G.R. Gaus

(April 11 1950 / St. Louis)

Silent Sounds


Oh gentle breeze, whisper in my ear,
Your origin, I know not where,
In the dust, you suddenly appear,
Then rushing off, without a care.

Billowing clouds rise in the west,
Low rumble, echoing through me,
Beginning on, a long lonely quest,
Most beautiful, wild and free.

Forest filled with living things,
Hidden safely within its walls,
Each one hears as silence sings,
Her song, of reassurance, calls.

A spring appears beneath a stone,
From some deep darkened vein,
Secret source remains unbeknown,
Into a pool, becomes domain.

Mule Deer browse in quiet grace,
Stepping softly, glancing around,
Overlooking their visible space,
Aware of all, that makes a sound.

Silent sounds heard everywhere,
Few humans stop to listen,
Caught within the city's snare,
Never knowing what their missin.

Submitted: Friday, May 31, 2013
Edited: Saturday, June 01, 2013
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Poet's Notes about The Poem

I’ve become accustomed to these things; don’t miss the sirens…..

Comments about this poem (Silent Sounds by G.R. Gaus )

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  • Freshman - 1,135 Points Valerie Dohren (6/4/2013 12:36:00 PM)

    Just lovely GR, you paint a beautiful scene here - away from all the sirens, not to mention mobile phones and the like. A great read. (Report) Reply

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