Sara Kendrick Poet I do not know?

When the Whip-Poor-Will Sang

Summers of years ago windows open --when
On those many nights, young love romance, the
Air moved freely night sounds of the-- Whip-Poor-Will
Remember, remember when they--sang

No longer can I hear the great sounds --when
We were young, for the windows are closed for--the
Air conditioning to work--Whip-Poor-Will
How in great tune were our voices when he--sang

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James Fraser February 6, 2010 at 7:22 AM There has been a few writes about this little bird, and this is up there with the others >> James

Doris Culverhouse February 3, 2010 at 2:02 PM lovely poem, I still hear the dirty bird every evening, I hope to keep hearing him. :) I like the new line poem great accomplishment!!

John Freeman February 3, 2010 at 8:27 AM Wip her will, and down by the white oak.Smile. These are the imaginary words I use to hear the whippoorwills say. The blueJay would say purex. There were many other words of imagination also. HAAAAAAAAA! Sinserely, love, Moses

Linda-Marie Sweetheart February 3, 2010 at 7:17 AM Lovely write today Sara.. enjoyed that melodious sound... in your lines..luv.. Linda-Marie

Carol Sunshine Brown February 3, 2010 at 7:08 AM I enjoyed reading you poem this morning Sara. Thank you for posting and sharing with us. Thank you for your ever welcome kind comments. Love, Carol

Brian Strand February 3, 2010 at 12:57 AM Great memories Sara.Rgds Brian & thanks for your kind words and observations.

William Kershaw February 3, 2010 at 12:03 AM Sara, he sings still. Open the window. Excellent as always. Thank you so much for your kind appraisal of my stuff. Love, Will

Duke Beaufort February 2, 2010 at 4:23 PM Sara--this is very good. There's a bit of irony here. I believe we have lost a lot. I often think of the ancient Greeks looking at the stars all night long. Now, we're lucky if we can see a few. Thanks for your comment. Much appreciated.

Andrea Dietrich February 2, 2010 at 3:03 PM Sara, I reread your poem to try to get the hidden meaning that LYnette is speaking of. Hmmm, all i can think is that it is about your husband and the passing of the years. . . ? I kind of got that the first time. but then I also was putting my own feelings onto the poem, of how quiet life used to be long ago!! well, time to call it a DAY here. Thanks for your great comments today. Luv, Andrea

Lynette Chachere February 2, 2010 at 2:32 PM Wow, using "voices once in tune" for what it used to be.this is art in writing<: and geez, that must have been annoying for you, but it's kind of funny that he still knew you, like he is trying to be funny but at the same time he's not.hah.wonderful poems, expecially with the hidden meaning. -Always Lynette

Andrea Dietrich February 2, 2010 at 1:37 PM That is very interesting, Sara, very perceptive, how you mentioned, "how in tune were OUR voices" when he sang. Yes, we are all out of tune these days, listeing to much to noises of traffic, cell phones, loud music, etc. Enjoying simple nature is key. Great poem! Luv, Andrea

Joyce Johnson February 2, 2010 at 11:37 AM Thank you Sara for your nice comments. oh what we give up for comfort. I have to have an oxygen machine going at night or I forget to breathe. And it's really noisy. It sounds like it's storming out at all times. Love, Joyce

Susan Palli February 2, 2010 at 9:26 AM Very clever.