In a broader sense, the rhythms of nature, large and small - the sounds of wind and water, the sounds of birds and insects - must inevitably find their analogues in music.
quote by George Crumb
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Oh These Poets And Their Sounds
OH THESE POETS AND THEIR SOUNDS
Oh these poets and their sounds
Their distant rhythms
Which take your soul away-
Oh these poets and their sounds
And the longing to be
One of them-
Oh this poet
And all his cry of loneliness-
Oh these poets and their sounds,
And he in his own small voice
Crying out lonely words
Before his own lonely page.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Music of nature
I forget all other sounds
When I listen
To the music of nature
It soothes my heart and soul
It’s pleasing to my ears
Sound of flowing water,
Chirping of birds
Pouring of rain,
Whistling of the wind
Takes me to the world of god
Rattling of leaves on the tree
Humming of bees
Buzzing of wasps is
Devotional music to my ears?
I feel nearer to god
Whenever I listen
To the music of nature
poem by Nirantar Dr.Rajendra Tela
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sounds of Nature
Sounds of Nature,
brings an echo
to my ear.
So gentle are,
their call
to my heart
Seeing this all,
birds making music,
to my ear
Sweet smell of
flowers still developing
oh, the spendor of it all
Sounds of Nature
brings an echo
to my ear.
Techno Pop
Music non stop, techno-pop
Music non stop, techno-pop
Synthetic electronic sounds
Industrial rhythms all around
Music non stop, techno-pop
Synthetic electronic sounds
Industrial rhythms all around
Music non stop, techno-pop
Music non stop, techno-pop
Synthetic electronic sounds
Industrial rhythms all around
Music non stop, techno-pop
[Spanish]
La musica ideas portara (Music will bring new ideas)
y siempre continuara (and will continue forever)
Sonido electronico (Electronic sound)
Decibel sintetico (Synthetic dB)
La musica ideas portara
y siempre continuara
Sonido electronico
Decibel sintetico
Music
Synthetic
Techno-pop
La musica ideas portara
y siempre continuara
Sonido electronico
Decibel sintetico
Music non stop,
Music non stop,
Music non stop,
Music non stop, techno-pop
Music non stop, techno-pop
Synthetic electronic sounds
Industrial rhythms all around
Es musst immer weiter gehn'
Musik konstruiere von Ideen
Music
Non stop
Techno-pop
song performed by by Kraftwerk
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Sounds Of Nature
The Sounds Of Nature
O, tis so sweet.
Who am I
That would dare try to repeat
The lovliness of a tweet.
The flutter of its wings
The tiny cute prints
Of a little birds feet.
The Sounds of Nature
O, how beautiful yet afar.
Are raindrops against the windshield
Of a still parked car.
Each little drip dropp runs
Caressing the mind so intensely
Seemingly just to play a part
Or perhaps for the fun of it.
O, The Sounds Of Nature
Sometimes deeply doth groan.
When by an unwillingly nature
One's heart decides to roam.
How lovely is a weep
Who does understand the moan.
When its all part of nature
But who wants to be left alone.
poem by Cecelia Weir
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Rhythms of the Night
Seduced by the rhythms of the night
Sounds of People Laughing
People Singing
People Dancing
Entices me nearer to the source
The night streets covered in fog
I venture down the cobblestone streets
to find the source
The sounds of the street beat
that move my feet
The music eminates from a dark alley
through a side door.
The music Pumping...Thumping
set afire by the music
The music and my soul become one
My feet dance aflutter
Shutter I think to what the future holds
As you and I embrace into one body
Engulfed into One
Nothing around us matters
Just You and I
Peter B LeBuhn
poem by Peter LeBuhn
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“Sweet Sounds of Joy”
Sounds of joy, sounds of joy
Oh how I love to hear sweet sounds
Of joy
Sounds of joy, sounds of joy
Oh how I love to hear momma sing
In her morning voice
Sounds of joy, sounds of joy
Oh how I love to be in the presence
Of these sounds of joy
Sounds of joy, sounds of joy
Oh how I love sweet sounds of joy
poem by Va Rockeya Foy
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Music
When music sounds, gone is the earth I know,
And all her lovely things even lovelier grow;
Her flowers in vision flame, her forest trees
Lift burdened branches, stilled with ecstasies.
