The noise started at precisely 9 am
A high pitched buzzing without an end
At first a curiosity of what it was
Over coffee there was discussion of its cause
It went on and on without it stopping
Just continual humming and vibrating
Eventually it penetrated through ear plugs and muffs
No matter how tight or close fitting enough
It made people sick driving them mad
No matter what treatment was had
Then a message was broadcast on all media types
Surrender and the noise will be wiped.
© Paul Warren Poetry
THAT OLD RED BARN
That old red barn, she was well known -
She had bleached timbers, blue roof half gone,
Baton and board construction,
And a loft with hay -
And with Emily.
One Saturday afternoon in May
Was my introduction to barn design and her design
Was elegant of frame and line,
Clad very lightly, close-fitting and fine,
But with revealing shape and tone.
Outside, well sunbrowned and wind blown,
A thing of nature almost uncivilized, unknown.
She opened easily to the touch,
Resisting and squealing but not much.
Inside warm and soft with such
Welcoming recesses where I loved
Hiding and very carefully explored.
She was designed to receive. And
My experience was broadened through
The barn’s red door and roof of blue -
And by Emily too.