Best Whistling Poems
A whistling wheezing hamlet, whispering and emanating, tunes euphonic,
In a remote isolated valley, far-flung from the abode of the temporal,
Warbling quietly to whistle scads of tranquil cryptic songs;
Lying spasmodic, a sparsely inhabited mellifluous hamlet, Kongthong!
Not to hyperbole, a singing utopia, uncustomary to the core!
Where innate and mellow are the naive dwellers' rustic tinkling timbres!
A rover's riddle, the natives' pride, a unique heritage, their blissful strains!
Ringing with an ancient tradition of tune-giving in honour of the root ancestress,
Customary to the matrilineal surviving unknown folk of the thorp!
The chirping region's dispositions and practices outlandish, vague and obscure,
Primitive and bizarre, mere to merge with nature's absolute accord!
Voices buzzing in whistles, murmuring and chattering, lilting,
Arcane, pervading the virgin thicket of the sacred thorpe!
To entangle, passerby and wanderers in dream like metaphors!
Those magical murmurs in quirky tunes, mingling the breeze of the secluded hamlet, intoning own tinkles!
Blessed are the tuning terrain's offsprings, nameless!
Rared by ditties, hailed sacred by the clan's conviction!
Outlying, by the uninhabited enchanting wilderness of East Khasi Hills,
Sleeping quietly the untrodden, nature's lulling lullaby, the whistling Kongthong!
Yell! Immaculate and serene, the saga of their undeciphered airs, mumbling in exquisite ethos!
Inimitable and gripping to eye, how the denizens of the tribe,
Are crooning to dub and call each other by indigenous intonations!
Pitching and whooshing, to tune their melodic identities unique!
Whew! The picturesque terrain is tweeting, whooping, and whizzing!
Heaven! Bless anomalous nature's absolute pamphlet,
The ringing Kongthong, God's own whistling hamlet!
whistling past a graveyard
Devil may care, but I have no regard
I walk among granite tombstones
six feet below are boxes full of bones
I find myself in a dark, dark room
only to realize it's a witch's tomb
gravedigger has bodies to retrieve
on this night, Saint Hollow's Eve
The Scent of summer on my skin
golden hues of remembrances
The rushing river moves quietly
into the hours of the day
Autumn steams by in fired shades
amber oranges yellows and red
The whistling winds subside
and I feel winter's chide
January shivers homsie brews
rainy days that end with snow
Wet leaves cling to the pavement
tangerine smells of home
Standing listening, listening, a brush of air passes by
The whaling, whaling, sound of the voice of the earth
Lisping, lisping, the words of the old and new
Hailing, hailing, you to stop and look and smell the air
The sigh, sigh, of hope that always given in time
Hush, hush, the noise has quieted down to a stop
The brushing, brushing, grass that is laid down by wind
Lashing, lashing, with quickness that cannot be seen
The high, high, notes that can be aching and soon heard
Snapping, snapping, ripping the air apart with its song
The loop, loop, which thrashes the leaves around
Standing, standing, letting the sounds brush around
The opening, opening, of lips pushing the air out
Whistling, whistling, that of which life has not gone out
A soldier that served in the last Great War
Is remembered in stone and in wood,
One of thousands who died and had to endure
What no man ever should.
A soldier that answered his nations call
And fought that we might be free,
Signed up in the summer, sailed in the fall,
Leaving home and family.
The parting was painful, the night was clear,
When his regiment boarded ship.
He kissed his wife and held her near
In an unrelenting grip.
Above them shone a brilliant moon,
Like a pearl in the pool of the night.
The soldier whistled a lonesome tune
As his homeland slipped from sight.
No more than an hour of the journey completed,
The engines fell silent below.
In seconds a submarine had meted
A fiery, final blow.
The vessel, now a mangled wreck,
Leant to its starboard side.
Every man on the twisted deck,
Fought to get the lifeboats untied.
Some jumped overboard, as the ship sank fast,
Amidst burning and floating debris.
The whistling soldier breathed his last,
As he slipped “neath the pitiless sea.
A monument stands to honour those
Who perished in their prime
A field of crosses stand in rows
Like sentinels to a shrine.
It stands on a hillside
Overlooked by pine trees
That rustle and whistle
In the warm offshore breeze.
A widow returns to remember the soldier
She lost many years before,
And whispers, as her children hold her,
"Let there be no more war".
Faded yellow and webbed feet
Running together around the yard
Consuming grass and vegetation
Comical "duck" run when danger is perceived
Baby pool for swimming and play
Cute little fellows whistling along
Content within the safety of their home
Free fertilizer generated daily;-]
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I Can Hear Hope Whistling On By
Lonesome train whistle blowing loudly tonight
memories of my youth and that amazing sound.
Images of my dog barking at the racing sight
of that train flying by shaking the ground.
O' how big that giant metal beast once seemed
with great men steering it by our poor home.
Dare I hope one day it be me, as I dreamed
big engine, black iron rails on which to roam.
Tracks leading into adventure far, far away
maybe robbers holding up a gold ladened train.
Reality, daydreams or inspiring child's play
imagination and hope some may dare call insane.
Iron wheels, they once moved my imaginative soul.
Now to regain that lost blessing, my great goal!
Robert J. Lindley
Sonnet
Note: that train just went by. My old mind jumped
aboard, took a seat and started writing!
Was truly great to be that poor kid again, holding
onto hope's eternal promise of a future not so damn
hard....
