whisper

I sat with the broken; I whispered their names, I let them feel for the first time; serendipity, would change the vision they see for a day

I__ looking for youin the bare corridor where my shadow is the only passerbyharmonizing an unsettling whisper: echoed through my chiming thoughtsFrom the poem 'Looking For You

In most cases, failure is not determined by the obstacles we face, but by how we approach them and what our perceptions whisper to when on encountering eventualities.

Well, there would be no sound if we shout on the background.

DON'T TELL YOUR SECRETS.A whisper can betray you.DON'T EVER STOP.They will always find you.DON'T TRUST ANYONE.Not even yourself.

Nothing listens as well as a blank page.

As cliché as it might sound, I'd rather lose than win by cheating. The latter is a much deeper, more personal loss in that one is admittedly whispering to himself his lack of competence. His cheating then begets more cheating, as he is ever-privately, ever-subconsciously insulting himself; thus, gradually deteriorating any remaining confidence.

Impossibility is only a whisper away from reality

Do the lovers know that when they whisper these poems they are commemorating our love?Do they ever think of you and meor only of themselves?Do they know that I once found a strand of your hairand wore it around my necklike a necklace?That I kiss your handsmore than I kiss your lips?Do they realise that our love and their love are drops in the universe__ ocean of loveand that without any of these drops, the ocean would be less?

We are selfish, my illness and I. We think only of ourselves. We shape the world around us into messages, into secret whispers spoken only for us.

A stream of primal voicesWhispering in the breeze of your heartTo urge you on.

His whisper was the softest sound I ever knew, which seemed to bring the loudest heartbeat.

Sometimes,I doubt the courage My bones are made ofAnd then,A breath finds her way inAnd her way outThe half-way-almost-full moonSmiles down;My heart sighsAnd quietly whispers:I remember.

How do YOU know what God meant? Did he whisper into your ear? Did he put the knife in your heart? Did he put a gun in your hand?

What could be put up against the noise of time? Only that music which is inside ourselves - the music of our being - which is transformed by some into real music. Which, over the decades, if it is string and true and pure enough to drown out the noise of time, is transformed into the whisper of history.

Infatuated painted clouds, enamored of our silky bed-lagoon, reflect with silent tremors your sweetest of the kisses...whispers...then lightly consume its shining sunset skin with loving smiles greeting the lacy starry night ahead...making our senses dance so softly stepping on to the adorn petals of the place no one else knows...

When your soul whispers listen, when your heart speaks listen. Whenever you know it's real love, don't let it pass you by.

When I think of whisper, I think of tenderness, gentleness, beauty. And that was God's voice. The hard part with whispers, though, is we have to be listening for them. They are just loud enough that only the people listening will hear and those who are distracted won't.