poetry and prose about place

Posts Tagged ‘sounds

sounds in my space

with 6 comments

How would you describe the space where you spend most of your time?  Is it cold or warm?  Spacious or cramped? Colorful or monochromatic?


What does your space sound like?  Is it noisy or quiet?  Do you play music in the background, or do you prefer the white noise of everyday life?


In my home, where I spend most of my time, the sounds are so familiar, I hardly hear them anymore.  As I sit here, if I listen carefully, I can hear:

  • the ticking of the clock
  • the hum of the computer
  • the purring of the refrigerator
  • a car passing by on the road outside
  • chickadees at the feeder just beyond the window
  • the rumble of the well water pump in the basement
  • two branches in our big maple, rubbing together in the slightest wind
  • the creaking of floor boards – the house is almost 35 years old and the living room floorboards squeak
  • our cat Zoë, galloping from room to room upstairs – how can 7 pounds of cat sound like a herd of elephants?
  • the sound of our string of livestock bells, a remnant of Christmas not yet put away, as someone opens the outside door


What sounds do you hear, in the space where you are?



Copyright  2015  Jane Tims

Written by jane tims

January 14, 2015 at 7:19 am

a moment of beautiful – the sound of the sea

with 16 comments

the space: a park bench by the edge of the sea

the beautiful: the sound of the breakers, sorting over cobbles on the shore

On a recent vacation to Nova Scotia, we had the time to sit and watch the breakers roll into a cove along St. Margaret’s Bay.  The sight of the crashing waves was inspiring, but the sounds were unforgettable…  first, the sweep and crash of the incoming waves…

then the clatter as the outgoing wave dragged at the cobbles along the shore…

My husband suffered through my recitation of a few lines of Matthew Arnold’s poignant ‘Dover Beach’, but mostly we were quiet, overwhelmed by the sound of the sea.





jealous of its pretty

shaped and rounded stones,

the ocean mutters,

claws them back

clatters its dinner forks

over biscuits and gravy

hoards jellybeans

by the handful



©  Jane Tims  2012

Written by jane tims

July 7, 2012 at 7:25 am

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