Sounds poems bring the best collection of short and long sounds poetry. Poems for him and her and every poetry lover. These great sounds rhymes are so amazing they will touch your heart and keep you craving for more. Hope you find your own deep meanings in these sounds poems. They are decent, rhyming, free spirited and true. Thoughts on sounds are here for you.
The gentle creak of the suspension as i settle into the drivers seat, the sharp click of the key as it turns in the ignition, releasing the steering lock the metallic cough of the engine, as it starts up from
The Imitation Sounds- Their Sounds: Like lion he roars, growls like a male tiger warning intruder or a bear on prowl for vengeance. He gibbers like an ape, chatter as a monkey, screams like a chimpanzee. Do you bark like
A car zipped through the early morning silence bursting in sound the stillness of sunrise Sol emerged in golden rays cast upon the new day A robin hopped as though dancing in rhythm to ‘The Dawn Chorus’ who woke the
In my Solitude I looked all around- To sooth my mind. I noticed, a little Sparrow Starting its nest. Day by day, I watched the little bird The progress of construction was going on With small grasses and pieces of
You filled my heart with memories The old memories are as sweet as honey I wish to transform myself to a butterfly. My wings should be lovely It should be pretty with shining colors To me, you are precious. I
Seek knowledge from the cradle to the grave -Prophet Mohammed Last night I dreamed the snow-capped hills of Swat… I saw the green spread valleys And the lucid swat river I stood for a while in front of the gate
If emotions were sounds, And feelings could be heard, What would be the loudest? And would some be unheard? Huff-puff, rattle, grunts and slurs! Would we just hear random noises? Whistles, whispers, shouts and roars! Or beautifully harmonizing inner voices?
I love.. The early sounds of dawn. The twitter of birds and the sound of Silence too – as calm and blissful peace they bring. I love.. Fresh jasmine flowers A walk on wet green grass The crimson in the sky with birds
When all the sounds that fill the air die not, And for a little rest, my ears do crave, The joys of loneliness that I forgot, In silence lie, the hallmark of the grave; What little time for solitude is
On a lonely day, I stare at the shaking trees, And falling leaves. Deciduous leaves leave the boughs, And a stream flows and stirs about Like a lovely lough. A scene so beautiful, I looked and adored nature’s manoeuvre, What
We escaped to the north shore of the California coast. Drove through the gates and said hello to the host. Slept by the sea and reclined in it’s embrace. Overwhelming enchanting breezes in our secret place. Viewed the ocean’s expanse
We didn’t do this! Believe me, please! We warned them instead. They didn’t know our tongue. We tried to stop them verily. But still they went on. The place is not good. We don’t even think of going! This is
Sun rises in east and sets in west, every month, moon appears and disappears, seasons come and seasons go, but heart rhythms are unceasing. Night comes and fades away- day arrives and gradually it disappears; in rain and in sun-
The stadium goes dark and a hush falls- you can hear a pin drop; The sounds of pins dropping, Maybe it’s the patter of raindrops Or is it running feet- Oh, the anticipation! It’s a drumroll for the artist, As
“Appa, your kinda song” called out Aadi My kind? Listened, liked it instantly and That has set the ball rolling on a peep into Mumbai, may be many things to many a man Gun totting gangsters, trigger happy cops, Starlit
The crunching of gravel beneath my feet A sound I associate with a country retreat Manicured gardens tended with care The scent of rose blossoms filling the air A quiet calm away from the throng The silence disturbed with birds
I remember a time when life was alive with wondrous mysteries of carefree design; when clouds were fluffy and brilliant white with planes soaring high and then out of sight. Innocence of mind and a happier soul as we played
I refuse to follow you. I refuse to borrow your words, your ideas, your beliefs. Limiting preachings of fragmented minds. I refuse to follow you. I refuse to adopt your meanings, interpretations, definitions. Confining parameters, conditioning. I refuse to follow
(A collaboration with Gene) In dark melancholy’s mire a heart’s forlorn canoe paddles through the dense grief floating on the surface clutching like vines, sticks like Val Des ooze, pulling me under. Listening to the ghostly music coming from the
Life is like tear drops, falling from the skies, love will cause a flood, to pour down from your eyes. Thunder rolls, followed by the sounds of lighting, Like feelings in the heart, can be, become as frighting. Storm’s rolling
Sumptuousness of the cafe, Sitting at the corner… Softly Decorated with glasses comforts of Air-Conditioner.. Silent faces unknown held down on phone-screen… Headphones and Ringtones like sounds of guillotine Inside the head-Rage and fire against the politics-bullshit of generation of
A breeze moves gently Through the long grass Disturbing not a blade. The only sound I hear As they lay me in the ground Are the sounds of butterflies. I listen closely. I hear a dew drop fall Lightly to
I can feel the warm sunshine bathing me in light Comfortable, joyful, pure I see bright green grass, soft on my feet Lush and cool Comforting I am happy here I smile here I sit in the tree Never really
Someday while sitting at my table, I’d love to meet Anne of Green Gables, Then My Eight Cousins she would meet, They’re lots of fun and kind and sweet. But I have cousins by the dozens, Their chatter sounds like
Dragonfly on the rock. Daydreams in the sky. Men that matter on the deck. Women a far cry. Children fishing on the rocks, gathering crabs that claw. Picking nets of blue synthetic, meshed like entwined twine. Twirling networks on ship
This is me. What do I look like? Well…I look a bit like this: Tall, slim, longish hair… But what colour is my hair? Blond? Brown? Bubblegum pink? And how does my story go? Well…it goes something like this: You
In an unfamiliar thorny place, My grandparents’ home stood. Gone were the sounds of voices Sign of life swallowed up. The spot where we played, Path where the grass faded trampled on by footsteps, gone. So were my childhood references.
“Mum, what’s that noise?” asked Johnny Duboise as he sat on the comfy settee. “It’s your father”, she replied as the dishes she dried, “says he’s trying to set his mind free”. “By singing a song?” he asked with a
Tonight a fresh spring breeze flows into my window. Listening to all the sounds in this city. There are so many. Cars with engines roaring, racing up and down this city street. Ambulance sirens with fire trucks screeching and; hollering
Creaking doors in the attic Crying like ocean waves Wind singing through the canopy As the piano starts to play. Evil voice moaning lullabies Heavy footsteps are in sight Bloody-red eyes in the dark shades How haunted this world is.
The asphalt glints silver As the pitter- patter of my feet Mingle with the sounds of laughter, Anticipation and wonder Seem to echo from the brilliance Of the mountains as they glint, Glow and rejoice in the sun. Now I