Imagery Sound Poems | Examples
These Imagery Sound poems are examples of Sound poems about Imagery. These are the best examples of Sound Imagery poems written by international poets.
Born yonder east flickering behind the rolling sky.
Majestic birth of light governs wonders for new and old eyes.
Though northern winds crash and whistle around walking legs under hooded collar of wet yet thick, warm, heavy coat.
Screwed up eyes know light shines bright between the lines of driving rain causing splash on tarmac roads.
Heavy sway of branch and leaf rustling all around. Faced down onwards walk - no run as pointless now the weather found.
Darkness.
Drip.
Not absence,
but a rarified vastness
thick with hush,
like a cavern
carved behind my eyes.
Drip.
Drip.
Somewhere, water—
not seen,
just heard,
each drop a soft footstep
in the void behind me.
Concentric rings of silence.
And then—
a pulsating dot of light.
Drip.
It grows—
breathes—
radiates outward in color—
rings blooming
from the dark
like ripples in a pond
no stone ever touched.
Drip.
And then
there was no difference
between the rings and me—
no watcher—
no watched—
only light,
arriving
from within
and without.
No fear.
No body.
Only
the warmth
of being,
the ease
of breath,
and wonder—
vast
and unasked for.
I become the light.
Hear the way I sound,
a harmonious hum,
a rhythm that beats with every dream,
every fear, and every whim.
My voice, a canvas of emotions,
a tapestry woven with threads of joy and pain,
of love and loss, of laughter and of tears.
When my poetry speaks,
the world is hushed,
Even soul great and small is uplifted
That was once stuck.
As if the very wind itself paused to listen,
to absorb the vibrations of my being,
to harmonize with the song that is me.
Hear the way I sound,
and let your own voice be amplified,
for in the echoes of my soul,
you may find the resonance that sets your spirit free."
From my window, hidden I hear,
birds trilling mantras
enigmatic sounds that I don't even know...
on the full moon
i fix my gaze
look! a bloomed rose...
it smells so nice!
fine day it is...
folks wave at me
and i wave back
while on my stroll.
there's much to see
as well as hear
bird sings sweet song
perched on tree stump.
out in fresh air
i see great sights
oh, i don't want
this day to end!
Morning glory bud
Begins to unfurl.
An Eagle flies high
In the morning sky.
Aspen leaves rustle,
Stirred by the wind.
Hope floats above
Feeling refreshed,
Joy swirls within.
Rooster crows,
Raven caws,
Risers yawn
Coffee
Bacon.
Eggs.
The sound of rain
Acts as a balm to my overtaxed brain
Is a sweet lullaby
Relaxes my bewildered mind
The soothing downpour
Washes all my worries away
Induces me to be in the arms of Morpheus
In a peaceful repose.
In rapid succession, I jab my push-broom
Through footpath in which I walk life..."ch..ch..ch"
Clearing debris, so when i'm barefoot, I don't...
step on shards of glass.
Beyond a big, yellow
‘DETOUR’ sign,
an enormous machine
with flashing amber lights
and frightening teeth
is grinding asphalt down,
moving slowly along the street
leaving a grooved wake
as it scrapes and gouges
its way through a long night
depriving the citizenry
of sleep by the sound
of a relentless,
ear piercing ‘beep’, ‘beep’.
Though the subject matter
and imagery is entirely different,
the above picks up a subtle echo
from that famous poem by
William Carlos Williams,
‘The Great Figure’.
"Zzzzzzz!" goes a bothersome bee up close, yet so
Eerily s t i l l was the meditating Tibetan monk;
Nothing seems to faze him in a trance-like state.
twilight
charcoal sky
shrieking crickets
bright stars sparkling above
goodnight
Fight with demons inside voices talk
Controlled by an rage of emotion
Or to control the being inside its breath
A man of being or humanity fear
The strength within ourselves we find purpose
Got save yourself from yourself
Lost soul of life's breath dying out
There's a quietness exist in darkness
Among the living, running in silence
Hiding among the ruins of our depths
I call with answer, I'm here where art thou
In myself I can not deny the minds conception
Sound of Silence, they talk when I sleep
I search deep for the light within myself
The one that sparks the me inside
The one I hear, sound of silence beneath
Talking to me from the depths of dark
A walk among the wolves of society
A search for peace, blue sky's of sun
Sound of Silence, empty place of imagery
We go there, a get away journey of space
A thought to gather one's self insanity
But is one really sane in themselves
The voices talk, my path my journey to where
Even in silence, it to has a voice cries
Only in ourselves can we defeat darkness eyes
Ash
It falls
And lay still
Burning city
But it’s still my home
Smoke clouds inhabit skies
And skyscrapers crumble down
We watch from the cliffside and mourn
A disaster soundtrack lacking sound
We only hear the ashes falling
Everything we loved, now debris
The sun charred over with greed
Memories in piles
The darkness warns me
Suffocation
We lay still
And breathe
Dross
~ amid rustling dry foliage, lost in thought with no conscience of time ~
my muse
springs awake
from slumber;
in overdrive
at the crack of dawn.
my mind's eye
wide open;
my imagination,
a bird spreading
it's elephantine wingspan,
taking dizzying flight.
poetic inspirations
are breadcrumbs
scattering
here and there.
my ink-filled pen
gracefully skates
across a blank page;
a poem was born
with a faint gust of wind.