I hear the whistle of the train
Its echo seems to fill my brain
My heart, it races o’er the track
My toes tap out ” clickety – clack ” .
How I do love the chugging sound
As each train covers so much ground
It’ s fun to carry on this race
From town to town and place to place !
Do you hear the children hard at play
On this idyllic autumnal day
Happy voices raised, so full of glee
Charming the likes of both you and me !
The cattle low, the rooster crows
Tis quite early in the morning
The trees will bend, the wind it blows
Another day soon is dawning.
The squirrels hustle in the trees
Their booty they are defending
While pigeons roosting mongst the leaves
All their messages are sending !
There is a sound that fills the air
It seems to well from everywhere
And floods the skies with sweet surprise,
Assails the heart with joyous sighs.
Oh, what great hope new seasons bring
Anticipating everything
The lure and charm of “everydays”
That daily sing of God in praise,
The warmth and kindness and the love
Now emanates from God above !
I hear the whistle of the train
Reverberating in my brain
Its lonesome wail echoes so clear
And sends a song into my ear
There is a mystery you bring
With every plaintive note you sing.
Oh how I wish to ride with you
Until my sojourn here is through
But that can never be, my friend
Our journey lasts until its end !
I miss the peace of morning sounds
The tender tug that calm expounds
The smell of coffee in the air
It seems to be most everywhere
The gentle hum as life revives
Before the world becomes alive
The quiet lull before the dawn
That signals all, here comes the morn !
Too soon the morning sounds arrive
Informing all we’re still alive
Outside a bird begins to cheep
To certify we’re not asleep.
I hear the sound of running feet
A dog is barking in the street
Mid tires traversing on the road
As trucks pass bearing heavy load.
The stress and strain commence once more
Ere we have stepped outside the door
I can’t believe today’s begun
We’ve barely time to greet the sun !
How often I have wished that I
Could spread my wings and learn to fly
O’er mountain peaks there rising high
Across the meadows whisking by
The waters stretched to touch the sky
While gravity on earth denies.
Along the ridges wide and dry
Where eaglets nest and flight imply
I hear the mighty oceans sigh
And whisper to this world goodbye !
GOD BLESS HIS WORLD !
There is a sound I love to hear
A bugle call upon my ear
Its brassy tone does thrill my heart
And chills my spine right from the start
My hair all seems to stand on end
As tones and notes begin to blend.
What started as a hunting horn
Before the age of bronze was born
Evolved into what we now know
The bugle calls to troops they blow !
I hear a foghorn in the mist
Its throaty call, sandpaper kissed
Swaying branches shiver and shake
You’d think the sky was gonna’ break.
I love the sound of stormy skies
When lightning strikes and crackle flies
The weather comes, it goes astray
It spins about then skulks away !
I hear a sound, I think it’s rain
It pings against my window pane
Each droplet falling one by one
Like staccato echoes everyone
The drip, drip, dripping that I hear
Sounds like a trumpet on my ear
Crescendo rising to its peak
With no one there who dares to speak
The silence of the night is lost
There’s no one left to count the cost !
I hear the echoes from the street
Of hasty and retreating feet
Some voices carry on the breeze
And filter through the veil of trees.
Those sounds that do survive the night
Will disappear in morning’s light
The world awakes both old and young
When daybreak comes, the night time’s done !
I wonder if those words I hear
Whispered so softly in my ear
While I am half asleep in bed
And murmurs swirl around my head,
I find I’m caught within this spin
Of all the lines I must fill in.
Sometimes I cannot keep the pace
The words seem to get lost in space
And need a sort of safety net
To catch those thoughts I’ve not writ yet !
The sky o’erhead is overcast
It’s great expanse is far too vast
We’ve elements for any taste
And all that air a shame to waste
Compared to when we are aground
Where lush hills circle all around.
There is no sound so sweet to hear
As cheeky birdsong on the ear
I’d like to think that when they sing
The bells in heaven start to ring
The angels echo their reply
They light the stars in darkened sky !
My heart is wild, I know the tune
I hear the sound midnight or noon
It echoes sadly aft we start
Before life ends or lives must part !
I hear voices from the past now crying
Drowning my senses with their last sighing
Alas, for all about me are dying !
Oh little birds where have you been
We’ve missed your chirps and cheeky spin
It seems as though it’s been too long
Since you’ve been here to sing your song.
The winter’s gone, so glad of that
Can’t wait to hear C sharp or flat
Oh little birds please fail us not
Without your sounds what have we got ?
Each morning as the daybreak wakes
I hear the sound that nature makes
The leaves that rustle in the trees
With branches brushing all the eaves
And wings of birds fast in their flight
To quell the hunger of the night.
The simple sounds of life abound
And fill the void that silence found
That teaches us to listen close
For nature’s sounds, loud and verbose !
There are small sounds that fill my mind with thoughts that soar
While minute, so bold they challenge any ocean’s roar.
They’re sounds that only love can heal or kindness teach
When strength’s beyond the deepest place one heart can reach.
These sounds of silence fall too soft on hollow ears
But speak more plainly than the eloquence of tears.
That last sound , the labored breathing of one adored,
The closing sigh which signifies he’ll come no more,
These are the sounds that will confuse a lifetime much
And leave an empty void that only time can touch.
Petals falling from a rose to the garden bed,
Tight laughter that issues forth when goodbye is said,
That stirring of the pulse with heartbeat quickening
Unbidden, heralding each pains awakening
Or hushed darkness of the night now moving slowly
While the rush of the wind in mid-flight moans lowly,
Some weeping sounds which from the tearful heart are wrung
As sounds of chanted mass are in a choir sung.
These have lingered in the air with hope awaiting
Within our lives , some restful aim contemplating.
Hence hearken to those sounds declaring time’s ending
With all the consequence of old thoughts attending.
Acknowledge, in the distance, one trumpet crying
Both man and beast in manner like are soon dying.
Then understand the difference that love has made
And in that final moment, hear an accolade.
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Claire V. Bogdanos 