft sing song of his wife Lilli cooing their child. Something was wrong. Liam set down the bouquet of flowers on the dresser and walked around the see his wifes face. Lilli’s soft blue dress and tender face were stained head to toe in blood, her perfect brown curls still dripping with crimson. She looked at at him, her dark brown eyes wider than ever and she smiled up at him as Adelaide slept soundly in her arms.
the quiet of the moment I can hear my heart beat. Nothing in the world matters. There is no stress and no planning. All is well. Even if just for the moment, my soul is at rest.
Rachel
Klar, kalt, einsam,
eine zerschneidene Stille.
kein knistern, kein rascheln
einfach kein Leben.
Kein flüstern, kein rauschen
Totenstille-
Anuri
Oh, these pieces of you.
In the stillness of an hour,
Combine and rearrange,
Well, are you deranged?
Oh, these fragments of your brain,
Like a train wreck you splinter and you shatter
But what of the frame, oh, the same old refrain
I’m not like you. I’m not like you. I’m not like you.
I told at the gate, completely frozen. Did i really want to do this? Did I really want to talk to you again, see you again? The question ran through my mind, was I really doing what was right? I watched the house, not moving. I stared in total stillness.
The stillness of his smile was unsettling. It was kind of like the pictures of those clowns, the gesture looking empty and hollow. Maybe he had smiled too much in his life, and his face had grown to stay that way. In fact, she had never seen him without the lift of his lips, and she realized for the first time how much she hated it.
The stillness of the house was dead painful. I only could hear the sound of the quiet birds. It was unbelievable thinking of so many years that passed and none of them was meaningful.
Mia
moonlit, cricket ears,
and a silence that’s not
really quiet but a crescendo
of heartbeats as the wind folds
them into stars… or maybe dust.
my spine was always made of dust–
crumpled sand and beached gills
no longer able to breathe the clouds.
I was more of an oil-breather, anyway.
but this moment–this now
is defined by nothing but
cat-eye moons and wishes.
In the stillness you are there. I thought you had left me, but then I saw your glassy brown eyes staring at me through the bushes. I thought you were an animal at first then I saw the soft skin of your face. I didn’t want to scare you away by shouting. So I quietly stepped out of hiding and made myself known.
the stillness was defying
you walked in the room and broke it instantly
it was just the two of us and you put your arm on my shoulder; it fits perfectly
and then effortlessly but with meaning you said
“I like you, a lot, Brittany Marie, would you like to look at the clouds while laying on the grass?”
“I would love to” I said, as we walked hand in hand
Brittany
In the stillness of time existed thousands of worlds. All frozen. Time had stopped. No one knew why. Well…No one would have known if anyone had been conscious to think about it.
Lormryn was never one to find peace in the temples. Far from a devote believer (of any power), she wormed her way out of every service she possibly could growing up. She’d given up the pretense altogether as an adult.
So she knew the situation was dire when she slipped into the back of the quiet, empty temple, lit a candle, and prayed harder than she ever had in all her life.
“Please,” she breathed, wrenching her eyes closed tighter. “I’ve never asked for anything before and I’ll never ask for anything again; but please, please, let her live.”
Stillness the art of not moving is hard to do – I enjoy the stillness of morning, meditation gesture and the peace stillness that comes from within. Stillness is something I want to experience more of more stillness less of me fill me up stillness and let me cone to a higher understanding of reality my purpose and life
It was once hard to go back to the house. It reminded her too much of her father. The air, the rows of books lining the shelves, the crack along the ceiling that reminded her of a cloud. For nearly ten years she avoided returning to her childhood home. She made her mother come to her house or would pick her up outside to take her to dinner. It felt so silly now that both parents were gone and all she had left was that home.
Beka
Looking up, sunlight streams through the needles of the tree as I inhale the sharp, piney smell of the warmed sap. Dust particles dance through the light–the only movement in the stillness of the late afternoon.
