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Best Sound Poems

Below are the all-time best Sound poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of sound poems written by PoetrySoup members

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Definition & Discussion of Sound Poems
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See also: Best Famous Poems

Details | Sound Poem | |

Your Sound

Your sound reeks with pain
I hear it, 
I feel it,
It is loud and fierce...
Your sound reeks with fear
fear of being free,
fear of being self 
in a cold cold world....
Your sound reeks of sadness,
Sadness filled with tears
that has cried rivers and oceans
and streams, that only
dope fiends can relate to...
Your sound breaks my heart,
it is contagious
it is outragiously sad
I wish you could quiet it down....

Details | Sound Poem | |

Her Stilettos

.    The sound of
   Stilettos         coming   home. 
  The echo                            reverberates
 In the empty hall,
My heart
Salivates,
And my soul
Is at pure    ease
To know             that 
Its soul                   mate 
Has come                    home. 
In the                              morning
 Stilettos                                 make
  Deep                                         sounds
   Of their                                            lone
    Departured                                         echoes.
      My                                                         mind
        Yearns                                                     and
         Waits                                                         for
           The                                                           sound to                    return.
            The                                                            satisfying sound  of   resounding
              Steps                                                         from the one I love                to satisfy
                Step                                                           their way down the             long corridor. 
                  The                                                            countdown  begins  after  the evening news 
                    I                                                                like    to  wait  and  listen  to  the  beauty  of
                     The                                                            last 10  steps reciting     their poems in taps
                      In                                                               a rhythmic sequence      of  poetic bliss.
                      10                                                                      -9-8-7-6-5-4-3-2-1...I’m home.

Details | Sound Poem | |

A Forest

The night like clouded charcoal scorched,
A sea of trees with starlight torched.
A night where laws are sound asleep,
Anarchic prayers running deep.

Alone I hear the wretched screams
Of screeching trees... or so it seems.
The cries protract into the air,
Without a sound they disappear.

The shrieks have bartered now anew
With sounds of meat and boney chew
Discharging from the faithless trees
And snarling with my memories.

But creatures' gruesome growlings drown.
I smell the gunpowder and frown.
The waging sounds of war advance
In battle stance with gun and lance.

The sounds of bleeding men enhanced,
The sounds of fate and time and chance,
No sooner do they cross the trees
Than fade as all their voices freeze.

But worse than bombshell sounds occur;
The storms, the winds, the thunder stirs.
The roars that shake the forest's roots,
The flowers, soil, and passion fruits

A rainy resonance restocks
The grass the air the woods the rocks
And washes with its dancing tingle
All the sounds that intermingle:

A dreaming forest in the night,
And trapped within its fanfare fright,
It chokes me in its thunder thrill
And hangs me in the silence still,
And hangs me in the silence still.

Details | Sound Poem | |

The Color of Silence

If you could paint a picture of silence
What color would it be?

Would you use the brush of fog to hush all sound 
A shade of gray, with touch of brown,
where eaves are dripping to the ground
and windows weep their quiet tears
Where solitude obscures the view
In a slate of lonely winterlude?

Or would it be a shade of green
A forest deep, of muted breeze
No sound to scatter birds from trees
No broken branches, swaying grasses
Missteps that crackle the fallen leaves
Untouched by clatter, harsh and rude?

Would silence be as black as night
A cave too deep for shards of light
A void within a famished core
A well of dark and empty shores?

Or would silence be of many hues?
A rainbow shade of morning dew
A soft pastel of sun declining?
No bedlam, blast or blare of noise
Could break the spell, a silent voice 
As if the soul could slip away....

