The sounds of blindness (DVerse) x 2

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aeroplane hum engines
offset against sweet songs of birds
as a door closes behind me
to the breath of wind

a pigeon coos
blinds tickle the window sill
as I close my eyes ~ absorb

a dog barks
a child laughs
wind picks up I hear the leaves
crunch against another

no silence in the world
yet what I hear has been
collected in memory
matching what I have seen

how is life for those who haven’t witnessed
unable to describe what they hear
I am grateful for seeing what I have
not relying on my other senses
of smell taste or touch

another bird joins in the chorus
door slides hard along the rails
and on a tv show
the sound of horses neighing

©jmtacken 14/3/2013

# 2  I wrote the below in March 10th 2013 – when I thought all poetry had to rhyme. I have altered it slightly from the original. I thought I would add this in.

I hold tulips peeling petals to unfold
hold on to my wedding ring and imagine what’s gold
lift my face to the clouds
that I’m told drift through the sky
sadly miss the expressions of those who walk by
touch the leaves that curl brittle on trees
listen to buzzing from the hive full of bees

fingers embrace spider webs lacy and glossy
hear as a mother shouts, angry and bossy
imagine the stars on warm summer nights
though never to witness them sit in the sky
jump in the crest of the waves at the beach
set my goals high for things I can reach

cannot see faces of those that smile wide
or the glow and the love on the face of a bride
can hug all the animals four legged or two
won’t see lovers face as they bid me adieu
painting butterfly wings coloured and frail
touch my words that are penned in braille

visualise the flight of a woodland hawk
or the joy I would feel to see my child walk
I can feel shiny, the dull, old and the new
wet my fingers on blades of first morning dew
I grasp hold of tree trunks that stand tall
in the forests, run my fingers across sculptures
and paintings of artists

I wish to see happiness in the faces of lovers
or stare into eyes of lonely street beggars
love I would feel sighting a newly born babe
I cannot have this ~ there is no escape
let me see those who share wealth with the poor
show me the sadness of those who yearn more
witness the sun on a hot summers day
look at the snow, slowly drifting away
I see things that the sighted perhaps
do not see
is it a gift or simply just me…

© jmtacken 14/3/2014

Sharing with   dversepoets  Brian has us writing with any of the other senses, but you cannot use sight. You have to tell the tale or build the poem using your taste, touch, smell, what you hear—but no imagery…nothing I can see.