Inner Sanctum
While half of humanity sleeps
And their normal noises desist:
Those raucous rackets I abhor
Give pause for mental pleasantries:
Sustaining thoughts can now linger
Long without any distractions
And melodious sounds of silence
Can soothe my psyche once again.
Oh! If they could sleep forever
I would have no need for slumber
Unencumbered by fantasies
Of the mind sought only in dreams.
Lo! Those intrusive sounds I hear
It’s what I feared: they have wakened.
poem by Albert Ahearn
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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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Broken Sleep
Broken sleep comes to me
sometimes when I think of thee.
The shadows of the night falls
eerily on my bedroom walls
as I hear your nightly sounds.
I listen an am content to hear
these sounds I've heard for so many a night.
My broken sleep is quite alright.
You do not know I lay awake
alert to all the sounds you make.
My one pointless wish is that I could be
where your dreams have gone.
And who knows? Maybe I'm there
for you may have taken me along.
But will you remember where?
I'll ask you in the morning dear
and see if you can let it appear?
And if you can't I will not weep
as long as I have my broken sleep
to hear your nightly sounds.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Elusive Sleep
Sleep evades me in the night
I listen to sounds make thoughts
which play upon my mind
in the dark of the room I lay
waiting for serenity to come
time passes slowly
as though held imperfect
its warm, too warm for comfort
and too cold beyond the bed sheet
the day has been long, the body aches
still, still sleep evades me
and those sounds, each shadow
play upon the mind more and more
restless and anxious for sleep
to rest, to dream, to be at peace
the elusive sleep in the night
where thoughts consume me
poem by Matthew Holloway
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Thoughts On The Sounds of Silence
The sounds of silence beacons me.
Like the flight of a bumble bee.
For my life is in a quandary. And I am the one who is confused.
All the noise I here has me transfused.
The constant noise is like a cancerous ooze, someone mused.
All this noise has everyone confused.
I pray to God above to bestow me with the sounds of silence.
All human life is in the balance.
With the sounds of silence I believe peace surrounds us.
About this subject I must confess, I need to access.
I must admit that the sounds of silence is for me.
On the sounds of silence many of us do agree
That peace and love needs to be in great balance.
Without the sounds of silence there would be a major imbalance.
poem by Nichole Kaci McKnight
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In Dreams I Now Play
Tossing and tossing I can’t sleep at all
My mind keeps racing I stare at the wall
The shadows alive they move when I turn
Sounds catch my breath the fear I do spurn
I cover my face with the quilt from my bed
I try to find sleep but more thoughts fill my head
Oh that sweet sleep would find me once more
And now there is lighting the rain starts to pour.
Suddenly an ally does comfort my mind
The sounds from the rain they treat me so kind
The thief of my rest is banished away
I drift off to sleep in dreams I now play
“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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Sounds Of Reality
You want to sit in silence
just to gather your thoughts,
however you know that something
will shatter that shell apart.
The silence that you crave
will vanish in sounds of reality.
You want to sit without
any outside influence
invading your shell of silence
you have built around yourself.
Sadly the inevitable will happen
and the shell will be shattered.
The sounds of reality
creep into our lives
in those precious moments
when we need to be
alone with our thoughts
and as quiet as can be.
Some don’t understand
the quiet distance others need
and invade it with idle noise
from their chatter to a TV blast
which will shatter your silence shell
with the sounds of reality.
You feel like shouting
get out of my space
and leave me alone,
but then you doubt
if they will understand
and you suffer in the sounds of reality.
24 September 2010
poem by David Harris
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Low Finisterre 1007 Losing Its Identity By The Same Time
It’s BBC Radio 4
but the familiar
litany of
THE SHIPPING FORECAST
is alas...maimed
not the same.
They changed
a national institution
of the mind
redeveloped the mental landscape.
They have even dare to have it
moved
by 15 minutes
and renamed
FINISTERRE
...FITZROY.
L ike
...why?
It isn’t cricket
...is it?
This the beloved
Lord’s Prayer of places.
