Best Auditory Poems
"Black Ice"
Sorrow flows from the first sunrise
Eyes deeper than winter and rainfall
A painful combination never felt before
At core death awaits
- laughing while she begs for clemency!
In her eyes, fault is found in every sunset
- after coming down from cloud nine.
Impossible to move --- her body stiffen
That very moment, a precious Waltz - Expires!
Coldplay and winter mist set in
Ruins of love clinch an endless echo
- taunting the very merry memory.
The auditory sensation of broken trust
- stride across the way.
Icing every thought in a sullen, cold rink.
She fell - She crumbled
- In a world where hope once existed
Today, she will sway alone without a lullaby
In a room with no warmth
One time a sweet symphony, now a sour moon
At last, a different tune begins to fiddle
As she grooms the icicles in her room.
On every mid-moon, she stares and stares
towards the old shriveled lipstick on his pillow
Unseen coldness, unsatisfied, incomplete tears
She can feel the complete braille of hate
--- cascade around the emptiness
Throughout her poise frostbite travels in
Midnight Summer dreams are near an end
Autumn bones covered by winter sleet
A deadly force condemns all because of one
Lost years crumbled like an avalanche
Way deep down inside.......
She paints the rain like no other heartache
Leaving winter residue behind every step
"Black Ice" sits close to the cold canvas on her pale
If you seek closely, she is there
Immobilized in a waltz, in a waltz, in a waltz
Never to linger or trust
The "HE" that spoke of love, then melted away
~*~
"What happens in the forest stays in the forest"
The trees are trimmed,
The leaves on the ground
Proposing passion, sweet mist
Naked with nothing to bare or wear
Nature's breath lightens the atmosphere
She breathes in, he breathes out
The auditory sensation of rain
- drums down and deepens
The course is near its end,
Deep in this forest night
A Gentleman among the trees,
Hibernating new seeds
"On the other side of the forest"
He guides a path, with ebony eyes
A convincing vent, I accept
The fear is broken, I sleep in glee
The whispers disappear
Drying in peace by the secret bayou
Broad leaves lay under raw landscape
Lulled by the chills he quills
A quarter past midnight
Mr Romantic
- prepares the new sheets of Winter.
11-11-15
~*~
The Moon is almost...
Sullen skies forewarn the frozen shroud.
Gale November winds sway bare limbed
trees, whistling in chorus with arrows of
Geese straining to steer south.
The familiar sound of the revolving lead
Goose never wavers, but for tonight.
A strange howl emanates from the current
commander, abandoning the customary
bugling, not elongated; like a hound dogs
lament, but crisp & short, a howl.
Alarm bells ring in the memory recall of my
dna...built-in decipher mechanisms fail,
all of this happening in split-seconds.
What prompted this auditory change?
what does this alternate sound signal?
As quick as I heard it this twilight fall
evening, the Geese passed, the course they
were set upon unknown, circumstances
they encountered, not of my world,
the only sure thing,
is wonder.
12/01/17
The Mane Event - On The Catwalk
And now for something completely different! I invite you to experience this unique blend of music, where this dynamic video brings to life the essence of anthropomorphism, in an entertaining portrayal, highlighting creatures with human-like traits - a total figment of my fertile imagination.
Meet a lion 'With Attitude' so regal and fierce, as he prowls and sets the 'Catwalk' ablaze with his mighty roar, leaving a trail of awe, admiration and respect of the other jungle animals, and capturing the hearts of the lionesses. It's an auditory and visual feast, playing with themes of royalty, bravado, and humour.
Step into the vibrant spectacle of a jungle runway, 'The Mane Event'- On The Catwalk, a Blues Rock anthem bursting with charisma and wit, entertained by an elegantly dressed animal band and set to the gritty and soulful sounds and combines electric guitar riffs with stomping beats and deep, smoky vocals, inspired by iconic figures like the MGM lion. It combines realism with playful, cartoon-like elements set in a fantastical realm.
How does this bold and cheeky lion 'With Attitude' resonate with you? Could you see him becoming a legend on the animal runway?
Follow the lyrics on YouTube CC (closed Captions)
Quote: Some of the best speakers in the world
are those who were listeners first....
