Foghorns

· by · in free verse, poetry, Real Toads. ·

I remember mornings waking
to the sound of foghorns;
as if the harbor was my room or
maybe me extending to their calls.

I remember reaching for the moon or
how the bioluminescence mimic stars;

and I remember wondering
if there is someone somewhere
in a newfound galaxy, who wakes
to foghorns in their room?


Foghorns by Arthur Dove

55 words for Kerry at toads on the theme of “World’s Apart” vs “Extremely Close”. Also linking up to the pantry
—
April 2, 2017

39 responses to “Foghorns”

  2. growing up near the ocean, I was frequently kept awake at night by the lowing of the foghorn – so this evokes memories… ~

  4. There is something about the motif of the foghorn that speaks to isolation of the individual, and translates so well to the idea of a sound dissipating through space and time. What I especially like about the poem is the inclusion of the first person narrative. It creates an immediacy.

  6. If not foghorns something just as sadly plaintive perhaps. Great poem and a beautiful picture of the interstellar foghorns.

  8. Such a haunting sound, isn’t it? I love the idea of it being heard in another galaxy too.

  9. We can know ourselves so well… and that never stop us from wondering if there is a complete stranger, somewhere, who is just like us but far away.

    Love the tone of the wondering…

  14. For me, it was the mournful sound of a distant train speeding through the night that set my mind to creating fantasies. Thanks for jogging my memory, Bjorn! Beautiful read.

  15. Ah, it would indeed be fascinating to find there is some kind of parallel universe somewhere where life is ALMOST as it is here today!

  21. foghorns–the solitary sense of us–how sound dissipates as we reach for more–lovely, lovely write!

  22. Haha I hear bells… But, then again they could be muted fog horns out of tune… Enjoyed my visit to your site as usual.

  28. When I was growing up in Thunder Bay on Lake Superior, I would often awaken – and fall asleep, for that matter – to the sound of foghorns (and shunting trains). I recall it, as a very comforting sound – and yet exotic … a storybook sound, you might say. Thank you for conjuring up that memory for me.

  29. I like the idea of foghorns in the room. My son fixed/set my Galaxy phone to give of a “Squeaky Toy” sound when one of a certain group of messages came in. Mrs. Jim said it wakes her up in the middle of the night. I killed that cat and hid the toy from the others.\
    ..

  30. Foghorns in the room would be an unnerving experience, don’t you think? 😉

  31. I grew up on a peninsula with foghorns. The back burner on my stove makes a faint whine that reminds me of a foghorn. Its deep and distant drone is like a lullaby I remember from my childhood. “The ships are all safe and the children are warm and loved,” it seems to say.

  33. The kinship of sound and desire! I have woken and slept to the San Francisco fog horns, and this poem takes me back. This is not the whole universe—but I’m pretty far away.

  35. As a child, there was one place that I lived, which freight trains, would replace the foghorn, for me. At set intervals, these trains would run through the heart of town, to part unknown, by my younger self.

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