En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Contrasting Sounds Of Sunday Morning

rain is pit pattering
on the roof

the wind is as gentle
as a whisper
of a new lover

when the rain stops
the footfalls pass by

the church bell rings
on a call to prayer

the sound of motorcycles
get louder towards the flea market

the cock crows and
jumps to the ground from a tree

here i am
writing another poem for you

it is the sound of silence again
words hugging like a friend's reunion

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Heavy Rain...

as i watch the heavy rain
by my window
i write this poem
every word is like a rain
every sound
every coldness here is rain
every loneliness is rain
and unless you are here
beside me
you can never feel this rain
as you read each word
you still wonder
what is rain, how does it fall
what is its sound
the word is never rain
as the poem is
never real

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Benediction

Read this poem only aloud
read it as slowly and with such solemn dignity

as if it were the whole great human race
declaring itself to be truly great

read it as if it were
as indeed it is

not words but a great sounding bell
and you are that great bell

so large a bell so low its boom
that it is more vibration than a sound

struck in a temple courtyard
by a robed monk so full of love

that he merges into love itself
every time he sounds the bell

and as its sound now travels up
into the clear mountain air

the goatherds and the goats hear in its sound
the meaning of their life

and in the fields the workers raise themselves
and know what blessing is

and in the valley the silence after each stroke
becomes more real

as the echo fades
and the air knows itself

this poem is the sound of the human heart
listening to itself beyond all words

hearing praise and gratitude and love
knowing themselves in stillness for what they are

this poem is what is beyond all words
smiling sorrowing as it seeks for words

as it vibrates out into the silence
the wonder of the unspoken

the magic of all that’s yet unmanifest
the thoughts yet to be thought

hear in this bell the sound that tells to all
that there is enough love

in one single human heart
to nourish the whole world

hear this bell sounding aloud
sound out eternal in your soul

* * *

[work in progress]

poem by Michael Shepherd
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The Sound of Silence

I’m walking down the street
and I hear the sculptor in his house
working on his statue of Krishna

and the chisel rings out on the stone
like a bell that wants to tell you something:

the stone saying, I am perfectly made for this;
the chisel saying, I am perfectly made for this;
the sculptor saying, this is prayer;

Krishna saying, I shall enter this.

And I hear in the sound of the chisel on the stone,
as sure as I know my own name,
that the sculptor is listening to all this too.

The bell-like sound lingers in the air
as if the air would keep it for ever
as the air’s prayer. It’s music.

The clearer the sound
of his striking chisel on stone,
the deeper the silence

as if sound and silence between them
know a secret: that sounds like this
can do anything in the world;

even call Krishna with their music
to play at being stone for us.

The stone’s laughing also:
playing at being Krishna.
They’re both laughing.
The sculptor is smiling too.

poem by Michael Shepherd
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The Rain of March

The Fitful Showers of March

The rain of March, the rain of March
Came again
Came slanting down in full force
With pattering sound on the tin roof
Splashes of cold water wetted everything
The dry sand all around shone with a dazzle
The woodland paths softened with the tears
Of the blue sky.

For whom the sky wept?
The little leaves on the boughs
Quenched their thirst
Who washed all their heat and pain
The rain of March, the rain of March
Came again.

poem by Ratan Bhattacharjee
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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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Rain CAN

rain cant tell a lie,
rain can be louder then a fly,

rain cant make shoes
rain can hit the roof

rain cant be nice (person wise)
rain can make ice

rain cant bleed
rain can grow a seed

rain cant draw a toon
rain can make a tune

rain cant be a loon
rain can make a monsoon

so rain can and cant do alot of things.
here comes the rain!
oh look! it's spring!

poem by Its yellow jello my little fellow. yell
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The Sound Of The Rain

do not mislead me with the
point-of-view of the frog
you croak and you say this
is how something beautiful
sounds, how ugliness feigns
i tell you i like the rain and
the frog likes it too, i am
one of those frogs bathing
and jumping on the pond,
but do not mislead me with
your sound, it does not sound
like the hush of the wind,
it has no color of the moon,
i am one of the frogs of this
pond, but i do not wish to
sound like you: i am in love
with the sound of the rain,
and this is the one that makes
me stay. It is not you, your
sound is not gentle, it is
rough like the skin of the
teething toad. I love the
rain, the way it sounds,
and that is enough
for my suffering.

Dripping.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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the sounds of Sunday

i hear the sound of the cold wind from the sea
i hear the waking call of the roosters
the scratching feet of the dog on some disturbing flea

and i hear her steps towards the door as she opens it
she goes to church
and i hear her gently closing the door and the gate too
closing in on me

i am alone now with all the other sounds of the house
this sound of the growing silence
some voices
rushing to fill my mind
some poems
for the day

it is this silence that feeds me
the trickles of my soul

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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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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The Church Bell Rings Too Early

the church bell rings too early

the town's electrician
bald and ugly
poor and lonely
he was looking for his wife
who left with another man
taking with her
his only son

he could not eat breakfast
skipped his supper
and would not care for any lunch

and then the church bell tolled
for him
though not as early as he once did it

we shall always remember
grief, lament, the sound of the bell
too sonorous
to remember
lost affections, betrayal, death
and lack of
prayer.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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All Will Be Well

Whisper to the wind,
Hey, wind, please stay calm.
Give a gentle breeze,
And do us no harm.
Blow away the rain,
So that there is none.
Then all will be well,
When the day is done.

Whisper to the rain,
Hey, rain, that feeds all.
When you need to cry,
Let it gently fall.
Wash away the dust,
Freshen up the soil.
Then all will be well,
And the day won’t spoil.

