Best Hearing Poems
I know that I’m not perfect, just go and ask me wife.
At times she’s kind of said - I’m the bane of her life,
but on her better days she wouldn’t trade me for a thing,
and sometimes she has even thanked me for the ring.
Sometimes I overlook a mite and pile clothes on the floor;
leave a beer can in the lounge room or forget to shut a draw.
The toilet seat might be left up; grease in the bathroom sink,
and of course I cop a barrage - “Don’t you ever bloody think!”
I put up a slight defence I s’pose to save me on the skids,
I reminded her I’m not as bad as either of our kids,
but remarks like that cause suffering; the vote goes three to one,
so I had to do some crawling for the damage that I done.
The crawling that I had to do is behind their Mother’s back,
but once again a big mistake saw her leading an attack.
In a request for gaining brownie points I should have chose a cat,
but the kids insist they wanted me - to buy them a pet rat.
We snuck this rat into the shed and they both named it Brad,
but our female ‘Sergeant Major’ went completely bloody mad.
She really stuck the boots in; especially into me …
making promise of a firing squad if neglect soon came to be.
But both the kids then promised to satisfy their Mother’s rage,
that Brad will be looked after; well fed in the cleanest cage.
They pampered Brad for two months - treated like a king,
then the novelty wore off - Mum was doing everything.
So at the dinner table Mum declared she’d had enough.
Maintaining to our children that it has got too tough.
He’s too much work for one and because that one is me,
he’s going to have to leave and the kids did half agree.
Then Mother added furthermore, “I’m sick of his daily mess,
and right now I note he’s eating, and drinking to excess.”
Me eldest boy then quietly spoke, by adding “Mum you’re right,
if he didn’t eat and drink so much, he could stay is that right?”
Mum responded firmly, “Correct, he could stay for evermore,
if he had used better manners and cleaned his mess off the floor,
now go to the shed and grab the cage, and in the car put Brad …”
“Brad!” Me youngest ‘fella’ bawled - “We thought you said Dad.”
A mother’s ears become magic
the minute she hears her newborn cry—
nature turns up the volume
like at no other time.
The slightest cry, whimper, sneeze, cough, hiccup,
sounds like a gong that vibrates her into action.
Like a mama penguin coming in from the hunt at sea
she knows the sound
of her little one calling among hundreds—
and she rushes to her baby.
Baby’s special sound, mama’s special ears, they
develop in the time of motherhood—
a one-on-one relationship between sound and love.
A mother is a communication system
receiving, decoding, interpreting, sending, reacting—
like an intricate multi-faceted machine—
with a huge, beating heart of love,
a mind full of devotion, nurturing, and commitment—
and magnificent ears.
When symphonic waves crash on soundless shores,
Listen to the cadence of silent seas,
He's a virtuoso of voiceless woes,
orchestrating pre-written faith, at ease.
For every tainted tide, transpires a tune,
If you lend your ear to the unsung sighs,
perhaps sonorous currents too would croon,
amidst ringing reasons that fall and rise.
There's a fine song for every shipwrecked heart,
entrenched in rhymes from the soul of sand dunes.
Healing comes through searing sirens as art,
rhapsodizing themes of roaring runes.
As waters whistle, hushed air ricochets,
resonating the melody of a dulcet dove,
breeze beneath ripples rewinds and replays,
in divine dialects through language of love.
Whilst chorus of crickets swiftly unfold,
allow nature to compose musings of the ocean.
Words can only whisper deep scars untold,
in poetic crescendo, that translates intense emotions.
The kids at play appear distracted,
Remote control is used to aim
As they engage in stellar warfare
They’re concentrating on their game.
My wife and I talk in a whisper
There’s adult business to discuss
Not meant for ears of little children;
We raise no voices, make no fuss.
Out of the blue they interrupt us.
They have picked up all that we said!
Their sense of hearing is amazing;
We should use code or signs instead.
How come their ears are sharp and active
When they are even out of range,
Then when we want their full attention
They become deaf. Isn’t it strange!
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Contest: Funny Kids Poem Contest
Sponsor: Team PoetrySoup
Placed 2nd
Long ago, when I was young,
Before my hearing began to fail,
Why, I could hear a boll weevil
Tiptoe across a cotton bale.
But many years have come and gone;
The ghetto blaster took its toll.
Now I couldn't hear an elephant
Dance in clogs with wooden soles.
It's 4am in the morning
And I just rolled out of bed
Burdened by memories, that you've brought to my dreams
That still live on, inside of my head
Now I'm searching for a pen and some paper
To help ease this pain that's inside
Was my hell your intent, I thought you were Heaven sent
But my truth, was replaced by your lies
I'm hearing voices but how can that be
Cause no lips have they just passed
My mind keeps rewinding, these memories
I just wonder how long will they last
The voices keep repeating her goodbye
I wish they'd replace the teardrops instead
I'm finding out now, how a man lives in hell
Even though, he's not even dead
Sometimes I think that these feelings
Are meant for me to hold
Cause how else could I write, about what's inside
And turn my feelings, into pure country gold
I'm hearing voices but how can that be
Cause no lips have they just passed
My mind keeps rewinding, my memories
I just wonder, how long will they last
Now its 6am in the morning
And works just a short time away
As I sit writing verses, about my life's curses
She wins again, affecting my days
As a writer it seems I pull nightshift
Waking up with words to write down
These emotional feelings, keep my eyes to the ceiling
And her memory, in my lost and found
I'm hearing voices but how can that be
Rewound are the words of my past
Her memories stay with me, and her love is the one thing
In this life, I long to get back
I hear her voice, but how can that be.....