When music sounds, out of the water rise
Naiads whose beauty dims my waking eyes,
Rapt in strange dreams burns each enchanted face,
With solemn echoing stirs their dwelling-place.
When music sounds, all that I was I am
Ere to this haunt of brooding dust I came;
And from Time's woods break into distant song
The swift-winged hours, as I hasten along.
poem by Walter de la Mare
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As long as its music
Please play me a symphony
Make a simple cheerful harmony
Please play me a chord from a guitar
For me, it does not matter
If I’m the only audience of your theatre
Give me some instrumental vibes
All rhythms and tunes are musically ripe
There is no need to take precaution
While playing the Banjo or flamenco percussion
As long as its music
We can all heal
As long as its music
We can all feel
We can sing out our hearts and soul
We can let this music take control
Please play me the drums
We can sing or we can hum
Please play me a CD or a hit record
We could sing to the tunes of an ipod
With the sounds of music we can compose a song
Maybe sing to the town’s bells chiming ding-dong
Please play me the sweet keys of a piano
Hit a sweet note that is a major or minor
As long as its music
We can all heal or cry
As long as its music
We can all feel or fly high
And I will be lost in your voice and eyes
Holding on to each minute that flies
Whatever sounds or instruments
I shall feel good in the moment
Please play me a note from a flute
Those peaceful sounds tend to soothe
I want to hear sweet, sweet music
Choose your lyrics, take your pick
My heart will dance, till she is weak
Get out that guitar, acoustic or electric
Please play me the violins of an orchestra night
String me some melodies in broad daylight
And we can rap to melodious sense or crap
While our feet’s playfully tap, tap and tap
As long as its music
We can dance along the shore
As long as its music
We can all take to the dance floor
And I say once more, once more!
As long as its music, I will only ask for more
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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Showing her teeth pearls!
I heard some wonderful sounds
floating through the air into my ears;
Is it her anklets made of fine sounds....!
Is it her bangles made such sounds..!
Or is it the sounds of dropped coins;
I am puzzled and turned around,
I could not find anybody,
Suddenly there appeared a beautiful girl,
She came giggling with a broad smile,
Showing her teeth pearls!
poem by V.K. Kanniappan
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Nature Plays Music!
Nature plays game using sea, wind, tree, sky
Like fingers playing on the key board of piano!
Dashing waves, thudding waves, hissing waves
Are different notes of music of all Nature knows!
Oozing or howling sound is the music of storms;
Hissing sound of breeze is the music of spring
And many sounds of music produced by nature
Everybody cannot forget along with the smell sure!
Simple harmonic waves are the rhythmic beat music
Every heart and verse of poet has like the ticking time
Or the works of mind nonstop till the end of time here!
Wind passing through flute or saxophone is nice to hear
Like the vocalist produces various rhymes of music
Forming natural base for all songs we enjoy in life forever!
poem by Ramesh T A
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Broken Silence
It is strange how sound can travel
on a quiet day;
you can hear someone mowing their lawn
from more than a mile away.
It breaks the silence of where only nature can be heard.
All you hear is the whine of its motor everywhere;
it drowns out the gentle sounds
that are relaxing to the ear.
You will be happy when they finish
and silence returns once more
and your ears are again massaged
by the gentle sounds of the flowing water of a stream
and the twitterings of a small bird’s song.
19 September 2008
poem by David Harris
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Birds of Spring
Birds of spring they
bring on so many things
sounds they send
to each other,
that only they
can understand
in their sweet
cheerful harmony.
Sweet smell in
the air this
beautiful april day
listening to these creatures.
Taking in the warmth
of the sun that
is so overdue, blue
skies beauty to the eye.
Birds in flight
from one tree
to the other, getting
ready to produce life.
