Soft Murmuring Sound
Soft murmuring sound
A soft murmuring sound,
From a deep hidden place
Perpetual pulsing
Never stopping to rest
Never given to pause
Oft-time given to race
This most sensual organ
Enclosed in sanguine breast
Tis truth, it can shatter
Yet remain tearfully intact
burst with pride and affection
And in anger react
Able to flutter
Able to ache
Able to pine
Able to break
no sensory cells
Has this wondrous thing in our chest
Yet this soft murmur of sound
Gives us soul…and we’re blessed
poem by David Whalen
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The Siesta
FROM THE SPANISH.
Vientecico murmurador,
Que lo gozas y andas todo, &c.
Airs, that wander and murmur round,
Bearing delight where'er ye blow!
Make in the elms a lulling sound,
While my lady sleeps in the shade below.
Lighten and lengthen her noonday rest,
Till the heat of the noonday sun is o'er.
Sweet be her slumbers! though in my breast
The pain she has waked may slumber no more.
Breathing soft from the blue profound,
Bearing delight where'er ye blow,
Make in the elms a lulling sound,
While my lady sleeps in the shade below.
Airs! that over the bending boughs,
And under the shade of pendent leaves,
Murmur soft, like my timid vows
Or the secret sighs my bosom heaves,--
Gently sweeping the grassy ground,
Bearing delight where'er ye blow,
Make in the elms a lulling sound,
While my lady sleeps in the shade below.
poem by William Cullen Bryant
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Springy Phrases
What is this sound
So sharp and so clear
That tickles and titillates
Against my ear
What tis it that causes
My spirits to sing
What could it be
This most miraculous thing
What is that makes me
feel so alive again
After an infernal winter
That seemed without end
After the ice and the freezing
And the frost bitten fingers
What is that crisp new sound
That echoes and lingers
What could it be
That makes me feel so full of hope
What could it be that
Makes me feel and act like a dope
What is this gentle sound
That Fractures fearsome, frozen rivers
this soft sibilant sound
That gives surcease to my shivers
What is that sound that
makes me feel like I’m ten again
I think that I know now…
It’s an old, long lost friend
What is this wondrous noise
and clamorous din
That makes my heart take wing
It could only be
what we’ve wanted, you see
The noisy thing that is breaking ….is Spring!
poem by David Whalen
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What A Beautiful Sound
beautiful sounds
that stir the heart
free awakening soul
lift flight sky spirit
sound of river running wide unified flowing
sound of creek running downhill leaping splashing
sound of stillness crisp haunting in still mountain morning
sound of wind timeless moving over through forest trees growing
sound of whispers retracting as first soft snow flutters falling
sound of soft rain tender kissing warm earth embraces water waiting
sound of rain heavy droplets embracing dancing love symphony greeting
sound of storm clouds fast running painting sky black spiraling
sound of thunder freedom singing vibrating through poet laughing
sound of morning awaking to gentle joy of my young daughters laughing
a beautiful sound is bliss joy of young daughters happiness laughing
a beautiful sound is healthy children fed soul wonder bliss laughing
a beautiful sound is our well fed children in joy mind song laughing
a beautiful sound is God smiling with me in child mind song laughing
poem by Terence George Craddock
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The Minstrel’s Grave
Oh let it be where the waters are meeting,
In one crystal sheet, like the summer's sky bright!
Oh let it be where the sun, when retreating,
May throw the last glance of his vanishing light,
Lay me there! lay me there! and upon my lone pillow,
Let the emerald moss in soft starry wreaths swell;
Be my dirge the faint sob of the murmuring billow,
And the burthen it sings to me, nought but 'farewell!'
Oh let it be where soft slumber enticing,
The cypress and myrtle have mingled their shade;
Oh let it be where the moon at her rising,
May throw the first night-glance that silvers the glade.
Lay me there! lay me there! and upon the green willow
Hang the harp that has cheered the lone minstrel so well,
That the soft breath of heaven, as it sighs o'er my pillow,
From its strings, now forsaken, may sound one farewell.
poem by Frances Anne Kemble
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Psalm for 9-11 (dedicated to Fr. Mychal Judge)
I hear your soft voice
In the hushed evening breeze
as gentle wind fills
these tall, murmuring trees.
For you're never too far;
your soft breath I can feel.
My soul stirs with faith
that no anger can steal.
Through the cold, empty night
you fill my dark soul.
Your brilliant light breaks
death's harsh hold.
In the morning I'll hear
your clear voice proclaim
that my life you've restored,
bitter tears wiped away.
poem by Steven Federle
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Inscription For A Fountain On A Heath
This Sycamore, oft musical with bees,--
Such tents the Patriarchs loved ! O long unharmed
May all its agéd boughs o'er-canopy
The small round basin, which this jutting stone
Keeps pure from falling leaves ! Long may the Spring,
Quietly as a sleeping infant's breath,
Send up cold waters to the traveller
With soft and even pulse ! Nor ever cease
Yon tiny cone of sand its soundless dance,
Which at the bottom, like a Fairy's Page,
As merry and no taller, dances still,
Nor wrinkles the smooth surface of the Fount.