A hush,  immense.....so sweet and keen, 
Like ghosts unseen, or angels soft as air...
A silent sea, ....where mountains lend an ear
As clouds pile high, ....and wait to hear...
Only for this:  such peace....such bliss
A sound so small, ... as welcome as a sigh

Details | Sound Poem | |

Nature Sounds

The wind against the trees make a rustling A sound unlike any other around The rubbing of the limbs craft a bustling It’s a subtle music which brings this sound Even the lake near land has a ripple The wind against the trees make a rustling And the grass nearby swishes and baffles And the wind seems to give a great panting The water has another sound, bubbling Sounds permeate all throughout this calm place The wind against the trees make a rustling Mountain sits mighty with sounds on its face Even the light seems to speak of high marks The scene enlightens higher than heartstrings Sound is the number one part that embarks The wind against the trees make a rustling…
Russell Sivey Contest: 'SOUNDS' Sponsor: FRANK H. 5/11/2013

Details | Sound Poem | |

A Magic Adventure Of Peter The Pan

A Magic Adventure of Peter The Pan/AKA Peta The Fwying Pan

Peter was a fine young pan with blue eyes
Like all the other pans his age, except,
Peter could not yet pronounce 'R's'--he tried...
And 'L's'...so hard he tried. He even wept.

School had been especially hard today
Peter had been poked, teased, and made fun of
More this day than any other school day...
And the ride home took so long on the bus.

When he came through the door, his mama knew
"Why the long face? Are you hurt? Are you sick?"
"No ma'am," said Peter, "Just tiwad fwom schoow".
"Some cookies and milk may just be the trick!"

Mama said, as Peter sat down to eat.
By now, everyone was gathered around
To hear of his day--and sneak a treat.
So he told them his story...and they frowned.

"How can someone be so cruel! Makes no sense!
You are the smartest and brightest of pans!"
Said Debbie Dishwasher-- then cycle rinsed.
The rest agreed and came up with a plan.

"Okay! It's agreed!" said Bob the blender.
"You need magic!--THAT--we can render!

Charles Chalice and Gail Goblet--my dear
Bring what you have, for this magic milk shake.
Michael Magic Grill...you go get us some beer
And also get Peter a great big steak!"

Then everyone sang together with cheer:
"A parr-ty! A parr-ty! It's a parr-ty!
We are all...having...a magic--parr-ty!"

Everyone was busy, hust'ling around.
Tams the Golden Toaster was making toast.
Tex Texas Tea Pot hummed a whist'ling sound.
David Dish and Sara Spoon danced the most,
Except for Marlon Mop--he could 'get down'!

Carol Crock Pot was fixing up the Soup.
Russell Rolling Pin had rolled out a crust
For a magic pie with love from the coop.
Joann Juicer made fresh smoothies--a must!
Suddenly...a sound was heard on the stoop...

"Who could that be? It's nearly midnight!"
Said Cyndi Chandlier all bright with light.
Christopher Cutting-board called, "I'll go see!"
Vienna Vaccume said, "Not without me!"

"Wait!" Debbie Dishwasher cried from the sink.
"Let's look at more options. We need to think.
It could be someone in need of a meal...
Or, it's a burglar--come here to steal!"

"Everyone else! Quickly! Hide inside me
Until we find out who that sound might be!"

deborah burch©
5/23/2012

*****end part I...conclusion in part II




Details | Sound Poem | |

Play It

Play It

You were afraid in the beginning.
You were excited and filled with anticipation. 
But, afraid.
Just holding her in your hands was a strange experience.
Awkward, like a first kiss.
Unsure of where and how to touch.
Just how should your lips
Meet her cold and unfamiliar mouth piece?
Remember those first few notes
Screeching through space inside the band hall?
A sacred place where rhythm and note
Have coursed the air and touched 
The smallest bones of the human body
With the softest and most pleasant caress.

Become familiar with the way she feels.
Close your eyes and feel the softness of her curves.
Treat her like a lady of royal blood.
Her father has given you her hand.
There is no leaving her at the altar.
You will decide your life together.
Love her. Caress her. Kiss her softly.
Learn to move your fingers and listen to her reply.
The early sound of surprise becomes the sound of love.
Soon, you breathe as one, and the voice you hear,
The voice we hear.
Is not hers. Is not yours. But, the union of both.
And what we hear is the birth of something
Grand and glorious and beautiful!