Cool breezes this
day so fine to hear
birds of spring echoing
music to my ear.
Birds of spring
to many to mention you all,
Robbins, Wrens and Cardinals
or a few I see, oh so beautiful.
To hear their chirping
wondering what they're saying
at this moment
will sit here for awhile.
Sounds this day
so relaxing is it
to listen to these
birds of spring.
wrote 4-3-07
Music To My Ears
The merry music of a colourful carousel.
The joyous ringing out of church wedding bells.
A bird singing its heart out, high up in a tree.
The waves crashing down upon the salty sea.
The skin of a snare drum, being played with brushes.
A waterfall - the dramatic way that the water rushes.
The audience's excited chatter prior to a show.
The melodious sound of the bassoon or the oboe.
The call of geese - their loud, trumpeting sound.
A music box, as its pretty ballerina dances around.
I adore some accents: some are really top-notch:
I love listening to the Geordies and to the Scotch.
The jangling bells and cracking sticks of Morris Men.
The loud, hourly chiming of London's iconic Big Ben.
The tinkling of wind-chimes, blowing this way and that.
The rhythmic and resonant purring of a contented cat.
These are among the sounds which I love to hear:
Towards these sounds, my feet are often steered.
These sounds always put a smile upon my face:
Towards these sounds, my two feet will often race.
poem by Angela Wybrow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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All of nature begins to whisper its secrets to us through its sounds. Sounds that were previously incomprehensible to our soul now become the meaningful language of nature.
quote by Rudolf Steiner
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Poem Has A Music Of Its Own
THE POEM HAS A MUSIC OF ITS OWN
The poem has a music of its own
Without the music
It is no poetry.
My music
Faltering breaking slow
Wonders where it is going
And if it really sounds
As music should sound.
Once it was more easy to feel
The melody in me real.
Now I just do not know
So many sounds
So many words
So many claims of poetry.
Music music music
Where are you?
The sound from myself
Is only 'me' now.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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It Smells Like Rain
It smells like rain
filling the air
before the first drops break
in quiet splashes on the river.
It smells like rain
musty and fresh at once
warning the birds
to go home.
And the rain comes
water on water
cool rush of sound
quieting insects
teasing fish
drenching boaters
surprised by the storm.
It smells like rain
It sounds like rain
It looks like rain, now
I’ll go outside
and feel the rain.
Hell. I’ll be the rain.
poem by Robert Fort
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Excited Winds
As the wind blows
I almost know
I can feel the thrill
Without one kill
As the wind talks
I start to walk
No one understands
A man with no hands
As the wind yowls
It sounds like howls
Like women in need of money
Or craving for some honey
As the wind weeps
I get the creeps
It sounds like cries
When someone dies
poem by Cherra Redd
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Sounds
What are the sounds we love to hear,
the sounds that bring us joy?
They are all the sounds we've listened to,
sounds that don't destroy
how you feel or how you react
when they reach your ear.
They touch a certain part of you
that sometimes brings a tear
of joy.
A child's laughter so innocent and pure,
a rolling wave down at the shore,
a sound of comfort from a spoken word,
a sound of wind chimes in the air,
a sound of silence while in prayer,
a sound of white noise when you sleep,
a sound of joyful tears you weep.
These sounds and many, many more
can change a person's mood.
They soothe your body and your mind
so nothing can intrude
upon your joy.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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My Poems Came Back To Me / As Rhythms Without Sounds
My poems came back to me
as rhythms without sounds
Imitations of anothers music
Falling down and down
Like winter snow
To whitening ground-
My poems came back to me
As distant whispers of other destinies
Flights from deeper spaces
Mankind has not yet surmised
They were somewhere in the distance of distance
Beyond all distance
In the mystical language
Only Wisdom heard
Though it had no words of its own-
Only ‘now’ and ‘more’ and ‘dreams of another century’
And I, I with all these confusing words
Wondering if my friend would ever be sane again
And why God does it this way
While I in my writing play and play again
Bringing my own rhythms back
And making poetry my own small happy game
Which I write and I write
Without memory.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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