Vida Nenadic


About Silence


This time
silence me.

All whiteness
of my
still
unwritten
poetry
also
silence me.

And he
was silent, too.

And by his silence
he listened to all of our
(un) spoken words,

While we were with him
and with ourselves
talking.
Silently.

Submitted: Sunday, April 14, 2013
Edited: Thursday, October 03, 2013

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Vida Nenadic

Comments about this poem (About Silence by Vida Nenadic )

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  • Hardik Vaidya (4/14/2013 3:42:00 AM)

    Vida Nenadic mystical, your poem has that mystic haunt in it. I love that. It's like a bird chirping in the forest and you can't spot it, its the forest chirping. That is mystic. It has a whole body to it, yet it is like a shadow, moving in a mist of your thoughts. I loved the damp dew behind your poem. In my limited personal opinion to write mystic is gods gift, one can't learn to be a mystic. God bless. (Report) Reply

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