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These Nature Music poems are examples of Nature poems about Music. These are the best examples of Nature Music poems written by international PoetrySoup poets
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When fields gleam aureate and song birds sing and transient stars in clusters scintillate, when sweet perennials are coaxed by spring to blossom forth, he comes with sprightly gait. He wends his way along the mountain trails past opalescent rush of streams and rills, goat-footed, on the paths that ribbon dales and wind around and up and down small hills. Then nymphs appear as, through the woods, he trips to flower-smitten meadows. Fancy-free, he leads them with his reed held to his lips, till blithely they embrace his rhapsody. So hear the music; watch the wood nymphs spin. . . Then captured by sheer merriment, join in! For Nathan A.'s ANY POEM GOES Poetry Contest
Refrain of dreams, I gift to you. My hum lulls in rhythms deep; Night chant lifts to heavenly heights coupled with starry sky's plume. My faithful promise kept from sight 'til fall of moon's sleepy eyes. By Rhonda Johnson-Saunders, 1/15/15 for Nette's Night Creatures Contest, (Cricket #6)
Listening peacefully to Bach I soar, Above the clouds as a hawk I soar. Lying on forests mossy floor, Listening to natures talk I soar. Watching geese fly south, encore, Majestically beautiful flock I soar. Knowing life has so much in store, Answering its every knock I soar. At times life is like a lions roar, Standing as a solid rock I soar. I shall hear natures call, and open its door, Making sure that with every breath I soar. Written by Brenda Meier-Hans November 2012
In waters' calm leisure, mellow tides drift Along back strides that always find their sway, The lighter blues, the deeper jades, that sift Glimmers of mollusks that twinkle and play. From the swoon of bay when dusk slowly cranes Pewter the wavelets, darker steel the shore; Above, one bold and yellow stripe explores To jiggle in a curdled breeze and spills A frothy crest with waltzes soon to fade Before moon comes in her gathering wade. Notes I hold, on the ocean waves' last set A gurgling never the same every time That I might grow thirsty and soon forget Salty ripples forming different chirps Never out of waves' hums in dancing flips. Sheri Fresonke Harper's Out Of Water Contest
Flowers of the Curious Mind Sent were flowers of the curious mind following echoes of Cantu's muse No curses , words grossly unkind insults hidden deeply in clever ruse Dare not stab sweet music of mortal man with deeds sordidly played tho' sweet Transgress not Nature's surviving plan with arrogant contempt born of defeat Embrace life's melody as a lost friend dancing within it's tune so fine Live, live gloriously until life's end drink, drink richly of it's finest wine! 05-24-2014
blackbirds in the rain walking among the fallen leaves under the old mango tree with dripping leaves bathing the grass below blackbirds diligently lifting the rain soaked fallen leaves peering underneath for insects and worms flushed out by the drizzling rain pausing to gulp one down then scooting off again searching for more sitting under the shed with raindrops playing their music on the galvanised sheet roof with a beat that resonates within my inner being putting me in a trance connecting me to the rain and the puddles on the ground with the raindrops gently tapping the water's surface creating rings that collide with one another disrupting their individual shapes creating a dynamic new pattern reflecting their unity and bubbling with energy in the drizzling rain O what a deep feeling of peacefulness and serenity with the rain the dripping leaves and the puddles serenading my spirit with the eternal song of Nature and merging it into the Unity Of All Things It was raining today. There was a constant drizzle for hours. I sat in a shed attached to the house, watching the blackbirds in action in the rain, searching for their food. The constant rhythmic sound of the rain on the galvanised sheet roof of the shed and the gentle drama playing out in the backyard with the blackbirds was a spiritual experience for me connecting me with Nature and the unity of all things as mentioned in the last verse. .
In a vast open wilderness Lay the pristine snow A beautiful mountain The majestic view A sky cloudless blue No footsteps in the white Only pristine snow And there, a grand piano In that space of no footsteps And just for me A man is playing Beethoven Free Verse November 25, 2012
Summer is on the turn, into Autumn we now head So close this day approaches, inside many heads now dread We now view through our eyes, our windows of life What do we see now, do we absorb our awaiting strife Be like me and others and listen to peripheral sounds It's what we have come to know, it's us all around Day by day we view, the turning of life's greenery But what are we going to see after, on this future days scenery Is it intrepid anticipation, human wondering entering it's abyss We're the blind leading our blind, just what do we make of this *~* The eve of this reckoning day, in hourly wait we await Autumn has taken it's turn, are us humans in use by date This morning we have awaited, curtains drawn I view There's something different about the sunrise, sees me a through From my balcony I witness, now seeing from where I am Shape shifting no longer applies, I just don't understand In sorrow fill hungered loss, I lose life's lust for thrall From my balcony I now witness, I view when shadows fall *~* Inspired by "Touchstone's" <> "When Shadows Fall" from their album "The City Sleeps"
The Memories of a Dancing Peacock ( Based on a true incident captured in my Camera ) I was in a mood to sing, and The Peacock was in a mood to dance, My singing came, while watching the beauty and The beauty started unfolding its wings and charms, As if the Peacock was listening the songs, I was singing, silently in my mind. Oh, what a joy it was to feel and share, Those wonderful moments I spent with that beautiful bird, Who kept dancing and dancing, Till the song continued in my mind silently. You and I may not be dancing or living forever, O, bird, But the image, which you have engraved on my mind and The rhythms of that joy and pleasure, Which you have left, Would continue to generate always, The music of silence and beauty in every mind. Ravindra Kanpur India 28th December 2011 NOTE:IMP. NOTE: The Memories of a Dancing Peacock The Photo Poem cum Song is also on my Music Channel "RavindraKK1" on U Tube. or you simply use this URL http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jlP6Pet7Bgc&context=C3f5772fADOEgsToPDskI2J3Pvz9Qq--9WGYI4adeJ For my Videos Songs on My U Tube just write on Google "RavindraKK1 and go on U Tube Channel - RavindraKK1 http://www.youtube.com/user/RavindraKK1?feature=mhee
Inner sanctuary envision harmony and mental clarity focus on a journey of possibility Meditate on transformation and awareness of inner state peace and healing Constructive thought instruct your mind to redirect the lost and struggling inner voice Where you can't see the wood for the trees under your nose is the path of freedom wholeness Put aside perceived struggles revitalize, relax, respond to body, mind, heart and spirit Intuition, introspection and spiritual renewal bring about personal healing and conscious awakening Stillness of mind – concentration Thoughts of the subconcious and subliminal beyond all negativity away from all interuption To allow time for self communication and expression of inner self Senses – awareness of scent, sight, sound, taste and touch Healing hands of the medical profession or alternative therapy ambiance, temperature, oils, music, sounds and sights of nature or universe realisation comes in various form and shape causing us to feel life in fullest expression Connecting – whispers of wind radiating everpresent warmth of sun a blanket of love and light comforts consoles over and through the cosmos rippling infinately through infinity outwards, onwards connecting right back into where we are at right now unmoved unchanged and as we were Wise – responsible courageous allowed to let go of need to be judgemental or be judged let go of controlling enable trust wisdom and humility intelligence of knowing others wisdom of knowing self strength in mastering others power to master oneself Energy -breath, force, spirit, soul, God, universe – whatever – doesn't matter how you refer to it on personal level energy, balance, light, sound, vibration, peace centered self – stillness – silent – eternal – to have enough is a richness in itself accept appreciate and acknowledge oneself
Enter a storybook tale Where I can be The heroine you hail Lucid dreams of soft reflection A touch heated with lust and desired protection A breathe a gasp as we succeed Join the fairytale with me Valiant night within dark eyes the right movement and I make them shine like moonlight on the steamy hot spring care to follow for a little dip with me Trailing like the water at my fingertips Grasp me around my hips As close as the breeze on my skin Whisper lies as I let you in Lips mumbling up my thighs bare heart exposed to the sky fire burning in my veins Am I a mistress of this lust or simply a slave Trembling with desire Take me till we've lost count of the hours enter this storybook tale Where I can be the heroine you hail
I close my eyes locked in a millisecond the moment before the bow touches the strings where silence has a tremor and wraps me in darkness until I hear its particles vibrating against me the bow wrenches from the depth of the bass a groan from the earth as if waking a millennia of slumber the first note long, rich and haunting now coming to life now ready to speak legs crossed and hands limp pay attention to the sources of discomfort tension in the neck, anxiety in the chest fatigue in the limbs heaviness in the core let this weight sink pull down through me melt through me let it drag and seep through my bones until it submerges into the ground below transform to roots connect me grow deep into the soil until the energy is revitalized until I am reminded we grow from this intricate system no different from the forest and gardens spreading, connecting, entwining the earth is booming the bass its voice chanting, singing, commanding a mantra in a language I don't understand but with a pulse I can feel and it is telling me I have all I need visualize one by one sources of emotional exhaustion with each dredge up the full power of all feelings feelings long suppressed, feelings of fear allow body and mind to swim one last time before I breathe in and blow them away my body is lighter, sitting straighter a tall blade of grass swaying as one looking across the field up to the cliff's edge and over the sunlit ocean taste sweet scent of wind stretch to feel soft earth open eyes to unending sky focus on what it means to be alive.
Moon shines its pale Enchanting light Upon forest floor Where winged creatures legendary, pale and sleek Spin and flit and dance To the invisible orchestra; Of Blue bells ringing Hummingbirds humming Fireflies buzzing And dandelions singing in tune With lilting fairy song as they sing Melodies that echo through forest pines To the Fairy Queen bathed in the light of The August moon © Brenda V Northeast 12th July 2008 Rewritten on 21st/ 01/2012 BVN
Love they say is a many splendid thing- Love wove for me Such a fine necklace All gleaming with tiny droplet pearls That hung from a sheer gossamer thread Dazzling in clear beauty Glistening in the morning gold of the frosty morn Love sings for me the finest song From the golden throat of a nightingale Like the sounds of many violins Stringing a tune of lonely times and long lonely nights when he waited and listened to the wind for my whispers Of loving response Love shines and twinkles in the midnight hour when Declaring on heavens evening robes where Jewels dance across life's moving screen Love declares His undying passion For me Then dawn rose from a heart on fire It lit the garden with morning sun Radiant-wearing the finest perfume And colors of the rainbow bowed In memory of our first lost embrace The King waits anxiously- For my smile and my heart. © Brenda V Northeast 28th July 2012
The clouds are floating softly just below the mountain's peak. The river plays it's symphony, sweet music to my ear. The lyrics dance in rhythm as the Lord begins to speak. I thank him for this morning and the melodies I hear.
My cool unseen choreographer I bow and sway to your directions. O sonorous wind friend of willows In your moments of frenzy and calm I like a tree move to your whim - Plucked like strings under a maestro's finger I quiver, become taut again, waiting To hear you whisper 'dance with me again'.
A song of a sparrow in the springtime. Birds chirp a lullaby at the peak of the morning sun. Speedy is the dragonfly, wish I could catch just one. Clovers fill the meadow and daisies are in bloom. Brilliant as the rainbow heanen's scent perfumes. I hear a sparrow singing sweet tunes of joy and glee. Sing a song sweet sparrow, sing a song for me. As springtime goldenrods glow. I see a sweet sparrow perched upon a rose. Elegant are the carnations, and honeybees buzz me by, God's mighty creations of tender springtime. I hear a sparrow singing a joyful melody. Sing a song sweet sparrow, whistle in the breeze. Lilacs spread their fragrance. Daffodils line the creek. In the wind the lilies dance, and crickets chirp at my feet. I hear a sparrow singing such a sweet tune. Sing a song sweet sparrow, lift the morning dew. Sing a song the prince of love and let the music flow. Drowning in sweet melodies I open my window. Perched upon the cedar tree a mighty little bird. Singing tunes of springtime for all to be heard.