Here Twilight is and Coolness : here is moss,
A soft seat, and a deep and ample shade.
Thou may'st toil far and find no second tree.
Drink, Pilgrim, here ; Here rest ! and if thy heart
Be innocent, here too shalt thou refresh
Thy spirit, listening to some gentle sound,
Or passing gale or hum of murmuring bees !
poem by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
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The Soft Rain Today....
how i love
the rain today
ain't heavy
soft and gentle
falling on the grass
and on the side of the hill
this hair of nature
babe's soft whisper
hushing and dashing
like the sound of a young river
how i love the first rain
of the year today
comforting, indifferent
a sound of its own
whispering tears
allying fears.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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To Minette
With your lovely face
and bright blue eyes
at any time you could disrupt my life
and a single word made me believe in your love
and your soft lips, the blush on your cheek
and bright blue eyes
really caught me
and the sound of your voice
and your soft lips, the blush on your cheek
grasped my heart
and your soft hand folding around mine
and the sound of your voice
leaves me now only with mourning
and the remembering of how wonderful you were
and your soft hand folding around mine
has been extinguished by destiny, changed to ash.
With your lovely face
and the remembering of how wonderful you were
at any time you could disrupt my life.
poem by Gert Strydom
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The Inner Silence
Noises that strive to tear
Earth's mantle soft of air
And break upon the stillness where it dwells:
The noise of battle and the noise of prayer,
The cooing noise of love that softly tells
Joy's brevity, the brazen noise of laughter—
All these affront me not, nor echo after
Through the long memories.
They may not enter the deep chamber where
Forever silence is.
Silence more soft than spring hides in the ground
Beneath her budding flowers;
Silence more rich than ever was the sound
Of harps through long warm hours,
'Tis like a hidden vastness, even as though
Great suns might there beat out their measures slow
Nor break the hush mightier than they.
There do I dwell eternally,
There where no thought may follow me,
Nor stillest dreams whose pinions plume the way.
poem by Harriet Monroe
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Sounds that should not be missed
Sound of blossom of a flower,
I desire to hear,
the sound of nature.
Sound of rain's glassy water drop,
over a roof's top,
the sound of joy.
Sound of beat of our heart,
through our ears caught,
the sound of wonder.
Sound of delicious supper in boil,
after a great day's toil,
the sound of hunger.
Sound of a mother's loving ballad,
hearing the cry of her toddler,
the sound of love! ! !
poem by Shyam Balaji
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Mother Song
_From the Portuguese._
HEAVY my heart is, heavy to carry,
Full of soft foldings, of downy enwrapments--
And the outer fold of all is love,
And the next soft fold is love,
And the next, finer and softer, is love again;
And were they unwound before the eyes
More folds and more folds and more folds would unroll
Of love--always love,
And, quite at the last,
Deep in the nest, in the soft-packed nest,
One last fold, turned back, would disclose
You, little heart of my heart,
Laid there so warm, so soft, so soft,
Not knowing where you lie, nor how softly,
Nor why your nest is so soft,
Nor how your nest is so warm.
You, little heart of my heart,
You lie in my heart,
Warm, safe and soft as this body of yours,
This dear kissed body of yours that lies
Here in my arms and sucks the strength from my breast,
The strength you will break my heart with one of these days.
poem by Edith Nesbit
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Your Sound Is Sweeter
There's no sound as sweet as yours
It takes me before dawn
It lies with me after midnight
Chorus
And your sound
Holds me
Like nothing else has before
Your sound
Loves me
And I can't fight it anymore
End chorus
Your sound is sweeter than
All the fighting I've done
It catches the truth and holds on
Chorus
And your sound
Holds me
Like nothing else has before
Your sound
Loves me
And I can't fight it anymore
End chorus
Your sound plays back through my head again
It's the only thing keeping me going
Loving you, forever and ever
Chorus
And your sound
Holds me
Like nothing else has before
Your sound
Loves me
And I can't fight it anymore
End chorus
Your sound is sweeter than
The moonlight on my windowsill
It sings, I dropp dead
Chorus
And your sound
Holds me
Like nothing else has before
Your sound
Loves me
And I can't fight it anymore
End chorus
I'm awake with your sound
Echoing in the dark
Your sound is sweeter than love
Chorus
And your sound
Holds me
Like nothing else has before
Your sound
Loves me
And I can't fight it anymore
End chorus
a Poem Of Silence
Silence is a beautiful thing.
no other sound is as great as silence.