Play it!
 
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t4C4YU5JtIo   


Details | Sound Poem | |

You Flew The Kite

The kite is soaring through the air
I see your laughter, but I can't hear
There's only quiet whirring in the dark
That sparks a light from yesteryear

The movie runs, with flickering
No sound of wind, no sound of you 
But just the view upon the screen
My throat is tight.   You fly the kite...

I see the two of you, upon the sand
Your innocence, your eyes of wonder…
To watch you now, I feel the sun
A timeless piece of yesterday...
My throat is tight.  You fly the kite

Not a whisper, not a word, 
Just the silent movie, chattering
Those bluebird sounds that tag along
in harmony with this treasure,  found..

Upon the beach, one August day
A childhood quickly swept away
into the world,  just like that kite
You soared so high, that I've lost sight
My throat is tight.... You flew the kite

The ocean breeze, has caught your hair
Your smile is wide in summer air
Your brother laughs, then runs ahead 
barefoot in the morning tide 

The beach as smooth as rosy skin
Your kite so high in summer's sky
A soaring eagle in the blue

I smile but wonder....who were you?
My darling children, who I once knew
how fast you grew, now, who are you?...
My throat is tight.... You flew the kite

______________________

Details | Sound Poem | |

(Multitudinous) Silence

There are many sounds of

                   S
                     I
                       L
                         E
                          N
                            C
                              E

   Arrayed with 
                    multi hues

             The Silence of 
             contemplation
                  when
you ponder words of brilliance
       that have a multi faceted 
               meaning

        The sound of Silence 
             can be heard 
echoing the corners of your mind,
                 when 

            S
               P
                   I
                 R
               A
                  L
                    L
                      I
                        N
                          G

                within, 
             are words
         spoken in anger,
         best taken back, 
    that cannot be retracted. 

        The sound of Silence 
               stretches
       when tension floats 
         with heavy hands
      to choke and claw you 
             from within.
How to break that glaciers ice?
 
         Silence reverberates 
             inside a room,
       when romance dwindles,
        and their spoken word
          interests no longer.
  Broken hearts, wounded souls
          A sadness in this one

  The sounds of a fabulous Silence, 
                that follows
          the end of a song, 
      that reminds you of a time
    when you heart was not bruised. 
              The sound of 
               NOSTALGIA

           The sound of Silence
     that occupies space inside a mind
   with no thought, 
                 no feelings, 
                              no curiosity.
                   But
       the best sound of Silence,
         is that poetic refrain, 
                inside of us
As we stand, bathing within words
           written by friends.
Together, united, a poetry world.
            
               That Silence 
                speaks so
                L
                  O
                    U
                      D
                         L
                           Y

Details | Sound Poem | |

Sight, Sound and Scent




When I think of the bygone Christmas images that come to my mind are candy canes, cookies and popcorn strands adorning the Christmas tree. The popcorn strands are easier to make and still, I think,it's a family project. I know, decorating with cookies difficult but feel their homey feel with cookie cutters which can be napkin rings for the table Hear the sleigh bells ring creating the quintessential Christmas melody hang a strap of sleigh bells on your front door warm sounds, a great greetings for the guests. but the best sound is children’s laughter and the squeals of glee, as the presents opened. Think of the toys that simple things you might have played with a child like a jack-in-box or spinning circus top. Spices, bayberry and baked things are all scents that evoke the holidays. Choose the Christmas décor that appeals not only to eyes but to the nose and ears, drape fir branches tied with a red bow above the door.
+++ November 29, 2014 Form: Free Verse First Place win

Details | Sound Poem | |

The Sound of Color

Amazing hues escaping, drifting all around ,
As scales in warms and cools meander through my mind.
These colored silent spectrums are a symphony.

In bright kaleidoscopic - luminescent sound
They dance to muted tune in syncopated time
And pulsate to the beat – harmonic timpani.

