Best Sounds Poems
Sunshine glitters across the water
in a tireless playful motion, and
a dreamy hypnotic music of eternity
ripples on through my nights.
I close my eyes, transported to a dock
of my youth where soothing waves
greet me, enticing me, inviting me, rocking me.
And I abandon myself to the lullaby
that could just as easily be the arms of a lover.
AP: Honorable Mention 2023
POTD May 22, 2023
The Sounds of Silence
By: Simon & Garfunkle
Hello darkness, my old friend
I've come to talk with you again
Because a vision softly creeping
Left its seeds while I was sleeping
And the vision that was planted in my brain
Still remains
Within the sound of silence
In restless dreams I walked alone
Narrow streets of cobblestone
‘Neath the halo of a streetlamp
I turned my collar to the cold and damp
When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon light
That split the night
And touched the sound of silence
And in the naked light I saw
Ten thousand people, maybe more
People talking without speaking
People hearing without listening
People writing songs that voices never share
No one dare
Disturb the sound of silence
And the people bowed and prayed
To the neon god they made
And the sign flashed out its warning
In the words that it was forming
And the sign said “The words of the prophets
Are written on the subway walls
And tenement halls
And whispered in the sounds of silence
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ciERzSFRwzk
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With a Little Salt and Lime
Hello Jose my old friend
I've come to guzzle you again
The party started before afternoon
I started sipping on you far too soon
My last SENTENCE I fear was slightly slurred
(Vision blurred)
Forgot to EEEET----my breakfast
They look with pity upon me
'Can't hold his liquor', they agree
Now I'm weaving when I try to walk
Senseless babble when I try to talk
Then I feel the NEEEED to flee to an old-oak-tree
(To heave and pee)
but cannot LOOOZE---- my breakfast
Did not like his tone at all
Got myself into a brawl
I quickly put him in his rightful place
Broke his knuckles with my pretty face
Shoulda’ had my OOOATS but didn't so alas!
(I kiss the grass)
and now my ASSSS----is breakfast
In the morning I awake
moaning with a bad headache
Bright-sun glaring through the window pane
I whine and whimper in my wretched pain
In the next room a TV-is-blaring
and screams in my pounding-ear
(No thank you dear)
Believe I'll PASS on----breakfast
*Moral of the story: Never drink before noon OR on an empty stomach...
THE SOUNDS OF A ROSE
The Red Rose speaks softly
with velvety smoothness, it beckons me
come, hear my song of gladness
as I sing a lullaby
The Yellow Rose has a sound of authority
beware the thorns of life as you are
pricked by unforeseen events
tread carefully lest you stumble and fall
The Pink Rose is the rose of love shared
it sighs gently like a lover caressed
it glistens with dewdrops like tears of bliss
and seeks to be lovingly cared for
The Purple Rose is a rose easily bruised
its delicate nature makes it vulnerable
the aroma it creates is sensuous, yet innocent
treat it with care lest you crush its tender petals
love it with a certain purity and it will be yours forever
The White Rose is the symbol of purity
the voice is that of compassion
as it pleads with all who see it
be ye kind one to another
The Black Rose speaks in tones of finality
as it coaxes one on their death bed
come to me on your journey to eternity
where will you spend eternity is his question
Embrace the sounds of the rose
when each comes your way
let them engulf you in the special manner
yes, embrace the sounds of the rose
The wind against the trees make a rustling
A sound unlike any other around
The rubbing of the limbs craft a bustling
It’s a subtle music which brings this sound
Even the lake near land has a ripple
The wind against the trees make a rustling
And the grass nearby swishes and baffles
And the wind seems to give a great panting
The water has another sound, bubbling
Sounds permeate all throughout this calm place
The wind against the trees make a rustling
Mountain sits mighty with sounds on its face
Even the light seems to speak of high marks
The scene enlightens higher than heartstrings
Sound is the number one part that embarks
The wind against the trees make a rustling…
Russell Sivey
Contest: 'SOUNDS'
Sponsor: FRANK H.
5/11/2013
Thunder booms - It is my heart beating
The rain falls - It is my tears falling
Lightening flashes - It is the way my eyes glow
Wind blows - It is my heavy breaths...
Flowers grow - Inside my chest
Sunlight shines - Through my ribs and grows
Animals wake - And so beautifully start singing
Ice melts - You must be cheating
Because my heart has never beat this loud,
My tears have never came so happily out,
My eyes have never taken on this glow,
My breathing has never been so heavy; so fast and slow,
My chest has never felt alive,
That thing behind my ribs never knew it could survive,
My soul has never sang such a beautiful song,
So you must be cheating; how did you make me fall?
