Whistling, although hardly lyrical,
Seems a minor sort of miracle.
We think a note and out it comes!
Sound the trumpets! Beat the drums!
How do our lips know what to do?
They purse, and out it comes on cue!
The vocal chords do just the same
But that's a rather different game.
They're involuntary in a way;
We think a note and they obey.
But whistling's magical; we're in charge;
We make the aperture small or large
According to notes that we desire!
Squeeze smaller and the note goes higher.
But not just higher, it comes in tune!
However we do it, it's a boon.
Whistling's a delightful occupation,
Except for one minor complication.....
Those hair-line wrinkles round the lips!
Whistlers! Send me helpful tips!
I had a perfect dream last night and in it all was golden
The world suffused with marigolds and dew.
And, in it, every question that had ever needed answer
Was answered, and my longings all came true!
I found the perfect lover, and we swooned the night away,
My destiny was sealed with many a kiss,
And the problems of the world were solved, I was proclaimed a hero
And I knew such power.......
But, oh dear! What is this?
The dream is slipping from me! I need to bring it back!
It's fading and my memory's unsteady!
It's getting misty, faltering and I can't pin it down!
Is that the damned alarm already!!!!!
my daughter's just learning to whistle; she wants to do it like daddy does.
ROG, ABC Wednesday team
My mother could whistle many a perfect tune. She was sometimes invited out to entertain old people with her whistling. Not only could she get the tunes right, she could improvise little solos for herself in the middle of a song. She wasn't much of a singer, though.
My father could sing, and so can both of my brothers.
My sister and I, however, could chase everyone out of the house if we tried to sing while doing the dishes.
I could never learn to read music, no matter who tried to teach me, and I don't think my sister could, either.
It's all very mysterious.
I never learned to whistle! I guess I could still learn.
my two year old tries to whistle but he ends up screaming instead. I can hardly wait until he can do this. Whistling seems more tolerable than screaming
I was told that a lady whistleing is like cackling Hen . If I whistled as a child I was politely informed that unless I was calling the dog to stop the noise. I do occasionally whistle but not often
Visiting from Miss Jenny's W list...great whistling poem♫♪
I used to whistle a lot, but my husband told me that it was absolutely tuneless, so I don't do it so much any more. I can do one of those big, loud man-whistles,to the surprise of many of my friends.
Your poems are wonderful, just as they always are!!
wonderful whistling poem!
Alas! I cannot whistle!
It is Wild how We just know how to Whistle...
Your Words are always so Well Written...
Thanks for sharing these Wonderful poems With us for the letter W.
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