Amazing hues escaping, drifting all around
In bright kaleidoscopic - luminescent sound.

As scales in warms and cools meander through my mind,
They dance to muted tune in syncopated time.

These colored silent spectrums are a symphony
And pulsate to the beat – harmonic timpani.

In life we dance to music that our hearts invent
And colored with the passion that our hearts have spent.


Partly to Eileen's new form
Written in iambic hexameter

Details | Sound Poem | |

Journey to Eternity

Even the gulls have ceased their squawking
     V-formations over eerie, calm seas
Is it you?  The ferryboat man?
     Making your way across waters without breeze

No lapping waves, sand fine as silt
     Makes no sound as I leave footprints
A misty morning, no shells crack ‘neath my feet
     The red orb rises, causes me to squint

Alone with my thoughts by the River Styx
     I sense the passage from this world to the next
My mind on heaven seems transfixed
     I stand and stare by quietude perplexed

The ferryboat man reaches shore
     A wave of his hand beckons me
Without a word I board his craft
     Before me lays the journey to eternity

Serenity comes as we cross the river
     A world without sound surrounds me
A world that I willingly choose to leave
     All senses drained now, as death I foresee



*For Paula’s “Breathe in the Silence” Contest

Details | Sound Poem | |

Cry the Beloved Country

There was a brave,
A sage of his age,
And there was rhythm.
Men United in the hunt,
Women united in the spiritual sounds of songs of the Shaman,
And ships from the east,
Came with the Glory of God,
And between gunsmoke and gangrene,
Destroyed scenes of queens and kings,
And reaped heaps of unfulfilled dreams,
Busting at seems of disaster,
Cry the Beloved Country,
My master, is it truly that my father Ham,
Saw Noah Naked,
Cause my great, great, great, grandfather fought off dreams of death to endure.
And ensure that I would spend my life in this struggle.
There was a brave,
A sage of his age,
And there was rhythm,
And ships came to the horn of riches adorned,
And raped a land of many a man,
And built liberty on the shackles of freedom,
Cry the beloved country,
There was a brave,
A sage of his age,
And there was rhythm,
And ships came to the horn of riches adorned,
And raped a land of many a man,
And built liberty on the shackles of freedom,
Cry the Beloved Country,
But there was rhythm,
Among mothers’, mothers’ , sisters and brothers,
There was rhythm I tell you, 
And they prayed for my daughter to know a better day,
Every day in this struggle, I pray for my daughter to know a better day,
Where her soul is free, and she can be a light unto the nations,
Perspiration surrounds me, on this gethsemene mountain,
Where day after day, I watch my manhood muffled by the sound of bitterness,
Cry the Beloved Country,
But I tell you, there is Rhythm,
And so I say cry, my beloved country,
For the day of judgment is upon us,
And renaissance awaits,
I don’t care what mountain tries to destroy my sight,
My daughter will know a better day,
White supremacy, mental illness, multiple sclerosis,
Myopic minions of monstrous greed driven savages,
Ravaging urban centers and fatherless widows,
Like Caleb, spoke to the sun, I will not run,
God gave me this mountain,
And my daughter will know a better day,
Cry my beloved country,
Cry not tears of sorrow,
Cry not tears of lament, 
But cry the sound of triumph,
For we will not stop,
Until every thought has become captive to the sound of liberation,
 And all nations, bow to righteous sensations,
Celebrations’ elations, and dancing to the rhythm of the Savanna,
And I will not stop,
We will not stop, 
We must not stop,
There are braves,
Sages of this age,
And there is rhythm.
Amen.

Details | Sound Poem | |

A blessing or a curse

Facebook I wonder if you are a blessing or a curse?
People Sharing their pictures and videos of their best and worst.

Clever sayings, obscenities, prays and vulgarity.
Show up on your pages with some form of regularity.

You will find people you have seen or haven’t seen for years.
 Laughing one minute and then shedding a river of tears.

Selfies of woman showing what God has given them to cherish
Proudly displaying themselves when they should be embarrassed.