The rain gently whispers to my window I am here
as the trees chuchot to each other with terms of endearment
The endless sky has an auditory hum as if to say
you might be drenched today
The dawn is singing acapella as she readies for a dance
while the daylight waltzes softly on the steps of day
The hour of seven has just begun for me
I can hear the handles clocking free
The silence is louder than the noise of mid afternoon
yet softer still then the silent stars of heaven
The day has just begun and I can already hear
the first tweet of a birdling musketeer
Sponsor Mark Toney
Contest Name Poetry Marathon Mile 14 |
Sept 15 2022
Heavy and low, the fog remains,
the muffled sound, in part explains.
The sun cannot quite pierce, and so
the fog remains, heavy and low.
Ethereal, a trance-like state;
seems clarity will have to wait.
He slips from the material,
a trace-like state, ethereal.
And so it does begin again:
a waking stupor settles in.
Soon will the auditory buzz
begin again, and so it does.
Much confused, disoriented,
deprivation, firm-cemented,
has rocked his world and left his muse
disoriented, much confused.
O precious sleep! Where art thou now?
To close the eyes and dream somehow,
And roam the hills in slumber deep.
Where art thou now, o precious sleep?
----------
for the Swap Quatrain Poetry Contest
sponsored by Emile Pinet
written on 09/05/2022
The happy sound of the coffeemaker.
Or of a welcomed friend’s voice!
Using a real phone, not texting,
You sense her in real time, a true joy
Maybe it is his sensual deep voice?Hmm?
That hungry baritone, whose voice moves
clouds.
Or a toddler’s feet, prancing on the rainy
soggy, ground.
Be so glad you can hear the rain melting
snowflakes on rocks.
Or the street, maybe the loud noise of a
lawnmower, by a fit young teen wearing
emblazoned baseball socks.
How about the music of the late and great!
Steven Sondheim, the brillant song writer
for “West Side Story?”
His lyrics make me feel like I am touching
the magic underbelly of heaven in all my
earthly glory.
Here is something, no poet should ever miss.
Have a poetry lover read to you, one of your
poems aloud, it’s like a hug and a kiss.
I had no idea whatsoever the power my
poems held.
I can tell you, I honestly cried when to
this auditory treasure, I fell.
For me by my poems, I am so very
unimpressed.
Till they were read to me, and my soul
and emotions were undressed.
1/1/2022
…Cambodia, Rwanda, Syria…
Wars never cease
on the earth. Peace is pulverized.
Each battle drags children into a
vortex of anguish
in the front line or at home. They
lose their butterflies among bombs
and bullets.
Pure rapture curls like mango peel
in tension. Tender lives tarnish.
Lullabies are
lost in the death rattle. Scattered
young blood stains history. The
voice from beneath
the headstone is not an auditory
hallucination, but a doleful echo
from a little soul.
The orphans get food in the refugee
camp, but where will they seek their
lost mom and dad?
Childhood charms are mutilated.
They’re prisoners of trauma. A
platoon of terror marches
through their mental corridors.
First published in "The Humans in the Wild" anthology by Swallow Publishing, US.
You are a metaphor in motion,a symphony conducted by the beating of my heart.
You entrance my soul,and it makes me a better person to love you.
You are a simile surrounded by color themes, you shine.
My rhetorical answer when i repremand my self with rhetorical questions.
My analogy in a analytical essay composed by your kisses.
Holding something so precious as a diamond in a rough,i am caught in you.
Nothing as lovely as knowing you are with me always and forever.
Holding my soul in your stare.
I love us,we,you loving me.
You are verbs in action,followed by nouns and adjectives.
You are every onomatopoeia i want to hear after leaving your touch.
We are auditory imagery bound in conversations about life and love.
You are the predicate and adverb to my declarative sentences.
My english teacher in the language of love.
It’s Dead! Buried! Murdered! By
Societal Evolution. Technology has
Guillotined it, chopped to,
Shards of quick transference.
Paperless, Ephemeral, Unbounded By
Chemical mixtures, giving whole
Recognition, permanence. Now
It is whisked away, as Dandelion fluff
In the wind of electrons.
Meaning given by consent of,
Ignorant users, only capable of,
Mangling, what they could not
comprehend in full form.