It waits... A prickle about to lodge In the heart of a Mighty Light Above the low-dipped setting sun The Knightly Night prepares to come To lift me like a rising fog Up to greet the countless stars - That twinkle at a Sun's descent. The horizon painted with lullaby Of colours and their somber tune Day's bed is laid behind blue mountains And quietly it goes to sleep. Inside the womb of a Sleeping Day Begins a fierce protest of dreaming thoughts Now stirred awake. Then out of the thick and cluster And whatever dangers of flight await Newborn wings of thought emerge And rise and rise and rise Captured by the winds of Night - Arisen To wander heights To kiss the skies To dance to the gentle humming Of spirit drums - Wings beating A duet with the breeze. So when day comes breaking through Dawn is greeted by what was writ At the festival of it's eve. With merriment's ink: A Kiss; A dance; A song etched deep: Art carved out of sky. Title: Night Poem
The waves lick the pier-deck beams, a boat has passed upon the lake to shuffle the song upon the wind, ebbing whooshes..... The smoky waters still to tease slow with ancient whispers, The Loon leads upon the woody melody, some sylvan songster too beautiful to languish, still sleeping.... Not floating upon the dawn through misted peace; all ears have heard the first kiss of throngs, Gentle as waves upon the tide, from the very earth it seems.... the sweet haunting cry echoes souls through silts leagues deep, The very marrow of stone, and pine and leaf, A morning hushed but for its pretty plea, a male perhaps (so tender with feminine appeal) They all call so, pillowed their first-light throngs, Angels upon the deep billowed morn, Where the very clouds above have seemed to hover above the lake along, Their soothing cry fills the waking wood.... hushed waters, still as stars feeds the twilight with song (pining through hovering hats of mist)
Profound silence felt and revered, stirring an awesome emotion, which stillness repeals whenever brightness shines; and the primroses' scent spreads the delight of the mild season. What do the stars tell a lover's heart...palpitating in tranquility, amid shadows that advance with the pretty fireflies? Dream, and reprieve from the loss... hoping that love doesn't lay at rest, but chooses to celebrate 'till after the evening, and tell romantic tales. The invisible crickets chirp, somewhat awkward to the ears, I'd rather hear the coos of the owls, which are richer and more harmonious in sound, but where are they in this darkness, unless they are mating in the willows of the lake? Our blanket is spread on the wide Sheep Meadow, with a superb view of those Manhattan's skycrapers, towering over us as sentinels in castle's towers. Juliet wanted to taste this freedom, embracing and kissing her handsome Romeo, not fearing anyone intruding in her paradise, unwilling to leave anytime soon; and unruffled, she would continue to love him. What do the stars tell a lover's heart? Accept the lovely rose that he offers you, and adore it, because it has no thorns, to make you bleed in despair; Sing with him a beautiful sonnet that Shakespeare wrote for his lover who crossed the Atlantic ocean, when ships took months to reach America's shore.
Before spring came, in late February to the blooming and jolly hills I ran, breathing heavily and frantically, touching the perfumed blossoms of a solitary, old cherry tree; and underneath it I sat writing poetry that hadn't a perfect rhyme and beat! Weren't my skills marred by imperfections? Canaries and red-breasted robins flew down and rested on my outstretched legs; perusing my lines to spot their names, and when they did, they flapped their wings in gladness! I could have imagined their joyful words,. if only they had acquired the gift of speech, and deeper in their thoughts I would have reached: to dispel the myth that they had no feelings... After my short poem was completed, I reached for my harmonica to play my favorite classic tune; and being surprised by the paleness of the fading moon, I dedicated that happy melody to her not to let her despair: by waving my hand to make her farewell less sad, while I whispered, " Silent moon, eternal companion of every poet, what's beyond the realm of this universe?... Tell us more of those invisible suns and planets! " Before spring came to the dormant valley, the mountains' peaks allowed the sun to melt their snows, to create gushing torrents to feed its water to the dry and cracked soil, which needed rain instead of harmful frost; and I drank the freshest water and washed my sweaty face, while fighting off the bees' stubborn rivalry! That spring has come again to dress herself with incredible splendor, and this discontent and wishful heart desires nothing more than being there! My theme is: Happiness In Childhood
White blossoms of the Mountain Laurel Contrasted to the waxy green leaves Nestled under trees along the creek Showing some of the beauty of spring Snuggled on a blanket close to the edge Enjoying the music that nature makes Chirping of birds, no no not a word said Rustle of leaves, buzz, buzzing of bees Babbble of creek, splash of the deer's feet Joy, oh, joy for the outdoor cheer Wishing that we could share this time This time of the year
One fine day as I was traversing the green, in the last throes of Autumns' twilight. I sat upon a flat stone, overlooking a trilling brook, to ponder the meaning of life. As I sat ,and thought, the soft chimes of music, from the water spirits, lulled me into a dream state. Some where in that liquid crystal, stubborn stones are worn smooth, by the passage of time. Elsewhere the fluidous mercury, rushes toward a cleft , a water fall. Bringing forth melodies, never to be reproduced , by mere human hands. As my lids grow heavy, I'm awakened by the flash of silver, denizens , silhouetted by the last rays of the setting sun.. With regret its time to leave, as I turn to go , a misty rainbow is captured , by the fading beams of light. I smile, at peace, the promise , the sun will once again , eclipse the horizon.
The walkers ... aimless and ambling, stagger, strut and stumble toward their solitary scenarios. An occasional erect form jogs the stomping sound of feet submerged in the staccato hum > the rapid fire buzz the blaring horns of traffic. The colors of life appear random ... as flashing retinal after images on closed lids, constantly refreshed by rubbing. A geometry of pretense is etched into the forebrain of the fragile, for all walk ... the sane, the insane the righteous, and the negligent the skeletal structure correlating and communicating the random pattern of life to the Universal eye from this earthen plane.
Spectrum speculations on particular waves Prismatic refractions of straight beams of light Showing rainbows of color division Like octaves of notes on a musical scale Mixing on palette of chordyllic vision To play us a picture of moody rendition On a canvas of mirrors and smoke Do all these colors match speed in their flight? Or is it a mad cosmic joke? Red particles hanging their ten with delight Surfing a light wave of blue With purple and green flitting madly alight At this speed they're smokingly true What's faster the red or the blue?
Come and hear the song, The song of the angels, As the heavens open. The split of the sky; The cascading colors. As the gates close, Darkness falls over. The darkness twinkles, Twinkles with beautiful lights, Now come hear the song, The song of the night. It sings out in a Capella voice. Sway to the rhythm, As you succumb to darkness. The song plays on and on, Until the morning fires blaze.
I need someplace better to go. Like a poverty-stricken township. In a city made of gold. Where people trust and love each other. Where I would loose control. And scream my happy heart out. Like fallen warriors of old. And I'm making my way to this place. I'll bide my time and set my pace. To loose this spoiled human race. And let my free heart roam. And I've seen someplace better to hold. Like an Amazon rain forest. In a land that unfolds. And shows its povertized people. With hearts made of gold. Like people of few having a lot and most nothing. Not people like you smoking rock and still huffing. If it only meant something. I'm making my way to this place. To find a sign and then embrace. All the people there. Who call this space their own. So music makes your soul rollover. And it's something you can share. With a world that ran out of luck. Or that girl that doesn't care. Like a feeling locked inside a page. Of love, or life, or even rage. This music is despair. And I'm making my way to this place. Of waterfalls and open space. And leaving here without a trace. To help these people home. And Now I'll cry and release my soul. Over a glass of wine. For this music man who's simply slowly dyin'. And this man of rhytmatic drums. Lay in bed and slowly hums. A song of simple glowing suns. That draws him into them. I'm making my way to this place. Entering my saving grace. A simple sacred holy place. And die inside my home.
Night is not like day, when my body is groggy and I get tired, but sleep doesn't come suddenly... Even when the macabre darkness reigns, I seek the hidden moon among the hickories, to make me stray from loneliness... And strolling with the pace of vagabonds, I get to feel what they feel: when they are ignored or forgotten by others... Crickets seem out of tune, while the watchful owls conjure; and what attracts me: is mystery... The bag-lady sleeps on the same bench, and her softest pillow is a heap of leaves; this morning she performed a superb dance... The bright lam-posts begin to dim, to scare the fire-flies away; and flickering they announce the new day, when the strong aroma of the jasmines exhilarates me... Night is not like day, when the perfect peace is really felt inside; even my gentle shadow turns into a silver light... Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci
Tenor winds of Spring, A swift orchestrated gust; Ensemble of air. * Ensemble of air, With Summer's baritone draft; Layered season breeze. * Layered season breeze, Falsetto of the Fall's fugue; In the this quartet. * In the this quartet, Soprano hums, Winter's end; Quartet of the winds.
ice brushing.. repeating... it's winter song.. snow falling, twirling a lonely sparrow cries frozen vines turn to windchimes scribbled trees in vision withdraw ghosts are singing in the blizzard's roar an ice river hushes in frozen awe.
You see my face and you see my expression but you don't know the real me that i'm protecting. You don't know that behind these eyes that a little girl cries every night, you don't know the half so why are you desperately trying to label me with some brand that I would never wear. If you'd look a little deeper into these pearly browns you know that I am not just a cover you have to take time to read the book to really know me. You can't just skim the back or listen to what other people say because yeah I might be talked about but unless you dip into the pudding you will never truly know why. Maybe if you looked a little deeper you'd see someone trying to keep up in a endless race. I keep on moving but it's never any good I guess I underestimate myself or maybe I just need someone to give me courage. I see the surprised look on your face and all I can do is laugh, I bet you didn't think that I had so much depth, I better you never realized. So even if it's not me your interested in, please let me teach you one lesson. You can see some much more behind the eyes of a girl than the cloud of makeup hiding her face. In a girls eyes you can see her insides, her deepest fears, her insecurities. Behind these eyes is the magical side, and if you can look into them first then I know that your confident and well worth the struggle.
Beethoven wrote his version in sonata-form. But tonight the Flower Moon throws white petals all over the hillside, making silent music, a silver chord. Can I, in my reflected moon-life, hear it full and whole?
Romantic shadows of Luminous love Lend intense warmth To a midsummer night as Sensuous fragrance, Shimmering moonlight, Combine in nature's backdrop While a quartet of flutes At the water's edge Enhances spectral mists and Hushes soft laughter For a moment of nocturnal tranquility.
A Folk Song of India My Video Song is also on You Tube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ukRQxnYGQwQ&feature=plcp Background Note: Its a story of a worried Farmer as his fields were dry because of no rains & the season of planting Rice was passing fast. His eyes were full of tears while thinking, what he would eat & earn if he fails to plant the Rice saplings without good Rains in his fields. The song conveys feelings of an Indian farmer, who often face such situations due to lack of rains. Rains felt pity & flooded his fields or his love for Trees & Nature. Folk Song of India- Farmer, Clouds, Rains and Trees The Farmer was thinking, While sitting near his fields, How, he would plant, The saplings of Dhaan ( Rice). The clouds keep coming, But fly away and vanish soon, There are hardly few trees in the forest, Who can call and attract the clouds. To tell the clouds, The miseries of the farmer, As, clouds never overlook, The wishes of their beloved trees. But the trees could not convey and tell, The tortures and pains, they have suffered, One by one they have been cut and burned, By none other than their own nursing Man. Because of this only , The clouds often do not come, And run away without showering, When they see such humans. The Farmer was thinking, While sitting near his fields, How without rains he would plant, The saplings of Dhaan ( Rice). But that old farmer, Had planted many many trees, Thinking that the clouds, Came down on the ground. The eyes of the old farmer, Were wet and restless, Tears were appearing and were, Coming out, every now and then. The clouds hovering on the fields, Saw tears in his eyes, While wiping his tears, The clouds too began to weep. Then, it began to rain all over, And the fields got flooded soon, The old farmer raised his head, And saw towards the sky. After seeing all around, The fields flooded with water, The farmer with gratitude, Again & again touched the Rain clouds. Tears started flowing from his eyes, With happiness, And the clouds again showered more rains, To wipe the tears from the eyes of the old farmer. Then the time came to plant, The saplings of Dhaan (Rice), Without forests and their darling trees, Clouds hardly showers their love drops. The Farmer was thinking, While sitting near the fields, He would again plant, Many more and more tree this time. Kanpur India 24th July 2012center> Sub in Hon of LisaCooper for her Silver Tear contest
The Fox. The fox he bounced up to the toad As everything around him glowed He took her hand so tenderly And said "hey sing this song with me" The elephant told the kangaroo "No matter what you say or do You've got to have this dance with me" And hummed a little melody. They danced and danced The whole night through And really had a great to do As their time they filled so merrily All crazy, wild, and fancy free The chimpanzee said to the clown As he tapped his toes upon the ground "Come laugh with me and have some fun Let's dance and sing, hey everyone". The bear he laughed to see them all As he drank some juice to keep him cool Then he joined in all the carry on As they played and danced the whole day long. Peace, Socrares 1996
I'm lost in the sound, lost in the music, trapped in the decibel, caged by the keys, hidden in the rhythm. The maze of harmony complicates my gyrations controls my movements. Encore, over and again is the pattern of this composition I'm lost in the sound, i dont wanna be found.
Colors of the spectrum Light up my world Bright rays dancing Shades enhancing The kaleidoscope of sound I can feel it all around A whisper on the wind The murmur of the stream Rustling of leaves Creaking of the eaves Roaring of the waves Cooing of a babe Birds a chirping Bees a buzzing Thunder rumbling Mountain crumbling Ringing honking Beeping thumping Crashing clanging Booming bopping Intermingling all together In every season, scene or weather And it echoes in my head As I lie on heather beds Such a masterful symphony Sweetest ever melody, All the world´s life in harmony.
