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A May 7
my lover equates me with my favorite instrument;
running his fingers down the strings of my flesh,
building tension and release as he sees fit.
the movement of our lips almost quantized
to match each other’s harmony.
every taste he acquires from me is
another texture added to his collection of sounds.
I want to let him know
that he can learn me to my very core
and play me to his heart’s content
like a cherub playing the harp
as he ascends the heavens.
I almost lost it reading this after church (for reference, I’m seeing a music producer)
My Dear Poet May 3
Love gives you words that
cannot be expressed
only through sounds of
the human heart
and I have no words
than this, so lay
your head upon my chest
half a heart can only grant you
the eighth note
Mark Wanless Jan 6
peepers close i see
dark i string the bow let fly
i hear dying sounds
Sara Brummer Oct 2023

To hear ancient music in the pines
or the bright moon speaking on
a cold, wild night.
Voices flow with song and speed,
loud as a busy highway, soft
as transparent air.

Vine leaves speak in whispers,
palm fronds shout their struggles
with the wind.I eavesdrop on
the gossip of the waves as
the blue hush of dawn fills
the morning sky and gulls
recite their own mournful hymns.

So many voices translate
mintues into hours, hours
into days. So many messages
passed on in time’s quiet
mystery, and the language
of heart whispers its own
gentle secrets.
Jme Love Oct 2023
I Wonder where
I Might wander to
If i had a friend or
two To wander Too
Words make me wonder. They really  make me think. Did i use it right or is it rite? How are we to know that a k in front of n o w will make the sound no but add a w to no and we have now. Thats the easy part. English is hard.
there is water
somewhere on my right
i can hear it
the gentle patter
of what must be
a delicate fountain
hidden amongst
the foliage and flowers
of freshly bloomed lilies
or falling from a feature
at the water's edge
there is a far-distant
rumble of jet engines
undoubtedly drawing
trails of vapour
across an otherwise
unblemished blue
sounds of traffic
dulled to almost nothing
a background hum
barely noticeable
even the unfamiliar
shrieking of a siren
as it passes by
cannot overpower
the drawn-out strains of violin
the rasgueado strum of guitar
the echoed stomp and clap of dancers
performing or practicing
in front of the monument
to a public figure
of some kind
that i would likely
not recognise or be aware of
on the other side of the park
a clock tower bell
chimes the hour
two o'clock
setting a fluttering
of birds to wing
chattering on the breeze
the seemingly constant
pattern of clicking heels
and scuffed steps
along the nearby path
tell of an exhaustive
cosmopolitan life
a dog begins barking
as i open my eyes
reminding me of home
Anne Molony Jun 2023
heavy air,
a body beside me,
it's face buried in a pillow, resting
the two of us like sprawled starfish
on a sea bed of blanket

here we lie, centered in our narrow room,
a room made bright by the single skylight above,

the following forming the soundscape of this moment:
- Sam's breath, my breath
- a pair of bluebottles buzzing and bumping into the walls
- an itch every now and then of sunburned skin, a leg brushing itself against the sheets
- a distant Tristan singing songs to his daughter down in the kitchen

there is a bucket with sick in it
there is a ***** laundry pile
there is a red, sun cream stained bikini hanging on the door handle
there are two clean, white towels and
two holiday cameras: the first's film already finished, the second with a little yet to go

Maybe we'll go to the beach
Maybe we'll go to the town or discover
a new town or ride our bikes out again until we find somewhere just right

the day has so much promise and
I have so little I have to do
but lie here and be grateful for time
Zywa Feb 2023
Receiving distant

sounds with giant ears, I get --

smaller and smaller.

"Atlas Eclipticalis" ("Atlas of the apparent path of the sun", 1961-1962, John Cage), performed by Ensemble SPECTRA in the Organpark on January 15th, 2023

Collection "org anp ark" #263
Odd Odyssey Poet Apr 2022
All of the sounds;
fading slowly into the background,
the sound of love; swish, only a rush nowadays.
Too many breaking up, down on their feelings
of being down on their luck.

Could make you go, "what the f..k"

But I heard they were looking for things
they couldn't find. Vroom, vroom.
Long trips at night; two kids driving down a hill,
about to live their life. Making out with one hand on the
steering wheel. Stirring their will; with tough love bites
leaving a wheal.

Mxwah, mxwah.

"Let's just enjoy the thrill,"
following each other's commandments. They both know the drill;
of hanging their clocks, with some time to ****.

Chirp, chirp.

Birds in the early morning of the season;
deep emotions their love has; but they keep on swimming.


"Do you think this feeling will last," she had to ask.
In the relax of paradise; with no memories to
the past. Past the times of counting seconds to finally

Tic Toc,

Waiting by the corner of her house; waiting for him to
pick her off the street. They kiss to greet. Tss.
They give one on each other's cheek.

Sip, sip.

Of that strong black coffee at their favourite café,
they've been there a couple of days; and it's become
their favourite place. He licks his lips, "I need to ****"

Vvvvrrr, vvrr, splat. Splash!
goes the vibrating tap; to give his hands a rinse.

I forgot to mention that baggage of bags under
their eyes. They've been driving all night.
aauggh, he quickly yawns.

Where has the time gone; felt like they've been stuck
listening to the same song.

The envelope message of eloping away from their parents,
they're living so careless. A couple more miles from a
borders freedom. She's breathless; while he's restless.

On the highway, his eyes pull down; and the car pulls
away to the side. CRASH! BOOM!

Nobody is left alive. Just the sound of a risky love, and no
sounds of life.

Now all we have is the sound of silence.

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