Poems about sounds


№ 1205182

If it sounds like I'm bitter, it's because I am

Well there's that feeling of change in the air, that draws in close just like the tide hugs the shore.

Oh so lovingly, without ever being asked. It knows just how far to reach and exactly where to grab.

The sea has been and will always be such a tease.

And the ground is being smothered so inappropriately by everyone's shivers;

Fractals kicked around are moving from place to place like an orphan without a purpose.

Nothing for nothing, but I sure did choose a hell of a time to quit smoking again.

73 1/2 times,

A whole 74 by the end of this month alone I bet.

Darling I dreamt of you again,

Like I do when I'm feeling weak.

And for once you were happy to see me, asked to catch up somewhere easy

I played it cool and said yes.

My dear mother, the voice of my conscience, told me to stay away with tears in the brims of those beautiful hazel eyes that, to this day I am still waiting to inherit.

(I should have prayed harder in her womb. )

But I told her that life meant that risks are to be taken, blotted dry by my hopeful heart.

I waited.

You stood me up.

Even in my own dreams you mock me.

I rose, pregnant with emptiness, you always left me reeling. Longing for a drink.

4 years, nearly 700 miles, 10 hours and 22 minutes

Should have made a difference.

Will make no difference.

**Yeah, I'll get over it when I get over it, you little fuck.

bitter,  sounds.

Author: Janery Alban
Date: 02/04/2020

№ 1203769

Everything Sounds the Same (Pt. 2 - College Edition)

Secrets held in a college town
Old lawns doused in cheap wine and set aflame by talk of God's existence
Abandoned floors rest high above the likes of academia
Ghosts float past rusted oblivion cased safely on library shelves
In books of history or mystery or something
Most desks know too many bodies
Rooms fill with strangers breaking bread or smashing skulls
Grey foreign spaces call to mind no recollection of summer
But rather holds beds in which we dream of early July nights
Spent punch drunk beneath the knuckle blood letter tree
Alcohol numbs more than our fingertips
And we all drink vodka for sport
Collecting letter grades for ink-fueled suffocation
And some ungodly cosmic conformity

college,  edition,  pt,  sounds.

Author: Scar
Date: 01/04/2020

№ 1199053


Do you hear a distant train?
Or maybe the pitter patter of rain
The giggling of a small child
Breathy whispers to drive you wild

Do you hear a distant beat
That seeks out and moves your feet
The burbling of a forest brook
Or the flipping pages of a book

Do you hear a honking horn
Or singing on the day you're born
The whirring of a ceiling fan
A rock being shaken in a can

How about a barking dog
Or a chainsaw through a log
The sound of crowds scream and cheer
The pop and fizz from a can of beer

Do you hear a contented sigh
Or catcalls as you walk by
What about the birds that sing
Or the church bells loudly ring

I hear the call of my pillow
And the wind through the weeping willow
The crickets sing a lullaby
As the day and evening say goodbye


Author: The Fire Burns
Date: 28/03/2020

№ 1195409

Eyes want sky, sounds on ground.

God knows how

You feel, that creation

Of feeling was God's /

So humanity could feel

An ounce of the

Selfishness taken by our

Freewill for loneliness

With a meager

Attempt at knowledge /

Oh please, advert those

Eyes from the edge

For the next time you start

To fathom the


And though I

Pray for his angels

I call /

They obey God's law of


As I cry in prayer

And follow over the


We meet

Halfway to the ground

Hold each other close and

Don't hear a sound, we kiss /

eyes,  ground,  sky,  sounds.

Author: bownz
Date: 24/03/2020

№ 1191418

Train Sounds

There isn't really ever a train.
--I mean, it's outta context
Unless you on it.

And when are you ever on a train?

You know, when they block the road
In the sleepy town
Aside the thundering

63, 64, 95 cars.
Doesn' matter

It's always a metaphor: leaving, coming, dying, running

Feel the sound
In your bones

Feel it in the ground
The cold, cracked dirt

A train, loud and cold and dirty,
Embodies our semi-permanent
Pressing desire to be somewhere

Not find somewhere, No.
Never here.

sounds,  train.

Author: the disappeared
Date: 21/03/2020

№ 1190657

Five sounds of Lucid

The first is silent, it is don't make eye contact, it is the keep walking. It is the sound of pins dropping next to tears and elephants tiptoeing around bodies swinging in the room.

The second is the sound of body parts, of gut, of back, of heart, every time I say I'm ok...today. Everytime I have to say I'm pissed because your an asshole not because I'm crazy.

The third is the sound of crazy, it is the banging behind closet doors, it is the bruising of skeletons. It is the hide your kids, it is the "help this kid" clawing it's way out of my pride.

The fourth is the broken plastic spilling pills from it's side, it is the swallowing of the lunch break dose hiding in the bathroom. It is the familiar rattle in my bag.

The fifth is your voice, it's your “just get over it”, it's my “why can't I just get over it”. It is the giggle of my broken brain mocking me. The fifth is the end of the rope, where nooses are grown and bodies swing, trying to avoid elephants.

lucid,  sounds.

Author: Dagogo Hart Dagogo
Date: 20/03/2020

№ 1188242

Sounds of Nonlocality

Chimes are the
Fingers of stars...
Touching the wind
That's their breath.
Only magic knows best...
The moonless, sunless
Sounds of nonlocality.


Author: Onoma
Date: 18/03/2020

№ 1181201

Sounds of Silence

Sounds of silence
Is something wrong?
Should have heard something...
It's been too long.

Could get a phone call
Its turning into night
Still not a word,
I hope that they are alright.

Pacing the room
Worried and upset
Where could she be so long?
In trouble, I bet.

The car broke down,
It's out of gas
She's out there stranded
Or been in a crash.

Why not a phone call
To ease my mind
She lets me worry
All the time

Should I call the hospitals?
Should I call the cops?
The telephone rings
My heart stops.

Who could it be?
I pray she's alright.
"Hi, mom. It's me
I'm spending the night. "

"Ok, baby
Thanks for the call
Was I getting worried?
No, not at all. "

silence,  sounds.

Author: Jeanie Flowers
Date: 11/03/2020