For you my soul sings so sweet,
the words and sound have a pleasent ring,
For you, you brought my heart alive,
now I dont fear that it will die,
For you a garden of flowers grow,
within my heart, its somewhere only you can go,
For you, you make me forget how to breath,
one moment its heated, the next im dreaming,
For you make my eyes glow,
they take on a shine, a look that no one else knows,
For you, you are the one who can make me cry,
but my lovely darling, you also make me smile,
For you make my heart beat wild,
so loud it could be thunder heard for a mile,
Some moments it scares me, or makes me confused,
but one thing saves me, I know I love you,
Something tells me, we were meant to be,
only time can tell, so I guess we'll have to see,
But if the angels, are listening to my prayers,
I hope they let us stay together, I hope forever Im yours
Sounds of Splendor
Some say songs soothe the savage beast
On gentle melodies I feast
Sensual pleasures increase
Swing me, sway me, elevate me
Joyful psalms can jubilate me
Your lyrics stimulate me
Rock, classical or jazz
Reggae, soul and blue grass
Music always resonated
Wind songs man has emulated
Across Earth unabated
Primitive tribes made drums and flutes
Melodies traced to early roots
Angst is quelled, anger dilutes
Harmonies reign in grace
As all cultures embrace
The beauty of song unifies
Turning enemies to allies
Play set chords or improvise
All arts bring beauty to our lives
Song styles change but music survives
So much pleasure we derive
Singing in unison
Tunes from the musician
*for Catie’s “Focus on Syllables” contest (887, 887, 66 repeated three times)
Blue washes over me sometimes and will not let me go.
Melancholy soon becomes the ROAR of frothing ocean waves,
toppling me into navy blue.
Frustration too arrives, sometimes in the form of gulls screaming in my mind!
That is when I’m sinking sinking sinking into deep dark blue.
Other times, however, blue is light - an airy powder and nearly tranquil
except for the occasional whoosh of a gentle breeze.
I love to hear its aqua lapping lapping lapping softly at my feet
while I lie in warm white sand beneath a cloudless expanse of azure sky.
Blue is often glad - winging its way through fields and trees
singing notes from throats of happiness’ birds
or raising heads of periwinkle flowers to beautify spring and summer days.
Blue nearly fades away completely in the fall
but reappears at times as splendid sapphire sunsets
melding into cardinal, amber or rose
and utterly silent - like the stars that glisten in the indigo of night.
Once in a blue moon I might see on snow
a rare glow.
It beckons me to venture out into winter’s beauty
like a brand new lover enticingly ice blue
so many sounds and nuances of blue!
but the one I always love giggles like a child
I want to slide into a sexy sports car - shining baby blue
and glide away Vroom Vroom Vroom
11/2/2013
Entered 1/28/23
For Mark Toney's 2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 26 Poetry Contest
Listen to the subtle sounds
that surround Mother Nature.
Hear a bubbling brook chuckle
as it gurgles over rocks.
Hear the drone of hummingbirds
or the songs of humpback whales.
And the sonic squeaks and clicks
exchanged by chatty dolphins.
Hear a cicada compete
with the chirp of a cricket.
And the wailing winds whistle
within the weeping willows.
Hear the laughter of water
careening off canyon walls.
And to hear the voice of God;
you merely need to listen.
“The sounds of Earth is the music of my soul.”
Sounds of earth echo from mountains and meadows,
Lauding nature's rhythms as zephyrs gently blow,
Strumming soul's music burbling rivers compose,
Rippling babbling waves giggling with ebb and flow;
Where seasons rustle whirling autumns, and springs,
Where butterflies waltz, fluttering ardent wings;
While lured by birdsongs, sweet melodies I long,
When stars stage symphony to nightingale’s song.
August 10, 2022
Placed 1st: Let Your Muse Be Inspired – R Form Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Constance La France
Form: Rispetto
Rhymes: ababccdd (Rhymezone)
Syllables: 11 per line (howmanysyllables.com)
Her sounds are peaceful
symphonic and soothing
The chirping of the birds
at the crack of dawn,
the plopping of rain
pouring heavily at roof tops,
the humming of bees
as they move swiftly
flower to flower,
the rustling of the leaves
in a cool breezy evening,
the splashing of the stream
as it swerves through forest,
the burbling of the river
as it trickles through valleys,
the crackling of dead leaves
as you walk through it in fall,
the whistling of the wind
through the coconut tree tops,
the crashing of waves
against the rocks in the sea,
the croaking of distant frogs
in the stillness of night
As She sings in harmony
to the tunes composed by God
Date: 09/07/2021
"H" Contest, New Or Old Poems Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Constance La France
Where will you be when the trumpet sounds
When the call comes with an
amazing surprise
A shout is heard by all who leave
these grounds
And all the dead and alive in Christ
shall arise
How will you explain; none of the missing is found
While Satan bombards the media with
his lies
Millions disappear as an army calls up
the hounds
Gone with no trace of any, as hearts in agony cries
Graves are open, cribs are empty, the trumpet sounds
Delusions, signs, and wonders as the evil one abides
Deception is real in all as this
darkness abounds
While behind the scenes, This world in
sin resides
What will you be doing when the
trumpet sounds
One of two in the fields is taken up beyond the skies
The other is left behind, in fear an empty heart pounds
To meet the Lord in the air as the Bible
so describes
All believers united with praise as
heaven resounds
The judgment of God on this earth will truly abide
In tribulation to all clothed with the unbeliever's gown
Their destination set: in their sins they
chose to hide
To this end, eternal fire in hell to be
cast down
When the trumpet sounds, all in Christ
will arise
To meet the Lord in the air, Wearing redemptions gown
For faith in Christ is gifted with the everlasting prize
Eternal life: in heaven we shall forever
be found
When the trumpet sounds?
