Oh, that’s a funny topic. I have hearing problems, literally. Been born with it, and I’ve worn hearing aids for most of my life. I’m only a teenager now, but it’s made me different from the start. I only want to know how sound is different for me from everyone else.
Everyone’s always afraid how they’ll sound to someone else. They don’t care how they sound to themselves. They don’t care how they sound to God. if they could just hear half the words they said they’d be ashamed. Looking back on each day, I don’t want to be ashamed of what I did and didn’t say. I want to be proud, and I want God to be proud too.
The sound blew Jude’s ears out. Shari’s lips moved but he couldn’t hear what she was saying. She became as a balloon that left his hands as a child when he fell and tears cleaned pathways down his dirty cheeks. There were no marks and he couldn’t tell them the pain was inside. And so the child grew and the dream left and it was all he needed, to become comfortably numb.
I can’t hear anymore. It happened for no particular reason. My eyes watered . My left ear was flooded with a nasty screeching noise, that left my other senses reeling. I cant hear anymore. I don;t want to hear anymore. I don;t know what that sound was that day, but I don’t want to hear anymore.
I hear music right now, playing from my foster sister’s room. It’s country. That makes me a little irritable, especially since she is such a poser. There were no cowboys in the south. I also hear my family talking about pictures.
Mrs. Hudson had just returned home from Speedy’s, carrying a large sack of bagels. She set it down inside the doorstep as she paused to slip out of her shoes. She was just about to head into the kitchen with her bagels, when she heard that sound again- the one that was unlike any other, which had accompanied the boy’s excited return after a strange meeting with a friend she’d never heard of. The landlady tried to place the sound, and found that it was almost as though… someone had taken the larger metal strings out of a piano, and was running something along them. It was godawful and went on for several seconds before ending with a thump.
Stock still in the foyer with her bag of bagels, Mrs. Hudson stood and listened. All was quiet for another moment, until the doorbell rang.
The peephole revealed a strange man in tweed, braces, and a bow-tie. She’d never met him before, but he seemed harmless enough. Pulling the door open with her free arm, Mrs. Hudson blinked owlishly at the man. “Can I help you, young man?”
He grinned wide and bounced a bit on his toes. “Yes, exactly, I’m looking for Sherlock Holmes?” He sniffed vigorously at the air between them, excitedly adding, “And are those onion bagels?!? I wonder if I still like those…”
Sunday morning. I want to be with you on this day. This very second I just want to see your face and hear the sound of your voice. The sweetest symphony, not bitter sweet either. It would be the greatest feeling, your arms holding me right now. So welcoming and warm on this cold, rainy day. So where are you? I want to be there.
Sound. Boom. Crash Bang. ZInG. beautiful, crazy sound. what would it be like being deaf? that would suck. i would miss the everyday sounds. and peoples voices. peoples personalities match their voices so well. a cats meow. bark. bang.
The sounds were overbearing. She dug her fingernails into her head. “The sounds!” She shouted, her eyes closed tightly. “They’re in my head! I can hear them as they tell me to do bad things!”
I looked across the waters of the bay, framed by dirt-encrusted, immobile glaciers. They didn’t call it a bay, though, they called it a “sound” it in the national park map. I wondered why, the only sound I could hear was a faint lapping of waves on the rocky beach, if I strained my ears. But perhaps if I stood here, immobile for several years, one of the glaciers would expel a large chunk of ice with a cataclysm of sound.
The odious melody came out quite suddenly. She was embarrassed, but remained in her seat. The two boys, once hopeful suitors, now turned in disgusted. The ghost of lunch had exacted a horrible vengeance.
The sound of silence. The sound of loneliness. Nohthing-ness. Do you ever feel lost. I don’t mean lost in a maze of unfamiliar buildings and traffic. I mean tangled in confusion with a fuzzy and obstructed gaze of what lays ahead. No not a physical destination. I’m talking about traveling through life. When you can’t tell your up from down. What is the difference between left and right anyway? They can both get me there eventually all that matters is the combination (until one leads you to a dead end). Lost, meaning you’re surrounded by strangers, yet you’re not in a new place. When you wake up, in the same exact bed each morning, to a place that seems so foreign. Seconds seem like hours, but you blink and the day is almost over. Swimming against the current trying to make your way back to the familiar. The wind is never against your back. You’ve lost your compass, the north star is no where in sight. The world spins around you a chaotic whirl that you can’t seem to comprehend.
