“There’s a drumming noise inside my head that starts when your around
I swear that you could hear it, It make such an almighty sound.
I swallow the sound and it swallows me whole,
Until there’s nothing left inside my soul.
I’m as empty as that beating drum,
but the sound had just begun.”
The sound of the birds singing, calling. That’s all I can think about anymore. Maybe the sound of her voice fits somewhere in there too. I can’t really pinpoint it, get any more precise than that. It’s all just sound to me – beautiful sound.
I hear a sound coming from the cage on the floor. It is a series of chirps followed by an occassional quack. Every once in a while I will here a soft squirt. Ducklings….who would have thought I would have a pair of ducklings resting in a dog kennel by my bed. I love them and will miss these sounds when they go outside to live in their own house.
the sound of a bird, clucking of shoes, talking, singing, and all that make any sound,, decibel is the one that measures how noisy or low the sound is.
Music is the happiest thing in the world, and the easiest way (for me) to simulate emotions. Certain sound patterns can take the brain and rewire it and make Haskell seem a bit more bearable.
He sounded sweet. It was almost like he stood right next to her.Of course, that would be too good to be true. He was gone, and all she could hear was the sound of his voice at the end of a voice message.
The sound of the canon tore across the sky as the world faded from Clove’s eyes. “CATO!” she screamed, running, jumping, trying to find him. Branches tore at her clothes, and insects filled her ears with a deafening buzzing. She couldn’t think, or feel anything. All she knew was that she had to find him.
The sound of your voice is all I want to hear, all day long. Speaking to me, singing to me, whispering in my ear, or yelling at me across oceans. Even if they terrible things. Even if the terrible tales, are the only things you have left to tell me.
They say I’m not of sound mind. I say I have songs running through my head all day long. I live in melody and lyrics. They say my brain is fried, but I know they’re wrong: my brain is music, is rhythm, is dance.
The sound of her frustration was ground out across venomously grit teeth. This was unbearable. Her computer was more of an enemy now than Jean had been during dodge ball week in high school. What the hell was wrong with this thing? Every glitch begat a ground, every lag a leer of loathing, and every pop-up provoked the last of her patience.
I wish I knew what things sound like. What a whisper sounds like, what a scream sounds like. I see mouths moving and I can feel the beats coming out of the radio but what does it sound like. What are they saying? What do words sound like? I wish I knew.
The sound of my stomach protesting rang through my ears alongside the gurgling and grunts of my companions as $66 of fast food hit our digestion like DUI drivers into the side of semis. It reminds me that there is a world beyond the hypocrites, sociopaths, and backstabbers of my day to day high school, and nothing is more satisfying and reassuring, despite the indigestion that lingered in me.
Reverberating through my ears. It tickles my souls as I stand closer, dancing, shimmy-ing to the beat through my mind. I add to it. subtract from it. It touches me in the most intimate parts. The sounds of the world come crashing down on my spirit and it fades away slowly and more surprisingly than the final rays of a sunset. I surface back to earth and my head clears. the volume turned down on my inner music. The voice singing loudly inside of my head takes a bow, finalizing her solo and I am left with the mathematical blacks-and-whites, right-and-wrongs of everyday life. Angry words spurt from their mouths and my walls go back up. The sounds of me leave, and in their wake – a bittersweet sound of silence.
Sound… music is an awesome thing that makes many sounds. it flows into your heart like a river. it can really relate to you, soothes you, and sometimes makes you high lol… sounds are just awesome… i just wish the people who can’t hear can hear them
He nimbly sorted the corn that he had previously collected in the bowl, making room for more to pick. There was suddenly a loud yelling sound from the distance, and then what sounded like roaring thunder.
For the first time in weeks, like Sleeping Beauty, I fell into a deep sound slumber and slept through the night. The wet kisses that awoke me were followed by loud sharp barks as Harry bounced on my chest.
Sound travels quickly and lacks sense to me. They can effect your emotions. Sound may drive you crazy. Just one sound can kill a person. Just a little wave of electricity. Sound. I’d like to study sound. It’s a wondrous thing.
The sound vibrated the room as he belted out the orders. “All men to the left, all women to the right.” The sound that seperated me and my family for the rest of my life. The sound that rang in my ears through every single order I was given for the rest of my life.
The sound of my name on his lips, spoken only in the dark secret places between us, was silenced forever that day. I wish I could hear it just one more time.
