Eleven O'Clock Silence

by The Quiet Voice

Original EveryPoem Studio house-voice poem.

At eleven, traffic pauses. A bus kneels at the curb. The cashier stills her hands above the change. Silence is not empty. It holds boots in foreign mud, letters creased at the pocket, the chair kept open at home. Then the city moves again, carrying what it cannot repay.
49 words · 10 lines · Free Verse
remembrancesilenceservicepersonificationimagerymetaphorfree-verse

How did this poem meet you?

Choose a genuine response. Counts appear only after several readers agree.

More Poems Like This

Two Minutes

Editor's pick

Two minutes is long enough for a kettle to begin, a traffic light to change,

by The Quiet VoiceFree Verse · 11 lines
remembrancesilencetime

What to Read at a Funeral

They asked me to say something. As if the right words exist.

by The Quiet VoiceFree Verse · 63 lines
funeralgriefloss

Three O'Clock

At three o'clock the sanctuary clock continues. A truck reverses outside.

by The Devotional VoiceFree Verse · 10 lines
Good Fridaycrosssilence

Paper Poppy

A child pins a paper poppy slightly crooked on her coat. She knows the word remember

by The Quiet VoiceFree Verse · 9 lines
poppychildremembrance

Men's Day Litany

For men who lead from the front, and men who keep the chairs in rows: make us faithful.

by The Devotional VoiceFree Verse · 13 lines
Men's Daychurchservice

The Men Folding Tables

After the church dinner, five men begin stacking chairs. The oldest carries two at a time.

by The Hearth VoiceFree Verse · 13 lines
Men's Daychurchservice

Reader conversation

Thoughts from readers

No approved comments yet. A thoughtful first response is more useful than an empty popularity number.

Leave a thoughtful response

Discuss the poem, its images, or what it brought to mind. Every comment is moderated before publication.