A Prayer for all my friends in America and all over the World This Prayer Poem is for all my friends of America and for all those anywhere in the world who are waiting for Rains. I have made this Prayer Poem on My Photo Poem and this can be seen in My Photo page on World Art Foundation This Prayer Poem actually supports my Folk Song 'Folk Song of India -Farmer, Clouds, Rains and Trees' placed on You Tube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ukRQxnYGQwQ&feature=plcp It may be a co incident but ever since I composed and placed the above Song on You Tube the drought like conditions improved in many parts of India drastically. A Prayer to Clouds for all My Friends O Clouds full of Rains Please go to my friend's place Where ever you see the land is dry And all the fields and trees Are waiting for your showers To get wet and to kiss Your ever refreshing Rains. You bless them With your nectar like Rains So their fields too May yield grains And their forests may be blessed With your love drops To again enfold you In their sweet and loving embrace. O Clouds full of Rains Please go to my friend's place And give them The blessings of Your Beautiful immortal Rains. Ravindra Kanpur India 15th Aug. 2012 NOTE: Draught like conditions (not very acute almost 50% less Rains this year) prevailed in India in July, but after July last it improved in August and even some parts experienced excessive Rains till 27th August. I had composed a Song around 20th July for the Indian farmers as a Folk Song and have placed it in Poetry Soup on 24th July 2012 and on my Music Channel "RavindraKK1" on You Tube as a Folk Song of India. The Song explains the reasons of fewer Rains in the simple language of a farmer telling the story of Farmer, Clouds, Trees and Rains as a Folk Song of India. Ravindra 27th Aug. 2012
Standing on the sidewalk, Underneath the trees, My ears can hear it talk, Murmuring with the breeze, Every drop hits the street, Running in it's own way, Raining down it's own beat, A song it just wants to play, I can feel their dancing feet, Near mine on a summer day.
Waiting for New Leaves I am a red flower tree, I am waiting for my new long thin leaves, I am waiting for my leaves, Like a new beginning for another Spring, The clouds are trying to console me, The wind too is trying to soothe me, By its cool and refreshing blowing, The tiny black bird, Will come soon again To swing and feast, My red flower's sweet, Which she eats while singing And swinging on my trees.. The cycle of life, Keep running like this. Seasons come and seasons go, They leave their impressions, On the sands and sky of time. The only thing which never fails to persist, Is the change of things and change of time, Which always turns, Sooner or later and never fails. So wait for your turn of good days, It would come soon with my new leaves, And your hopes and dreams would revive, To brighten your life, With love, joy and music. Ravindra Kanpur India 7th Aug. 2012 This Poem was originally written by me on 17th May 2010 on the Photo of Red Flower Leaves as my Photo Poem.
Land of the free Home of the slaves The blood, sweat and tears of my ancestors resonate Amongst the soil where they were slain I'm hearing their struggle I'm feeling their pain I can't imagine being forced to part from my family All for massa's gain So I pay homage to those who promoted change People like every slave who tried to escape Nat Turner, Ms Carlotta, Harriet Tubman And the safe houses who were in accord And peg leg Joe with his song Follow the drinking gourd. People like, the disregarded - those thrown overboard And who was dismissed and defamed The ones who were stripped of their soul, their pride, their names The list could go on The full will never be told So I pay homage to others who were bold Like John Brown, The Freedom Riders, Sojourner Truth Ida B Wells, Phyllis Wheatley, Maya Angelou, Langston Hughes and Charles Drew George Washington Carver, Ruby Bridges Booker T Washington and Mary McCleod Bethune Charles Houston, Ralph Bunche, Fredrick Douglass WEB Dubois, Paul Robeson, Ralph Abernathy Benjamin Banneker, Marcus Garvey and Crispus Attucks Who's death by the way Symbolized the American lie You cant declare the rights of all men While the people of African decent rights get denied But still we rise Thanks to Dr Martin Luther King, Malcolm X, The Black Panthers, the Buffalo Soldiers and Tuskegee Airmen None who were showed any love Yeah it's an uphill battle, But obviously greatness can be done. We can rise above this stigma That blacks are lazy and daunting That our worth is null and void And in essence minus nothing And of all the names mentioned And the greatness of their successes No one has been able to erase the evil transgressions of a racist mind And once you have experienced just a taste of it It changes your perception of time The oppression beats like the drum on the chariot Of when it was finally time to escape to freedom It's mine
Rains Magic Please see the Photo on following URL of World Art Foundation http://wafglobal.ning.com/photo/rains-magic?context=latest The dark clouds were hovering, Indicating the Rains would shower, And I was thrilled by the Magic of Nature, My soul too was in dance, In tune with the Nature. Ravindra Kanpupr India 27th July 2012 Submitted in honor of Carol Brown's 'Raindrops Falling' contest
Across the bridge and through the Glen Past Mill on right, wheel stopped again Trees are leaning on the slope That they stay up that is my hope Till I am past and on my way Past bracken brown and grass like hay There in the distance, silver and tall Musically cascading the waterfall I sit on rock and watch flow That carved its way eons ago And watered foliage in the Glen Powered Mill wheel, stopped again Through some unseen broken part Deep in the Mills great grinding heart Still onward flows the falls emission Tween banks of green with people fishing Till estuary at last gives way To open sea where fish can play And wind the moisture can lift high To form great rain clouds in the sky To feed the spring, that feeds the tall Musically cascading waterfall
RIVER BALLET . ……….. . . . . ballet of riversong sashays whirling choral chimes with dusk's bouquets © John Freeman's Crystalline Euphony
In late October the reddest moon didn't change its phase, it remained in the same spot to watch the witches' ballet; the loud music matched the mood of the mystical night: tambourines and flutes frantically played; sneers, jeers, giggles of the ugliest witches mixed with the goblins' roars while they danced around a huge, hot fire. I smelled a foul odor, the wild dogs feasted on a bloody oar, " Leave some for us, or we'll turn you into bats! " the hunched witch snarled with menacing eyes, but they roared and threatened her with sharp teeth, then Olga began to speak Latin words to cast a spell on them and before it worked, they fled. Glad that they had left, she dragged the dead animal and hung it on a long rod to roast on the sparking fire; hungry witches continued to dance with forks and knives in their hands, anxiously waiting for their Halloween treat. Written by Andrew Crisci for Russel Sivey's contest, " The Ultimate Halloween Contest " 10/5/ 2012
Contractual agreements with publisher caused DELETION
Parting Impressions Baed on My Photo Poem which can be seen on my Twitter URL https://twitter.com/kapoor_/status/246124905899364352/photo/1 And on World Art foundation by copying and pasting following URL http://wafglobal.ning.com/photo/golden-rays-of-sun?context=user Parting Impressions O, Golden rays of returning Sun You are leaving your parting impressions On these lovely yellow and dark brown clouds While softly touching their lips By the aroma of your enchanting lights And saying to them a lasting Good bye. Ravindra Kanpur India 14092012
The Poem is based on MY Photo Poem posted on World Art Foundation and can be viewed on following URL http://wafglobal.ning.com/photo/sun-s-music?xg_source=msg_appr_photo Music of Sun I have heard The Music of Sun Accompanied by The chattering of Birds Which he makes While embracing The horizons every evening The Music comes When the Sun feels the touch Of the soft and colorful embrace Of clouds and dust hanging in the sky And his heart began to sing a song On the heart's tune of every passer by. Ravindra Kanpur India 21st Oct 2012
Listen when you awake at crack of dawn hear the chorus of all the birds singing watch them as they scurry and dig the lawn until a nasty cat sends them fleeing How very dull and bland without any birds silence would greet us with it's bleakness less colour everywhere, half mast halyards how lucky to have birds to add brightness So many feathered friends around delighting us with their wonderful songs the sound of harmony our souls surround for the sweet mellifluous songs prolongs Tunes everywhere blending in harmony sweetly combining sounding like honey
Another new day does start The sun is rising up above It's these mornings that I love Big yellow moon is slowly fading You'd never, ever find me trading These mornings, not for anything They always make my old heart sing Soft music playing in the background Is mixed with soft and lovely bird sound Corella's squabble in the trees They're argumentative Black cockatoos they fly so free Oh what I wouldn't give To fly with them in the deep blue sky Screeching with delight They bring such happiness to me Make my day so bright. The olive trees light up so bright Beneath the morning sun I feel like dancing with delight This morning just begun It does these wondrous things to me Such joy is in my heart As I feel this wondrous mystery Another day does start 5 November 2014
pillar of trumpets are no match in a garden for the hummingbird
In the exact moment that I am right now I stand in a sea of vulnerability; susceptible to the effects of causes around me and since I am fully aware, I own my surroundings I am one with sounds and vibrations resonating from the earth; I am that pulse of the drum beat thats been thrashing inside me since birth Right now, I am exactly as I am deeply flawed and misjudged used, victimized and persecuted Right now I am you in the absolute Right now, I am exactly as I am balanced, whole and complete attracting abundance and certainty Right now I am peace - still you Right now, I am exactly as I am You
Red, yellow blue, green, colorful musical scene. Rainbow through sunbeam. Red, yellow, blue, white, rainbow arched in beauty bright. Harmony just right. Blended colors flow. Rainbow harmonies echo. God's beauties bestow. For Carol Brown's "Rainbow" contest.
To the rhythm of Spanish castanets The tempestuous autumn wind beat the mosaic of colorful leaves into a twirling, swirling flamenco dance © Brenda V Northeast rewrite- 24th 2012 - 26/05/08
And the westerly wind, Will blow a sea of waving grass And the sea's fine mist Will breathe drops like dew And the sinking suns Will cloak the sky's horizon And the moons of Autumn Will beckon the golden fertililty of the harvest And the violet tinged edge of night Will cry for the white bursting of the stars And the carved thrust of the mountain range Will challenge the forever yielding blue And the hovering tunes of the dawn's awakening Will mimic the lullaby of my dreams Rise
. echoes of waterfalls invade my reverie with a symphonic, whimsical image ______________________________ In honor of Nette Onclaud's contest: "Melody of Cinquain" By Carrie Richards....9/10/11
The wind howled ice-cold, clear-sky lullabies and awoke the moon, who gazed, heavy-lidded, at the stars around her Leaves and dust danced sambas and pirouetted along the desert's river, who was shivering uncontrollably while midnight birds struggled to fly upstream against the manic, stinging, musical currents of turbulence and wonder
Dangling from the tree I can see, Broken wind chimes that still sing. They just hang on by a split string. Sending a harmony of tunes to thee. Their tones and vibrations are a bit broken for me. I listen and I ponder for what tunes they can bring. From the tree they will sway when they can swing. Bits and pieces are released through the air and flee. Caught in the wind is it's vibrations. Carrying signals of great magnitude. Funneling clouds into new creations. Bringing air into a brand new mood. Broken wind chimes can still sing a song, But their messages are scattered all along. © Copyright: Ann Rich 2007
To day I am thinking About those memorable moments I spent during my childhood Amid the natural surroundings of A deep lake surrounded by a dense forest. The forest was so tall, deep and green With its fearing darkness some where and It's alluring enchanting beauty every where That it was difficult to resist visiting the forest Almost every day. The lake was so heavenly beautiful calm and quite Like the quietness of the sound sleep That I use to sit for hours watching the dancing Fishes and water plants and mosses and the setting Sun While dipping my feet in the friendly lake water. Oh, the pleasure of those moments Is still alive in my mind Like the Daffodil's of William Wordsworth And it often flashes in my mind Giving me the same pleasure and Joy Which as a child & Youngman I had enjoyed About forty years back. In these forty years lot many things have changed All around me, including the Lake of my Allen Forest A thin Lake is still there, visible during rainy season But without that clear water and the quietness of Sound And the forest has no longer remained the same As it use to be about Forty years back When it use to fill me with the joy of it's refreshing air And the Music of birds, falling leaves and the sound of silence. That old lake and that lush green forest has left a deep impression On mind and heart giving me the blessings of solitude And making itself immortal in the minds of those who Had seen it in its prime beauty and greenness I often remember the man Allen who had built his small dwelling Surrounded by the forest near the Lake and made this forest more Beautiful without disturbing the natural surroundings To enjoy the Blessings of Nature in its fullness about hundred years back I am thankful to God for giving my childhood an opportunity of Living amid the blessings of beautiful Nature - the Allen forest, the Lake The Patther College, and the Holy River Ganges, which still flows at a Little distance now instead of touching the forest As it uses to be about forty Years back. Kanpur 5th Nov 09 Ravindra K Kapoor Patther College is a Hindi Word means Sand Stone made building
Wise owl at his post "hoo, ha, hoo...hoo, hoo, hoo, hooooo" thus he gives a hoot!
Verdant Operas Cacophonic symphonies Cicada Harvest
This morning bells toll a trumpet sounds but refuses to blare it just doesn't know how to harm what it takes to infect the living trees earth and sound survive sadness out last the past bond brothers and sisters of sky air mud and water as it loses to a force some days... this morning it wins because the vibration knows god and is ONE and though human imperfections sit in the shadows of it's path perfections will and forever will prevail people so arrogant we choose to destroy but how can we concentrate on methods of malcontent when god sits at our breakfast table? urging as father urges child "get up!" "move on!" "stand on two feet!" "breath child!" he tolls the bell as we lay on deaf ears he loosens ties with anger as the path warns and wears thrusting driving this cosmic ship of no loses only tiny arrogant setbacks and he smiles for he knows what we yet have to find... and all is well.
