Best Mysterysound Poems


An Unfinished Characterization of Quasimodo

I AM QUASIMODO, THE BELLRINGER OF NOTRE DAME,
WHOSE FATED MYSTERY IS TO SUMMON THE MASSES
UPON THE APPOINTED HOURS OF THEIR FAITH.

A MISBEGOTTEN BIRTH HAS BROUGHT ME HERE,
ABANDONED, RECOVERED, (HIDDEN AWAY) IN MY AFFLICTION - 
A DENIZEN OF HIGH PLACES, MADE DEAF BY LABOR AT THE BELLS;
A SUBTERRANEAN CREATURE
SNIFFING MY SURE WAY THRU THE BACK WAYS
     AND FORGOTTEN STREETS OF A CITY AT NIGHT,




Notes (not mine) on the beginning of something, a narrative poem perhaps? 
Found in a box recovered from storage, along with scanned photos from that time; 
An interesting characterization worth preserving... 
and possibly completing...? ...as a PoetrySoup cooperative project?

Questions one could comment or expand upon: 
Are there aspects of Quasimodo in each of us?
I love the turn of phrase, "whose fated mystery is to summon the masses upon the appointed
hours of their faith." 
I ponder my own fated mystery. What is yours? 
How does it feel to be at the center (and the maker) of so much sound and not be able to
hear it? 
Do you 'hear' sound differently? 
What are you deaf to? a call to faith? love?
How does Quasimodo's sense of isolation mirror your own? 
The contrast of being a "denizen of high places", yet a "subterranean creature" roaming
forgotten 'streets' in the dark. What does that mean to you?

The Stranger

Standing here
There’s a shadow through the mist
Trying to get there so see who it is
Wondering why they see me
No sound to hear
Just the sound of the trees
Blowing in the breeze
My feet won't move
They are stuck in fear
One foot moves then another 
Very slow
I need to see who waits for me
Why do they watch me? 
Through the trees
I'm closer now, and then I awake
Who was this stranger looking at me?
Waiting to see who I would be
I’ll never know 
I need to sleep 
I need to sleep
And go back to see 
If the stranger there
Was only me
Looking at me 
through the trees

Player Man

Player Man, you play those keys,
your notes sound swell and everyone see’s

Player Man, your touch it tingles
your stroke it meldes, our bodies mingle

Player Man, you wow the crowd
bring them in and make them loud

Player Man, you turn those heads
lift those spirits and fall into beds

Player Man, you rise to go
you’ve played your song, you up and blow

Player Man, you’ve worked these keys
your gig is up, you up and leave

Player Man, you’ve another show
and what you wanted we’ll never know

Player Man, you’ll never stay
your sound and notes have made you stray


Premium Member Witness

listen as you hear the fear
to late now to shed a tear
the sound of a heart racing
the sound of feet pacing

the thoughts in the mind of a witness
the looks of deception this i guess
should we ignore vanity and gain 
could we be forgiven if this caused pain

listen and then believe 
that a wire tap is placed up your sleeve
suits all the same shades greys and blacks
my eyes are wide i see only shoes and slacks

maybe it's over i'm not needed anymore
my face is now pointed at the floor
who are these guys here in conference
i know to be alive depends on my silence

to shed yourself of loyalty or to be caged
how long to be quiet how long to be outraged
the wiser the guy the emptier the sob
these are the results of being a witness for the mob

Mother Ship

The Great Sound chimes do you hear?
Mother Ship and her tone in the air?
Journey complete to aWare, the masses
of Time overlap us and for the
listening billowing seasons upon us.

Systems automation set triggers in
place to activation for and if a
certain situation should arise.Eyes
can see the systems free and the
lights that flicker carry the bees
into sight.

Learn to ride your own lights, in the
message Nature corrects for a passage
and it's already happening hear...

The Mother.Ships.Tone in the Air.
Called Imagination this time, be.aware.
Grow it for your health and be well.


CRaaaCKl!!!ng thunder as the sky let go,
X.Calibrate to know a Mighty Sword flows
MoreIsCode and Love it says.each to other.
Confirmed in the binary explained the Hex
of the Decimal. In Number. There is...

A tune in the Thunder and it grows
the Great Sound pulls a spiraling ribbon
To undone, AND pattern seen long ago
before the destruction of a pure
All. Go. Rythem

~Activated Automation of the In.Sane~
All.Systems.Go
It's the only beam.
All. Systems. Know.
;PeAce. It's the Way.
Learn to MAKE it...

On. To the CornerStone.

The Great 'Secret' Is.
God Love is Universal.
© Izzy Gumbo  Create an image from this poem.

Darkness

She sits in a room of darkness
Nowhere to go, nowhere to hide 
She hears a sound
But ignores it like nothing’s there

Her mind is slowly losing control
She’s fidgeting and shaking so
She hears that sound again once more
The sound is eating her up inside 

She just wants to scream “Go away!”
The sound gets louder and louder
She feels like she has no control
Talking to herself so loudly

Now she’s losing control of her emotions
The pacing of footsteps starts to come near
She has nowhere to go
The footsteps come faster and quicker now

Sweat begins to feel her face
The footsteps stop now
She could feel her heart stop too
The shadow of footsteps are under the door

She closes her eyes
Doorknobs begin to turn
She starts breathing hard
The figure’s presence is there now

Nowhere to go, nowhere to hide
She sits in a room of darkness


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