I can remember me looking at my dog, Buster and saying
--"Someday buster, some future day"!
winter trees naked
spring trees cloaked with snug green leaves ~
birds’ whistling season
4/1/2022
Nature in Spring
Sponsor: Tania Kitchin
HMS 5/7/5
This is the tale of Whistling Jim and how he met his maiden fair.
By the shores of Richmond's river, by the shelves of sparkling water
In the shining super market, Meg Macauleey, Nimble Fingers
Nimbly checking out while dreaming, checking out the goods at Tesco
Drifting with the tide at Tesco, drifting through her day in wonder.
Young and strong is Jim the postman as he lugs the heavy post bags
As he lugs the bright red trolley as he rides his bright red bike.
Up the hillside rides our hero , even though his back is hurting.
Even though his arms are aching, even though he's feeling thirsty
Conscientious is our hero, for the post, it must get through
Outside the pub, there sits a maiden, Meg Macauley is her name
She's just taking a quick lunch break, in her hand's a pint of beer.
Jim is passing, feeling thirsty and he casts a look of longing
Such a searching look of longing at Megs languid fingers curling
Round the foaming glass of beer Meg Macauley, Languid Fingers
Toying with her glass of beer. Oh that foaming glass of bitter
If only he could taste that bitter. but Jim can only stand and stare.
Then Meg shyly gestures to him raising up the glass of bitter
"Fancy some then do you Postie?" Jim just can't believe his luck
Thirstily he drinks the bitter, thirstily he looks at Meg now
She is watching him still drinking, drinking deeply of the beer
"I had better get more bitter" Jim says to the maiden fair.
So he gets them both another and they both sip at them slowly
Smoothly both their glasses empty as their hearts fill up with love.
.
"Do you fancy going dancing?' boldly Jim ventures to say
"Are you asking?" Meg now blushes, then she quickly looks away
"I am asking" "Then I'm coming" and so their fate is sealed forever.
Jim has found his dancing partner, Always Dreaming, checkout girl
For their story's just beginning so we will leave our lovers here.
Out side the pub, up on the hillside sipping pints of foaming beer.
with humble apologies to Longfellow
The mountain looks across a sea gazing
as it crawls beholding living waves move amazing Grace
echoing gull's lament falls upon deaf ears
silence freezes over iced laced as they that breathe out
from salted whispers footprints scream injustice
Nurtured with the twilight covers ebony
dressed in sparkling silver starlight
where perfection has been misplaced
At the gate without hope as seen for it's strong virtues
realities shadows quickly reaches the summit
consumed far fetched mad as a hatter hounds of words
spell disaster smoking guns disadvantaged creation
This planet has lost the plot completely
with dishonest crooks filled with mercury heavy lead
back to front doses evolve helpless beings
small measures begins poisoning the weak minded fools
In those whom use the upside down Bible
for no good cause stumbling at the hurdles chariots on fire
spoken of at the burning bush our ten laws etched on stone
take your heathen temple out of our land
wizened widows wink
when winsome women wiggle...
while workmen whistle
(Alliterku)
02/28/2023
Alliterku Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Charles Messina
The attributes of God are innumerable
they are indeed without number
nothing is too much for our God
who never sleeps nor will slumber
So the Lord calls His people
even with the sound of whistle
whistling through His wind
as effective as any Pauline epistle
For in God's redemption plan
an ingathering is on His agenda
to bring His people back in
for they are His no matter their gender
God's great love for His own
who are His redeemed elect
His purpose to rescue them
caused them to be in His debt
Divine purpose had a hand
in bringing those to be
equal number as were before
brought by God's grace so free
Next time you hear a whistle
remind yourself it's the divine origin
that through it came eternal redemption
such is God's victory over sin
AUTHOR NOTES:
“I will whistle for them and gather them in,
for I have redeemed them,
and they shall be as many as they were before."
Zechariah ch 10 v. 8 (ESV)
YOUTH
Mouthing a tunnel
of ringing memories
A young boy whistles
In all my life I’ve always dreamed
I’ll meet someone lovely like you
As if our lasting love was meant
We’ll be together all life through,
Just like a whistle in the wind.
We meandered through our life together
Living in one large oversize chamber
We pass from soft spring to winter weather
Through all thick and thin we’ll just remember.
The vast universe was ours to enjoy
As if our spacious room has no more walls,
Say who can dare our lasting love destroy,
I hear the whistle in the wind that calls.
In all my life I’ve always dreamed
I’ll meet someone lovely like you
As if our lasting love was meant
We’ll be together all life through,
Just like a whistle in the wind.
Listen my love, just listen o my dear
The wind is whistling our beautiful song
Our love tune comes over so clear, so clear,
Thus in bliss we will make love all night long.
Yet one day all this must forever end,
Like a loving whistle in the wild wind,
We hope that any of our faults we mend
And become new and fine as sweet as mint.
In all my life I’ve always dreamed
I’ll meet someone lovely like you
As if our lasting love was meant
We’ll be together all life through,
Just like a whistle in the wind.
Leaves, green with sap of lush Spring trees
Flutter as branch bound butterflies,
Whistling tunes in Summer breeze
Backing cicada mating songs.
Well-seasoned leaves blistered with rust
Fly as pennants on Autumn limbs.
Much retired from recycling CO2
They rocked and rolled on Winter ground,
Rout-steppers marching in review,
Mulching forward with much to do.