The Source
There in the fringe of trees between
the upper field and the edge of the one
below it that runs above the valley
one time I heard in the early
days of summer the clear ringing
six notes that I knew were the opening
of the Fingal's Cave Overture
I heard them again and again that year
and the next summer and the year
afterward those six descending
notes the same for all the changing
in my own life since the last time
I had heard them fall past me from
the bright air in the morning of a bird
and I believed that what I had heard
would always be there if I came again
to be overtaken by that season
in that place after the winter
and I would wonder again whether
Mendelssohn really had heard them somewhere
far to the north that many years ago
looking up from his youth to listen to
those six notes of an ancestor
spilling over from a presence neither
water nor human that led to the cave
in his mind the fluted cliffs and the wave
going out and the falling water
he thought those notes could be the music for
Mendelssohn is gone and Fingal is gone
all but his name for a cave and for one
piece of music and the black-capped warbler
as we called that bird that I remember
singing there those notes descending
from the age of the ice dripping
I have not heard again this year can it
be gone then will I not hear it
from now on will the overture begin
for a time and all those who listen
feel that falling in them but as always
without knowing what they recognize
poem by William Stanley Merwin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Unknown Bird
Out of the dry days
through the dusty leaves
far across the valley
those few notes never
heard here before
one fluted phrase
floating over its
wandering secret
all at once wells up
somewhere else
and is gone before it
goes on fallen into
its own echo leaving
a hollow through the air
that is dry as before
where is it from
hardly anyone
seems to have noticed it
so far but who now
would have been listening
it is not native here
that may be the one
thing we are sure of
it came from somewhere
else perhaps alone
so keeps on calling for
no one who is here
hoping to be heard
by another of its own
unlikely origin
trying once more the same few
notes that began the song
of an oriole last heard
years ago in another
existence there
it goes again tell
no one it is here
foreign as we are
who are filling the days
with a sound of our own
poem by William Stanley Merwin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Divine Bird
i would skp the best musical concert
to listen one more time to this morning bird
it makes me regret for not having been
a bird watcher and getting to know the name
of every bird and how every bird makes sure
they shine their best in voice rather than feathers
for feathers are just for a show of form but the
voice how well they have cultivated themselves
with the bountiful freedoms strewn below their wings
it was only two mornings ago, i first heard him
sing in among the many trees lining the boulevard
outside my condominium, the Crescent Court
the enchanting haunting notes of his song shocked
me into wondering whether it was really a bird that
sang those pristine notes, notes that seemed to have
streamed out of the sacred sanctum of God, so many
diverse notes, so well handled, they sounded
like a song written by the Divine for one special bird
one most holy entree to the dawn of a new day
i prayed to the Divine to allow me hear that bird
again, a bird that has sung his way into my my poem,
a bird probably from another realm where birds could
understand the workings of the heavens better than men
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Where Are My Songs?
Where are my songs?
I can't write them anymore.
My head can't hear them,
not like before.
They came so easy.
I heard them in my ear.
I thought about you
and all the notes were clear.
But now those notes
just don't seem to flow.
They've escaped into dissonance
and where did they go?
They went away in a flash
just like you.
Now that they're gone
there's nothing I can do.
I'll have to be inspired
in another way.
I'll listen for some new notes
on every single day.
And when they appear
I'll know that I am free.
Never again will I lose them
like you lost me.
poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
118
mozart overture
this is quite different from
a trance
the music that curled in my sleep
on that soft blue sofa
foam, cotton, kapok softness
on my head some notes of
a lullaby
some notes getting into
my ears and my nostrils
a deep sleep
inhaling
this overture is quite different
it is the rising from this deep sleep of
kapok,
foamy softness
i rise and
stretch my hands to the ceiling
i wake up and
i hear
the notes come again like
dripping morning rain
from the nipa roof
falling on
some white pebbles
on my pavement
like my tears
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Unforgettable In Your Ear
There are notes in music
that take you high.
And notes that take you low.
When you listen to the notes of music
you never know where you'll go.
Within one song the notes you hear
affect how you will feel.
A plaintive melody might make you sad
or remind you of your pain.
But all of that can change in a minute
as you feel your emotions drain.
Uplifting notes can bring to you
a few moments of ecstatic peace.
Each inspiring strain can take you where
you are able to release
whatever it was that was troubling you,
erase it for a minute or two.
These notes are magic and so is life.
They're there and then they're not.
They're a gift to you from composers
that plant a forget-me-not.
poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Through The Headphones
Stretched out on the bed.
Snuggled up in flannel pj's.
Folded hands on chest.
Headphones placed on ears.
Portable CD player at my side.
Volume up - as much as I can handle.
I listen to my albums
through the headphones.
Hearing the music
in a whole new way.
Up close and personal.
Is this the same 20 year old song?
I never heard that lyric.
I never heard those notes.
I don't hear that on the record player.
I didn't know they did that
in the background.
Through the headphones
the voices come from straight ahead,
somewhere from the left or from the right.
I've never heard these songs this way.
I now have a whole new record collection.
