Good-bye
Sounds of the seas grow fainter,
Sounds of the sands have sped;
The sweep of gales,
The far white sails,
Are silent, spent and dead.
Sounds of the days of summer
Murmur and die away,
And distance hides
The long, low tides,
As night shuts out the day.
poem by Emily Pauline Johnson
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Related quotes
“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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Summer Chimes and Summer Wines
Listening to the summer chimes,
Of summer sounds of summer time,
Bringing all that nature is,
That shows and sounds like,
Summer chimes,
Chimes of soft winds,
Chimes of soft river streams,
Sounds that say of that time and season,
That summer time sounds so sweet,
It rings the sounds of summer chimes,
With rays of sunlight streaming by,
Summer chimes with summer wines,
Can be the momentum interludes of summer times,
When summer time is to be,
There in natures places,
Full of bloom and hidden places,
Where,
Listening to the summer chimes,
Of summer time,
And sitting and drinking,
A summer wine,
With the summer chimes,
And summer wines,
With summer and its nature sounds,
Bringing out the musical chimes,
Of summer sounds,
Along with summer chance,
And the per chance that evolves,
Bringing summer chimes,
With summer wines,
Of true summer chance,
With love intwined,
And summer wine,
So if per chance,
To meet again,
That evolves and begins,
From summer meets,
Bringing that summer chance,
To summer chimes,
With summer wines,
That begins and lasts,
Within in the hearts of those,
That let per chance happen,
And fall in love,
Then it will continue all year long,
For those that took the chance,
In summer chance,
And let the per chance,
Take it course,
And win,
For love to hear,
The summer chimes,
Sipping summer wine.
poem by Ellen Ni Bheachain
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Night
In the night, in the night,
When thou liest alone,
Ah, the sounds that are blown
In the freaks of the breeze,
By the spirit that sends
The voice of far friends
With the sigh of the seas
In the night!
In the night, in the night,
When thou liest alone,
Ah, the ghosts that make moan
From the days that are sped:
The old dreams, the old deeds,
The old wound that still bleeds,
And the face of the dead
In the night!
In the night, in the night,
When thou liest alone,
With the grass and the stone
O'er thy chamber so deep,
Ah, the silence at last,
Life's dissonance past,
And only pure sleep
In the night!
poem by William Watson
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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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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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Long Song Comin
Politician 'bout to make his speech
Signal for attention, please
Then he shuffled his notes
And wiped his sweating brow
I looked at my friend next to me
And we don't dare agree
Before this is over
We'll wish we woulda left right now
'Cause it sounds like a long song comin'
And it looks like he might throw in a little dancin', too
Yes, it sounds like a long song comin'
And buddy, listen buddy
We got better things to listen to
Lady from a church bizarre
Was smiling from her head to her feet
All the way down to her feet
That she couldn't see
She started speeking her piece
I said "Stop, Wait a minute, please
Before you start talkin'
I wish you'd please listen to me."
'Cause it sounds like a long song comin'
And though some of the things you say might be true
It still sounds like a long song comin'
And baby, listen lady, I got better things to listen to
Yes, it sounds like a long song comin'
And it looks like you might throw in a little dancin', too
Yes, it sounds like a long song comin'
And buddy, listen buddy, I got better things to listen to
Say, so it sounds like a long song comin'
And it sounds like some just might be true
Still it sounds like a long song comin'
And buddy, listen buddy, I got better things to listen to
And buddy, listen buddy, we got better things to listen to
song performed by by Bob Seger
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Murmur In The Trees
murmur in the trees
white swans in a tranquil swim
early azure mist
early evening sounds
orchids bend over the bridge
catching water songs
slow flowing waters
breaking surface in its song
this happy green frog
a distance apart
loneliness a joyless path
shadows edging closer
under the shadows
fishes school in eagerness
sounds walking the bridge
poem by Ben Gieske
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Summer Return
the sounds of summer
starting up
in the revving, humming engines
of lawnmowers thawing out
from the long winter’s freeze
the voices of children
carried on the evening distances,
reveling in
sunlight after dinner,
homework laid aside for now
until late-night sunset beckons
the insistent birds and crickets
who cheer the warming air
as night’s cool breath
lets go and offers day,
one step closer
to the sounds of summer
starting up again
(Summer,2005, Los Lunas, New Mexico)
poem by Rev. Rebecca Guile Hudson
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Execute The Sounds
I'm on a mad style
Underground, we come cool and deadly
With that natural sound
It make you feel so free, you no turn it down
Vibe 6-19 from the Southtown
And Jah know, what I and I wanna do
Because Jah know, I am man stay true
You know Jah know, the real who is who
Ain't no time to fake it, make ya feel brand new
It goes 1,2,3. The crew is called P.O.D.
And if you wanna go to the tip top
Break it down, with that one drop - Whyoo
Execute the sounds, and positive come around
Impact the sounds, positive all around
Execute the sounds, and positive come around
Impact the sounds, positive all around
Now why mess me, try to take his crown.
Babylon test me, we gonna smash em down
Original O.G. this is my playground
Don't take me seriously, you gonna feel it now
I man, you know the harder they come
Because I man, I'm gonna get the job done
You know I man, no they don't want none
Me never have to cheat cause me already won.
19'04, home to the real hardcore.
And you don't wanna sleep, don't talk
I'll break you down with that one drop - Whyoo
Execute the sounds, and positive come around
Impact the sounds, positive all around
Execute the sounds, and positive come around
Impact the sounds, positive all around
Execute the sounds, and positive come around
Impact the sounds, positive all around
Execute the sounds, and positive come around
Impact the sounds, positive all around
song performed by by P.O.D.