Is like the waves in the ocean when they are clashing and crashing together. Sound is what keeps us sane when times are troublesome by the endearing silence of the world and its wonderful, terrible sounds.
Soft city sounds splattered from the sky in coffee colored arcs, puddling on the pavement.
I made sure not to step in any.
Pinpricks of bright orange and yellow wafted into my nose as I smelled the spring air.
So I didn’t breathe too deeply.
The dark tendrils of your voice crawled across my skin and settled myopically in my eyes.
But I was too tired to brush them away this time.
Some days, being a synesthete is the strangest experience in the world.
I hear the sound of the bug before I can see it. The buzzzz toward my left ear, somewhere in the corner. I hone into the sound like a boat seeking the lighthouse on shore, careful not to move too fast, or it’ll jump out and get on me or something. I look around for some paper to swat it, or maybe a cup to trap it, depending on what kind of bug it is.
I pressed my ears against his chest and heard–felt–there, caged and suffocated, the sound of the beatings of a hummingbird’s wings. I traced little heart-shapes on his skin, right on the top of the throbs, wondering if I will still hear its frantic beating when the sun rises tomorrow.
There’s a silence to any sound. The room was filled with chatter, conversation bouncing past her ears as the music pumped through her core. But there was still silence, enough that he thoughts ran free and she left the space entirely.
Among the various abilities Conner had conjured to be in his own capabilities, the concept that sound may be not only amplified, but constantly audible was almost alien to him. Pausing, stopping all focused, planned, marginalized movement would result in a sudden sweep of voices, songs, and the vibrating sounds of machinery in the base. He could barely stand it, and continued moving toward; checking how M’gann was doing, spar with Dick if he was up for it, anything to flood out the noise. This was just an inconvenience, he decided, a shallow rejection to his own powers, and come one time or another he would learn to adapt. But not now, not when he needed be responsible with his own strength, stay in the line, and make sure nobody got hurt.
There are things I am certain of. They are the kinds of things that really everyone knows; the sky is blue, the grass is green, the sun rises in the east and sets in the west, and the longest word in the english language is pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis. But the list of my certainties is far shorter than the list of all the things I don’t know. We use science to explain all these little atoms and particles that make us up to be what we’ve become, and to explain the world that we’re in and we use God to explain why people do right and wrong; to assure us there is meaning to our lives, that there is a place called ‘after this’, after this.
And science disproves religion, and the priests condemn the sinning scientists in their labs, and my best friend Alice’s family says the rosary every night before dinner, while my mother and I chew our cold food without saying one word. And all these sounds start to knit themselves together until it is a quilt of fractured nothingness. And I am uncertain if any of all of these things, mean anything at all.
I don’t make a sound as I leave his room. I don’t know why I went there, and I can’t remember when I fell asleep, but now that he’s here, next to me I know that I don’t want to know what he thought when he found me there, in his bed. I shouldn’t have gone there. But I wanted to see him. There’s something about Nathaniel, something that has started to make sense. I want to talk to him now, to make him open up now that I’ve broken that small fissure that he was keeping closed for so long. But that was too much. I don’t know what came over me. But I cannot make a sound because the echo’s of what he might say may crack my own fissures into gaping holes that I’m not ready for him to see.
THe sound of the sea, the sounds of birds, teh sound of thunder, or of rain, or of the wind in pine trees. These are the sounds I crave, the sounds I need to hear more of. They gladden my heart, soothe my ears.
Nothing more to say………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..
Love to hear it
woof woof
tinkle tinclke
water running
‘
What would it be like with no sound
silence
scream
no one to hear me
I love sound
Music is the most wonderful sound
communication is more wonderful that music
can you hear it? that sound>…. i’ve been able to hear it all day every day for the last three and a half weeks. if you tell me you can’t hear it, I’ll have to assume I’m going crazy. three and a half week in…
The sound of your heartbeat. It’s nothing new, is it? But I know you’ve been hearing it stop for moments at a time, especially since we’ve met. You’ve shown me the difference between heart-racing and heart-stopping; that you do me the former and I do you the latter, and that’s all there is different about our kind of love.
bird
load
hard
car
children
guitar
street
park
sound is the name given to the set of waves which when strikes the ear drum gives indication of some kind of movement……
“There’s a drumming noise inside my head that starts when your around
I swear that you could hear it, It make such an almighty sound.
I swallow the sound and it swallows me whole,
Until there’s nothing left inside my soul.
I’m as empty as that beating drum,
but the sound had just begun.”