I hear the crackling beat of Castanets and fast strumming guitars As autumns blustery storm lifts Fallen red, yellow and orange leaves Twisting and twirling them like a Gypsy girl's skirt As she dances around campfire flames. Autumn Splendor -contest by- Russell Sivey © Brenda V Northeast – a rewrite 30/08/2012 - (first written 26/05/08)
Fiery orange rays rip open the Eastern sky spewing forth anthems
My Kingdom When I'm in my garden I'm a King, I have a throne I sit here very solitary I am happy on my own All my subjects gather round The birds, the flowers, the trees And all those noisy Sand gropers The frogs, and all the bees. Canaries have a special place They play music for my court Often wild birds join along As I sit wrapped in thought. My courtyards are not tidy All the bushes cling together But hey, they give me so much shade In our hot sticky weather. So I sit and write my memoirs down Like a good King really should As I sit here in my kingdom And I really feel so good. 28 August 2013 @ 1419hrs.
It was a mere noise, which turned into agonizing cries. The smell of filth stained the air. As i looked at those big doors, a tongue of flame leaped through them, as terror crept unto my body. The groans of hell hounds echoed. Fear was almost tangible. I was a soul destined to hell. But in a split, the scenery metamorphosed. A distant music turned into pleasurable laughter. The fragrance of flowers complimented the air. As i looked at those wide open, welcoming doors, rain of purity sprinkled like blessings, as sunlight warmed my soul. The chirping of birds was playing. Peace was almost tangible. I was the spirit destined to get away from hell. Entered in PD's contest. Ranked 3rd.
From the moment that I met you, As I gazed upon your eyes, I was overwhelmed with comfort, As I began to realize, That you are my soul mate, You balance me out, That you're the yin to my yang, In my mind there's no doubt, So I share with you this poem, To express my emotions, For you as a person, They're as deep as earths oceans, An earth angel in spirit, You're living in the light, You give power unto others, Through knowledgeable insight, You're a beautiful person, Your hearts filled with love, You've the mind of a goddess, Intentions pure as doves, Your figure is as gorgeous, As the moon and the stars, You motivate others, To seek out whom they are, Your aura shines vibrant, Your smiles gleam bright, The advice that you give, It reflects divine light, If the whole world could meet you, They'd begin to believe, That through thinking divinely, True beauty is achieved. Copyright © 2009 Zachary Jackson
Cherry blossoms bloom; the townspeople sing, laugh, dance: hope springs eternal.
It is winter; The snow Is filtering From the clouds. Serene, Tranquil, And Gentle snow: You are a sonata Upon my ears. You are a melody Perfected Through stillness: You resemble An aged Cello With a bow, Played Like the wood Of a tree Ripened with Sweet Deliberation. Your sound Of perfection, Peace And Silence Is like a Lake: Cooled with Welded Ice. For the ice Covers the water Resting, For another season: Just like The grass, You so delicately Cover: Resembling That of a blanket – One that Loves, Like that of A horse-drawn Carriage Within the dead Of a cold Winter's Night. The coach Is gliding Along a trail; A trail Of perfect ground: It is of a million Particles Of the earth – So natural, So steadfast. Yet the dirt Of this trail, Is no longer upon Your loving Bedspread: For It is a Dream: Recycled By the wheels Of your carriage Like the snow Ever falling From the dark Night Sky. For the cabin Suspended ever so Gently Upon its wheels, Carries A soul, A thought, Just Wondering: How serene, And beautiful Is tonight, Listening to the sound, Of your sleep, The Oh so Beautiful: The gentle, The trickling: The sound of snow.
Visits long ago to the Blaskets Islands, to untouched areas on the Dingle peninsula came to mind on this sleet winter's eve. The peninsula, nestled in heather mountains. The coastline, tongues of lonely white sand. waved rocks, drenched in blue mussels tide pools, alive with shrimps and periwinkles A sea-salted life unspoiled and free. Only marine life remains, but I still hear the music our native language, the voices of Seanchaí the ballads, sean?s, Peig Sayers who shaped our school years, her renditions of island life her mad pise?gs, handed down from generation to generation. Stories of Islanders huddled together under thatch, open turf fires cooking pot on a hook, the sweet air wafting of clay pipe tobacco a pinch of snuff sniffed from a silver box, nursing a glass of neat Poitín, uisce beatha, the strong smell of tweeds and geansaí báinín. I think of times lost, changed forever. Cottage ruins, where goats roam free, An Blascaod Mór my history, my heritage. Gaelic words in this poem * Seanchaí – storytellers Sean?s – singing without music Peig Sayers and her mad pise?gs – A Gaelic writer who we studied in school and her mad superstitions. Poitín, uisce beatha – very strong alcohol made from potatoes, called the water of life. geansaí báinín – strong sheep wool sweaters usually in a cream colour with complex patterns.
The leafless, arthritic branches of the sycamore and maple trees stretched their grotesque, naked forms now stripped by the blasts of winter; splaying drearily overhead casting cold, rickety shadows over recently fallen snow. A prevailing wind rushes through the trees and a choir of creaks begin their rasping rhapsody. A momentary lull begins and the wooded composition in a Larghissimo tempo ends on a melancholy note.
In the night the marsh cricket cries, Ringing through the starless still A song of aurora skies. A pale gray moon, listening, sighs, No wind rippling the watermill In the night the marsh cricket cries. Shearing the dark a lost bird flies, The melody shivers in the chill A song of aurora skies. Hours before forgotten sunrise, Ants dare venture from their hill In the night the marsh cricket cries. Beneath the marsh water millions of eyes, Shameless creatures drink in their fill A song of aurora skies. There are no fears, there are no lies They cannot understand this thrill In the night the marsh cricket cries A song of aurora skies.
Oh, what a day Oh, what a day! It's twenty four degrees I sit here in the garden Just watching happy trees Dancing softly on the breeze To woo my hungry eyes And oh, if you could see them Fluffy clouds that ride the Skies Four fountains play a love song A blessed symphony While lovely red canary Pays homage to the trees With a soft, sweet, honey warble Which blends into the song And everything is simple There's naught that can be wrong. The essence, seeps on, into me Soft music flows on out And plays with so much mystery As silence all about Comes out to meet this orchestra And I sink so deep within As the dusk submerges day And the evening does begin.
"Lilly-pads and Frogs".... a little ditty I know - Karaoke time!! By: George Aul For "Lilly-pads & Frogs" contest sponsored by Sidney ~ LeAnn.
Through this happy season, when everything is green and blue, we won't see snow-capped hills, or mountains, only brooks and rivers bubbling in sun rays; lay down on their bends and hear their music as children do! An Australian spring is unique and beautiful, everybody is welcome to join us in song; bring your flute, guitar and drum... make music in jovial air while it harmonizes with serenity! Through these four short months, feel lively and observe the eager butterflies kiss wildflowers, but an occasional rain may fall from the vagrant clouds... see its gentle raindrops delight open eyes! An Australian spring is unique and beautiful, especially in the wilderness and countryside; down here, isn't spring unforgettable? Let's run faster than kangaroos that seem to glide!
DREAM ON I dream on, from my dome to my chest to my toes and to the tips of my palms. We dream on, in the land of the free, but where freedom comes at a cost and sacrifice for others the achieve their dream. I dream on, flying over an icy mountain top, To the sweat taste of lemon drops, To the cool relief of mist burning over a desert black top as I brain storm lessening to heart beat of my favorite song. We dream on, from the top of lonely tropical island hill top to the sit and the smell of a breath taking Forrest and to a falling sun afflicting a shining sea that is the best part of the day I rather spend ending enjoying with a beautiful woman... the sit and the breeze. Poetry by Keith K. Relf
What makes me tick? You ask me the question on what makes me tick Well this I will answer, and answer it quick Flowers and trees, the birds and the beasts And all of the beauty on which my eyes feast. Rivers and lakes, and oceans as well And all of the dreams in which I do dwell Music and poetry, Astrology too And all of the wonderful things that I do. These things keep me breathing and loving my life And last but not least is my beautiful wife. 10 September 2013 @ 1353hrs.
Sketches of red and gold deepen the view Unto a field, newborn garlands parade; When April basks in her season's debut Adorning jasmines, thymes with rich brocade. In fragrant whiffs renewing hum of day Mild the sunlight , bolder the divine tints While hyacinths prance on nature's replay; To lend their magical jigs in twirled imprints. Gently, dusk comes in water-colored light When blooms lift their faces unto the sky, Till firefly tunes hush a riot of delight Enshrining spring her winsome hush-a-bye. From chanting rhapsody of nightfall's shine Wreaths quiver to praise splashed heaven's design. Rick Parise's Flower Song
The crocodile listens to Rachmaninoff once in a great while. © 14-10-2013, G. Venetopoulos
Esmeralda and the fairies Esmeralda in her garden Was playing with her dolls Amidst flowers so beautiful And the sun shone down like gold. Midst butterflies and pretty birds And trees that softly glowed She saw two fairies oh so pretty As one sat upon a toad. The toad did look so happy there With the fairy on his back. They came up to a pretty rose By a little grassy track Then one fairy danced a dance Little heart all filled with bliss As Esmeralda felt such love And so much happiness. The other fairy started dancing As the toad just clapped his hands Esmeralda watched it all Oh she thought it was so grand But when she told her mum and dad Well, they just laughed at her And told her it's imagination That it did not occur.
I remember the smiles From a thousand miles, The crowd that gathered, The smiling baby to be fathered, The blessings made, That their hopes do not fade, I heard the general chorus, The strength, the happiness, the force. But a different group, Came in a huge troop, All, new faces of a different birth, To witness a fallen strength.
(Winter Song) This cold is touching me and I'm liking it It hugs me real tight and I'm loving it Now it's biting me real hard From my foot up to my face I wanted to let go but it won't Though it realy hurts, I won't mind Cry? Never! (c) 2012
Wind whispers through leaves Somewhere in pine scented shade Tree of songs concert
Two voices As golden daises there, I see The morning sun so lazily Shines down upon some sleepy trees As they dance upon the breeze Joni Mitchell on the set She sings a song I can't forget Both sides now I hear her sing Such joy the morning she does bring Willy Wagtail sings along With Joni, as two voices strong Do reach into the heart of me Enhancing morning mystery I sit here, greet the morning in As the new day does begin. 15 August 2014 @ 0913hrs.
shards slowly reach- waking the dawn _________________________________ Broken Monoku
Seasons come, then they go Vivaldi's Four the way doth show. Spring forth new life, Summer warm in the sun Autumn leaves the trees all bare, Winter snows to cool the air. © Dave Timperley 2012
aria robin sings a joyful song sunrise solo
Beautiful Day Blue sky hangs above; Canorous birds sing to me, Today my heart swells.