Not even a great British
outrage could save it
change
the changes.
For years
its well worn sounds
embedded in
our head
the national psyche
as we drifted off
to sleep
perchance to dream
with SAILING BY.
But secretly we recite
night by night
re-instating
FINISTERRE
le tting FITZROY
sink to the bottom of our minds
drown
as we cuddle up
to the long loved
old familiar
sounds.
poem by Dónall Dempsey
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Can you hear my soul sing?
The sounds of my soul are a symphony,
always a lilting melody.
There's never a minor chord to interfere
with all the sweet tones that I hear.
The quiet reflections are the rests
that pause in its ongoing quest
to proceed with violin strings so sweet
to heal the pierces that I meet.
The harps and orchestral sounds
allow my soul its leaps and bounds.
And the basso profundo is your touch
which reaches my soul in a tender clutch.
The treble sounds reach out to you
as only I can give to you.
For my soul has always sung a song
and consoled my body as I moved along.
I can hear it wherever I go.
Can you hear my soul sing?
I will wish it so.
Listen my love so you can hear
the song that I am for you, my dear
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Singin' In Your Sleep
Got your tape and it changed my mind
Heard your voice in between the lines
Come around from another time
Where nobody ever goes
All alone on the overpass
Wired in phone to a heart of glass
Now I'm falling in love too fast
With you or the songs you chose
And all the stars
Prayed for me
Say the promise you long to keep
I can hear you singin' to me in my sleep
I can hear you singin' to me in my sleep
I've been living in your cassette
It's the modern equivalent
Singing up to a Capulet
On a balcony in your mind
In the city the lion sleeps
Pray to Sony my soul to keep
Were you ever so bright and sweet
Did you ever look so nice
And all the sounds dreamed for me
Mmm hmm
song performed by by Semisonic from Feeling Strangely Fine
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The beast sleeps
The quiet solitude of the early
Hours of morning while Humanity
Is still asleep, soothes and heals my Psyche.
The hum of my computer while I type
Is the only bearable sound. I succumb
To this transcendental inner sanctum.
Away from those raucous sounds that are caused
By the beast’s awakening. Injuring
Noise that reverberates throughout my brain
Resulting in insensitivity.
Longing once again the tranquility
Only the early morning balm provides.
I’ll relish this comforting quietude
Until the beast once again rears it’s head.
poem by Albert Ahearn
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Watch Me Sleep, Will You?
My father resigned to his bed
And you know how I knew?
He left the television vulnerable
And what disturbed me was
The television’s monotonously
Eerie sound.
A screeching horror.
A flat, blunted line of terror.
My father was unshaken.
He was peculiarly idle on his bed
And he looked like he was
Having the best of the heavens
In his slumber
And how I envied him.
Sometimes, I wonder
Will someone ever watch me sleep?
Will someone tell me
That I am having
The best of the heavens
In my slumber?
I do not know
Because people are either
Too uninterested
Or too sedentary
To saunter past the hollow halls
Of a home
Straight into my room of pungent dreams
And look at me as I lay there,
On my bed
And think to himself or herself,
“My, he’s having the best of the heavens
In his sleep.”
But then, they would not
Look for me
Nor at least take an abrupt photograph
Of me in my slumber.
You know why?
Because I always leave the television too,
Making those horrendous sounds
Of monotonous deaths
Over a bed of midnight senility.
They weren’t sedentary
Nor uninterested.
They were very
Afraid of the sheer beauty
Of a man who sleeps whilst
Having the best of death,
And not of heaven.
