Best Noises Poems
The noises of the day run rampant
A crow's caw incessant
Clouds float softly across the sky
Soon followed by cold front
Just soak in the beauty of sky
Feel the warmth of sunshine
Luxuriate in nature's gifts of peace
Brought by God's divine design
63 The noises of Paris
There comes an age and wisdom,
When it is more interesting
To listen to Shostakovich’s symphony number five,
Than to be interested in the noises of Paris,
There comes an age and wisdom,
When it is more rewarding
To marvel at Chagall or Goya
Than to be interested in the noises of Paris,
There comes an age and wisdom
When people have no more secrets,
Art becomes the only answer
To the questions of life,
There comes an age and wisdom
Where it is urgent to save his soul
To listen to speak of the Portuguese, without understanding them,
Rather than listen to the sounds of Paris.
30 Les bruits de Paris
Il vient un âge et une sagesse,
Où il est plus intéressant
D’écouter la symphonie numéro cinq de Chostakovitch,
Que de s’intéresser aux bruits de Paris
Il vient un âge et une sagesse,
Où il est plus enrichissant
De s’émerveiller devant Chagall ou Goya
Que de s’intéresser aux bruits de Paris,
Il vient un âge et une sagesse
Où les hommes n’ont plus de secrets,
L’art devient l’unique réponse
Aux questions de la vie,
Il vient un âge et une sagesse
Où il est urgent de sauver son âme
D’écouter parler des portugais, sans les comprendre,
Plutôt que d’écouter les bruits de Paris.
overhead
a plane
circles
leaves
tap
the window
the central
heating
lights
the
kettle
boils
my toaster
flicks
up
breakfast
nearby
microwave
drones
ring-tone
phones
the doorbell
chimes
post
drops
on
the mat
inspired by WCW's poem
'Sunday'
One cold night, deep in thought, and curled in fright,
From folklore tales aimed to scare;
My rigid poise froze to a screeching noise
Outside, a voice not like I've heard before, to leave I would not dare
“It’s probably just an owl or creature of the night out there"
I muttered to myself, then pretended not to care
Oh, I recall quite vividly this icy Winter’s night
With grainy sight, the sandman came to lead me to his land
The weariness I fought but eventually he caught
Pulling me quite taut to somewhere far less bland
Where I became the leader of a marvellous brass band
And down that path sandman tightly gripped me by my hand
Trumpeters and trombone players played musically in layers
Exciting each and everyone, spreading joy to all around
But my dreams were playing tricks, my mind was in a mix
The bass tuba sounded sick, not playing tuneful sounds
Instead a grating shrill, then the whining of a hound
The lightning and the rain came too, my dream then ran aground
Alone I grew more frightened and the intensity just heightened
The shrieks and shrills grew louder with an occasional thunder clap
Taking sanctuary under bed sheets, preying for melodic sound beats
Suffering this painful feat, my soul took a massive slap
Oh how I longed for it to stop and to return me to my nap
The bleakness of that night, my mind caught in a trap
Morning later broke, the ground outside was soaked
The noise had faded but there was still a haunting in my ears
A crunch, a grind, a squeak a whine
The cause I vowed to find, and to take away my fears
From the upstairs window I saw a farmer crouched in tears
And a windmill's broken sails; the mystery closure neared
Across the muddy field, I approached the man kneeled
Sobbing over what appeared to be a dead Alsatian
He'd found it just lying there, the hound, his best friend
Downed by a falling windmill piece, killing gods creation
"A slow death" the farmer said "he must have cried out for attention"
"And my mill cranks broken causing noises of a nauseating sensation"
heart beats faster to
random noises in the dark -
I can't reach the light
Unless you understand ,
What it's like to have noises inside your head
Loud sometimes buzzing ,always keeping beat.
They say to have tinnitus is temporary you see
But when I have these noises, they envelop me.
Lose my concentration,
Cannot sit and think.
Want them to stop buzzing.
Like cicadas on a tree.
Constantly building intensity and force.
I feel that there will come a day
When I stand some where and scream
Tell each and ever person
To remove the sounds I hear
For once nothing would be good.
I know it's my condition
To listen every day
To buzzing crackling noises
That never go away.
If I'm lucky they diminish.
There not as loud as some
Days that had me crying
Wanting just to run
This is my affliction
I battle every day.
Because I let a surgeon
Roto root my head
He was supposed to fix my sinus
Not turn on headphones
Buzzing every day.
True noises from outside
deep in the night of winter,
snow geese cadence call too
shake some sense of me.
Summon me to remember who I am,
Bid me to evoke who I was.
I see fire in the valley through the rain
and I stumble through the mist
too see what ghosts are there.
It’s where I cut my teeth
on tricks to deal with pain.
It’s where I danced in junkyard smoke
and I browned my hair.
City blocks in suburb woods was the day,
Greatest Generation with their pills and pay.
One or two stone’s throw from Europe
ran the blood, all the way from Bronx
and Brooklyn on the G.I. Bill.