I stumble upon a river the way it flows and feels I take my shoes off and run threw it laughing looking up towards the sun I wake up and it was all just a dream my sister runs up the stairs she slams her door i asked her what was wrong she looked at me She says "mom told me you were adopted" at first i laughed as i thought it was a joke I run downstairs to see my mom and dad sitting on the couch "mom?" i say she replies "its true we adopted you!" she got up and walked into the kitchen "after all this time i thought i was yours" i say My father gets up and walks out the door My mom lays her hand on her forhead Just dont worry about it everything will be okay "No it wont i say" i felt fake like i wasnt who i was suppose to be i just sat on my bed thinking about the whole thing my whole life and who i should have been I packed my bags that light and i ran away leaving the less important things behind i set out on a journey to find my real parents I had my sister get there info. from my dads office I took a bus to indiana and looked up there address As soon as i found it i knocked on the door A man opened the door he said "who are you?" i say "apparently i am your son?!" "you put me up for adoption?" i repeat He yells "ANNA!?, Some kid is here for you!" i repeat the story to her as she denied it She looked bruised and beaten up I wanted to help her but the man hut the door on my face I had no where to go now So i started on a journey back home But i never made it there I found that old river i use to go too i stayed there for a few weeks until i remembered the way back. I found myself that day I realized that i was fake but now im not because i know that i am just me not any of them
^ ^ From an abyss of the darkness, I hear incantation It slowly ascends, sun awakening canyons, Windward it heralds those sleeping, to wonder.... with a visual score, that deepens with thunder, sweeping me under, to lighten the soul -at first tint of light, my own shadow leans over, to hear a sunrise- Between the chasms of a dream, comes a lark waking day as she follows the river, and the splendor unfolds Sweet sounds to exclaim, this is heaven, displayed! Grand in the sunrise, all creation, beholds! Closing my eyes, hearing trills to be awed Suite bold enchantment, from thunder and drums I will fly with the eagles, over lands of the Gods and will breathe in each movement until my tears overcome ________________________________________________________ Inspired by the Contest: Three Stanza Suite Sponsored by Sheri Fresonke Harper 4/13/14 Stanza 1: Five lines non rhyme Stanza 2: 1 line Stanza 3: 8 lines rhymed (About this poem: Please do watch......it is so worth your moment to listen !!):) http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N1l5vgY_3tw ) Grand Canyon Suite: • I. Sunrise • II. Painted Desert • III. On the Trail • IV. Sunset • V. Cloudburst
You're a thunderstorm Always coming on strong and coming on fast I wanna hold you baby But, baby how long can that really last? Can I tame your heart? Do I even wanna to try? That would mean changing you And if you changed, then I would die You see… It's like chasing lightning And trying to hold tight If you'd just let me, baby Then maybe, baby, I might Oh yeah, But there's No holding Onto lightning Tonight You're a hurricane force Always building up speed and running around I wanna stop you baby Or at least, somehow, try to slow you down But, can I stop that rain? Do I even wanna to try? I'd be going against your nature And that would make me die You see… It's like chasing lightning And trying to hold tight If you'd just let me, baby Then maybe, baby, I might Oh yeah, But there's No holding Onto lightning Tonight I gotta let you run your course can't ever try to stop your force Cause, baby, if I were to even try I'd stop what makes you, you and baby I would die You see… It's like chasing lightning And trying to hold tight If you'd just let me, baby Then maybe, baby, I might Oh yeah, But there's No holding Onto lightning Tonight
That serenading season claims the spotlight once again. In awe, we gaze up, reminded how ineffectual human noises are. The simple tinkle of dew on a tender leaf, or the whooshing wind as he playfully steals away the drop from his green friend, is the best ensemble ever to grace my fickle ears. The harmonious cacophony, thunder sounds in the great big sky, speaks wiser words than any teacher ever taught. I hear the call, surreal Natures call: join me and lets make music! BUT as soon as those words are aired, they become a part of the air, lost in the entirety of human waste. Lost in the rumpus of industry, in the hullabaloo of war...yet...when the rainy season approaches, those memorable notes beat in the drums of my ears... soul, rock or rap Each hum composes melodies Natures opus! 22 September 2013
nature's gracious voice sings a benediction over fallen leaves chill in the air newly naked branches shiver to the beat winter stalls ballet of the snowflakes still in production written in honor of 9/22/13
maestro of crazed winds seeks to have his music heard challenges the waves (February 9, 2011 Wausau, Wisconsin (c) Copyright 2011 by Christine A Kysely, All Rights Reserved
An annual muster Of black and yellow honey-eaters Chattering and tweeting Brought in the dawn this morning Against the backdrop Of a grey wet blanket sky lightly sun lit Heavy with the promise of rain It was a wonderful atmospheric morning As I woke to the serenade of myriad sounds It was like an orchestra at rehearsal time trying out All its musical instruments A clanging cymbal in the distance was industrial banging cutting the air And the ever-rushing cars on the wet highway Sounded like the constant brushing sounds of a drummer scraping His drums And like woodwind instruments piping was wood pigeons cooeeing And the chirpy sounds of other birds were like flutes interjecting And magpies chortling a Soprano song between an occasional dog bark That sounded Like Maestro banging His baton to get the orchestra's attention © Brenda V Northeast 28th March 2012
Critters praise the day, With daily compositions: Morning symphony.
Birds chirp like ready to have their own party, the sun brightly shines The melody of nature cannot be compete with other tune Universe plays its own magnificent song, intricate beauty Sijo Contest Sponsor: Rick Parise
I heard a scream. Echoing, then it suddenly faded. Within a sad dream, I stirred; Trying to twig the insipid melody. Rhythm changed. A star spun the silvery knob; While the silver liquid drops, Murmuring into the calm hills and valleys, Humming, flowing into the ignorant streams. So all there was the raindrops, Dancing below the gold turning pale horizon; The chant of bliss mixed with the nature. Old and new ages hear. All was quiet. Listening to a sweet pitch, Then slept in a sweet way. MAE/8.20.14 m
There are Fairies at the bottom of my garden And they visit every evening, for a dance They are lovely to behold and very welcome I just wish they didn't trample on my plants Their favourite dance appears to be the Salsa They do it with such style and aplomb Much better than last week when they were jivin' It appeared they'd hit the garden with a bomb So I do believe in Fairies, 'cos I've seen them And every night I watch them, in a trance They are graceful and delightful and enchanting "Oi, Tinkerbell, get off my bloody plants" © John W Fenn 14-07-2009
Have you ever stopped quietly just to listen? Nature has an orchestra just waiting to be played. A branch of a tree rub's against a tree limb like the sound of the oboe singing deep from within. There are birds, Frogs, and crickets to add to the song. And babbling brooks just flowing along. The leaves under foot make a crunch as you walk. It's almost like Nature is trying to talk. The Night-in-gale sings her sad song in the nest, then tucks all her babies snug under her chest. And just when you think all is quiet and still, you hear a faint sound coming over the hill. You listen and wonder, what sound could this be? Its just the wind blowing and ruffling the trees. So next time your walking and talking out loud. Be quiet stop moving and exit the crowd. Just sit down be patient and quietly stay, Its Natures sweet music Beginning to play.
Enlighten days have past He comes excel in all, so he thinks "I am greater than man, I know what ignorant man does not. Come to me for knowledge unsurpassed!". He points to the blue heaven, "Where is thy wisdom? For I know all. Where is thy command? That makes the ground shake And brings forth water that lives?" At the great gatherings, He flocks the shepherds, blind, mute and deaf He answers to the multitude of questions He asked the shepherds, "but what are thy questions?", "I know not what do ask a man of your wisdom, but what is a dream? What is life?" asked the young herdsman. "I know not what you speak of", said the Man. "I only know what i can feel, touch and see" "A dream is dream that passes us by, like gentle breeze of fresh spring. Life holds all things mystery and doubts. Shepherd knows to flock, not life or dreams". "The shepherds are those who are humble, noble one", said the herdsman "The blind cannot see, the mute cannot speak and the deaf cannot hear". "Who are you preaching to? Silent and amaze, the man looks on. "If the blind could see you, They would say, 'look here is the man who tried to humble the blind For they can see what others cannot, If the mute could speak, they would humble you! And if the deaf could hear they would shamed your wisdom". "Was I a fool?" said the Man "or are you not that young herdsman? Who knows nothing of life and passes his days tending the sheep's? What could you learn from such simpleton life?" "Life I live is simple indeed, No one knows that the shepherds are those who protects the weak" "Nature is a friend of the shepherd; we sing the song of David And rubs the olive oil to our young sheep, to keep away the flies". Insulted, the man's fury turns over to the young herdsman "Nature? Protect the weak? The song of David? Flies? How can nature befriend a lonely shepherd? Protect who? Song of David the Shepherd who became the king? What flies would harm the young flocks?" The young herdsman smiled at the frown face of the man, Left without a word The blind, the mute and deaf ignored the man. An unyielding shame kept the man humbled He wonders why the young herdsman smiled about. He came about a bridge and crossed the rocky roads On the hill top he stood And saw the young herdsman singing the Song of David.
Strauss waltz in the air Tales from Vienna Woods A swirling leafs Impromptu
Exuberant different shades of grasses bushes and trees along paths rivers meandering to and from deltas in valleys across the rain forests making all creatures dance to natural rhythms celebrating all that is breathing and walking next to nature
Oh hear thee well the music It's the Maggies lullaby They're warbling in that Banksia tree As the day begins to die. And their haunting goodnight serenade Says goodbye to the day As the Sun lies down to sleep the night away. Just four weeks from our Spring My heart feels so alive As I'm sitting on my garden seat It be an hour since five. And as those maggies hush their song The fountain carries on She'll still be heard when all be hushed and gone. Six Buddha's seem to sense the silence There's a certain kind of glow As I melt into the evening time And swim within the flow. And the evening says "it's time to rest Until the blessed morn Now each must die, on the morrow be reborn". 17 July 2004
A storm begins the performance Ominous clouds Prepare the stage Lighting streaks the sky Setting the ambiance Each small drop Begins a new note Wind blows the trees Like strings in an orchestra Frogs voice A choir to the show Thunder clashing As the background percussion As the sun breaks The tempo slows With clearing skies The performers take their bows And nature's awe-struck audience Will return again
with delight out of the shadow night a low sweet melody comes drifting a minstrel and singer with a chant soul-stirring a siren of the dark, chirping and twittering soul-searching, fathomless lovely tale beautiful and so frail nightingale Written by Constance La France August 24, 2012 For the contest Night Melody, Trois-par-Huit Sponsored by nette onclaud
You smile You ask No easy task To put it into words I look And see Then say, it looks like love …to me It's that blanket on a winter night You wrap around me oh so tight The way you want to make things right Honey, it just has to be, It looks like love…to me You laugh You say There's no other way To be just who you are I smile Happily Then say, it looks like love …to me It's the way you take me in your hold You never let our love grow old There's not one doubt, for me I'm sold Honey, it just has to be, It looks like love…to me If love was ever one person Then babe it would you There is no other word for this That's why our love holds true You look Then smile All the while You never look away My eyes They see It looks like love… to me Yeah, honey It looks like love… to me
In the spring when the earth spills forth with color and the trees multiply shades of green, nature is truly amazing. I slowly watch the ever changing days. New life begins it's mystery multiplying shades, of green. When heaven's grace washes it's refreshing rains upon the earth, no better time to dream, sitting on my front porch swing, in the early spring. I listen to the waterfall and hear the angels whispering call, in the early spring. Truly amazing is all the trees, multiplying shades of green. I feel the refreshing sunshine upon my face, when heaven spills forth it's grace, upon the daisies now in bloom, spreading their scent of sweet perfume, in the early spring. No better place to catch the view than on my front porch swing. I listen to the sweet little tunes of the birds that sing, and watch the flowers and trees in bloom, multiply shades of green.
I dont know much about her but I heard she wasnt that talkative She didnt like being alive She was numb to all the pain she had to go through I heard she didnt like anything that was green She ate roman noodles everynight for supper She always wore flannels and bellbottoms Sometimes i seen her wear dresses and fancy tops But lately shes been wearing band shirts She wears converse shoes and uses an army bag for school I know that she dosent like to communicate through talking... only through her peoms or sometimes even her songs. I see her drawing and painting all the time She draws famous people She would like to be famous and not so unknown When she tries to speak to anyone they always walk away and leave her alone When she gets home she goes upstairs to play her bass guitar She hates chocolate cake but loves chocolate Her family left her behind because she cant forget her past Sometimes when shes alone she contemplates the meaning behind her life Her favorite color is gray because her life is black and white Everything she says is false according to the world She is not so innocent I understand that she dreams about the perfect life When she opens her eyes they are pitch black She is someone that is fake She acts nothing like she should She is very grungy and unclean She knows of no safety and of no time Her life is smashed into pieces by the giant sun She will always be a ghost She knows of no god She crawls around in the world of death She remains forgotten
Evening Music of Nature I was in a thrill, While watching the beauty, Of diminishing Sun, And feeling that the darkness is Slowly engulfing us. The returning birds have eloped from the sky, With their soul mates, The last of the fading Sunbeams, Too were in a hurry to touch only, The top of the trees. Only I was alone, In this serene quietness, And was trying to hear The Melodious music of loving birds, When Crickets too became more active to play their music, Seeing the fast approaching night, And no one to disturb, their mighty kingdom. Ravindra Kanpur India 13th August 2010 To view this memorable evening which I took in my Camera also I have placed the poem on My Photo My Poems series on my face book.
the robin hops from the tips of the rose bush spilling snow dust sprinkling skeins of early dew dusting with its uppity tail fan a caterpillar softly dousing concertina then it trips up the clothesline stops and grips it in its claws sways and balances with its tail fanning out chirps clucks tweets and repeats itself all the way down again and up the scale comes back once more to skip a note or two and tumbles sweeps past the old toy bicycle leaning against the wire fence the claw marks hardly visible on the spray of frost-like snow on the balustrade light ephemeral peripatetic the dulcet flexions rising and falling on the tympana without breath of motion or vibration crisp colliding notes rising and falling as the first tentative drops of drizzle before the rain the robin gone to sing full throttle on wing © T. Wignesan, Paris, 1997; from the collection: "Poems Omega-Plus", Paris, 2005.
