Best Echo Poems
With a sigh summer citrine sky turned green
spontaneously into existence.
Autumn's palette adds changes and are seen
to its systematic experience.
Stars shiver in fear on the coldest night.
Voices in the darkness look for refuge;
heaven bound birds gather in distant flight
sailing through winds dusty powdered steel rouge.
The long day is dead; voices won't let me sleep.
Hush. Hush. The voices echo in emptiness.
Whiff of sandalwood lost in shadows deep.
The voices know my loneliness, the nothingness.
Amber encroaches the dawning of morning fight
through window curtains the whitest lace of light.
charcoal grey horizon~
on the rusty cast iron bench
my old self sits in pensive mood
beside the lake beneath December sky
the wayward wind as it teases my hair
whispers melodies from long ago~
that breath echo in the air
the echo reverberates ~
weaving fragments into vivid voices
and symphonies of yesteryears
my grandma's lullaby
our high-school graduation song
then tender laughters
of children at play fill the air
then comes the echo
of my father's sobbing voice
as he handed me to my groom
on that Saturday afternoon
whilst the organist played
the Wedding March by Mendelssohn
as the echo fades
and turns tenebrous twilight
into enchanting ebony evening
I look around ~
the coffee shop behind me
inviting for another cup
whilst the coffee on my lap
gets colder and colder
yet not as cold as the winter chill
perching inside of me
"In the echo of silence, the whispers of the Divine are heard." By Rumi
I entered the winding path into the captivating vale
Surrounded by ice-capped mountains and ancient trees
Firs, larches, redwoods, spruce, and ash, all grand
I shouted in glee: “I’m here!” All around some Echo replied.
A repetitive Echo, always vibrating and mesmerising.
What a singular sound to hear nature at its best!
I lounged beneath the shade of an old maple tree,
Where the verdant vale lay sprawled in front of me.
Balmy breezes blew through dark green trees, an Echo divine.
Tiny thrushes flitted from bush to bush.
They permeated the vale with their familiar songs.
Occasionally they rested on a dense bush,
Hush! Did I hear the song again?
Choirs of echo resounded all around the lush plateau.
Down on the majestic plain, a babbling brook meandered
Towards a clump of cottages, providing water for all.
The rivulet was a sight with fronds of ferns unfolding.
How delightful to hear the water emanating such dulcet echo
As the stream zigzagged around rocks and small waterfalls.
Every echo ended in silence profound and I was in God’s peace.
A holy hymn hummed serene: echo after echo, all divine.
Placed 1
"I closed my mouth and spoke to you in a hundred silent ways" - Rumi
You were there and I was there
no one else to interrupt our silence
Closing my mouth, I inhaled deeply
the scent of your cologne
Intoxication - a sublime surrender of the sense
as I let my fingers trace the path my eyes had blazed
across your face
and you reciprocated, mirroring my touch
as your lips and fingers lighted
reverently on my cheeks, my eyes, my mouth
The thrill of new love
hung deliciously
in beauty’s hush around us
A hundred ways I must have touched your face
as a hundred kisses you were placing
up and down my neck
above and beneath my ear lobes
Silent shivers of anticipation made way at last
for the softness of your sweet mouth
on mine
Young love, so wondrous, so fresh -
you echo - silent still -
in the caverns
of my fondest recollections
I wrote this and posted it 5/8/15. I feel it is one of my best for romantic free verse. The title given us by a contest sponsor really inspired me because this is a true story, and it is exactly how I still feel many years later!
The lonely Echo lives in caves,
doomed to repeat her voice.
How sad it is she cannot speak,
but this was not by choice.
Once long ago in wooded hills,
gods cursed her chatty tongue
so she could only say again
words spoken or those sung.
She fell in love with Narcissus;
a love he would deny,
for she could only parallel
his words as her reply.
He denounced the woodland beauty.
She cursed his naked soul.
Now he could only love himself
and never hearts he stole.
From that time on she hid herself
in deep sequestered dells.
Her fading form has turned to rock.
Her voice is all that dwells.
If you hear the ghost of Echo,
the phantom of the air
and your last words repeat themselves,
you've found the maiden's lair!
Your tongue
suspiciously
spoke of constellations,
an unlicked sky gripping secrets
nonetheless, that mouth spat it's majesty
without ever stirring the air
proving no white stardust
really adorns
your tongue
~
I stood all alone ‘neath a moon brightly shining,
my mind sent aloft in its magical view
I counted each step on a path ever winding,
whispered my dreams in an echo to you
Picked up a stone that was smooth to my fingers,
imagined your skin in the palm of my hand
Inhaled the scent of a magnolia blossom,
sweetly your scent drifted through where I stand
Felt the cool breeze on my lips sorely aching,
seeking your own just to taste for a while
Longing my arms wrapped so tightly around you,
hearing our hearts beat in harmonic style
Searched for your eyes midst the stars in the heavens,
missing you so as the night bids adieu
Saying a prayer that you’ve heard every echo,
for you are my dream that I hope will come true
~
a simple kindness
leaves a lingering echo
lasting forever
When love is given but not returned
the heart begins to hurt a lot
When love is kindled but you get burned
For the echo returns not
When dawn breaks with dulcet birdsong
And the melody hits the spot
Yet joy does not come along
As the echo returns not
When a poem speaks to us from the page
With the inspiration it has brought
Yet we remain muted, disengaged
Then its echo returns not
Over the ocean
Pages of the story fly
Like birds above the sailboat
Words flow in the sky
Closer to the light above
They will spread like rays afar
Reaching new places
To be read by anyone
Messages carried by wind
Straight from a window
Of one’s soul along the beach
Where the seashells still echo
Heidi Sands
7/8/19
Placed 1st in the Fives and Sevens Poetry Contest.