the transition between sound and silence contains the sounds of silence
Enjoy the silence, the deep of night.
Not true silence for the word itself is illusion.
Still yourself enough to hear.
Listen for the sounds invoked in the darkness.
Quiet yourself from the inside-out
to perceive more.
The insights revealed during such muted moments
slow us, granting peace and serenity.
Night is a living entity brimming
with sound and industry.
Work, machine, wheel and gear.
A train's low grumbling engine. Its doleful
horn carried mournfully on humid summer air.
The machinery of life resonates. Those working
graveyard hours commute, clock-in, labor.
The stark trumpeting of a siren carries
over the numbed ears of a slumbering city.
A harsh, grating street sweeper toils
joined by the ghosts of twilight
on hushed, shadow-laden avenues.
Voices, song, and music in the night.
Crickets saw a faux-string melody.
Leaves rustle, sweep, and dance
a quiescent refrain on puffs of easy air.
There are drums on the silence as
approaching clouds roll with thunder.
Rains follow.
The timbre of water bubbling upon earth,
rooftop, and walkway.
A great horned owl takes flight.
Its wings "whip, whip, whip," as it directs
the late night aria.
Savor this appealing chorus of sounds
as an all familiar nocturne.
The sounds of silence enrich and help
make tranquil the human heart.
Being part of its lyric, we are calmed
by nature's chorus.
Even the weighty rumble and earsplitting
rasp of thunder can soothe the heart at night.
We are a part of the sound and silence always,
and in all ways.
Sounds in Silence
Free Verse
The Sounds of Spring
About: This poem is describes my feelings of the season spring. How the wonders of it are a miracle. A place so green dries and dies, when the cold comes. Then blooms and grooves of new life of all God's creations.
ATTENTION:All my poems are posted by me. No one else. Other websites, that I have uploaded my poems on are: forums.familyfriendpoems.com and wattpad.com (the username is the same on this website, as well as those: ricoelhady)
When the sun lights up over the land,
the groves grow golden red,
under the light,
The day then starts,
with the clinging of the bells in the far east,
and the roosters singing at dawn,
the sun's golden rays peak out to play spreading all over the land,
The blue jays sing,
the flowers bloom,
and the bees spread the scent,
the day shines brighter than any other icy day,
The game animals awake,
to the sounds from the wind,
they sing and perch to the instruments of day,
The creaking of the old mill,
on Grey's hill,
wakes up the town,
people of all ages boom through the day,
clapping and dancing,
to the rhythm of the day,
The clouds embrace across the blue,
cuddling and huddling the Sun and sky,
sparking the land under a disco light,
Me, what do I do?
I sit nearby the big, blue river,
listening,
to the plops and ploops and plips,
of the fish,
jumping here and there,
Today is a special day,
the first time this year,
nature decided to,
sing the sounds of spring
Morning sounds wake sleepy heads in beds.
A thud against the wall...daddy's home, drunk!
Mommy must have given him that mommy look!
Sis and I rush to help mommy off the floor as
daddy flops across the bed with his shoes on
smelling of stale beer and cigarette's stench.
Mommy is too dizzy to finish fixing our sandwiches
of baloney for our brown bag lunch. With one punch
he laid her flat again. When will his cruelty end?
Tomorrow is Parent Teacher conferences but
they both won't show up... again. They never do.
Mean taunts from ugly kids at school, we don't listen.
We watch the clock on the classroom wall that ends
with a clattering of noisy chatter and beat up books being
joyously slammed closed then shoved into back packs
as the bell loudly rings announcing the school days end.
We walk slowly home together with dulled anticipation
to the empty sounds of no one home to greet us.
The television's voice is a welcoming distraction that
elevates our spirits with happy kids in family shows.
The best thing about T.V. dinners is no dishes to wash.
Mommy comes home from work at the diner after dark
still sporting dark sunglasses to hide daddy's shiner.
The last sounds of the day comes from mommy's singing us
old songs she remembers from her youthful years at home.
6-17-16
Connie Marcum Wong
Poem of the Day June 21, 2016
N/A