![]() The Sound OfA Poem by JustPlainHere![]() . . .![]() The Sound Of I needed to hear heaven, and so, the road sifted on the wind the sound of an angel's voice instead of soaring engine. The mechanisms of the machine heard in the measured doppler shifts of the sun's vibrations hummed, hummed into the mating calls of a bird. The first split of an infant's cry was staccato, a slow cylindrical sound of the drum of a doll's voice breaking into a word. It faded into baby, and then into the bellow of voices in the street. The sound of thunder left the green of Spring - open palms everywhere, (Layers of opening and closing - Spin, and the waves of you cannot contain themselves - you say to the distant ones 'you were the star' they say 'no, you are.' 'We're chasing you.') I needed to hear heaven, and so, the mind became a sieve sifting carillons from the cacophony of horns, the rows of candles separated the wishes from their imperfect humans, and became a choir. The pre-dawn lit ground' breathed. The Sound Of I needed to hear heaven, and so, the road put forth the sound of a fallen angel instead of soaring engine. The mechanisms of the machine heard in the measured doppler shifts of the sun's vibrations hummed, hummed into the mating calls of a bird, the first split of an infant's cry staccato in its slow, cylindrical-like sound of of a doll breaking into its voice becoming the deep summer bellow of its spring - the sound of thunder a soft pliable green - open palms everywhere, languishing. If there were a sound of hope to sustain - Spin, and the waves of you cannot contain themselves - you say to the distant ones 'you were the star' they say 'no, you are.' 'We're chasing you.' I needed to hear heaven, and so, the mind became a sieve sifting carillons from the cacophony of horns, the rows of candles separated the well-wishes from their imperfect humans. The ground was glowing, and the heart and feet gravitated before the mind was aware, ready to receive the sound of birds. © 2025 JustPlainHereAuthor's Note
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StatsAuthor![]() JustPlainHereFLAboutPoets on life: “Oh, must we dream our dreams and have them, too?” ― Elizabeth Bishop “Art is the child of nature in whom we trace the features of the mothers face.&rdqu.. more..Writing
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