The sound of silence. The sound of loneliness. Nohthing-ness. Do you ever feel lost. I don’t mean lost in a maze of unfamiliar buildings and traffic. I mean tangled in confusion with a fuzzy gaze of where you’re going. No not to a physical destination. I’m talking about traveling through life. When you can tell your up from down. What is the difference between left and right anyway. They can both get me there eventually all that matters is the combination (until one leads you to a dead end) Lost, meaning you’re surrounded by strangers, yet you’re not in a new place. When you wake up ,in the same exact bed each morning, to a place that seems so foreign. Seconds seem like hours, but you blink and the day is almost over. Swimming against the current trying to make your way back to the familiar. The wind is never against your back. You’ve lost your compass, the north star is no where in sight. The world spins around you a chaotic confusion that you can’t seem to comprehend.
Sound is a very powerful medium. I always wonder what it would be like to be deaf, but honestly, I don’t know if I would miss something I never had, you know? But still not being able to listen to music, hear my mother, hear my friends. It’s just too much and I can’t even imagine it!!
I hear sounds. They suffocate me. Annoying. Loud. I feel like I’m losing my mind. Everything’s in the way of what I really feel. I can’t speak. I can only hear. The loud screams; of terror, agony and pain, It hurts. I want to get out of here. I want this to stop. I need this to end. Forever. Now
Traveling at the speed of sound, it’s a blur. D flat, C flat, minor, major…do you hear the animals calling? Loud, quiet, soft, sharp, noises filling my ears. A melody in E major…sounds that are distantly close and close but distant. I close my eyes in orbit and listen to the beautiful cacophony.
sound is what you hear everyday. sound can be annoying and joyful. only deaf people cannot hear sound and yes i feel bad about that. i think some music is good sound and the beach is good sound and bad sound is screaming and traffic.
sound is what you hear and sometimes it can be a good sound and it can also be annoying sound. no matter what you hear sound everywhere unless you are deaf.
The sound of the chirping in the trees and the sight of the sun bursting through the back drop of the homes mad me smile from my seat. Sitting on my front porch at the crack of dawn, smelling early morning sents of wet grass, roasted coffee and blooming roses bushes. Today is the day the Lord has made, I will rejoice and be glad. Gratitude for was and what will be is the theme of my moment and the fuel that keeps me going.
She listened to the sound of hatred and wept
She listened to the sound of ignorance and screamed
She listened to the sound of apathy
And reached for the earplugs
Like everyone else
Waiting
For the sound
Of death
driving and piercing, it was inescapable, it flowed over her body like water, the joy it brought her was immense, like a love you believe you will never lose.
The sound was coming from behind me. I turned around but couldn’t see what was making the noise. I was a bit annoyed because it was a high pitched hum and it sounded funny in my ears. Finally, I spotted a bumble bee.
sound of silence is an exact word for the sound you hear within yourself when you reach a point where there is no return. the silence has a clear inaudible sound–or i should say it’s a sensation that makes your heart quiver.
She was the cosmos, she was a cosmos and she had no boundaries
The stars she held within had no bones no structure no name
Dusty echoes would sometimes meet her ears but she would not bother
Swimming here and there, surrounded by insensitivity and mystery
Why should she care when it was her own lie that always had the brightest aura, the loudest scream ?
She did not betrayed sound, she did not demand a rapture of the meteors that had found home in her chest
Her delicate figure, her petite frame keeping them safe
From light, from time, from herself
Because I know, she knows –
You can’t reach that deep
You can’t reach
You can’t
The beach was waitng silently
While sea tapped along the shore
with salty fingers and frothing knuckles
that clawed up the sand
like a boy learning to run
then retreated
like an drunk old man
hanging onto the cliff edge
at dusk, the water seeping
into the sand
If a sound is made and no one is around to hear it, does it mean that in actuality no sound was made? Wouldn’t that mean that if there is no one around to experience a creation it simply ceases to exist?
He’ll never forget the sound of a human nose breaking under the weight of a fist, same for the feel of it. Even though he doesn’t do that anymore, because he just got out of ‘Heaven’ and God has him on probation after all. He’ll never forget Angel’s laughter either, even though he never really knew it. He did but he didn’t. It’s so ironic to him that he has had up close and personal brushes with Heaven and an Angel, but neither are here now.
Oh, that’s a funny topic. I have hearing problems, literally. Been born with it, and I’ve worn hearing aids for most of my life. I’m only a teenager now, but it’s made me different from the start. I only want to know how sound is different for me from everyone else.
Everyone’s always afraid how they’ll sound to someone else. They don’t care how they sound to themselves. They don’t care how they sound to God. if they could just hear half the words they said they’d be ashamed. Looking back on each day, I don’t want to be ashamed of what I did and didn’t say. I want to be proud, and I want God to be proud too.