The sound of the wind against my window. The sound of the breeze through the crispy leaves. The sound of a baby being born. The sound of joy.
The sound of the birds singing, calling. That’s all I can think about anymore. Maybe the sound of her voice fits somewhere in there too. I can’t really pinpoint it, get any more precise than that. It’s all just sound to me – beautiful sound.
I hear a sound coming from the cage on the floor. It is a series of chirps followed by an occassional quack. Every once in a while I will here a soft squirt. Ducklings….who would have thought I would have a pair of ducklings resting in a dog kennel by my bed. I love them and will miss these sounds when they go outside to live in their own house.
the sound of a bird, clucking of shoes, talking, singing, and all that make any sound,, decibel is the one that measures how noisy or low the sound is.
Music is the happiest thing in the world, and the easiest way (for me) to simulate emotions. Certain sound patterns can take the brain and rewire it and make Haskell seem a bit more bearable.
He sounded sweet. It was almost like he stood right next to her.Of course, that would be too good to be true. He was gone, and all she could hear was the sound of his voice at the end of a voice message.
i love the sweet sound of the first spring bird in the mountains.
The sound of the canon tore across the sky as the world faded from Clove’s eyes. “CATO!” she screamed, running, jumping, trying to find him. Branches tore at her clothes, and insects filled her ears with a deafening buzzing. She couldn’t think, or feel anything. All she knew was that she had to find him.
The sound of your voice is all I want to hear, all day long. Speaking to me, singing to me, whispering in my ear, or yelling at me across oceans. Even if they terrible things. Even if the terrible tales, are the only things you have left to tell me.
They say I’m not of sound mind. I say I have songs running through my head all day long. I live in melody and lyrics. They say my brain is fried, but I know they’re wrong: my brain is music, is rhythm, is dance.
And you swallow it down, the words sticking in your throat — but you can’t cough them out either. You can’t speak.
The crux of life, anything can be expressed through sound, music has a soul.
There is nothing here, no echoes, no noise — only the silence of white, cold and lonely and aching for something to bite into.
The sound of her frustration was ground out across venomously grit teeth. This was unbearable. Her computer was more of an enemy now than Jean had been during dodge ball week in high school. What the hell was wrong with this thing? Every glitch begat a ground, every lag a leer of loathing, and every pop-up provoked the last of her patience.
I wish I knew what things sound like. What a whisper sounds like, what a scream sounds like. I see mouths moving and I can feel the beats coming out of the radio but what does it sound like. What are they saying? What do words sound like? I wish I knew.
The sound of my stomach protesting rang through my ears alongside the gurgling and grunts of my companions as $66 of fast food hit our digestion like DUI drivers into the side of semis. It reminds me that there is a world beyond the hypocrites, sociopaths, and backstabbers of my day to day high school, and nothing is more satisfying and reassuring, despite the indigestion that lingered in me.
Reverberating through my ears. It tickles my souls as I stand closer, dancing, shimmy-ing to the beat through my mind. I add to it. subtract from it. It touches me in the most intimate parts. The sounds of the world come crashing down on my spirit and it fades away slowly and more surprisingly than the final rays of a sunset. I surface back to earth and my head clears. the volume turned down on my inner music. The voice singing loudly inside of my head takes a bow, finalizing her solo and I am left with the mathematical blacks-and-whites, right-and-wrongs of everyday life. Angry words spurt from their mouths and my walls go back up. The sounds of me leave, and in their wake – a bittersweet sound of silence.
Sound… music is an awesome thing that makes many sounds. it flows into your heart like a river. it can really relate to you, soothes you, and sometimes makes you high lol… sounds are just awesome… i just wish the people who can’t hear can hear them
He nimbly sorted the corn that he had previously collected in the bowl, making room for more to pick. There was suddenly a loud yelling sound from the distance, and then what sounded like roaring thunder.
For the first time in weeks, like Sleeping Beauty, I fell into a deep sound slumber and slept through the night. The wet kisses that awoke me were followed by loud sharp barks as Harry bounced on my chest.
Sound travels quickly and lacks sense to me. They can effect your emotions. Sound may drive you crazy. Just one sound can kill a person. Just a little wave of electricity. Sound. I’d like to study sound. It’s a wondrous thing.
soundless screams
mindless thoughts
uneasy heart, forever distraught
stabbed and wounded, by your words
you’ll never know how their sounds hurt
The sound vibrated the room as he belted out the orders. “All men to the left, all women to the right.” The sound that seperated me and my family for the rest of my life. The sound that rang in my ears through every single order I was given for the rest of my life.