“Blindness separates people from things;
deafness separates people from people.”
– Helen Keller
She sat amongst the gathering crowd.
It was her birthday, you see.
The men were bespoke so proud
and the ladies were dressed to a T.
The table was layered in muted hues
and laid with sundry hors d'oeuvres
on a linen cloth of pinks and blues.
She was a bundle of nerves.
They bussed her cheek and spoke
a greeting she didn’t understand.
She smiled and let her words choke
since hearing was not in her command.
They gave her a kiss and a hug
and whispered secrets in her ear.
She’d reply with a smile and a shrug,
masking that she couldn’t hear.
She lost her hearing months ago
and only a few close friends knew.
She hid it the best she could
for her affliction was too new.
She felt isolated, useless, and weak,
not able to hear or converse.
Looks of irritation or pity were bleak
and only made her feel worse.
The mice cavort and squeak and laugh.
I offer them my autograph.
They dance and hide under the couch.
Their waltzing prowess I can vouch.
I hear giggles every day.
They are my friends in every way.
The bus stop says its out of use this week
Men are digging up the road again
I never knew that modern bus stops speak
I wonder will the street lamps follow suit
Their voices like the chiming of Bog Ben
The bus stop says its out of use this week
Maybe I can find another route
Will railway stations stutter like shy men?
I never knew that modern bus stops speak
How to travel ,hearing voices break
Pity and compassion hit my pen
The bus stop says its out of use this week
I fear my travel plans have gone astray
The journey I am on will never end
Did you know that modern bus stops speak?
From the dark grey sky the rain descends
Evolution staggers round the bends
The bus stop says it's out of use this week
I never knew that modern bus stops speak
With fluttering ears
a sound that no one else hears -
the feeling is stuck
It might have been the wind
a pain and sadness that mocks us all
the voice was speaking to me from within
As the branches of the trees sway,
a voltage by electrical reverberation
The sound disturbed the animal's hearing
shadows of eyes, teeth and claws
my foolish straining of sensitive senses
Yesterday's vision
climb back to its destiny -
haunting, empty pain
The connections between the present and the past
Characterized by a larger objective,
the gods might have for them
Ancestral heritage that remains rooted in memories
Could that be you I'm hearing?
The bells of the past ring the echo of solitude
unjust is the last word of the sentence
- no life goes in silence
Walking past the moon, will listen to the dawn
Blindness in the dark
echo sound in the ears -
have listened and sung
Down on his hands and knees is Frump
But which end is his Rump!
Both ends are putting out so much hot air
To guess which, I wouldn’t dare
Making his stink smell good is an art.
But not hard to do when your audience isn’t smart
He changes ends so fast and well
From which end it comes, is hard to tell
To put your head in a daze
He puts it out from both ends to create a haze
If he gets caught for what he did
He passes the buck or tells a fib
If it smells bad or goes the wrong way
It was done by the Democrats, he will say
I hear all his raves and rants
Go home and change your pants
When he’s pinned down he turns on the bull
Just wait, the FBI will see whose diaper is full
2/28/2018
Heady sounds that make one curl inwards like a snail within its shell
Achy grating noises like a fingernail scratching across a chalk board
Every velvet ear deserves sounds of the ocean and water falls
Retire to your room, let the music ooze and fill your stratosphere
I for one never enjoyed the cacophony of a thunderous world at large
Naked ears can be trained to listen to so many Nature resounding peals. So,
Give thanks for your ears and all that they do, take care of them.
Can you hear the pitter patter
Of the rain on my roof?
Can you hear the water splatter,
And the dog that goes 'woof'?
Can you hear that auto go by?
And the bike that zooms through?
Can you hear the thirsty land sigh,
As it laps the rain, dew?
Hearken! The tinkle of a laugh!
The rustle of a leaf,
The quiet mooing of the calf,
The weeping willow's grief;
Can you hear the crunch of the land,
When the lorry crushes?
Hearken to honking horns' bandstand,
As the traffic rushes;
Hearken! A baby crying far!
Music playing nearby!
How wonderful all these sounds are!
How do they gratify!
Onomatopoeic:
caw caw caw
the crow's on my roof
waiting for their breakfast,
chatter chatter
the magpie's call
usually first to the table,
a shrill little tweet
go the sparrow's and their relatives
awaiting their feed
in smaller bites
from the safety of their prickly bush;
the sounds of the morning's
for me
are heaven sent.
Elizabeth alexander 25/12/2015
Although my voice rose in volume
his ears rejected the sounds,
unable to distinguish the words.
Speaking to his back,
I felt like a mime without a mirror.
My heart grieved at the loss,
no longer able to reach the one
I had laughed with, and loved,
all of my adult life.
But his eyes spoke eloquently,
his smile erased my anger,
and his kiss warmed me to my toes.
New hearing aids brought his world
into sharper focus and now the words
bounce off walls like cymbals on a drum.
"Three thousand dollars," he grumps.
"and I prefer the silence."