10/06/2013
Poetry for the Monday Morning
The Sound Collector
By Roger McGough
A stranger called this morning Dressed all in black and grey Put every sound into a bag And carried them away.
The whistling of a kettle The turning of a lock The purring of the kitten The ticking of the clock.
The popping of the toaster The crunching of the flakes When you spread marmalade The scrapping noise it makes.

The hissing of the frying pan The ticking of the grill
The bubbling of the bathtub As it starts to fill.
The drumming of the raindrops On the window-pane
When you do the washing-up The gurgle of the drain.
The crying of the baby The squeaking of the chair The swishing of the curtain The creaking of the stair.
A stranger came this morning He didn’t leave his name
Left us only silence
Life will never be the same !
Sound Collector
By M Wilsher Inspired by Roger McGough
I don’t know how,
But a sound collector came today, Put every sound in a bag,
And took them all away!
The call of a bird,
The flap of a wing.
The swishing of the leaves, The creaking of a swing!
The whine of a chainsaw, The buzz of a bee,
The blowing of a whistle, The squeaking of a tree.

The squelch of the mud,
As it slips through my hand. The sound of a trumpet, From a distant band!
The drumming of the raindrops, On the window pane.
When you wash your hands, The gurgle of the drain!
Someone called today, Don’t know who!
But took all the sounds, Please return them soon!