PHOTO 2
Memories wound like shards of shrapnel
exploding through the restless night
bursting into jagged slivers like broken glass,
leaving a heart wretched and contrite.
Ears strained to hear voices crying
from somewhere within the dark beyond,
the place lying between emptiness and sighing
but not one echoing refrain responds
Not a single word from the void spoken
Silence takes a ransom toll on emotions
There's not a whispered breath, no scant token
that offers hope in any measure of devotion
Shattered is the heart that has been forgot
In the midst of grief, a voice it does not hear.
It's time to move on for the echo returns not.
and in its absence, a heart must prove austere.
Purge all the sorrow and wash away its stain.
No longer whisper and do not strive to hear
nonexistent echoes that resound in refrain,
those ricocheting words that never did cohere.
The trees are bare, but the mountains are golden
In this early morning sunrise, someone captured on video
While some are sleeping, still caught in the night
Such perfect moments pass us by, out of sight
Frozen snow with crunching footsteps break silence
Maybe, the echo will travel the hills and wake you
Or just maybe, your dreams will rise with the sun
Heidi Sands
2/21/24
(C)opyright
The glass once lucid
now deflects glow differently.
A chuckle clenched in the wind,
blanching and flaming.
Where were we?
Footprints echo, retreat, advance
sagging floor, missing nails.
Not long enough--
like a wheeze folding in and out,
a beam of light held in a still moment.
Sagging floor, nails missing,
steps forth, then retreat.
Where were we,
blanching and flaming,
a chuckle loosed in the wind—
now the glass, no longer lucid,
deflects the glow differently.
Echoes can hide in places far and wide:
in valleys, wells, near walls, in empty rooms;
in hills and canyons and in ancient tombs.
In Chichen Itza, Mexico, there stands
a Mayan pyramid, now known and named
'New Wonder of the World'. One mystery:
this temple, built for snake god, Kukulkan-
their eminent and feathered deity,
echoes a sound, much like a chirping bird-
a bird that represents the Mayan soul;
their spirits spoke in echoes, they believed.
The visitors can stand at bottom, clap
their hands and hear the echo of a chirp.
Sound waves create distorted callings of
their native Quetzal bird as claps reflect
upon the lengthy set of stairs above.
No puzzle that this spirit chirping from
the Pyramid of Kukulkan would speak
in echo-voice of their most sacred bird.
Unknown if Mayans engineered this feat-
Unknown if spirits of their bird speak out-
Unknown if this is nature's sound-wave play.
In Chichen Itza, Mexico is found-
a Mayan pyramid, enigma-bound.
December 11, 2015
~3rd Place~
Contest: Urban Legend
Sponsor: Nayda Ivette Negron
Judged: 04/30/2017
~3rd Place~
Contest: Screwed VII
Sponsor: Rob Carmack
Judged: 03/21/2016
~Honorable Mention~
Contest: A Tomb of Ancient Bloom
Sponsor: Justin Bordner
Judged: 03/13/2016
Written in Blank Verse - Iambic Pentameter
10 syllables, 5 feet per line.
Her neighbors claim her as their fairy,
And gather around to protect
This little wood nymph of their forest
Who so needs their love and respect.
They don't know how she came to their woodland.
It seems she is one of a kind.
She must gaze at reflection in water
For one like her own self to find.
Lovely flowers bow in abeyance
All the wood creatures kneel down with awe.
The wind tries to clear the lake waters,
That she might see the picture they saw.
The magnificence of her surroundings
More than easily rivaled by
The beauty of her reflection
As it’s framed by the bright blue sky.
She has no access to glass mirrors,
This little nymph of the wood.
She longs to see her own features
Without ripples if only she could.
Goddess Hera is extremely jealous
Of her beauty, her goodness, her youth.
Though there is no reason for vengeance,
Goddess ire doesn’t listen to truth.
She puts a vile charm on the wood nymph
And steals away her sweet voice.
She can only speak now as an echo.
This dear child has no other choice.
The wood creatures gather around her.
They miss her melodious song.
They give her the new name of Echo,
Declaring what happened was wrong.
One day at the lake was Narcissus.
She was charmed but could not tell him so.
When he asks if she deems him as handsome,
She repeats his own words as an echo.
He’s amazed at her impudent actions,
Intrigued into saying “I love you.”
Love releases her from the wicked one’s spell.
“Beloved Narcissus, I love you too.”
They spend all their hours now together,
Gazing at the pretty pictures they make,
More gorgeous than lilies reflected
In clear waters of their wedding lake.
By: Joyce Johnson