The sound blew Jude’s ears out. Shari’s lips moved but he couldn’t hear what she was saying. She became as a balloon that left his hands as a child when he fell and tears cleaned pathways down his dirty cheeks. There were no marks and he couldn’t tell them the pain was inside. And so the child grew and the dream left and it was all he needed, to become comfortably numb.
I can’t hear anymore. It happened for no particular reason. My eyes watered . My left ear was flooded with a nasty screeching noise, that left my other senses reeling. I cant hear anymore. I don;t want to hear anymore. I don;t know what that sound was that day, but I don’t want to hear anymore.
There is not greater stimulation than musical sounds or nature sounds.
As I felt my appartments and walked then feet, I realized I forgot my bottle of water. As I came in, I heard nothing but my cats sleeping soundly.
heartbeat. i guess that was the first sound i have ever heard… maybe it would also be my last.. i crave for heartbeats … i really do
I hear music right now, playing from my foster sister’s room. It’s country. That makes me a little irritable, especially since she is such a poser. There were no cowboys in the south. I also hear my family talking about pictures.
Mrs. Hudson had just returned home from Speedy’s, carrying a large sack of bagels. She set it down inside the doorstep as she paused to slip out of her shoes. She was just about to head into the kitchen with her bagels, when she heard that sound again- the one that was unlike any other, which had accompanied the boy’s excited return after a strange meeting with a friend she’d never heard of. The landlady tried to place the sound, and found that it was almost as though… someone had taken the larger metal strings out of a piano, and was running something along them. It was godawful and went on for several seconds before ending with a thump.
Stock still in the foyer with her bag of bagels, Mrs. Hudson stood and listened. All was quiet for another moment, until the doorbell rang.
The peephole revealed a strange man in tweed, braces, and a bow-tie. She’d never met him before, but he seemed harmless enough. Pulling the door open with her free arm, Mrs. Hudson blinked owlishly at the man. “Can I help you, young man?”
He grinned wide and bounced a bit on his toes. “Yes, exactly, I’m looking for Sherlock Holmes?” He sniffed vigorously at the air between them, excitedly adding, “And are those onion bagels?!? I wonder if I still like those…”
then nothing,
the world without ears.
a bird watching,
prepared for flight.
The sound of the music pumped through my ears as the car kept sliding by. The ocean waves crashed against the shore and I knew I was at home.
Sunday morning. I want to be with you on this day. This very second I just want to see your face and hear the sound of your voice. The sweetest symphony, not bitter sweet either. It would be the greatest feeling, your arms holding me right now. So welcoming and warm on this cold, rainy day. So where are you? I want to be there.
Sound. Boom. Crash Bang. ZInG. beautiful, crazy sound. what would it be like being deaf? that would suck. i would miss the everyday sounds. and peoples voices. peoples personalities match their voices so well. a cats meow. bark. bang.
The sounds were overbearing. She dug her fingernails into her head. “The sounds!” She shouted, her eyes closed tightly. “They’re in my head! I can hear them as they tell me to do bad things!”
irina tu o sa fii cea mai fericita si norocoasa
I looked across the waters of the bay, framed by dirt-encrusted, immobile glaciers. They didn’t call it a bay, though, they called it a “sound” it in the national park map. I wondered why, the only sound I could hear was a faint lapping of waves on the rocky beach, if I strained my ears. But perhaps if I stood here, immobile for several years, one of the glaciers would expel a large chunk of ice with a cataclysm of sound.
Noise
The odious melody came out quite suddenly. She was embarrassed, but remained in her seat. The two boys, once hopeful suitors, now turned in disgusted. The ghost of lunch had exacted a horrible vengeance.
The sound of silence. The sound of loneliness. Nohthing-ness. Do you ever feel lost. I don’t mean lost in a maze of unfamiliar buildings and traffic. I mean tangled in confusion with a fuzzy and obstructed gaze of what lays ahead. No not a physical destination. I’m talking about traveling through life. When you can’t tell your up from down. What is the difference between left and right anyway? They can both get me there eventually all that matters is the combination (until one leads you to a dead end). Lost, meaning you’re surrounded by strangers, yet you’re not in a new place. When you wake up, in the same exact bed each morning, to a place that seems so foreign. Seconds seem like hours, but you blink and the day is almost over. Swimming against the current trying to make your way back to the familiar. The wind is never against your back. You’ve lost your compass, the north star is no where in sight. The world spins around you a chaotic whirl that you can’t seem to comprehend.