Emancipation Unfettered-Set free- My soul is longing for Home Where the wild ducks fly to winter Where I hear the sweet sounds of swans Calling her chicks to her side on tranquil lakes That reflect distant snow covered mountain peaks And shimmering golden trees laugh as they catch autumn sun A treasury of diamonds glint across waters stirred by the gentle breeze From air pure as the snow covered peaks that glisten against blue velvet skies I am free to sing, to laugh, to know, I am fearfully and wonderful made in His image A child of the KING of KINGS, and I with Angels sing, His adoration and His Praise © Brenda V Northeast 2 April 2012
Beautiful melody permeating the air Instilling precious feelings of joy and Rapturous bliss that fills me with Delight and ecstasy as I listen to its Sweet serenade filling the airwaves Overwhelming my being with Nature's soothing music of the Glorious splendour of birdsong orion Nature
leotard atrocities may never have been led, down, the path of glory… had she not kissed the air in alphabetical designs,
Placid water, smooth surface untouched reflects the moonlight in silver bows. Breezy love songs weave glazed ribbon. Luna serenades. By Rhonda Johnson-Saunders, June 22, 2012 For Shanzi Poetry Contest (Joann Grisetti)
The Sea Waves Rise and Fall With the Dusty Wind And Tune the Un-tuned Nature. So much is hitherto Unsaid And Nature do speak With its melody Within this Universe. Some May Wonder How the Streams Resonate the Life's ebb and flow With subtle Changes in Tide. I can hear the Music too, It plays within me, So deep inside, Rises and Falls. Surely, It Rises and Falls. I can feel it within, On my pumping Heartbeats. Listen closely, silently, You will hear it Everywhere, There Too. Listen, now! Listen the thunder, Listen dancing raindrops, Listen the murmurs Of Spring water That floats There. Just listen, Nature is singing, Here, There, Everywhere. The Notes rise, fall With its Beat, Sung by God.
Him fountain of eternal joy from Where life is renewed, Ageing and life to be drained out, exit From the world is nigh, When suddenly comes a call from him Above, who regulates The flow of life through cycles of many Births and deaths, to stop. Suddenly sounds the drum from sky for the Second act of play, Life really awakens, drooping life Joyfully responds to the call; The wintry night desolate soon turns Into a joyous spring day, Undoing death, His rhythm and dance Rejuvenates life force. The flow of life from star to star Follows the rhythm of his dance, Freed from the confinement of matters Th'Earth finds salvation; With multitudinous fruits and grains and Flowers of myriad hues Her baskets of seasons are filled to the Till and brim and all. Thus she attains the fulfillment at the Touch of his dancing feet, The flow of life gushes up from death Following incessantly The pattern of his rhythm and dance, to the Tune of his golden flute; In the tornado of this violent dance, All that is withered falls. The triumphal arch of life is erected Midst the joyful tunes, And the journey of this spring meanders Towards the fountain again. This poem was originally written in Bengali Language by Rabeendranath Tagore. Its Bengali Title was Udbodhan. It was then translated into English by Mr. Rabeendranath Choudhury who expressed his wish that somebody from some other generation may attempt the rest so that all the English-speaking people may enjoy India's Pride. And here it is, slightly edited and recast in the true poetic form by P.S. Remesh Chandran, Editor, Sahyadri Books & Bloom Books, Trivandrum. Read more about our views on poetry and about our various poetry editorial services, kindly visit http://poetryeditservice.blogspot.in/
Good dreams, sweet dreams Visions filled with wonder— Flowing gently, While we deeply slumber; They take us far away While we take rest from the day, So make sure you close your eyes And close them tight; So you can see the visions of the night. Moonlight, soft light, Glowing through the windows, Shadows dancing Softly on their tiptoes— They pass the night away In a nocturnal ballet While the stars shine in a blazing silver-white; How beautiful, these visions of the night! Should we long for the coming of the setting sun, Simply because it heralds the day's end; Is it wrong if we want the moon to rise— Just so that, we can stop and close our eyes? Owls hooting, counting off the minutes, Crickets chirping, mini violinists; They set music for the stage As the world turns a new page And the lonely moon observes from her great height; She's watching all these visions of the night.
A beautiful sound to my ears is hearing the RAIN outside my window Drip drop nonstop coldezz and brezze thats the weather I like the most RIAN your back home miss you and the wind you blow Fall then winter what a combination to my soul love not lost, lost not gone I love when it RAIN because its a new beinning to my life RAIN, RAIN, RAIN don't go away I don't wanna say come back another day Time to bring out the coca and brownies and find a warm spot to gather and deliver the laughers and fun RAIN sure do bring family back closer to one another RAIN don't you love to be loved??? because I know I do and its never more then enough RAIN, RAIN its your turn to let it RAIN down on use so let it fall more and more on use:)
The spring rain Stirs my senses_my gain Soft pit-a-patter music_wind chimes Brings to my mind poems, lines, and rhymes Saturated these times By scents_sounds The soft tender fig leaves release their scent in rounds Air clean wisteria wafts as birds sings__heart bounds (Trois Par Huit but not on the list..Will enter under rhyme.)
Fogive me Mother, I have not forgotten your grace, That saved me with your celestial light from the dark, I still stand ready to walk one day in your place, Still ready for the training I will need before this path I embark, The rain still decends and with the worlds tears, it cleanses my soul, I pray for it to come, chant to you my song, and wonder why it will not fall, The earth still shares with me, and I learn from all that it knows, If only dearest Goddess you would listen to my calls, Dearest mother, after which I am named, do not take from me your gifts, The war readys near and you have not time enough, to find a new leader for us, I still walk your path as your namesake, Ma'mam I swear, I have not forgotten this, Without your guidence I am lost and in distress, Show me forgiveness, oh my dearest Mother that I bless... Forgive me my father, I have not forgotten your warmth, That gave me life, through your brilliant light, And saved me from the dead, cold dark, I still stand ready, as your child warrior of white, The wind still whispers to me ancient tales, I pray for the dreams and yet I cannot tell why they wont retain, The fire still burns bright within the sky, and I follow its ember trails, Dearest God, without your guidence I will fall in pain, Oh Father, do not steal your visions from me, Without them I cannot see, and my Guides and I cannot talk and agree, We send to thee, oh Father, an offering of sweet petal potpourri, Do not revoke me for I am one of those chosen three, Show me forgiveness, oh my dearest Father, and I shall act as your emcee...
I spy, a feather beauty bright With speckled blush on breast Basking within the thicket light Dancing round about her tiny branch Your fluttering sight beholding Within the snowy briar Bathing among the warmth Of the morning's golden glory Its brilliance your own crown of halo Like a sunburst that swallows Up the end of February's sigh As other feathers flusters zoom right by The ginger little fellows all dappled, scramble A merry-go-round within a flight Threading joyous song throughout your bramble As further flocks of scurry, hurry fly On parade teasing wings of faerie sprites A musical path of crisscross kites But, you little one are the daring, bursting forth With higher operatic songs, to startle and scold those spry Feather beauty bravely Upon your perch chest thrust out boldly Nonsense rhymes and a new found might Chase away the imps of finch and thrush And keep yourself the sunbeams for its light And bask yourself once more this time Among the drops of melting dripping snow And gather up all tis full Feasting here, where the wild wild berries grow But, in the end you are their kin And soon, my fairy feathered friend you too must go Out, onto twittering leafy stemmy stem and off... Into the yonder of the coming spring to rove
not a sound around a huge content of silence for real listeners ©Ellie Daphne van Stralen
The passion that comes When greeted by a storm Is nothing I can explain The rain, wind, thunder, and lightning Sends a frenzy of shivers through my body Making my every nerve numb As the light flickers And the thunder claps I can feel my heart beat faster The rain on the roof Like a drum Sends my body in a rhythmic dance The wind is my partner As I float around Above the ground Leaving my worries behind
Sitting in silence Out in the garden Pensive, but opened To the elements, Whispers and whistles Of life in concert. Slowly the tension Of daily burdens Ease, as I confer With the wise teacher You have given us Beauty of nature. CarolineCécile - 04.30.11
Joanna Davis The' jingle, jangle', of life's bustling pace is filled with concords of the human race. Towards and ending that's yet to unfold, for the next generation our story is old The tour we embark on, each step we take, is forever deciding the choices we make The limbo, two-step, waltz or the jive Will all play a part in how well we survive. If you listen carefully to every sound, you'll flow with the music, not stumble around When in tune with beat, each step you take, Becomes part of life's rhythm, make no mistake
SAPPHO'S CLIMB Is this Sappho to whom i speak Bride of Lesbos with the low forbidden voice She climbs the rocky mountains dangerous peak Calls in the blue daughters of twilight to rejoice in the bursting spring. She brings her songs and lyre Delights the camping soldiers with the fire Bold call-- vibrates soldierly repressed desires Sirens yearn --bid most valiant heroes return Desert-- slaves to familiar arms that hold them til they burn
The stillness of the loch, greeted with an amazing peace. It fulfils my long days mountain walk. A mirrored landscape of a breath taking mountain scene. One of the finest I've ever seen. A choir of tweeting birds breaks the silence. Its sweet music to my ears, natures beautiful cheer.
I've felt the warmest and newest sunlight at sunrise, and welcomed it gleefully with a thankful sigh at an early hour when nobody seems too alive... a cardinal with yellow feathers brought me a surprise! That gorgeous bird was surrounded by butterflies with colors brighter than wild flowers, swirled around them, to acccompany them to my silent doorstep and start his usual, daily hymn. "Thank him with a grateful, happy heart, look up and His image will appear among clouds; and although nobody has ever seen Him but Christ... believe that He'll reveal Himself to us!" And who will be the chosen ones from every present race... when this event will occur? Those who have kept the faith! So pray and with your gratefulness ever alive, give praise! That promise can be visualized by the multitudes that wait! "Thank Him with a grateful, happy heart, take along those good friends who have separated themselves from a worldliness, which kept them apart... they run to greet Him in the traquil evening to exalt His kindness!"
< International waters laying down a little folk thus if you could read my mind what love we can sell Entry For Francine Robert's Write Me A Lightfoot Poem I Chose If You Could Read My Mind G.L. All
Black LOVE My head rested on the pillow of her smooth skin. She opened the curtains of her being, My hands slip into indulgence while they explored her expansive dark skin. With half words she whispered moans, followed by screams of passion. With her shadow I bounded, as she swarmed waters of our endless longing passed. By Jay Johnson
Today my heart sings As the beautiful sun shines and meets rising moon
When the winter winds have stole their shivered breath, And warmer now, snow is shed, what lovely can bring when it sings; (From mountains deep to waken sleep) And gather the birds to their blossomed boughs, singing their elated woody sounds, (gently loitering in elder trees) speckled chirps in forest green Neath budding Sylvan mistletoe the earth is born-again, ages old returns this ditty of long ago (til rejoicing in leafy worlds)
I hear song amid the distant tree line of winged angels singing praise in sunlight prisms that flicker and white orchids of flowering lace in conscious mind I retrace each moment of spirit great call of soft water line pulsing and visions that ebb my soul one moment I climb out beyond this entrapment of body and flesh and roll infinite in spirit with dust and ash of breath for now my hands tightly folded in a moment of praise and request of divine heights I see climbing to entwine eternities nest I drift in words held closely of misty hymns fluttering light a breath a sigh a great release one moment a fraction in time ______________________________
******** Love is such a mystery I cherish it every day With You, Fore it has a life A life of long meaning In every since of the way So many feelings'... So many words That I can not say! They are such reflective Words.... My Love is here to stay! Poet Author Gary Fields
Our lives are like stories Like the ones found in books We all play our part in the plot But you were a bit more than just a character Babe, you were a chapter Chapters begin and end so quickly So fleeting, like the way we would flirt A heart-pounding beginning with a dry, cold close I'm saying good bye This is for every time I could have cried This is for every night that you forgot I exist But I haven't shed a tear on you and, boy, I'm not gonna try This is for every single mean thing you say This is me deciding not to pretend I'm looking the other way This is something I'm doing for me So good bye, cause no longer will I be the girl who is blind The chapter has sealed itself shut So sit in your room and play some mean songs about me I don't care, I know somebody with nicer hair As a kid you must have been the bully on the playground I'm done being the girl you give affection to and push down And I'm tired of standing on the sidelines while you try to run the show I'm gonna move on with my life Prove there are things you will never know There are things that books can't tell you Things only the heart can understand You don't have one of those So, pardon me, if I don't consider you a man The chapter has ended but I won't shed a tear The future's too bright for me to look back to darkness
open window's symphony rain falling softly, lightly crescendoes, pounds then again, diminishes each landing, a note - plip - on balcony's slate - plop - on wooden rail - ping - on metal roof - paapf - on leafy tree bird's flute sweet-swirling an octave above the rest meter drawn from distant church bells - clang - clang - clang - cars passing - swisssssssh - their wake the maestro's flourish thunder's deep rolls sforzando al fine sleep
roosters symphony nature amphitheater creek between two hills
Perched on a sturdy branch on yonder tree Pouring out your heart in sweet melody With a full throated birdsong rhapsody Filling me with such joyful ecstasy Do you sing sweetly to woo your lady Who listens somewhere on a nearby tree Her heart must surely melt at the beauty Of the song you sing so effortlessly Is your song a joyful testimony To honour nature's musical bounty Given to creatures from earth, sky and sea Whose music blesses all abundantly Or is it part of a profound mystery Heralding a supreme divinity Which pervades all silently and deeply O bird, I'll ever be grateful to thee
I needn't don a tuxedo nor pay a dime to enjoy a pleasing symphony! In my own back yard or lying abed at night I hear nature's harmony! The rolling bass of thunder, the strobe-bright lightning on a stormy night, Plus the rain pelting my windowpane, anoint me with pure delight! A chorus of crickets in the holly bush lull me to sleep in Morpheus's arms. I'm awakened at dawn by choirs of robins, not by strident clock alarms! The vagabond winds soughing through the ponderosa pine join the recital. Cicadas add a blend of percussion with castanet-like rhythm so very vital! A quartet of mourning doves serenade me with their soothing coos, (Interrupted by a pair of raucous blue jays injecting their atonal views!) I hear the water's hymn as it trickles o'er ancient stones in a nearby rill, And the delightful choral melodies of golden finch as they sweetly trill! From afar I hear the clarion trumpet call of elk echoing in the hills! The merging of these harmonic voices is one of life's gratifying thrills! How I relish the exquisite orchestration of His creatures in glorious recital. Oh, that I had the poetical acuity to give this symphony a deserving title! Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired © All Rights Reserved
At the top of this mountain My heart pounding Aware of all i possess Once upon a time in vacancy land, I close this book, It's last words read, The power, I watch as the waves spread Layering over the crowd Suffocating us all within unity The ground shakes As i lye here Ants colonizing over the surface of my flesh Dependent opon the vibrations of my skin Sand sinking further in my back Golden braids blend with the light The grass reveals orange Illuminiscent beauty, A land once vacant, Now taken over by the power of sound The waves descend, Ascending farther past this plain Clouds breathing Whispering echoes heard from this surface Over and over, Once again, We are counting on this feel We are losing the hours into the night The full moon beams patterns Never seen before, Only to be cherished for this night This moment in reality, A body of vibrations With ties so loosely, Woven in and out of structures Between the buried and me, We remain threads of certainty, In this moment, Dependent on one another, Through the body of the greater The body of the ocean, Counting on us to voice peaceful serenity To accomodate the loss some of us have never found I watch as stars fall on my face Burning my mind, for all that i once knew before Rising to greet the occassion, The waves pick me up and guide me through the music
October Georgia faintly whispers... Whistling gaps between the autumn days She plucks the blues in windy back wood fiddles Hums hymns of Evergreens across the open space And around the rustic corners Blackbird banjoes play Echo callings that cannot wake Towns and sleepy hollows forgotten Or shake the fields off of southern snow The bleeding heart of silent cotton Confederate clouds sky beards lazily wave Soothing horizons and the ears of God's children Preaching sounds that lead from Sabbath churches Fruit sweeter than the sweetest Dixie peaches October Georgia faintly whispers A simpler and easy life downhome tradition And all can feel it beneath their bones The tickle of her southern music
She cant express herself they push her away they lock her up inside her own mind if you look throught the hole you will see the depression shes in Shes just like cinderella locked up and hid away you have no idea look throught the hole without the key there is nothing left for her and me You wanna take away everything you just left her alone tell me it aint so tell me you wont leave her in there forever tell me you will let her out to be free and happy Shes just like cinderella locked up and hid away you have no idea look throught the hole without the key there is nothing left for her and me The new game you wanna play it wont work you beat her to the ground her mind has become her home theres no escape She walks alone her mind has become her home see what your missing she runs away but shes not allowed now its your turn to be locked up Shes just like cinderella locked up and hid away you have no idea look throught the hole without the key there is nothing left for her and me there is nothing left there is nothing left Nothing!