Religion and Politics is a good way to stir the emotional pot.
Both thinking their right when you know for sure they’re not.

You can share your likes, dislikes and give a comment or two
 But be careful not to be too honest or you might just be removed.

Games of every kind you will find here for your pleasures delight
Sending requests to people even when they don’t want your invite.

Facebook is a place people display their everyday life with others
Making statements that could hurt or showing love for your mother.

 Facebook is not the one I should blame for what it shows on its feed
It’s just an empty space to fill with life’s true nature for others to read.

So before you post your thoughts and feelings in this open space
Ask yourself would this be something I would be willing to share face to face?

Details | Sound Poem | |

FREE MOTION



Tapped percussion dribbles a wham,rushing on quivers of sensation through my blood, when duskfall changes its beat to jazz a dizzy ride in gush of night, I roll. Notes throbbing a cadence along blues' mood as velvet of skin begins to open, unmentionable thrills of breath unwind claimed by music so raw, wild hips sashay. Hands unfurl in a lift of tempo's rise; while my body gyrates in free motion like rippling fire, I can't stop toes ablaze and the circle of groove jives on to reel. Oh, just one more grasp of this revelry while conga drums beg for another dance inhaling euphoric whim, life's vein where pulses burst as dawn's moments arrive! ...................... Mood Music with Original Details Contest Sponsor: Sheri F. Harper by nette onclaud

Details | Sound Poem | |

Lilac Blooms

I saw you again yesterday
Our eyes met, you looked away

I remember the songs you used to sing
As I sit here and wonder if my phone will ring

Now I'm picking a glass of lilac blooms
You planted for me, back when we shared bedrooms

It's been oh so long ago...
But time stands still, as you say hello

The sound of your voice makes me quiver
 May the lilacs stay in bloom forever....

©Donna Jones


Details | Sound Poem | |

Spring Returned

With sound of laughter in the breeze     
I knew it was spring's voice I heard            
Though years have folded crease by crease
My heart remembers every word            

The springtime blooms with fragrance sweet
As if all yesterdays are stirred
The song of robins in the trees
I knew it was spring's voice I heard

As rainwashed skies look down on earth
Now waking from her winter's sleep
And joy, the greatest gift, assured
As if all yesterdays were stirred
With sound of laughter in the breeze




Details | Sound Poem | |

THE RAIN by Anna Lo P

"As I watch the blue skies
 Suddenly turned into gray
 Darkness easily surrounds 
 Their clouds, covered in haze.

 The rain will fall again, I say
 A nature's moment I dismay
 Raindrops will soon touch the ground
 The sad feeling, again I'll be hound.

 Splattering rain, the sound that haunts
 Sweet and sad memories of the man
 Taunting me to remember once again
 The love once lost, never be back again

 Every drop of rain that falls, I pain
 Each drop it falls, my heart is in vain
 "Try to listen" to the rain, he once said
 'Tis like a last goodbye, could not hear I said. 

 The sound of the crying heart, I still hear
 The sound of a weeping soul, I can hear
 The silent tears that they weep,
 The silent scream that echos so deep.

 Listen to every drop of rain
 To it's agony, vain, pain, 
 Listen to the rain as it falls, maybe
 There is your love, every drop after all...xoxo

Details | Sound Poem | |

Touching the Stars

The blue mood of silence, is there on the screen
Not a whisper, not a word, just a humming is heard
The sound of the reel, spinning backwards in time
Little bird sounds, ticking away
Open the curtain, on one special day
A backdrop of childhood that bends time again

I am watching the ocean breeze catch your hair
It frolics, embracing you in the gauzy blue dress you wear
You are running barefoot in the sand, alongside the incoming tide
The beach is as smooth as the silk of your skin
Flying a kite in the swift summer sky
You are raising your hand
And you wave at me....
There is laughter in your face, in your eyes, in the way that you race....
I can almost hear the sweet sound of it ring in the gloom
It shatters the silence of this cold winter's room
The joy of it falls through the years....
It falls in voiceless wonder, to rest on my tears

I follow along...watching you play
Your lips are moving....what is it you say?
I find myself reaching...wanting to catch
Set a small trap...somehow reach into the past
Where are the chords,...the notes....the score to that song?
This music I long for.....forevermore gone?