The sound of my name on his lips, spoken only in the dark secret places between us, was silenced forever that day. I wish I could hear it just one more time.
Is like the waves in the ocean when they are clashing and crashing together. Sound is what keeps us sane when times are troublesome by the endearing silence of the world and its wonderful, terrible sounds.
Soft city sounds splattered from the sky in coffee colored arcs, puddling on the pavement.
I made sure not to step in any.
Pinpricks of bright orange and yellow wafted into my nose as I smelled the spring air.
So I didn’t breathe too deeply.
The dark tendrils of your voice crawled across my skin and settled myopically in my eyes.
But I was too tired to brush them away this time.
Some days, being a synesthete is the strangest experience in the world.
I hear the sound of the bug before I can see it. The buzzzz toward my left ear, somewhere in the corner. I hone into the sound like a boat seeking the lighthouse on shore, careful not to move too fast, or it’ll jump out and get on me or something. I look around for some paper to swat it, or maybe a cup to trap it, depending on what kind of bug it is.
I pressed my ears against his chest and heard–felt–there, caged and suffocated, the sound of the beatings of a hummingbird’s wings. I traced little heart-shapes on his skin, right on the top of the throbs, wondering if I will still hear its frantic beating when the sun rises tomorrow.
There’s a silence to any sound. The room was filled with chatter, conversation bouncing past her ears as the music pumped through her core. But there was still silence, enough that he thoughts ran free and she left the space entirely.
Among the various abilities Conner had conjured to be in his own capabilities, the concept that sound may be not only amplified, but constantly audible was almost alien to him. Pausing, stopping all focused, planned, marginalized movement would result in a sudden sweep of voices, songs, and the vibrating sounds of machinery in the base. He could barely stand it, and continued moving toward; checking how M’gann was doing, spar with Dick if he was up for it, anything to flood out the noise. This was just an inconvenience, he decided, a shallow rejection to his own powers, and come one time or another he would learn to adapt. But not now, not when he needed be responsible with his own strength, stay in the line, and make sure nobody got hurt.
There are things I am certain of. They are the kinds of things that really everyone knows; the sky is blue, the grass is green, the sun rises in the east and sets in the west, and the longest word in the english language is pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis. But the list of my certainties is far shorter than the list of all the things I don’t know. We use science to explain all these little atoms and particles that make us up to be what we’ve become, and to explain the world that we’re in and we use God to explain why people do right and wrong; to assure us there is meaning to our lives, that there is a place called ‘after this’, after this.
And science disproves religion, and the priests condemn the sinning scientists in their labs, and my best friend Alice’s family says the rosary every night before dinner, while my mother and I chew our cold food without saying one word. And all these sounds start to knit themselves together until it is a quilt of fractured nothingness. And I am uncertain if any of all of these things, mean anything at all.
I don’t make a sound as I leave his room. I don’t know why I went there, and I can’t remember when I fell asleep, but now that he’s here, next to me I know that I don’t want to know what he thought when he found me there, in his bed. I shouldn’t have gone there. But I wanted to see him. There’s something about Nathaniel, something that has started to make sense. I want to talk to him now, to make him open up now that I’ve broken that small fissure that he was keeping closed for so long. But that was too much. I don’t know what came over me. But I cannot make a sound because the echo’s of what he might say may crack my own fissures into gaping holes that I’m not ready for him to see.
THe sound of the sea, the sounds of birds, teh sound of thunder, or of rain, or of the wind in pine trees. These are the sounds I crave, the sounds I need to hear more of. They gladden my heart, soothe my ears.
I already did this one.
:(
Nothing more to say………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..
Love to hear it
woof woof
tinkle tinclke
water running
‘
What would it be like with no sound
silence
scream
no one to hear me
I love sound
Music is the most wonderful sound
communication is more wonderful that music
can you hear it? that sound>…. i’ve been able to hear it all day every day for the last three and a half weeks. if you tell me you can’t hear it, I’ll have to assume I’m going crazy. three and a half week in…
The sound of your heartbeat. It’s nothing new, is it? But I know you’ve been hearing it stop for moments at a time, especially since we’ve met. You’ve shown me the difference between heart-racing and heart-stopping; that you do me the former and I do you the latter, and that’s all there is different about our kind of love.