poem by Windsor Guadalupe Jr
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I Waited for the Silence
I waited for the Silence
Only then could I hear my own poem -
The Silence came and I began to write
Bu there were nonetheless small disturbing sounds
Which drowned the inner mood and melody-
I waited for the Silence again
And the Silence did not come
And the poem I wanted to hear
Was not in me -
So all I can do is write down what happened
As if this too were a poem
And the satisfaction of a need
Even if I cannot hear my own sounds.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Sad Exchange
Quietly thinking to myself
Sharing half our mind instead of none
The shakings just begun
The pleasantries are gone,
This sad exchange pleased neither one of us
So we finally gave up
Meanings tend to give out
The Time was gone to act out
this living torture, living torture
No talking When I want you to Listen
No talking cos it's Living torture, Living torture
Dont know why, dont know why, we cant stand aside
(I don't want your many faces
we don't see right)
If I had known back then
Whatever I know now
I'd think Id have answers but I dont know why
So we finally gave up
The Meanings tend to give out
The Time was gone to act out
But Here I am and Im still living
No talking when I want you to listen
No Talking cos it's Living Torture, Living Torture
No talking when I want you to listen
Don't tell me what Im trying to say to you
Both of us know
What it sounds like in my mind
Now both of us know
What it sounds It Sound like
Both of us know
What it sounds like in my mind
Now both of us know
Now both of us know
No talking when I want you to listen
No Talking cos it's Living Torture, Living Torture
No talking when I want you to listen
Don't tell me what Im trying to say to you
Quietly thinking to myself
This sad exchange pleased neither on of us
[Thanks to [email protected] for these lyrics]
song performed by by Finger Eleven
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Recollection of Dreams
Many people can’t recall
their dreams when they awake.
But I remember everything,
and this I used to hate.
As a child I was frightened
by my sleep fantasies,
and thought they were visions
of future realities.
When I became used to them
I took them for what they were.
A release for mental creativity
at a time of deep slumber.
I can also recall all my dreams,
and you may think this a curse,
but seeing nightmares when I’m awake,
is really so much worse.
poem by Orlando Belo
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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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The Sounds
I can hear her heart beat
It seams a little strong
I can hear the things I did wrong
I can hear her thoughts
By looking in her eyes
I can hear her all the times she cried
I can hear the memories
As they echo off the wall
Falling from the pictures down the hall
I can hear regret
Building up in side of me
And I can hear all the things
I could not see
Those are the sounds of a woman leaving
Stronger then the wind in a willow tree
Those are the sounds of a heart breaking
You can't hear it
But the noise is killing me
I should of heard it coming
But I chose to pretend
I should of recognizes that sound
Way back then
But I just wouldn't listen didn't want to all those years
Now the truth is ringing clear
In my ears
Those are the sounds of a woman leaving
Stronger then the wind in willow tree
Those are the sounds of a heart breaking
You can't hear it
But the noise is killing me
Those are the sounds of a heart breaking
You can't hear it
But the noise is killing me
I can hear it
And the silent is killing me
song performed by by Alan Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To Felix
The silence is full of peace
without any bird or animal noises
but not ominous
and it’s just as if there are no sounds
not even cars, busses, trains
and lorries that drive somewhere,
not even the wind blowing
as you rest in another world
that does not know about any love or pain,
where light and air is missing
and you could not
finish your last hunting expedition,
will never again
look down from the tree branches
to later climb down for some tea
to show your love with your purring sounds.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Slumber Land
Take me off to slumber land,
the pleasantest place I know.
Let me talk with angels
for surely they do know
how to soothe my being,
how to soothe my mind,
how to make me understand
what's happening to mankind?
For my eyes when I'm awake
are weeping silently
while viewing sights unGodly
among humanity.
Do the angels in my dreams
see what I do see?
Or do they shy away from it
for it's not heavenly?
I know my angels wait for me
to fall asleep at night
so they can replace my daily scene
with serenity in my sight.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Talk To Me
Talk to me in the dark of night
when there's silence, only your voice.
Speak to me of your daytime thoughts
so I may hear you and rejoice.
This is my time with you alone.
Your words can still my heart.
All through the busy hours of day
my body plays its part.
But, nothing I do can ever compete
with the sounds you give to me.
All that I do is never complete
'Til I'm lying next to you.
So talk to me in the dark of night
and lull me off to sleep.
Let all my dreams be of your words,
the words that I shall keep
'til the morning breaks my reverie
and brings me another day.
I will move forward through the hours
awaiting the words you will say.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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