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
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Related quotes
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
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Sly
Nicolette
I try to believe what I feel these days
It makes life much easier for me
Its hard to decide what is real these days
When things look so dizzy to me
I already know my childrens childrens faces
Voices that Ive heard before
Theres always more
Theres always more
Wandering leaving the sea behind
To my home which everybody owns
Wandering, wandering
Where we can do ? ? ? ? ?
Wandering
I feel like a 1000 years have passed
Im younger than I used to be
I feel like the world is my home at last
I know everyone that I meet
Somewhere in the music I can hear the bells
I heard a 1000 years before
Theres always more
Theres always more
Wandering is this there all there is
Since I was since I began to be
Wandering, wandering
Where we can do ? ? ? ? ?
Wandering
song performed by by Massive Attack
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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5. 8. 6.
I see danger
On the corner sent by me
Shadows the ways
Straight away you ran from me
I heard you calling
Yes, I heard you calling
I heard you calling
Yes, I heard you calling
I hear silence
I hear silence in my heart [house]
From a distance
Turn your back and run [hide] from me
Heard you calling
Yes, I heard you calling
Heard you calling
Yes, I heard you calling
When it happens
You will be no friend of mine
Take the first chance
When I am no longer free
Heard you calling
Yes, I heard you calling
Heard you calling
Yes, I heard you calling
In the future
When you want me in your heart
I wont be there [help you]
If you call out in the dark
Heard you calling
Yes, I heard you calling
Heard you calling
Oh yes I heard you, heard you, heard you, heard you calling
Can you hear me deep inside
From these feelings I cant hide
Can you hear me deep inside
From these feelings I cant hide
Oh, can you hear me deep inside
From these feelings I cant hide
Can you hear me calling you (4x)
song performed by by New Order
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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
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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
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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
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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
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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
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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
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Is There Anyone Home
Is there anyone home in this house made of stone?
Anyone inside know my name
Ive been around for a half of a hundred days.
Never saw a door shut so tight
Turn around, dont look down
Theres a man behind you with a gun
Like any wandering child in the wilderness,
Wild and uncaged are your ways
I think I heard
Someone stirred
I think I heard
Someone stirred
Theres a light around you
Ive come to switch it on
It will brighten every room
Dont be ashamed if you feel a whole lot warmer in you heart.
You got that feelin in your soul
Is there anyone home in this house made of stone?
Anyone in there who might care
Ive grown weary and wise and I feel much amazed.
Got a few good tales to unwind
Turn around, dont look down
Theres a man behind you with a gun.
Like any wandering minstrel Ive dawned in the house of a thousand delights.
I think I heard
Someone stirred
I think I heard
Someone stirred
I think I heard
Someone stirred
I think I heard
Someone stirred
I think I heard
Someone stirred
I think I heard
Someone stirred
song performed by by Gordon Lightfoot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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An Old Christmas Song
I heard an old old Christmas song
sung by grandma on Christmas eve.
I heard an old old Christmas song
of a virgin who did conceive.
I heard an old old Christmas song
of a Christ child who will relieve.
I heard an old old Christmas song
of glad tidings we shall receive.
I heard an old old Christmas song
of peace on earth we shall achieve.
I heard an old old Christmas song
of joyful people who did grieve.
I heard an old old Christmas song
of pain eternal we shall leave.
poem by Joseph C Ogbonna (15 December 2019)
Submitted by Joseph C Ogbonna
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A Child's Laughter
ALL the bells of heaven may ring,
All the birds of heaven may sing,
All the wells on earth may spring,
All the winds on earth may bring
All sweet sounds together---
Sweeter far than all things heard,
Hand of harper, tone of bird,
Sound of woods at sundawn stirred,
Welling water's winsome word,
Wind in warm wan weather,
One thing yet there is, that none
Hearing ere its chime be done
Knows not well the sweetest one
Heard of man beneath the sun,
Hoped in heaven hereafter;
Soft and strong and loud and light,
Very sound of very light
Heard from morning's rosiest height,
When the soul of all delight
Fills a child's clear laughter.
Golden bells of welcome rolled
Never forth such notes, nor told
Hours so blithe in tones so bold,
As the radiant mouth of gold
Here that rings forth heaven.
If the golden-crested wren
Were a nightingale---why, then,
Something seen and heard of men
Might be half as sweet as when
Laughs a child of seven.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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The Cuckoo
The cuckoo, like a hawk in flight,
With narrow pointed wings
Whews o'er our heads - soon out of sight
And as she flies she sings:
And darting down the hedgerow side
She scares the little bird
Who leaves the nest it cannot hide
While plaintive notes are heard.
I've watched it on an old oak tree
Sing half an hour away
Until its quick eye noticed me
And then it whewed away.