During the Time We Were in Love
During the time we were in love
I heard music play
A whimsical tune of fancy and promise
Of affection and tomorrow
Singing quiet hope of what could be
During the time we were in love
Within the days when I called you mine
I felt like dancing
To the music I heard play in my heart
Like gliding across a stage
In time to the swing notes played for us alone
Within the days when I called you mine
All through the season when we became one
I felt like shouting
Out loud for what moved again in my soul
It had lain dormant for years
Yet you had awakened it in joy and I felt alive again
All through the season when we became one
Since you said your farewell
I’ve walked alone in the dark
Listening for new music to dance in time
You chose your path towards madness
And settled again for what you had before
Since you said your farewell
Yet still will there be love again?
I ask the question
While knowing the answer in my heart
Of course there will be again because
To live a half-life without it would be a sin
Yes, after you, still, there will be love again
poem by David Terry
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Mozart Overture
this is quite different from
a trance
the music that curled in my sleep
on that soft blue sofa
foam, cotton, kapok softness
on my head some notes of
a lullaby
some notes getting into
my ears and my nostrils
a deep sleep
inhaling
this overture is quite different
it is the rising from this deep sleep of
kapok,
foamy softness
i rise and
stretch my hands to the ceiling
i wake up and
i hear
the notes come again like
dripping morning rain
from the nipa roof
falling on
some white pebbles
on my pavement
like my tears
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Voice
One feather is a bird,
I claim; one tree, a wood;
In her low voice I heard
More than a mortal should;
And so I stood apart,
Hidden in my own heart.
And yet I roamed out where
Those notes went, like the bird,
Whose thin song hung in air,
Diminished, yet still heard:
I lived with open sound,
Aloft, and on the ground.
That ghost was my own choice,
The shy cerulean bird;
It sang with her true voice,
And it was I who heard
A slight voice reply;
I heard; and only I.
Desire exults the ear:
Bird, girl, and ghostly tree,
The earth, the solid air--
Their slow song sang in me;
The long noon pulsed away,
Like any summer day.
poem by Theodore Roethke
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Same Words They Heard
It is said.
And said again.
The more of it that is heard...
Less of it is understood.
Although those sitting in the back,
Claim they are taking notes.
And wish to have what has been said,
Repeated.
Even though the notes they take...
Are the same words they heard,
Before they were issued pads and pens.
They now want to show others...
How effectively they can use them,
To their advantage.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Last Song
The last song that I shall write
will probably never be heard.
For I shall dream it in the night,
both the notes and the word.
I’m certain it will be the best of the lot
and be heard only by me.
That thought ties me in a knot
from which I am not free.
Will it be fast? Will it be slow?
Will it be smooth and sensual
or maybe a crisp staccato?
No more song after that.
It will shut my music down.
And I will content myself after
with the knowing that all I’ve written
was with passion for the sound.
For I’ve heard these sounds
since I was born
on a cold and blustery Wednesday morn.
I came into this world with music
and will leave with it someday.
And the last song will travel with me
and be heard in the Milky Way.
poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Whisper My Name
I heard a freight train out across the way
I heard a woman sing amazing grace
I heard a night bird call to its mate
When I heard you whisper my name
I heard freedom break its chain
A
I heard a heart beat where once on sound remained
I heard angels rise and praise
When I heard you whisper my name
Chorus:
I heard music bring a heart of stone to tears
I heard peace ring like an anthem through the years
And I heard hatred fall from grace
When I heard you whisper my name
Beating softly against the waves
Fell a sound of an early morning rain
And though the lighting and thunder came
I still heard you whisper my name
And I heard angels rise and praise
When I heard you whisper my name
song performed by by Randy Travis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The Magic of Sound
I’ve heard the soft whisper of wind in the pine trees,
The silvery ripple of brooklets at play;
I’ve heard the low voice of a sweet singing mother
As she sang to her child at the end of the day.
I’ve heard the faint rustle of sails in the sunset
And blue waves caressing the wild, rockbound shore;
The whistle of trains as they cross the green prairie
And mountains re-echo the cataract’s roar.
The notes of the organs in ancient cathedrals,
Where hearts of the faithful are lifted in song;
I’ve heard the gay laughter as children were playing,
The chatter and buzz of a large, happy throng.
The earth has its music for those who will listen;
Its bright variations forever abound.
With all of the wonders that God has bequeathed us,
There’s nothing that thrills like the magic of sound.
poem by Reginald Holmes
Submitted by anonym
Vote! | Copy!
The Veery
THE MOONBEAMS over Arno’s vale in silver flood were pouring,
When first I heard the nightingale a long-lost love deploring.
So passionate, so full of pain, it sounded strange and eerie;
I longed to hear a simpler strain,—the wood-notes of the veery.
The laverock sings a bonny lay above the Scottish heather;
It sprinkles down from far away like light and love together;
He drops the golden notes to greet his brooding mate, his dearie;
I only know one song more sweet,—the vespers of the veery.
In English gardens, green and bright and full of fruity treasure,
I heard the blackbird with delight repeat his merry measure:
The ballad was a pleasant one, the tune was loud and cheery,
And yet, with every setting sun, I listened for the veery.
