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
Oh this is incredibly penned, Bjorn!❤️ Especially love; “and I remember wondering if there is someone somewhere in a newfound galaxy, who wakes to foghorns in their room?”
growing up near the ocean, I was frequently kept awake at night by the lowing of the foghorn – so this evokes memories… ~
wow…that’s quite some space…from a room to the newfound galaxy and how the foghorn connects!…lovely…
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.
as if the harbor was my room or
maybe me extending to their calls…I like that..where does space end or begin?
If not foghorns something just as sadly plaintive perhaps. Great poem and a beautiful picture of the interstellar foghorns.
Enjoyed! What a great memory that would be. I am not sure if I would enjoy the awakening everyday in real life however?
Such a haunting sound, isn’t it? I love the idea of it being heard in another galaxy too.
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…
One of your best, Bjorn, full of yearning and very vivid and real in its imagery which wraps the reader in your mood.
It’s always fascinating to wonder about if there is life on other planets in such a vast universe. Thought-provoking, Bjorn 🙂
The question at the end adds just the right amount of wanderlust.
What a wonderful sound. I remember waking to it and wondering what ‘others’ might be hearing it.
Elizabeth
https://soulsmusic.wordpress.com/2017/04/02/april-pad-challenge-day-2/
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.
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!
Such poetic wonderings these are……wonderful imagery, and imaginings……..
Ah, yes I have often pondered life outside this world. Really enjoyed this Bjorn!
Is that Arthur Dove you have chosen to illustrate your wonderful write?
Yes it is…
I have never got to see bioluminescence in action but it must be beautiful to see!
There is something about the sound of a foghorn, insistent and low, that works well as a backdrop for wondering.
foghorns–the solitary sense of us–how sound dissipates as we reach for more–lovely, lovely write!
Haha I hear bells… But, then again they could be muted fog horns out of tune… Enjoyed my visit to your site as usual.
This is exquisite. Love the thought of someone in another galaxy experiencing what the narrator feels.
Maybe, just maybe
Happy Sunday
Much love…
I just love the Dove, which suits the mood of the poem so beautifully. Thank you, Bjorn. k.
Utterly lovely, Bjorn.
Lovely poem!
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.
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.\
..
Foghorns in the room would be an unnerving experience, don’t you think? 😉
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.
the sound of the foghorn adds an otherworldliness to this…perhaps the echo of that sound is the other someone somewhere.
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.
Nice work! I especially loved the ending. (This appealed to me on more than one level because I have a lasting romance with foghorns.)
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.
I wonder that too. I listened to the sound of tractors more than anything. I lived in the heart of farm country.
if there is someone somewhere
in a newfound galaxy,
The never-ending question baffling to many through the ages
http://imagery77.blogspot.my/2017/04/it-is-engaging-upon-visitors.html
Hank
Count me among those children who listened to the foghorns from the cozy snuggle of blankets at night. This post really brought back memories.