The sound of silence. The sound of loneliness. Nohthing-ness. Do you ever feel lost. I don’t mean lost in a maze of unfamiliar buildings and traffic. I mean tangled in confusion with a fuzzy gaze of where you’re going. No not to a physical destination. I’m talking about traveling through life. When you can tell your up from down. What is the difference between left and right anyway. They can both get me there eventually all that matters is the combination (until one leads you to a dead end) Lost, meaning you’re surrounded by strangers, yet you’re not in a new place. When you wake up ,in the same exact bed each morning, to a place that seems so foreign. Seconds seem like hours, but you blink and the day is almost over. Swimming against the current trying to make your way back to the familiar. The wind is never against your back. You’ve lost your compass, the north star is no where in sight. The world spins around you a chaotic confusion that you can’t seem to comprehend.
Sound is a very powerful medium. I always wonder what it would be like to be deaf, but honestly, I don’t know if I would miss something I never had, you know? But still not being able to listen to music, hear my mother, hear my friends. It’s just too much and I can’t even imagine it!!
I hear sounds. They suffocate me. Annoying. Loud. I feel like I’m losing my mind. Everything’s in the way of what I really feel. I can’t speak. I can only hear. The loud screams; of terror, agony and pain, It hurts. I want to get out of here. I want this to stop. I need this to end. Forever. Now
I hear the strange sound from the outside.
Traveling at the speed of sound, it’s a blur. D flat, C flat, minor, major…do you hear the animals calling? Loud, quiet, soft, sharp, noises filling my ears. A melody in E major…sounds that are distantly close and close but distant. I close my eyes in orbit and listen to the beautiful cacophony.
the sound of your voice echoes within my chest. I may have lost you, but I will never allow myself to forget your sweet whisperings
sound is the awesome thing you hear when your not deaf..
sound is what you hear everyday. sound can be annoying and joyful. only deaf people cannot hear sound and yes i feel bad about that. i think some music is good sound and the beach is good sound and bad sound is screaming and traffic.
sound is what you hear and sometimes it can be a good sound and it can also be annoying sound. no matter what you hear sound everywhere unless you are deaf.
The sound of the chirping in the trees and the sight of the sun bursting through the back drop of the homes mad me smile from my seat. Sitting on my front porch at the crack of dawn, smelling early morning sents of wet grass, roasted coffee and blooming roses bushes. Today is the day the Lord has made, I will rejoice and be glad. Gratitude for was and what will be is the theme of my moment and the fuel that keeps me going.
She listened to the sound of hatred and wept
She listened to the sound of ignorance and screamed
She listened to the sound of apathy
And reached for the earplugs
Like everyone else
Waiting
For the sound
Of death
driving and piercing, it was inescapable, it flowed over her body like water, the joy it brought her was immense, like a love you believe you will never lose.
The sound was coming from behind me. I turned around but couldn’t see what was making the noise. I was a bit annoyed because it was a high pitched hum and it sounded funny in my ears. Finally, I spotted a bumble bee.
sound of silence is an exact word for the sound you hear within yourself when you reach a point where there is no return. the silence has a clear inaudible sound–or i should say it’s a sensation that makes your heart quiver.
She was the cosmos, she was a cosmos and she had no boundaries
The stars she held within had no bones no structure no name
Dusty echoes would sometimes meet her ears but she would not bother
Swimming here and there, surrounded by insensitivity and mystery
Why should she care when it was her own lie that always had the brightest aura, the loudest scream ?
She did not betrayed sound, she did not demand a rapture of the meteors that had found home in her chest
Her delicate figure, her petite frame keeping them safe
From light, from time, from herself
Because I know, she knows –
You can’t reach that deep
You can’t reach
You can’t
The beach was waitng silently
While sea tapped along the shore
with salty fingers and frothing knuckles
that clawed up the sand
like a boy learning to run
then retreated
like an drunk old man
hanging onto the cliff edge
at dusk, the water seeping
into the sand
If a sound is made and no one is around to hear it, does it mean that in actuality no sound was made? Wouldn’t that mean that if there is no one around to experience a creation it simply ceases to exist?
I hear the sound of ringing bells. Christmas is finally here. As the little images dance and prance, I feel a sudden overcome of sadness.
How the sound of the birds frees my spirit. I imagine walking free in the wild without direction following just the birdcalls and flight paths.
He’ll never forget the sound of a human nose breaking under the weight of a fist, same for the feel of it. Even though he doesn’t do that anymore, because he just got out of ‘Heaven’ and God has him on probation after all. He’ll never forget Angel’s laughter either, even though he never really knew it. He did but he didn’t. It’s so ironic to him that he has had up close and personal brushes with Heaven and an Angel, but neither are here now.