But far away, and far away, the tawny thrush is singing;
New England woods, at close of day, with that clear chant are ringing:
And when my light of life is low, and heart and flesh are weary,
I fain would hear, before I go, the wood-notes of the veery.
poem by Henry Van Dyke
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Let's Compare Notes
Let's compare notes.
At one time you had said,
My comments provoked!
And you denounced,
Those words I spoke!
Let's compare notes.
Today you raise the same concerns.
And yet you say to others...
With the same words they have already heard.
But now you have a broader consciousness.
Let's compare notes!
What you say today,
Is 'intended' to provoke.
But you believe there should be an exception...
Since 'you' have been awakened from a deep sleep.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Piercing Music
Piercing notes attached to the ears
Reside in the inner recesses of the mind;
Once a spectacular moment is heard
The roof of the house is like a garden.
It elaborates and instigates a trial
For the bitter head, a solution to your ease.
When music is so sudden we seem to recline
And take control over the notes so orchestrated.
Let the ears be conditioned to the essence of thought
Engendered by the music we so love and admire
Like the chiming of church bells to celebrate the Lord.
poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Rhapsody Unshackled (Serious Adult Content)
Few have heard the distant
ecstatic melody:
The slaves heard it
as their pursuers closed in on them,
The political prisoner heard it
as he lay dying in his filthy cell,
Holocaust victims heard it
as they listened to the hiss of gas,
The kidnapped hostage heard it
as the blade touched his neck.
First faint notes,
then a rumbling deep in the earth.
A joyous song
rises like a cloud in the air,
Finally, a promise thunders
in the soul,
There is no death,
You shall be free,
there is deliverance,
there is another land!
poem by Mary Naylor
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Solitary Reaper
Behold her, single in the field,
Yon solitary Highland Lass!
Reaping and singing by herself;
Stop here, or gently pass!
Alone she cuts and binds the grain,
And sings a melancholy strain;
O listen! for the Vale profound
Is overflowing with the sound.
No Nightingale did ever chaunt
More welcome notes to weary bands
Of travellers in some shady haunt,
Among Arabian sands:
A voice so thrilling ne'er was heard
In spring-time from the Cuckoo-bird,
Breaking the silence of the seas
Among the farthest Hebrides.
Will no one tell me what she sings?--
Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow
For old, unhappy, far-off things,
And battles long ago:
Or is it some more humble lay,
Familiar matter of to-day?
Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain,
That has been, and may be again?
Whate'er the theme, the Maiden sang
As if her song could have no ending;
I saw her singing at her work,
And o'er the sickle bending;--
I listened, motionless and still;
And, as I mounted up the hill,
The music in my heart I bore,
Long after it was heard no more.
poem by William Wordsworth
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
In A Glass House
I've seen love
I've seen hate
I've seen all the emotion god creates.
I've seen good
I've seen bad
I've seen everything that you could ever have.
I've seen you
I've seen me
I've seen everything that i could want to be.
I've seen tall things
I've seen long things
I've seen everything a man was meant to see.
No one came,
No one is here
No one remembers.
Makes cambodia look like kansas,anytime
I've heard truth
I've heard lies
I've heard everything that ever crossed your mind.
I've heard( lust?)
I've heard screams
I've heard everything that makes you give up dreams.
I've heard you
I've heard me
I've heard everything i wish that( ****?) ever be
I've heard music, new heroes
Then i've heard some things i really wouldn't know
(***** ***** ***** ?)
Look in my heart
You will remember
People came
You (fell?) on me
I can remember
Makes cambodia look like kansas,anytime
I break hearts
I broke mine
I'll break everything i'm given if( ***?) time
I've said things i don't mean
I could lie in front of god and he'll beleive
I (cheat?)( ***?)
I (cheat?) time
I'll take everything you see
And make it mine
I don't like this confession
(**** **** ****?) heard( **** ****?) all
Someone came
(we have the cure?)
I'll always wonder
Friends can change
Some go some stay
I can't remember
song performed by by Gary Numan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The Reaper
Behold her, single in the field,
Yon solitary Highland Lass!
Reaping and singing by herself;
Stop here, or gently pass!
Alone she cuts and binds the grain,
And sings a melancholy strain;
O listen! for the vale profound
Is overflowing with the sound.
No nightingale did ever chaunt
More welcome notes to weary bands
Of travellers in some shady haunt,
Among Arabian sands:
A voice so thrilling ne'er was heard
In spring-time from the cuckoo-bird
Breaking the silence of the seas
Among the farthest Hebrides.
Will no one tell me what she sings?
Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow
For old, unhappy, far-off things,
And battles long ago:
Or is it some more humble lay,
Familiar matter of today?
Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain,
That has been, and may be again!
Whate'er the theme, the maiden sang
As if her song could have no ending;
I saw her singing at her work,
And o'er the sickle bending;
I listened, motionless and still;
And as I mounted up the hill
The music in my heart I bore,
Long after it was heard no more.
poem by William Wordsworth
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!