Chaplin sits at the Door
The one and only movie star, that show silence is golden
Chaplin sits at the Door
Upon the door, where tales unfold,
Sat Chaplin, silent but bold.
His bowler hat tipped just so,
A figure that we all know.
A moment paused, a world at bay,
One soul adrift in a silent play.
No words were needed, none were said,
The silence spoke of dreams ahead.
So on that door, he sat in time,
A silent star, a life in mime.
A figure of wonder, calm and still,
The world his in movies, his art, his will.
About the Creator
George’s Girl 2026
I've been writing poetry since the age of 10. With pen in hand, I wander the realms unseen. The pen holds power; ink reveals thoughts. A poet may speak truth or weave a tale. You decide. Let pen and ink capture you ❤️#Marie381UkWrites
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The Settling
Lyrically—sign, atone / atom / Adam— a cracked apple bleeds its proof: sweetness first, then the settling truth. If it was ever worth the devil, stand— and wrestle. When the storm remembers you, I arrive as thunder— each letter a black sheet slowly settling. Heavy strike—a divine edge through time— you divide in a minute. After… what remains of you learns the shape of absence. I define nothing. If I were something, I would speak once— zip the one, and force it into None. None / All—the pillar stands. Humans squat the halls of time.
By LUCCIAN LAYTH7 days ago in Poets
Comments (1)
What a wonderful tribute. Excellent poem.