We yelled songs and bloodied lips in summer mud,
we built forts, carried knives, fought for king of hill.
Collars blue and white and red as pools of blood.
sticks and stones will break your bones as the calling does.
We were free to paint our days.
We played in the slipstream, sang song
and danced in the marsh for the mallow.
We drank cream soda and smoked Pall Mall non filters.
We distrusted Protestants and hated Hitler.
We were rough neck hippies, hometown gypsies.
Tribal, we did not always play well with others.
In the year of the plague we crucified the frogs.
True noises from outside
in winter dawn,
snow geese timbre and rhyme too
shake some sense in me.
Striving to recall who I am,
trying to recollect who I was.
Police and fire sirens blare
An early emergency somewhere
Neighbor’s water squeaking thro’ the pipes
Two cats clawing each other’s stripes
Traffic hums and honks, tires squeal
In such a hurry…what’s the big deal?
Mower of lawns and whacker of weeds
Garbage man missed: in-reverse beeps
Nearby pickup started and revved up loud
I’m not quite used to this urban crowd
Cell phone buzzes, again I slap the snoozer
I wonder: would I prefer a rooster?
I must say that in my four score years I've done it all and seen it all,
But in the autumn of my life, noxious noises drive me up the wall!
I like the soothing sound of most music and birds trilling in the trees,
But, Lord, spare me the wheezing of those bagpipes, if you please!
I like the sound of thunder and the rain falling softly on my roof,
But I could strangle the neighbor for letting his mutt yap and woof!
I can tolerate classical music until the prima donna Madame Zaria,
Begins to belt out her raucous contralto in an intolerable aria!
A most trying nuisance and I suppose one of my biggest gripes,
Are kids with boom boxes and their jalopies with those roaring pipes!
I don't mind the occasional rumbling of a train or the screaming jets,
But when dining I suffer acid reflux hearing inane cell phone vignettes!
I've got a bone to pick with the inventor of the wailing saxaphone!
That and the squeaking of a clarinet are more than I can condone!
I like western musical harmony sung by "The Sons Of The Pioneers."
But spare me those "She Done Me Wrong Songs" - they aggravate my ears!
Why can't folks keep their cats inside so they aren't yowling on my lawn,
And a hex on the dude revving his Harley Davidson waking me at dawn!
I reckon before I blow a gasket or worse yet lose my poise,
I'd better rush out and buy some ear plugs to stifle that noxious noise!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
freeway traffic
many honking horns
Geese yaking
the busy bee
drilling a hole in
my window sill
sleeping with one
ear tuned to a babes voice
the new mother
a hushed quiet
the ball trails to the net
and finds it's mark
a bar raises as
another record falls
Jesse Owens
Ta wit ta woo said the owl to the wren
Cluck cluck cluck replied the dear old hen
Woof woof woof the doggie did bark
All these animals are leaving their mark
The horse let out a very long neigh
A cow replied moo is all he could say
Several ducks on the water said quack
To which the bees sent buzzing back
Meow was the only sound of a cat
Screeching response of a wily old bat
I hope you find these animal noises a joke
The frog does as he responded with a croak
Altos and sopranos
Blend - songs
Are heard in the distance . .. . . . .. . .
bass and tenors sings songs of joy
Noises...(pleasant noises to be precise)
Musical noises increase in volume
Some people talk and sing at the same time
Some are having the time of their lives
Then...something breaks the innocence of a professional choir -
Bad language! I bet you didn't expect that, did you!?
People speak freely now
It's as if the teacher is saying, "Go ahead, class, and cuss all you want now!"
Very loud - the commotion is banging at my ear drums
My ears are sensitive to the noise
Yearning to hear songs instead of chit-chatters
I wanna hear music, not the latest gossips!
Songs and noises get my full attention in a good and bad way . . .
Just sayin'. Now, I'm hear payin' the price.
I'm obeyin'. Now, can I roll the dice?
I remember watching
the sound of the rain in Autumn,
and how it hit the ground
making a such quiet landing
after falling so far.
My lamp kept
me company, whispering
light into my ear, telling
me she'll keep me unafraid
when it's dark at night.
As I rearrange my desk,
the phone rings, and I'm pulled
away from clicking the pens
to see if they still worked and the thud
in the trash can of those rejected.
The old dishwasher runs,
loudly churning?so much louder
than the rain landing
or my lamp's simple words.
Lafayette we are a shamble of noises
digging the street and towing cars
as I told you so for my two twenty
that I pay for and you delivered hundred ten
or may be a sewer to extinguish a fire
stop tropicana for a drink of coconut
Some noises startle, jolt or jar
While others soothe or soften.
We perk up for the new but tune out
Those we hear quite often.
To locals, city sirens make
The tiniest impression
But visitors consider them
A barbarous transgression.
The hum of traffic rolling by
To urbanites equates
With cricket chirps or chickadees
In countryside debates.
The noises that surround us
Are as varied as our homes
Or the subjects and the wording
Of a plethora of poems.