Its mouth when open shone as red
As hips upon the brier,
Like stock doves seemed its winged head
But striving to get higher
It heard me rustle and above leaves
Soon did its flight pursue,
Still waking summer's melodies
And singing as it flew.
So quick it flies from wood to wood
'Tis miles off 'ere you think it gone;
I've thought when I have listening stood
Full twenty sang - when only one.
When summer from the forest starts
Its melody with silence lies,
And, like a bird from foreign parts,
It cannot sing for all it tries.
'Cuck cuck' it cries and mocking boys
Crie 'Cuck' and then it stutters more
Till quick forgot its own sweet voice
It seems to know itself no more.
poem by John Clare
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Beating Of Hearts
Do you know what noise awakes you
Every morning from your bed
A-coming from the farthest hillside
A-coming from inside your head
You have heard
You have heard the loudest sound
In this and every world you can think of
Chorus: louder than tanks on the highway
Louder than bombers in flight
Louder than noises of hatred
Dancing us from darkest night is the rhythm of love
Powered on the the beating of hearts
And did you know you had this power?
Drumming on it always stays
Never try to use it badly
Tunes of good are all it plays
You have heard
You have heard the loudest sound
In this and every world you can visit
Chorus
For a heart without love is a song with no words
And a tune to which no-one is listening
So your heart must give love and youll find that
You shine like rain on the leaves youll be glistening
You have heard
You have heard the loudest sound
In this and every world you can think of
Louder than thoughts of dictators
Louder than rattling swords
Louder than loading of rifles
Louder than screaming warlords
Chorus
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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No One Heard
A song was sung that no one heard.
The song was sung all through the town.
It played for days - from dust until dawn.
It greeted on the morning and midnight yawn.
A song was sung that no one heard.
The melody was sweet and words were strong.
The instruments were the piano and the gong.
No one heard, no they did not,
For to hear, you needed the purest heart.
The song was played in the land on man;
A song was sung that no one heard.
Copyright © 2010 Leslie Alexis
poem by Leslie Alexis
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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
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House Of Salome
Written by ricky & marty wilde
Shadows run in the heat of the desert
Hands beat at the door
Someone stands and calls
For the name of salome
As the veils were pushed away
He gazed upon a face
Hed never seen
Was she a dream ?
He heard the sound from a distance voice
Youd better watch out!
Youd better watch out!
He heard the sound from a thousand years
Calling out
Calling out
In the house of salome
You have to surrender
Run with her said the young handmaiden
She will be your queen
All your life youll live
In the dream of salome
Take her mouth and with your hands
Just kiss her painted lips
Dont you make a move
till salome calls you
As the music danced around the desert night
He smelt her perfumed skin
As they made love
He heard the sound of a distant voice
Youd better watch out!
Youd better watch out!
He heard the sound of a thousand years
Calling out
Calling out
In the house of salome
You have to surrender
song performed by by Kim Wilde
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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
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We've Heard It All Before
Einstein, he said, nothings original
Find something new, That's easy for him to say
Took his whole life explaining his theory
Try squeezing your life into 3 minute songs like
"My love, your face is a symphony
You play the strings of my heart
Say that we never shall part
If you say goodbye, then I'll surely die without you"
Oh, we've heard it all before
Oh, we've heard it all before
Don't wanna hear it anymore
We've heard it, we've heard it (oy)
We've heard it, we've heard it (oy)
We've heard it, we've heard it (oy)
We've heard it, we've heard it (oy)
We've come a long way from mono to stereo
Mozart would freak at the crap on the radio
Hits all produced by computer technology
Stick it in one end, it comes out the other
"My love, your face is a symphony
You play the strings of my heart
Say that we never shall part
If you say goodbye, then I'll surely die without you"
Oh, we've heard it all before
Oh, we've heard it all before
Don't wanna hear it anymore
We've heard it, we've heard it (oy)
We've heard it, we've heard it (oy)
We've heard it, we've heard it (oy)
We've heard it, we've heard it (oy)
You plug us in and we regurgitate the hits
Bombard your senses with sound of microchips
Program it digitally into the top five
Brainwash your ears, is it tape or is it live?
Live, live, live, live, live, live, live, live, live
Oh, we've heard it all before, we've heard it, we've heard it
Oh, we've heard it all before, we've heard it, we've heard it
Don't wanna hear it anymore, we've heard it, we've heard it
Oh, we've heard it all before, we've heard it, we've heard it
Oh
song performed by by 10 Cc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Departure Points
once I would have written verse symphonies
sound serenade as mists enlightenment
soul transform into notes on harmonic journey
few have had ear
heart eye soul tuned
for performance
desire to sit
in rapture enthralled
orchestra sound
now I scribble but a few brief notes
ciphers sound in rush hour traffic
heard pauses amazed with awe blinks
forgets rapidly
rushes on to
departure points
poem by Terence George Craddock
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