I dream of a woman's body and of wrapping it in my arms and watching as it gets slushy and as she progressively becomes more slutty. I'd like to play with it like a fishers price toy. And go fishing until I've reached the treasure. With a woman's body the fun is never really over and I'll keep scobba diving until I've seen all four walls. And pushed each and every lever. Some women than like to sever all ties and be the player. But when I dream of a woman's body I dream that time is frozen. And that this one sensuous moment could last forever. But I haven't found her body yet. I regret....
The orchestra of wind blowing Through lush green trees Builds from a whisper To a forte with ease. Lightning casts a blinding light In white, dangerous rhythm Thunder drums quietly, then boom In crescendo to the anthem. Maestro of land, sea and sky Of many sounds and sights Living, breathing, symphonies Singing lullabies at nights. And then to amaze us all Playing symphonies again Applause ripples through the valley And showers us with rain. The rise and fall of notes A rush of lightning rhapsody The concerto finally comes to rest In such peaceful harmony. © Hazel
Along the forest floor I creep, not wishing to disturb inhabitants living there. Treading on pine needles ankle deep, as if nature had placed a carpet, so I wouldn't disturb its sleep. The forest, having long been asleep, appearing drowsy, begins now to wake and from somewhere into the deep. A chorus of Coyotes, yapping in song, before denning up to sleep. Have I given them cause for fear? Are they telling me perhaps I don't belong, having sensed that I am near? Or another of natures marvelous ways, of making music for my ear. My occasional snapping of a twig has alerted a Fox Squirrel somewhere near. Perhaps in a nearby oak so big. It's chattering, as if at odds, over acorns being devoured by Blue Jays or a grunting pig. With snowflakes now floating from the sky my eyes are now directed overhead, and though not seen by eye, I hear sounds of passing Geese, as further south they fly. An occasional hissing and as I turn to see, somewhat apprehensive, but with no fears. There walking the trunk of a fallen tree, a Bobcat singing It's part, like others, A Capella, just for me.
Water makes its own music Notes that often go unheard Listen and you can here them As lovely as the spoken word Whispering a song of life It flows in quiet streams Bathing the earth with joy The sounds you hear in dreams Light as a new lover's voice Or with fevered pitch it pounds Rain falls with a varied score Against the window pane it sounds The ocean plays it own symphony Movements boisterous and loud With smooth and haunting moments But always beautiful and proud When you hear the sound of water Makes no difference when or where Open your heart to the music It always has its song to share 9/27/11 Barbara Gorelick
SEA TO SHINNING SEA, ...this is so intimate of time, as a first kiss of time is...so close of soul, so near, so dear of heart beat, so precious a rhyme that flows so intimately, deep of time, down by the Crystal Seas... ...this is so intimate of dreams, dreaming reality, as the Crystal Sea so reveals of destinies galore, sparkles, destined as the night light of the moon-glows of starry eyes, upon the waters, ...gazing ...seeing tranquility upon the waves... watching to the depth of a dream, and a sun-rise being so true... for underneath and within this a moon-lit poem of starry night eyes, down by the Crystal Seas, a vessel sets sail upon the deep...into a kiss of dawn... Sea to shinning Sea. mb(2011)
What do you want What is it that you need Forget your life envision Let it go and feel what you bring Whether it's wrong to them Whether it's right for you You're the solution to your own catastrophe You're the problem between the black and blues Love will find a way Have patience, be grateful Not dead, not hateful Quixotically underrated, and truly alive Occasionally in disguise For the devil tends to come uninvited, a mere surprise Fool yourself several times til you return again, Be true to your future heaven, respect the angels and dont forget they ride til the end Because when it's all over, there will be no time for debating Negative space for contemplating Mistakes titled space and time crumpled into a trash bin Creating a massive black hole Welcoming you with a familiar smile telling you to come on in Turn your back and lift within the light for the truth you may see isn't always true the future is potentially bright Like the angel Marley says Every little thing is going to be all right Fly away with the blue birds Over the rainbow out of sight They told you you amounted to nothing And now you're controlling the light
The murky rolling waves subject to the whims of the February's wind, far above the secluded lighthouse; the roaming aircrafts vanish through thick clouds, leaving behind a trail of hazardous vapors... but the geese and seagulls can't continue their existence! And still the sea offers them its promise, a distant shore untouched by man... by his greedy ways and incompassion, causing the extinction of many species; my reflection is based on fact : we can't survive without them! The stylish wild birds engage, as if striken by a sudden rage, in their frantic, daily dance over the marina, as I listen the melancholic lyrics of " Nessun Dorma "... the exquisite area of Puccini, which comes alive through the extraordinary voice of Bocelli! At four the fog thickens and shrouds the shoreline, the brass lampposts light up with reluctance... to shy away the presence of any ghost; I, in transitive joy, hide my treasure beneath the tides, hoping someone will find it and remember my work... long after my thoughts will be no longer alive!
Feelings in the early morn Here be I amidst the flowers Playing the poets role As soft leaves dancing on the breeze Lend magic to my soul Sweet music plays on the stereo As the birds give out sweet prayer That fills the air with harmony As joy is everywhere. A rose of pink and yellow hues Sends perfume out to me As I sit here in my comfy chair And listen endlessly To that softest silence all around That holds the many sounds In this garden swathed in bliss Such solace I have found. My working days all finished now I watch the day go by And melt within it peacefully There's just this morn and I This silence, how it soothes my soul And fills me with such power Intoxicating me with sweetness To bring my heart to flower.
These shades of grey all through the night always brings fourth enough light to where your right there in my sight. It's the colors of night, black and white with stars up high producing a forever light, helping to carry me forward with each passing day. For the colors black and white are both hot and cold, neutral too making them equal causing the starry night to turn grey, letting me see you as I'm suppose to. It's like the star afar, the twinkle of a diamond from the sky's of heaven that's so far away making way for our great escape.
The tired leaves flutter down One by one they kiss the fall At the mercy of the breeze They bow to cold winter's call... The apple trees seem barren But they gather strength for spring A spark of life is resting there Waiting until new life begins... Beneath our feet leaves murmur One last gift to end the year A symphony is minor tones Listen, their soft song to hear...
rain drops under shed conjuring bubbles dance with low sweet sound music
In a river marsh, where pondweeds and cattails grew in warm clime, the fair girl found a tall, black egret with whom she could have a chat; and was it the same one that her parents rescued from the wild? Among bulrushes taller than she actually was, the anxious girl told that bird one of her wishes: to hop on his back and fly as the happiest butterfly, and find her mom whom she remembered singing a lullaby. " Take me to my mom!" she begged the wading bird. " Nobody ever takes me there to visit her" she exclaimed. " She may be miles away from here...way past the blue ocean!" He replied with little confidence, lacking a sense of emotion. The fair girl kept on begging, until the black egret finally nodded. " Thank you, kind bird...now let's fly and depart from this marshland!" So the two of them ventured into a cloudy sky expecting no rainfall... not until they had gotten there safely and heard that sweet mother's call..
Seasons come Seasons go Some prefer to stay numb Some prefer nights that stay aglow Not me I like to be The one who breathes The tears And cries the air we fear I live for the chorus I'm the one Whose laugh runs Through stillness And breaks the stiffness I wish to be surrounded By ones who turn black to red Our laughter mingles Senses tingle Our voices join You and me In harmonious glee Raucous as the sea We live for the chorus
I saw spiders and thought of you Confidently I knew you were thinking of me too Thousands of miles and states apart Somehow I was still drawing a heart The treacherous beats kept silent But those lips got violent I tossed up the Cure and thought about the night I wished we weren't so pure Not over done, we flew straight Not a grave in sight for you and I Months ahead bound steady Everyone says its hard But i've seen every card This ace is guaranteed to beat Never once did I cheat How's that for a first time commitment When you come back we'll see if the bet I placed doesnt catch me The spider or the web? Remember it's all in your head
What makes me get up is the strongest coffee cup, and the enthusiasm to live a full day: either indoor to write, or outside to play. Watching movies is fun, but laziness stores fat in my belly, sitting on the coach, eating potato chips and drinking cola; junk food won't harm my body if used moderately... is there a sunnier, warmer place than California? What wakes me up is the noise of a robin tapping on my foggy window with his tiny beak; if he's hungry, he'll flap...if he stands still, it means it'll rain, hoping I'll invite him in and warble another tune he learned down the creek. Vacations are far away, late July on my calendar of active man... choose North or South, snow or sunshine? Go skiing, or play gulf all day then dine at the nearest restaurant, but my choice would be zesty Italian. Isn't my lifestyle exciting and busy, not envying the rich, or resent the luxuries they can afford along with caviar and champagne? My pleasures are simple and inexpensive, like the sandiest beach... you can come along and experience the thrill of an enjoyable day in slow lane.
Perch on my shoulder and then sing me your sweet song. I shall sing you mine.
I alone stand vigil over the memories of my past; I alone feel the weight of them, feel what it is to be the man that past has created. I stand, alone, beneath the stars and the moon, contemplating all, as I ever have done; it is only now that I've accepted that's who I am meant to be; the writer, the poet – I stand with the rest of the dreamers. I sit, alone, among the instruments of music, playing on and on throughout my life; music flows into and through my soul, and I am now and will always be, the musician and the bard – I sit with the rest of the drummers. I travel, alone, with the remembrances of love, searching always for that one true other; it is only now that I've accepted that even without one such, I can live; the romantic, the sentimental – I travel with the rest of the passionate. I escape, alone, in the pages of a good story, reading for ever and anon; books speak to me, engage me, entertain me, release me; the storyteller and the listener – I escape with the rest of the readers. I will fight, never alone, next to my brothers and sisters in arms; it is with all of myself that I've accepted my duty, and who I will always be; the soldier, the guardian – I will fight with the rest of the Marines. I dance, run, walk, laugh, alone, in the rain, let loose my being in the deluge; the storm's fury and glory somehow become my own; the drenched, the soaked – I do all of this with the rest of the rain lovers. It is only now that I've accepted that I have become who I was meant to be; who I want myself to be. I alone know what it is to be myself, Andrew James Sprouse, scion of the sea and of the past, of the word and the sword. But I do not alone know what it is to feel alive; to be exactly who you are, who you're meant to be. I do not alone know the truth of pain. None of us stands truly and utterly alone. Every single one of us walks, arm in arm, with those who share your experiences, your beliefs, your thoughts and your lives. But you, alone, know what makes your heart free, what makes your fire ignite and your essence true; you alone know the visage and touch of your soul.