Silence is the sound of nothing,
but it is still a sound.
even if a sound is great and amazing,
nothing can top the blissfulness of silence.
not the sound of wind on grass,
not the sound of laughter,
nothing is as beautiful as silence.
silence is a sound, but it is so much
better than any other sound.
What created such a far-off winner?
I love silence, silence is the best.
Never there will be a time that there
will be
a greater sound
than silence.
poem by Llew N. Rmail
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Larkspur
Words roll free from a tongue sometime
From a sometime, tongue-tied tongue,
Words that were heard by the stream and the bird
When the world and the wild were young,
When the world and the wild were young, sometime…
(Larkspur, marigold, ebony, lime) .
Sounds that were born in sweet young breath
In a bubble-sighed, trouble-tried time,
Sounds that were found by a child at the breast
In a bubble-tried pantomime,
In a bubble-tried pantomime, no less…
(Nightshade, cinnamon, green watercress) .
Love is the sound of a word, soft-said
From the lips of the love you too,
Love is the dove of the bubble-thought read
Soft sift from the me to you,
Soft sift from the me to you, soft said…
(Homespun, empathy, marmalade, bread) .
poem by David Lewis Paget (16 December 1973)
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Hope Soundness
Little light in the dark night
Calling with soft voice
“Up here! Up here! ”
Like fireplace, like morning dew
With small call shakes warmly
Sound of insect, sound of water
Wherever they are
Will never be ignored again
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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The next to last pew
An old man was at church last Sunday
He sat in the next to last pew
I slid into the seat right next to him
And gave a him a friendly “hi-dee-do”
He gave me a nod with his time worn brow
Then swiveled his head all around
While his gaze sized up the parishioners
His ears seemed to soak up their sound
His sad gaze seemed to pick out each person
One by one, as he seemed to stare into their soul
To some he nodded, in an approving way
While to others his look was ice cold
I asked if he was a member of this church
I said I wasn’t familiar with him, was he new?
He smiled a soft smile and shook his head no
Said “I’m here most of the time…
here in this next to last pew”
I said “what do you think of our little church”
He rubbed his hands through his hair of silver grey
Looked deep in my eyes and gave a soft, sad sigh
And said “you may not like what I have to say”
He said “ Son, I can see into the soul of these people
And to you, what I say is on the level”
That Most are fools in the eyes of the Lord
The rest are pawns in the hands of the devil
I looked all around at my fellow church-goers
Of whom he spoke, I knew of more than a few
And when I turned back to allow “that could be so”
I was all alone in the next to last pew!
poem by David Whalen
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I know that you really love me
You press my hand
against you chest
and I feel life,
pulsing through you
and your hand
is soft on mine.
The smell of your hair
goes through to my soul
and your breath
is hot in my neck,
while I draw you
deeper into my arms.
It’s nice to have you
right against me
while we are lying wedged up
and I feel a nipple,
coming alive
and become hard under my fingers.
There’s intenseness in our kisses
and my tongue
braids around yours
and your skin is soft
under my fingers
and I see sparks
in your golden green eyes.
The picture on the TV
takes its own route
and we are unaware of it,
while love and lust and passion
are steaming between us.
When you lie soft against me
and I disappear in the depths
of your golden eyes,
I know that you really love me.
poem by Gert Strydom
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this poem badly needs a title. Help!
oh yes, Mr. Shaun, the bible was not written in english
but in aramaic, hebrew and greek
now, let your big brother go,
get him a free fish
and ask him
why go for danger?
when the truth is
these unicorns are day dreamers
going crazy about the daisy
asking for compatibility
wishing to hear the sound of my innocence
see me? this soft and sensual mouth
coated with chocolate
taste, but go beyond what you can see
there are hugs and kisses
spare me, because i am your best friend.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Soft And Hard
Soft and hard words
There in the dictionary
Soft and hard
In a man beautify him
Soft and hard
In right place and
In right time
Make the country
Most powerful
And soft and hard
Are the ingredients
Of smart power strategy.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Teach Me How To Dance
Teach me how to dance, I want you to,
I want my body to move like a swan
-beautiful and soft.
I want to dance with all my senses
my heart to beat to the vibration of the sound
- in a constant flow of the notes like a wave
on a deep, deep blue sea.
I want to dance like an eagle gliding free above the horizon,
I want to be the flower of passion when I become the music
and I, and I,
I forget for a second, maybe more who I am.
-I will become an orchestra, a ballade.
I want to learn, I want to know, how to be complete with the rhythm,
that echos through the universe
to the sound of music.
I want to find myself in the desert sun
in the plush of the silky sand when I sway,
in the mountains, in the valleys,
fortified with the scent of pine,
and when I move, when I really, really dance,
I want to kiss the music with my aura,
I want to be filled with joy, so much joy.
Teach me how to dance,
I want you to.
poem by Kasia Fedyk
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