The stillness of the forest disturbed him. He was so used to the sound of the forest that this one moment of silence creates an aura of uneasiness.
“Something is wrong,” He said, readying his shotgun and entering the forest with caution.
As she lay in bed she could feel the stillness of her home. Though it still made sounds of it’s own, sounds from a time of long ago. Whispers in the halls, and tiny steps could be heard upstairs, yet she knew no one was there, but she was not afraid.
The sun broke over the horizon, reflected clearly in the stillness of the lake. The old man was motionless, lying by the remnants of his now cold campfire. His dog nuzzled around trying to wake him up, but was distracted by the presence of a bear making its way out of the forest. He ran over and started barking at it, trying to ward it off and protect his master. His loyalty was admirable, but his efforts were futile. The old man had been dead for several hours now, a victim of the night’s chill.
tonykeyesjapan
She could not move, the utter shock forcing her into a state of petrifaction.
He was dead. His body was so still, and it was clear it would never move of its own accord ever again. Even the air seemed to have frozen around him.
Dead. It had only been a few months since they’d figured out that the cancer was coming back. Only a few months, and suddenly it was all over.
What was she supposed to say to their son?
I am always moving to fast to appreciate the beauty around me. I need stillness. I need to stop. I need to breathe. I need to open my eyes and see. I need to remain calm. I need to see the divine in myself and others. I need God. I need to be still.
Amanda
The stillness was rusty from misuse, but emotion leant meaning to the phrase.
That was the only word I could think of to describe the town of Brookings, Washington. The people were still, the grass was still, and the air was a stagnant moist constant. It wasn’t a calm still more of a sickening still, a stuck kind of still. My friends had been swallowed up by the stillness. They stuck around and started working at the local waffle house and didn’t understand the moves I had chosen for myself. I was swift in my plans to head out of town. I selected a university two states away in the big loud city of San Francisco, where everything and everyone was moving underneath the deceiving thick fog. We had fog here but not fog that blanketed over the top of the sky and let everything alone below, fog that oozed into the cracks and melted soles into the sidewalk. Everything in Brookings was engineered to trap you, to maintain the still reputation.
Catherine
a new word to me…… need to open lots of book & internet to find its meaning
overwhelming. to quiet for my tatses. wishing I could move but im stuck. its lik my feet are in cement and I don’t have a hammere to break them free. I wishi could move.
stillness is the remnants of our silence, the doubts in our day,
keeping in reach the movements of our silence, bestowments they will be
content with the climate, the starry maneuvers uncontrollable to existence beyond beings,
turning off the lever that initiates rapidity in sliding open the front door, patience for past perseverance, a savant who rejects a yuppie’s claim or request, contentness with such,
tears of joy, acclaiming their righteousness, is stillness. Monsoons strike at random, unknowingly man is doomed by the wretched disasters of the naturalist realm. Man touts otherwise, conceiving remedies, denying acceptance of redirecting stars–this indubitably is his/her greatness yet inevitable weakness.
As she lay there gasping for air and wincing in pain, there was a sudden stillness in the air. All sound around her stopped for a brief moment as she lay there focusing on the still a voice in the distance became clearer to her. “Angel, Angel” it screamed as if calling her back to the pain. She recognized the voice of her wife Samantha. She was pleading with her to come back, to fight, to live. Angel knew she could handle the pain ahead as long as Sam was by her side.
The stillness in the clearing (for the clearing is always still) is usually calming to Anna. Today, it’s unnerving.
Stillness overcame the world around her. She was lost. Lost in his eyes, and his smile, and every bit of him. His voice felt like like warm rain on her skin, and she knew she was in paradise. No one would make her feel the way he did. No one could stop her from standing beside him. AND NO ONE DID!!! They fell in love, two hopeless children. One 20 the other 15, but age is just a number if you’re honest with yourself.
…….
