7/24/2019 The Sound Collector poem

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By Roger McGough

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The Sound Collector

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A stranger called this morning

Dressed all in black and greyPut every sound into a bagAnd carried it away.

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he whistling o! the kettle

he turning o! the lockhe "urring o! the kittenhe ticking o! the clock.

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he "o""ing o! the toaster

he crunching o! the !lakes$hen you s"read the marmaladehe scra"ing noise it makes.

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he hissing o! the !rying "an

he ticking o! the grillhe bubbling o! the bathtubAs it starts to !ill.

&

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he drumming o! the raindro"s

'n the window "ane$hen you do the washing u"he gurgle o! the drain.

(

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he crying o! the baby

he s)ueaking o! the chairhe swishing o! the curtainhe creaking o! the stair.

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A stranger called this morning+e didn,t leave his name

-e!t us only silence-i!e will never be the same

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