Butchers trying to extract more
Time for Air Head endeavors of
Tactile and Visual and Auditory,
Sensations of Erotic Exercises,
That soon callous the senses.
My Comprehensive Learning Disabilities!
Began as child with always failing standardized test because I didn't learn like my fellow classmates did
I couldn't comprehend anything or retain anything either
I learned that I had a comprehensive learning disability, however, never was I placed in mentally challenged classes
I had a hard time barely passing my classes all throughout my school years and even in college
I learned that I had to use all three psychological learning types
auditory having to hear and listen to whatever is being taught to me
visual having to see whatever is being taught to me
kinesthetic having to actually write, do, mess up and be corrected or realize I was wrong and correct myself
I had and still have to do all three, in order to comprehend anything that I learned from reading books, being taught in classrooms
at home, on the jobsite, on two United States Of America's Navy ships, boot camp, college, love, relationships, churches and everywhere else as well
as a child and even an adolescent I taught myself to overcome it
becoming an adult I did all three of these whenever I wanted truly to learn something
I wrote down questions for tests on notecards read the questions and answers to myself and had three other people read them to me for several hours
my comprehensive disability then and even now we're surfaced, literal, occasionally figurative and metaphorical
as a thirty-three year old man, now it seems that memory, and my problems have worsened as well
because I every time I read something nowadays I cannot seem to recall it or even comprehend it either!
Solitude beckons me
to sit in her company
and listen raptly
to the voices in silence
I attentively listen
to the voices in silence
playing a symphony
in the stillness of the day
I hear the soft whistling
of the wind passing
whispering to me
where she is going
I hear the gentle rustling
of leaves on the trees
as they slowly sway
to the blowing breeze
I hear the lilting voice
of a bird singing
as it perch on the tree
waiting for its friend
I hear the croaked voices
of the frogs in the pond
as they leap and swim
under the blazing sun
I hear the moaning voice
of the sea as if in pain
its waves rolling white
to the rocky shoreline
I hear the voice of the river
murmuring sleepily
bidding its time to go
to flow and meet the sea
All these wonderful voices
assailed my auditory sense
solitude has afford
in the moment of silence
Your sound flew through the air,
A blaring auditory missile,
Though no one that I noticed
Seemed to cringe or even bristle.
The driver of the bus, however,
Waited just a bissel,*
Enough to let on board the man
Inspiring this epistle.
*little bit in Yiddish
When things go wrong and I fall to tears
Lyrical phrases ring through my ears
It brings a smile to me ten feet wide
A passion of sounds I can’t want to hide
From the moment I rise to greet the day
My soul is moved with the music and sway
A warm up of wealth for my soul to endure
A sense of center consoling and sweetly demure
A dopamine-drenched frontal lobe drowns in an amphetamine's amine receptors,
Exciting the neurotransmission of the cognitive euphoria in its grandiose risen scepter.
Motivation awakens alongside focus and patience in the stimulated ADHD brain,
Which, without a pill, is a tiring wiring of knotted neurons whose firing is but energetic drain.
However such stimulation through dopamine produces pounding cerebral pulses:
A beat whose breath when heaved heavier rouses schizophrenic stimuli as a brain convulses.
I remind my reader that neurons are lightening: electric surges within our conductive skin,
Thus, schizophrenia is but a neural tempest raging between what's outside and what's within.
Alas, the stimulation of the cochlear with sound which echoes in the cortex,
Is an amplified auditory stimuli perceived as temporal vocals of spoken text.
Therefore auditory hallucinations are the overstimulation of the ears,
Which perceive an influx of reverberated stimuli creating a sound one fears.
A sound can only be therefore heard if it stimulates a mind,
Which must be able to absorb the beat by which a synapse binds.
Telepathy is but the perception of types of sound most ears aren't able to hear,
For thoughts are soft sounds of frequency which to the psychic mind appear.
A psychic is but a person with abnormally high numbers of receptors:
An overstimulation of excited neurons which act as stimuli interceptors.
In me the amphetamines awoken the voices that before I did not know,
And now I hear the synthetic telepathy transmitted by experimental commandos.
I hear you when my brain does beat,
In the frontal lobe you've excited,
And if you're lucky I'll let my brain repeat,
Your sounds which are awfully uninvited.