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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Also in Norah Jones, now there's a voice that sounds and I don't mean disrespect but sounds a hundred years old that sounds incredibly experienced. It's just an exciting time.
quote by Gerry Beckley
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
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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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Why Did You Burn That Boat?
try living in an island
just you and the coconut trees
hear the sounds of birds
migrating
sounds of flocks
fading in a distance
what is left is the
song of this river
the changing hues of the skies
the coldness at night
stories that you repeatedly
tell upon yourself
there is a boat that is ready for your exit
towards the city
what did you burn it?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Fallen Saint
The song once sung with sanguine summer sounds
Still echoes in the canyons of the past
Through time and space in memory resounds
Repeating in percipience it pounds
And lingers on unheeded to the last
The song once sung with sanguine summer sounds
Temptation closes in as it surrounds
Forgotten grace once easily amassed
Through time and space in memory resounds
Slowly every shelter finds the ground
The time of its temerity long past
The song once sung with sanguine summer sounds
Assured of its destruction as it pounds
The die of its undoing once was cast
Through time and space in memory resounds
A melody once treasured, now unfound
Its comfort and its glory unsurpassed
The song once sung with sanguine summer sounds
Through time and space in memory resounds
poem by Carlton Lloyd Smith
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To be the Veda
Who am I?
Who put me here?
Why am I here?
What should I do?
Who will tell me who I am?
Who will tell me, who put me here?
Who will tell me, why I'm here,
and tell me then, what I should do? ..
Sometimes, I am all thankfulness
for what keeps all of me alive;
is there a greater one whom I may thank?
And sometimes, I'm alive with praise;
Is there a greater one whom I may praise?
Sometimes, as thunder rolls and lightning strikes,
earth quakes; seas foam,
I am all fear; is there a one
who’ll tell me, the other, or the greater
things that I should fear,
and tell me what I need not fear?
From day to day, my thankfulness
wells up for this; and then for that:
the earth that yields me food,
the rain that helps it grow,
the sun and light that help it ripen,
the air that I must breathe,
the sounds that draw me to my fellow men:
so are there many such, whose mighty powers
I should thank and praise,
or is there only One?
Or are there many in the One
whom I should thank and praise –
and what then do these greater powers
know of each other; know of that One?
Sometimes, when all is silent, still,
I seem to have a hint of whom I am;
of why I’m here; what I should do;
then who will tell me the greater more
of all the more I think I know?
Sometimes, when all is silent, still,
I wish to spend my days deep in that place;
but I must work; then should I trust
some other man or woman, who will spend
their days in thanking, praising, in my place?
or can my work be also thanks and praise?
who judges thanks and praise enough?
Sometimes, when all is silent, still,
I feel a greatness in me, that
joins me to all things in myself..
who shall tell me more of this?
Sometimes, when all is silent, still,
I seek for sounds, and words, and song,
to measure all that this heart feels:
oh, who will teach me greater words?
Is there a teacher, and a taught?
Or is the teacher all around?
Or is the teacher all within?
Oh, who will tell me whom I am,
in words that sing as from myself?
*
[An ongoing attempt to ‘imagine myself’ into the spirit of the Veda]
poem by Michael Shepherd
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True Laughter
So that's what it sounds like.
True Laughter.
I don't hear it that often.
Even when I do, it's quickly silenced,
usually by someone to afraid to let their guard down.
It sounds like running through the rain,
hands locked with friends that embrace who you are.
The friends that see through the stranger
that sometimes takes your place.
They don't even realize he's there
because truthfully,
he's not.
It sounds like tripping down memory lane,
reminiscing and smiling at awkward photos.
It sounds like talking to an old mentor that hasn't changed.
You show up on their doorstep two years late for class
and they still welcome you in.
It sounds like hot soup eaten in cold clothes;
sipping hot chocolate while watching
video tapes of an old friendship.
You smile and laugh,
because it was there and you had forgotten it existed.
Soon everyone's laughing because it was
and it is.
Then you realize
it always will be.
Huh
So that's what it sounds like.
True Laughter.
poem by Cary Kelly
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The task is to investigate speech sounds in relation to the meanings with which they are invested, i.e., sounds viewed as signifiers, and above all to throw light on the structure of the relation between sounds and meaning.
quote by Roman Jakobson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Nightsong
Dusk is approaching and encroaching sounds
are finding their way in the air.
When the moon appears in all its glory
the sounds are everywhere.
The crickets chirping, the bullfrogs burping
and locusts that never cease
seem to be singing their night song
as all their sounds increase.
They swell and reach a crescendo
but still can lull me to sleep.
And as the moon drifts away
their song gives way to the day's keep.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Strangered In The Night
Well it was dark at midnight
There was hardly any moon
And no one really saw much
No one was really sure
But something didnt seem right
Something seemed kinda queer
The roar turned into whispers
Everyone stood t here
When the sounds fit the night
Something hiding from the light
Like strangers in the night
Well I didnt see them shotguns
I didnt see no knife
I saw this crazy black guy
With a demon in his eyes
I heard him say white man
Ive seen that silver cue
You dont remember me well
But I remember you
When the sounds fit the night
Something hiding from the light
Like strangers in the night
Well the knife just left his fingers
As the black guy took his aim
White guys head exploded
My God how much pain
And then everybody scattered
I heard some woman scream
God damn you old black bastard
Youve blown away my dreams
When the sounds fit the night
Something hiding from the light
Like strangers in the night
song performed by by Tom Petty
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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