A stranger called this morning,
Dressed all in black and grey.
Put every sound into a bag,
And carried them away.
The whistling of the kettle,
The turning of the lock,
The purring of the kitten,
The ticking of the clock.
The popping of the toaster,
The crunching of the flakes,
Then you spread the marmalade,
The scraping noise it makes.
The hissing of the frying pan,
The burning of the grill,
The bubbling of the bathtub,
As it slowly starts to fill.
The drumming of the rain drops,
On the small window-pane,
When you do the washing up,
The gurgle of the drain.
The crying of the baby,
The squeaking of the chair,
The swishing of the curtain,
The creaking of the stair.
A stranger called this morning,
He didn't leave his name.
Left us only silence,
Life won't ever be the same.
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 7 of 7
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*gulp* i dnt wanna live in silence...
i like NOISE and CHAOS!!
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Fantastic Ben! Silence collects the sound, otherwise sound is making noice to hear. Very good write. I thouroughly enjoyed the poem, which as you like rhyming very well. keep writing my little friend.
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Silence is not always golden.
Yet another good poem Ben. Keep it up! Julie.
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Thanks for your comments every-one!
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good job
Wow this is creepy. Is it a true story? It would make a great novel. Sounds a little like something Stephen King would write. Thanks for sharing this. Good job.
Brian
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if this true then i would agree with the end
i love it has a great beat to it
and all of it rymes
that is a good ryming poem is hard to come by these days
but the constant naming of items that make noises is what kept me interested mostly becuase is was every thing we come to take for granted could simply be silenced an we could never hear another word again and i love it
so kudos for you lol
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