Whisper to the sun,
Hey, sun, shine on me.
Let me know your warmth,
All your heat is free.
Brighten up the hours,
Setting in the west.
Then all will be well,
Our day truly blessed.

poem by Ernestine Northover
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Rainfall on the river

Rainfall on the river
~
Sat beneath an old oak tree
Watching the rain fall on the river
The water jumps with every splash
Circles roll out in rippled formation
Interacting only to disappear
And begin again continuous
With the rain still falling
The sound rustles through the air
The sky like an old grey blanket
Thrown across the world
Leaking as far as the eye can see
Patchy and weathered
Beneath the shade of the oak tree
With only a spray of rainfall
Watching the river dance
Ripples and jumps

poem by Matthew Holloway
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February Rain

To be the mud, the bog, the mire;
To soak the bones in February –
Eons from the autumn shower–
Even from a summer berry!

Sparrows chirp a desperate call,
Darting questions at the cows –
Oblivious to the dousing squall, they
Churn the sludge with pastern ploughs.

The crying air was lost in rhythm:
Drums incessant in the drops;
Not a chance for rainbow prism –
Even if the hammering stops!

Metallic chills entrap machines –
Tractors hushed within the shed.
Inside the house, a full cuisine
To bless with mead – and little said!

But out across the tiring field,
A sodden fox is hunting down
His prey of sorts – but nil of yield;
Perhaps he’ll starve; perhaps he’ll drown.

Still the clouds are hammering,
Hammering home their dreary aim –
A chatterbox in constant yammering,
Drenching all to make a claim.

Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010

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poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Red Rain

Red rain is coming down
Red rain
Red rain is pouring down
Pouring down all over me
I am standing up at the waters edge in my dream
I cannot make a single sound as you scream
It cant be that cold, the ground is still warm to touch
This place is so quiet, sensing that storm
Red rain is coming down
Red rain
Red rain is pouring down
Pouring down all over me
Well Ive seen them buried in a sheltered place in this town
They tell you that this rain can sting, and look down
There is no blood around see no sign of pain
Hay ay ay no pain
Seeing no red at all, see no rain
Red rain is coming down
Red rain
Red rain is pouring down
Pouring down all over me
Red rain-
Putting the pressure on much harder now
To return again and again
Just let the red rain splash you
Let the rain fall on your skin
I come to you defences down
With the trust of a child
Red rain is coming down
Red rain
Red rain is pouring down
Pouring down all over me
And I cant watch any more
No more denial
Its so hard to lay down in all of this
Red rain is coming down
Red rain is pouring down
Red rain is coming down all over me
I see it
Red rain is coming down
Red rain is pouring down
Red rain is coming down all over me
Im bathing in it
Red rain coming down
Red rain is coming down
Red rain is coming down all over me
Im begging you
Red rain coming down
Red rain coming down
Red rain coming down
Red rain coming down
Over me in the red red sea
Over me
Over me
Red rain

song performed by by Peter Gabriel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Rain you do not drain my soul

Rain, rain if the fall
rain, rain hear my call
droplets fall with such grace from above
like a angel tear dropp covered dove
so soothing
so moving
the puddles from a swift current thats glistening
gather your loved ones and keep listening
to the light sound
of that beautifal rain hit the ground

poem by Travis clark
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4 O'clock In The Afternoon

a small maroon van
is parked beside an unfinished pillar
along a gray road

a pile of rocks stands still
at the other side

a thin woman with short blond-dyed hair
is wiping the roof of a yellow painted pedicab

and then she pedals away
towards an old cemetery

the rain begins to pour heavily

the sonorous sound of the rain amplifies
itself on the rusty galvanized roof

of this building where i am
writing

the ceiling at the typing room
leaks some drops of rain

as though it is
crying

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Kiss The Rain

Quiet rain at starlit night
Without bow and without sound
Fallen to wet the ground
Dropping from another world

The girl in the rain
Without shelter and with a dog
Walking and searching for a way out
With steady steps toward a dim light in the front

People in the rain
Watching her and hard to believe
Is she wandering without an aim
Why she is so assured by herself

Face up and kiss the rain
She stops and stares at a star with smile
She knows the star is never far away
The star is watching her everyday
The star knows her and the dog better than anybody else
The star will lead her home and always stay and never walk away

It’s her star
It’s her dog
It’s her rain
It’s the rain from the star

poem by Michael Guo
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Rain Fallin

(charlie black)
Rain fallin,fallin rain
Its a long and troubled night
A night when I wish I could sleep
But theres no sleep inside
Heart breaking, breaking heart
Its such a lonely sound
That cries for the need of someone
But theres no one around
Chorus:
Nobody here to hold
No one to warm the cold
That lies deep within my soul
All around, just the sound of the
Rain falling, fallin rain
Like gentle tears of pain
That comes with my only friend
Its the gently falling rain
Repeat chorus

song performed by by Reba Mcentire
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Rain and the Girl

i just met a girl
who does not carry an umbrella
because she loves
the rain

i do not dare ask her
if she is crying,

if she cries
i am afraid i do not have the right to ask her why

when she gets near me
i have not dared looking into her eyes
i tell myself
it is none of my business

she begins to speak
but i who love the sonorous sound of the rain
has no time to listen

the sound of rain
is more than enough for me
to know
the meaning of pain

this time
after all those long years of listening
i do not think much

the rain speaks
actually for itself

now, i am
writing it
and then the girl is gone...

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Rain from Heaven

rain rain rain rain
the murmer of rain
the sweet song of rain
the wind along with rain
the nostalgic feeling of rain
which can be enjoyed with a sad song
now its raining! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
the dropp that fallen in my face
let it be the last dropp before I die
and let that dropp clean all my guilt
so that my soul will not see hell
then you might hear my sound
along with the next rain; Says
'the rain on that day was from heaven'

(10/2/2009)

poem by Martin Thomas
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