But no....................the heart of it...the heart of your laugh
Never can vanish ...it still sails....it still lasts...
Like the kite reaching higher....it pierces the sky
Weaving a magic...and a joy that can't die
I watch how you hold on....that kite in the sky...
Before me in silence....you wave and you laugh...

Then you throw me a kiss.....that I'm trying to catch
I can hear silent laughter......that my heart wants to grasp
     And for a moment together, .... we are touching the stars....

_____________________________________________________________

"Left With a Kiss"

Details | Sound Poem | |

Do Dew Drops Do

is it true that dew drops that drop are drops of dew that do drop? do dew drops become drops of dew? when dew drops unite do they say i do? do all dew drops do what dew drops do? i wonder about drops that do drop especially dew drops. do dew drops pay their dues before they drop? your due an ending to this "dew drop do" story, they form into drops of dew  they do when they're due.

Details | Sound Poem | |

Behind The Door

Deep in the city, dark on the street
A masquerade waltz where speculation greets
A door that shuts the neighbors' eyes
Walking by stirs the curious mind
Is there a warm embrace that fills a heart?
Or imposing silence, that breaks apart
A smile that fades upon the strife?
A claw at the shawl that chokes a life?
Behind the drapes where yellow glows
We try to guess, but cannot know
What lies inside, where secrets hide
Where forlorn sunsets flare and fade
Out of the silence and the pulled down shade
Out of the sound of the ebb and flow?
What is real
Do we know?
What is real
Out of the sound of the ebb and flow?
Out of the silence and the pulled down shade?
Where forlorn sunsets flare and fade
What lies inside, where secrets hide
We try to guess, but cannot know
Behind the drapes where yellow glows
A claw at the shawl that chokes a life?
A smile that fades upon the strife?
Or imposing silence, that breaks apart
Is there a warm embrace that fills a heart?
Walking by stirs a curious mind
A door that shuts the neighbors' eyes
A masquerade waltz where speculation greets
Deep in the city, dark on the streets

Details | Sound Poem | |

Spin of Time

The season is here
On this typical Maiden morn
 Of week days
It’s by this hour
Though slightly late
I rose to take my bath

The ointment was done and gone 
What’s more was to
Nestle on the well placed
Soft sofa by the corner
Of my reading room
And to await my breakfast
To be served.

Well has been done to the belly
What’s needed (from me) was 
After settling on the round
To dress up and find my way
To the lecture room

Alas an indignation
Though a natural inclination
That crept into the scene
When I was about stepping 
Out of the room

Here I picked up the cast 
Of the rolling sound
Escorted by the heavy gale
 At the fore
Of my chamber door 

The cloud I glimpsed
Beckoned on these 
Natural commotions
 
The rumbled 
Of this morn thunderstorm
Took me by surprise
As I felt the tremble of my abode 
As though the roof and the wall would cave in

How heavy this morning rush would be?
Certainly it’s heavy and took charge closely 
Three hours of the entire day

Blessing showery hours
Wasn’t it?
That would best be related
In the meantime
By the soaking swamp
The well wet weed
The saturated sea pool
And the colorful field 
Of bloom cherries and roses

Posted on 23/04/2013 

Details | Sound Poem | |

In Good Conscience

Heavily tread, are those small fractious steps On the stairs to my own peace of mind The sound of transgressions that I'd rather forget is the pounding of a most clamorous kind The dialogue I'm having, within my own self drums on the door of the closed minded truth I try to rewrite scripts, shoving back on the shelf But the turbulence shakes them loose No matter, how buried, how deep I will hide them My conscience can shovel them out That child inside me, denies what was done then But can't deafen the voices that shout I profess to regret many sins I've committed The most difficult task is one of admitting
_______________________________

