London Night Sounds

The rumbling of the occasional car, speeding past our house.  A murky grey sound.

Snippets of human voices.  A woman’s giggle.  A crimson sound.

The arrhythmic clicking of stiletto heels on the pavement.  A copper sound.

The roar of the night bus.  A faint white sound.

The rustling of leaves, disturbed by the wind.  A golden sound.

The yelp of a fox.  A scarlet sound.

The shriek of a motorbike.  A black sound, like tar.

The rhythmic clang of the train, not too far.  A brass sound.

The high-pitched whirr of the light bulb in the angle-poise lamp on my desk.  A tinny sound.

Sweet recorder sonatas by Telemann, wafting out of my CD player.  A dark honey sound.

The tick-tock of the second hand of the alarm clock by my bed.  Black and white sounds.

The click of the front door; one of my flatmates coming home after a wedding reception.  A candy-pink and sky-blue sound.

The thud of the front door; another flatmate returning after a night on the town.  A red sound.

The translucent harmony of moonlight, floating through the air.  A silver sound.

A cat meowing across the street.  An emerald-green sound.

A night wind, blowing through the streets.  A diamond-cut sound.

Stars, shining in the sky.  A myriad of colours, like the notes of a glockenspiel.

I cannot sleep.

Scribe Doll

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10 Responses to London Night Sounds

  1. Beautiful! I think I recall you once before commenting on synesthetic qualities like these. Very evocative.

  2. Sue Cumisky says:

    Must keep this. Very evocative. There are no sounds here except the heating pipes cooling off. Not so much due to the double glazing as lack of real life here. Cities live, sound here means uneasiness. Small town blues. Poetry would be mundane until I open the back door in moonlight and everything comes alive.

  3. monikaschott says:

    I love that sounds emit colours. I see them clearly too!

  4. sammee44 says:

    Love the way you described the sounds in colours—beautiful! Insomnia makes one more aware of each and every bit of noise. . .

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