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LAYERS OF SOUND

The trees make music to be read beside the road,
the telegraph lines hang there in front as frets,
their inner music secretly it rings,
while flying birds add melodies at random with the planes 
that leave the rests where muffled clouds fill in;
the wind, aeolian harps plucks at bushes 
in percussion with the stream,
the great tits herald spring,
while frost adds notes of feathered feelings, sharp,
the blows from falling snows their drum-like thuds,
the chatter of the humans in between,
allegro in a foreign tongue,
staccato splashes, icicles deliver, 
and the sonorous murmur of the river 
harmonises with the drone, 
as the old railway sings its monotone,
and disappears legato in a tunnel, 
the silvered sigh of notes from a distant violin
just filling in. 

Style / type: 
Free verse
Last few words: 
Looking out of the bus window, there were the telegraph lines, and what passed between them from my position.
Editing stage: 

Comments

You are so right, that muffled bothered me too,
I wasn't sure of it but sent it as it was,
and now know it had to be changed.

Thank you Ephriam, for looking in, just like that violin.
Love Ann

"The image of yourself which you see in a mirror Is dead,
but the reflection of the moon on water, lives." Kenzan.

author comment

I agree with Ephy its a beautiful picture you painted outside the window of the bus, it was lovely to travel with you Ann, as always a pleasure

its so hot here at the moment it got to 45 degrees here today very very hot I cant remember days like this when I was younger maybe I am getting older eh ?

with love JC xxx

“The world is full of magic things, patiently waiting for our senses to grow sharper.” — W.B. Yeats

I entertain myself while travelling, and this was what I saw
as I have seen before, the birds flying across the sky
exactly coinciding with the electricity lines, or whatever,
like the five lines in musical notes, not sure what they are called,
apart from bars. They could be played afterwards, perhaps
by the wind like an aeolian harp.

OH I'm freezing Jayne, we have -13%C and stayed in to
exercise but going up and down the spiral staircase and
along the corridors of this 8 storey block, the sun shining
in on the top floor. but its cold in our flat, we like it fresh.
Blow me some heat, love to you from Ann of the north.

"The image of yourself which you see in a mirror Is dead,
but the reflection of the moon on water, lives." Kenzan.

author comment

I am sending you all our heat to warm your bones hugs

its actually cool here tonight the rain has come and its soooo beautiful I am loving the weather its nice to have some respite from the heat but apparently its working its way back so I will enjoy the cool while I can, you stay as warm as you can and go easy on the staircase ok ?

when I travel on the train I love looking out the window, every now and then I catch a bus but mostly its the train, I like to be able to stretch out so hubby and I treat ourselves to a cabin its a bit more expensive but the comfort is worth it .... I have wrote a lot of poems on the train and a couple of the bus life flying past seems to have the effect of inspiring me

try and stay as warm as you can

with much love JC xxx

“The world is full of magic things, patiently waiting for our senses to grow sharper.” — W.B. Yeats

Lovely poem, Ann, like the suggested changes. A musical poetry song: just gorgeous.

Jenifer Jaspa James

A lovely picture of your world with the sounds and sights beautifully painted, Yours Ian.T

.
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