He stood in the stillness of the forest, listening intently. There it was again: the distant, urgent flutter of wings, drawing closer. He turned toward the sound just as a small brown bird burst out of the tree and headed straight for him.
You’d think that after this time he’d be able to speak. Maybe even move. But he was just there. The rest of them didn’t do anything because they knew it would only make them feel worse when they got no reaction. It wasn’t like he’d give them any reaction though, he had bound himself to being still. The last time he had spoke had been at the funeral and he had barely spoken then. Now, all he did was sit and stare wondering why the world still existed when he was in this much pain. No movement occured as he sat there, with empty eyes without tears. His eyes were still, though they needed to have tears pour out of them. His lips were still, muttering no words. His body was still, unable to move through pain. His heart was still because he felt nothing. But he felt as though he may never feel again.
i don’t hear you
over the sound of the music
can’t it be silent for a minute
or two
because listening to your voice
calms me down
Humming in the stillness of a calm summer evening made me realize that I am still alive.
Liam just came home from working a long night shift. He made his way through the house. As he entered the white and pale pink nursery he could see his young wife sitting in the rocking chair, holding their newborn baby girl, Adelaide, facing the window as the sheer curtains waved gently in the cool spring air. The stillness in the room is palatable. Not a sound could be heard aside from a soft sing song of his wife Lilli cooing their child. Something was wrong. Liam set down the bouquet of flowers on the dresser and walked around the see his wifes face. Lilli’s soft blue dress and tender face were stained head to toe in blood, her perfect brown curls still dripping with crimson. She looked at at him, her dark brown eyes wider than ever and she smiled up at him as Adelaide slept soundly in her arms.
the quiet of the moment I can hear my heart beat. Nothing in the world matters. There is no stress and no planning. All is well. Even if just for the moment, my soul is at rest.
Klar, kalt, einsam,
eine zerschneidene Stille.
kein knistern, kein rascheln
einfach kein Leben.
Kein flüstern, kein rauschen
Totenstille-
Oh, these pieces of you.
In the stillness of an hour,
Combine and rearrange,
Well, are you deranged?
Oh, these fragments of your brain,
Like a train wreck you splinter and you shatter
But what of the frame, oh, the same old refrain
I’m not like you. I’m not like you. I’m not like you.
Not like this.
I told at the gate, completely frozen. Did i really want to do this? Did I really want to talk to you again, see you again? The question ran through my mind, was I really doing what was right? I watched the house, not moving. I stared in total stillness.
The stillness of his smile was unsettling. It was kind of like the pictures of those clowns, the gesture looking empty and hollow. Maybe he had smiled too much in his life, and his face had grown to stay that way. In fact, she had never seen him without the lift of his lips, and she realized for the first time how much she hated it.
Sie kniet zu Ihren Füßen, während Sie weiterlaufen und sie zurücklassen. Ebenso wie die Äpfel. Sie kniet und ihre Hände und die Schürze bleiben leer.
The stillness of the house was dead painful. I only could hear the sound of the quiet birds. It was unbelievable thinking of so many years that passed and none of them was meaningful.
moonlit, cricket ears,
and a silence that’s not
really quiet but a crescendo
of heartbeats as the wind folds
them into stars… or maybe dust.
my spine was always made of dust–
crumpled sand and beached gills
no longer able to breathe the clouds.
I was more of an oil-breather, anyway.
but this moment–this now
is defined by nothing but
cat-eye moons and wishes.
I can feel it. The stillness of waiting. It’s like a feeling that comes hard to you, but for a long period of time. The feeling that makes you numb.
In the stillness you are there. I thought you had left me, but then I saw your glassy brown eyes staring at me through the bushes. I thought you were an animal at first then I saw the soft skin of your face. I didn’t want to scare you away by shouting. So I quietly stepped out of hiding and made myself known.
the stillness was defying
you walked in the room and broke it instantly
it was just the two of us and you put your arm on my shoulder; it fits perfectly
and then effortlessly but with meaning you said
“I like you, a lot, Brittany Marie, would you like to look at the clouds while laying on the grass?”