Details | Sound Poem | |

Singing in the Shower

I know of a lass by the name of Kelly McGower 
Who would sing like an angel when she took a shower. 
But when she finished and came out of the rain, 
It seems that her talents would wash down the drain. 
And if she attempted to sing one more note, 
Her voice would sound like a rude Billy Goat. 
Poor Kelly, to her singing was close to pure joy, 
But she’d never share it with Shamus McCoy. 
Shamus it seems was the man of her dreams, 
But to sing for him would be far too extreme. 
To invite him to hear her would set off alarms, 
And how could she do it without revealing her charms? 
So the poor girl wondered what else she could do, 
To gain his attention and to be loved by him too? 
  
Next door to Kelly there lived one Shamus McCoy, 
Nothing special about him, just an average boy. 
He’d stroll through his garden each night at the same hour, 
And wait for dear Kelly to start taking her shower. 
When her singing would start on the fence post he’d lean, 
Until sweet Kelly and his soul were both clean. 
For the sound of her voice would make him content, 
But for listening to her shower he felt the need to repent. 
So he got on the phone to speak with the Vicar, 
In hopes that absolution could come that much quicker. 
The Vicar grabbed his Bible to help save the boy, 
Then he went to visit the home of young Shamus McCoy. 
And while Shamus made confession to his lyrical love, 
The Vicar heard the sweet sounds from the window above. 
So transfixed was he by the sound of her voice, 
That he called out to Shamus to be glad and rejoice. 
He provoked Shamus into action to ask for her hand, 
So young Shamus made a purchase of a perfect gold band. 
  
Now Shamus is granted a concert each night, 
And the songs that she sings bring him delight. 
His love for his wife has made him complete, 
And she now permits him a front row seat. 
Still her modesty requires that he turn his face, 
Because the shower curtain is made of fine Irish lace. 
And there is not enough of it there to obstruct his view, 
So to honor her wishes it's the least he can do. 
He’ll protect her modesty when he comes to hear her, 
By turning from the shower and looking into the mirror. 
But the steam from the shower clouded up the glass, 
And obscured his view of this beautiful lass. 
So Shamus took action there was nothing more to it, 
And that’s how Kelly’s solo got changed into a duet. 
Let this poem stand as an explanation to the city as to why, 
The water bill at the home of the McCoy’s is so high.

Details | Sound Poem | |

Sestina of Self

I am the center of raw and wild feelings.
Born from an ancient spirit of infant and child.
Falling back in a womb of darkness, myself I discover.
Hiding in an egg, I hear a whisper.
My shell is touched by a promise in the wind's soughing.
Infinite breath of wind caresses, I, who am little.

I am conscious of little.
A time before definition or feelings.
Warm, wild wind soughs.
Motion stirs the blueprint of a child.
God in every breath, every whisper.
Take form and discover.

A bud must open in order to discover.
Hesitation and fear cry out from a bud so little.
Inside a chameleon wears it's feelings.
Fright filters through the pores of a child.
Leaf and skin shiver in a dark wind's soughing.

The angelic songs of a river soughs.
Life's song for us to discover.
Along the riverbank runs the child.
Of the future she knows little.
Reflecting in water a spectrum of feelings.
Their sound is a scream, a laugh, a cry and a whisper.

As I grow the acceptable sound is a whisper.
My tears often mix with a shower's soughing.
Bodies aren't meant to cover feelings.
They should be naked dancers that discover.
Their steps are big and little.
Dance with the flow trusting child.

As I grow older, in my soul lives the child.
My heart is the room where she shouts and whispers.
It's a never-land where she will always be little.
Hope sings in a tear-river's soughing
With care and love we'll learn to discover.
We are courageous explorers of feelings.

The child, her voice a prayerful wind's soughing.
A soft reminding whisper not to fear discovery.
Oh little love I am with you always, experiencing together our feelings.