darkness
I m blind
Mind went dark
Blindly toward sounds
Running on the stones
Chasing them
Running fast
Stop.
Sounds disappeared.
Poems on the topic: sound
Poems on the topic “sound” on Poets.by.
The Slightest Change In Ambient Sound
If I listened closely enough I could hear him coming,
I could feel his drunken anger in those moments when
He was swaying between seething and swinging
But it was the moments when the world was completely silent
That I learned to fear the most
* * *
To my small
electric pump
To sense
and sound
this world
look to
your snifter
valve
take oil
and hum
Angel Shakes at Lucky's
speech has chinks in its wall of sound.
through them I hear the Pleiades
blink off for the night.
it's called "after hours".
lean buildings stand,
fresh and legible paint slips hoist,
and men are poised in relief
against. Lucky Arch's,
a proposed monument to that sound.
The Sound of the Trees
I wonder about the trees.
Why do we wish to bear
Forever the noise of these
More than another noise
So close to our dwelling place?
We suffer them by the day
Till we lose all measure of pace,
And fixity in our joys,
And acquire a listening air.
They are that that talks of going
But never gets away;
And that talks no less for knowing,
As it grows wiser and older,
That now it means to stay.
My feet tug at the floor
And my head sways to my shoulder
Seventy-One
Hear the difference
when there is wind
against a new house
and against an old house.
Hokku 68
Oh, How cool —
The sound of the bell
That leaves the bell itself.
Minna XXII
The gown you wear is curiously like sound--
Tangles of dahlia-murmurs taking shape
In shrinking, mellow sprays.
The everlasting journey of your heart
Gliding over a sleepy litany
That winds through scattered star-flowers of regrets:
The everlasting journey of your heart
Is like a fragile traveler of sound--
A murmur seeking the love that gave it birth.
Minna XII
You are a well sprayed with cool rubies of sound
In which I bathe and rise with another skin
Like moon-stone passion slyly courting
The light breath of a tired dream.
I drop my heart into the depths
Of your disheveled serenity,
And stroll off empty.
When my heart has merged to your shades of pearl quietness
I return and once more drop within you.
Knowledge
Now that I know
How passion warms little
Of flesh in the mould,
And treasure is brittle, —
I'll lie here and learn
How, over their ground,
Trees make a long shadow
And a light sound.
Answer
Love, you have broken my wings — I cried-
And oh, the sky!
Never, never to lift me high!
Only the broken-winged can fly.
Look! — Love replied.
Love, you have shattered the songs of me
And oh, the pain!
Never, never to sing again!
Singing lives on when song is dead.
Listen! — Love said.
There is a sky for a broken wing,
That I have found;
And in the stillness after song,
There is a Sound!
To A Door
Door, you stand in your darkened frame
Mindful of your wooden might,
Flaunting relentlessly your claim
As guardian of sound and light.
Yet for all your vigil. Door,
Shadows that slip on panting feet
Over your threshold tinge the floor
With what was sunlight on the street.
And sounds fluttering in to die
(Door, you thought I should not know!)
Were started by an echo's cry
That was a voice not long ago.
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