“I would love to” I said, as we walked hand in hand
In the stillness of time existed thousands of worlds. All frozen. Time had stopped. No one knew why. Well…No one would have known if anyone had been conscious to think about it.
Lormryn was never one to find peace in the temples. Far from a devote believer (of any power), she wormed her way out of every service she possibly could growing up. She’d given up the pretense altogether as an adult.
So she knew the situation was dire when she slipped into the back of the quiet, empty temple, lit a candle, and prayed harder than she ever had in all her life.
“Please,” she breathed, wrenching her eyes closed tighter. “I’ve never asked for anything before and I’ll never ask for anything again; but please, please, let her live.”
Stillness the art of not moving is hard to do – I enjoy the stillness of morning, meditation gesture and the peace stillness that comes from within. Stillness is something I want to experience more of more stillness less of me fill me up stillness and let me cone to a higher understanding of reality my purpose and life
It was once hard to go back to the house. It reminded her too much of her father. The air, the rows of books lining the shelves, the crack along the ceiling that reminded her of a cloud. For nearly ten years she avoided returning to her childhood home. She made her mother come to her house or would pick her up outside to take her to dinner. It felt so silly now that both parents were gone and all she had left was that home.
Looking up, sunlight streams through the needles of the tree as I inhale the sharp, piney smell of the warmed sap. Dust particles dance through the light–the only movement in the stillness of the late afternoon.
The stillness of the forest disturbed him. He was so used to the sound of the forest that this one moment of silence creates an aura of uneasiness.
“Something is wrong,” He said, readying his shotgun and entering the forest with caution.
As she lay in bed she could feel the stillness of her home. Though it still made sounds of it’s own, sounds from a time of long ago. Whispers in the halls, and tiny steps could be heard upstairs, yet she knew no one was there, but she was not afraid.
The sun broke over the horizon, reflected clearly in the stillness of the lake. The old man was motionless, lying by the remnants of his now cold campfire. His dog nuzzled around trying to wake him up, but was distracted by the presence of a bear making its way out of the forest. He ran over and started barking at it, trying to ward it off and protect his master. His loyalty was admirable, but his efforts were futile. The old man had been dead for several hours now, a victim of the night’s chill.
She could not move, the utter shock forcing her into a state of petrifaction.
He was dead. His body was so still, and it was clear it would never move of its own accord ever again. Even the air seemed to have frozen around him.
Dead. It had only been a few months since they’d figured out that the cancer was coming back. Only a few months, and suddenly it was all over.
What was she supposed to say to their son?
I am always moving to fast to appreciate the beauty around me. I need stillness. I need to stop. I need to breathe. I need to open my eyes and see. I need to remain calm. I need to see the divine in myself and others. I need God. I need to be still.
The stillness was rusty from misuse, but emotion leant meaning to the phrase.
the stillness of the world was numbing time stopped nothing was moving everyone was froze, paralyzed with fear. hearts were still beating
It was a perfect sunny morning. Looking out over the horizon and the wonderful stillness of the sea it really was a beautiful day.
That was the only word I could think of to describe the town of Brookings, Washington. The people were still, the grass was still, and the air was a stagnant moist constant. It wasn’t a calm still more of a sickening still, a stuck kind of still. My friends had been swallowed up by the stillness. They stuck around and started working at the local waffle house and didn’t understand the moves I had chosen for myself. I was swift in my plans to head out of town. I selected a university two states away in the big loud city of San Francisco, where everything and everyone was moving underneath the deceiving thick fog. We had fog here but not fog that blanketed over the top of the sky and let everything alone below, fog that oozed into the cracks and melted soles into the sidewalk. Everything in Brookings was engineered to trap you, to maintain the still reputation.
a new word to me…… need to open lots of book & internet to find its meaning