It filters through the Venetian blinds of that open window, to give me an early wake-up call... no, it isn't unpleasant after all to come from under the warm covers to catch that glow! And although it's a little chilly out on the balcony, I don't shiver in my long robe, which feels so velvety; no, I wouldn't miss the sun's greeting over there... when the seagulls land on the sand and stagger! I may feel sleepy but willing to witness the aural splendor, which is far greater than a scarlet sunset of a calm evening; I can hear the fluttering sounds of the leaves that revitalize my dormant feeling... then, I will bow down and revere Him whose love is the eternal source of wonder!
Hands awaken! Speak out! Answer to sacred shouts, subterranean whispering, to stars above rooftops— thread sunlit branches with the chattering of a thousand leaves. If fluxes and urgencies of confusion or death should drawn you into your self-box, I say, remember when one constructed self-prison fell away. However you helped this forward, do more of the same. Be rain-hands, weeping, steeped in earth fragrance. Be fingers in blossom, faces turning upward, loves innumerable, rough-cut bedazzled— unafraid to be splayed open. Be pocketed hands, released to the welcoming wind— multiplying there in mid-air, riding the four directions. Be hands of smoke and fire, descending and ascending like ragged bird-song— effulgent, double-charged with surprise and now even with mock surprises. Start at the beginning, where you are. Don't be satiate with loll-lolling recede wave's tide, retreat back and back into yourselves, until grown utterly intellectual and lumpish! Now, you Human Being—you come awake also! Sweep the furnishings from table. Upend the table lawlessly. Bring the muscular, fleshy, feminine against the masculine and muscular. Bring the masculine to the feminine. Bring friend to enemy, estranged neighbor to the confidant. In a dance of pressing hands, let subtle conversation play. Ring all the tiny bells. Stir the King and Queen of Remembrance. In over-arching restraint, holding back one iota, so pure notes sound— bring sunburst, sphere and harmony. Make your entire body a listening board forming therein—tender shape around which love seed unfolds infinite spaces and then… Spring awake! All to better dreaming where hope and faith are undashed, not this dying. O, hear me now! Hands, every which one of you, with every human—never again sleep, never abandon!
The rose It shines As big as stars at night My tears have created this miracle But how I'm nothing Imma mistake My soul It sparkles As a boy gives me love As I have never felt before It's like A melody Inside me The Hummingbird It's harmony Is like nothing I've heard before Is this what earth is? A melody A harmony Never heard
I am Zeus the supreme deity of the Greeks and Romans, who show their loyalty; and they honor me and worship me in glorious temples built expecially for me... and they abound from Asia to Sicily! Nobody can suppress the chant of the Muses... that I am the only God of the sky, and thunder and lightning I fling with fierceness to those defying me with an envious eye; victory was mine when I fought the mighty Titans! In Greece and Italy, you find sculptures and slaters with my ram-horned and aurel-wreathed head; my worshippers see in me a god and friend, and they invoke me with an honorific sound! I am Zeus the supreme deity, and I ride my golden chariot pulled by four horses that gladly and speedly obey me; and through forests and grasslands they take me to Mount Olympus to oversee my entire universe!
Bare branches clicking together Winter snapping it's fingers To a song composed by Nature Sung by winds garbed in White robes of snow Choral composition Season of transition Music swirls all about us Yet…given not To Man to know A song unheard… Except by Angels To mere mortals E'er unknown Of Winter days that in most marvelous ways Makes one want to …write a poem…
Sitting by a moss-covered tree illuminated by sunlight at three, he plays the very song that his anscestors played yesterday; remembering what the peaceful and wild land was and will be... by accepting the fact that his tomorrow is decided by destiny. He can spend an entire afternoon playing a hand-made flute color chestnut, as every breeze-lulled maple tree seem to vanish in the increasing, grey fog; and if his music with shrilling, melodic notes is a devise to find his stranded dog, he will have the best friend to guide him safely home through beams of twilight. Play, handsome warrior the melody you forefathers played on those efflorescent days underneath the same oak tree to celebrate their free manhood; and resembling them with long hair and piercing, dreaming eyes, you don't expect that intruders from other lands would compromise your happiness. Foxes, grizzly bears, coyotes and buffaloes hear your music and come around to peek: they know that you wouldn't hurt them and they wonder who's the Great Spirit; little they suspect that they will be hunted down by the new-comers from the East; be their friend, warrior...promise them protection when they'll encounter the Beast. All that you behold today, may be gone tomorrow making you weep, grasslands and prairies will tun into towns and cities to make way for greed; and blood will flow abundantly on meadows where only wildflowers grew... devastation everywhere with mother's screams by red rivers not so blue. You must have had dreams of what was coming with a spectacle so gruesome, take heart...your tomorrow is decided by destiny, pray that you won't be harmed; continue playing your flute by remembering everything that you deeply loved, and if you'll die fighting heartless men, I'll remember that look so lonesome.
The golden silence melts away, and joy un-named From the phantom pipes exults me For no silence can so rhapsodized and doubts tamed That man deserves better glory. And what if sin could, levelling us, permit this to remain Tell me then what is the eternal antidote of our pain? Like distant peal of evening bell, a plaintive song The unknown angels could also sing And golden glow the light divine where seraphs throng Chiming solitude's shadowy wing Where my soul beneath the bough of your academy ignites By the rapture that your balming melody in me excites What do you wise man of shadowed boughs tells my heart now What deep remembrance from me gone When music was language to which all wisdom bow And by songs you spoke Eden's tone And I the Adam now understood the truth you sweetly tell The prophecy recovered while kept in trance under your spell. No bird then you are, sweet singer from times afar Too sage your purpose tells the hope The griots spoke, ere magis found their vision's star Song beyond silence giving scope To the word that instant wandered and did not move, and no eye Nor I could describe that form, elusive in the brimming sky Great philosopher, wisdom teacher, nightingale That from solititude drops pearls For which I sell all promise other, so prevail Your fragrance to unbroken worlds Where there still perhaps the universal language can be heard In as sweet as tone as this cataract of hymn from a bird. I love to learn, but in the aura of such light I retain nothing but pure joy And while in ecstacy yet claim I a full sight Absolute and with alloy For music makes of faith a better candle for the darkness And faith brings truth where only faith can spark our human hardness For up and down around me move a district loud With the sweet notes of prophecy Yet no one lingers, no footstep halts in the crowd As men pursue their destiny By choice, deaf to their own healing, and wealth so beyond compare The peace so freely given in a song filtering the air.
There is music in the wind it blows so softly and sweet; humming at the top of the hills and all the trees swing to it There is beauty in the water when it flows from the mountains to the valley splashing on its path from boulder to boulder, reflecting the sun like a flawless ruby There is beauty in the morning; the fog hangs in the air like incense burning drops of dew hang from the leaves and sparkle like diamonds set in eaves There is music in the evening the sounds of roosting birds fill the evening and in the sky, just over the horizon, a yolk-colored sun hastes to its place of dwelling
I love the symphony of the flowers which composes itself after mid-winter showers; though silent to ear, it rings loud and clear in the soul which holds God's creation dear.
Music in the mountains, Tune of trees, a rustling fife. Raindrops falling into streams, Purity of nature sustaining life. Music in the mountains, Symphony of echoing instruments. Water in the forested fountains, Sound of nature bonding elements.
I kiss it as it kisses me back....from my red hair...once dry now soaked... to my clothes... playin in it...listenin to the melody as it slashes the leaves....as it tickles the walls....as it makes its way...for it attention it calls...RAIN ballad to the soul who cant speak just yet times come that experience wont let u forget... symphony so bold...its like a whisper untold.... RAIN
My sweet sojourn has sung the hum of song in wind.... For all the forest sings, beauteous ring most melodious on the wings of 'poor' creatures, feathered beings; thy speckled chatter to shade the dappled moss-bank, (so) silt on the fringes of bubbling brook, Always glory to the pledges of earth, with little nest-homes on the dimples of life.... how full the fields of melody-manna, the gossamer fattened worm, in early morn, grubs abound for fledgling mouths; To feed the future with tender sound, quick cries, chirp-warble proud; the robin clucks and red wing blackbird singer atop the boughs (prima-donna of sky) warble-wind chimes ---- and shooting 'pews!" (what kind news!) and often: 'mews!' The clouds shall lift and sun will come and fly to warmer climes; children upon the bright winds, as feathered Lords wide with diadem hymns, Perched on the cottage banks, the hills at thy back sing with new-earthy hues; the rainbow has found a home one mount to each, how gold glitters in the folds of lilting noon..... the lilies upon the land sway, The day is windswept from a lofty angel breath, to tether new-life ripe with melodies met; I have come in my druid garb, and meshed in the weave of worlds filled with God's smile; prophet of the wood..... (to fulfill as Wordsworth would) I welcome all to my school.... in the easy cool, and sit in shade ----- observe the warmth of the world, Christ has made me ----- a hope to smile with all of you; My strength is only as long as you all (shall sing with me!)
Music, sweetly flows- Lovely melody soaring- Harmony blends in.
You see clouds that is the outside But the sunshine my heart has bled onto the stormy canvas of the insides, the rays of yellows and paintings, red from day to day These are cleansed and erased from turmoil and sorrows by the memories of fears relived It always manages to get in the way I've swallowed many tears over the years But soon the stage will be set For if the backdrop becomes too soggy or the wipers too worn out and groggy There will be nothing left to stop my night from turning 'to day My soul will shine and break free That's why every night before I sleep I watch weather forecasts and dream Of singing 'bout promise in the ears of liberty I just can't wait for what tomorrow might bring
Swallowed up into false nothingness around, Captured only by my thoughts with no sound, My mind wondering throughout the land, No music to spare, not even a marching band, Swiftness of stream, within walking distance, Captures my thoughts, breaking my stance, I break away and chase after calming echo. Not knowing what I would find or know. My soul relates to natures swishing flow. Heart beating softly, in rhythm as I go, As if, my spirit is writing music so sweet. Picturing the notes, expressions of the beat, Welcoming environments of musical twitter, Spread outward in view, of natural glitter. Written for Sponsor Paula Swanson Contest Name Breathe in the silence
For years I had desired to write a thing of beauty, yet beauty, as always, escaped me… for beauty as I found through experience and misery, is merely the plaything of the beautiful: the acrimonious agent of their delicate deceit, invoked: "La lumière des étoiles d'ambre…" unattainable to all, reluctantly fey, betrayed by our delusion and indefinable inertia, invoked: "La lumière des étoiles d'ambre…"
Ready or not it is time to arise She has been busy all night and it is time to close her eyes She lives nearby high in a tree Her rise and sleep cycle is an alarm clock for me She has been hunting all night and it is time to rest She is feeding her owlets and tending to their nest I hear them noisily demanding their food they must be an adorable feathered brood Then as dawn breaks in the sky Mama owl proclaims it is time to say bye She calmly sings her song acoustic I awake hearing her music This natural cycle repeats every night She tells me it is time for me to sleep as she takes flight
They drown in each other, Inhaling immensely as they take the plunge, Plummeting down as the bubbles rise, Getting lost in the elegance. Ascending to the sky, Twirling in a dance of satisfaction, Breathing heavy as they break the surface, Drawing in life, Before cascading under the rays of the sun. Like a graceful waltz They breach only for a moment, To replenish their lives, As they become one.
The ides of March have gone and come. Still, strains of vernal music sound dumb echoes, in my ears, of early times, of other years: an orchestral swell of oboe, flute, and violin. A feel of warming wind, the scents of orange blossom, daisy, buttercup, and clover: are those days over? My recent times are flavored with metallic clank, with oily odor -- eyes fatigued by newsprint and small-screen glare. And music: the blare of claxon-horn and siren-wail; noise which issues from a box borne on shoulders through the street; an empty, but compelling, quite insistent loudly pulsing beat. I welcome all new, though slight, intrusions. Pale sensory perceptions bring back images, now faint, once acute, of places, times, and pleasures past. Faded sights and faces and shadowy, unquantifiable pursuits evoke a time when love, like freedom, didn't cost a dime.
Nothing is more delightful and simply remembered by a sweet word... than a walk through a green forest, to find a remote spot on a low hill and put those daily worries to rest; the anxious eyes long for that vision of a last, unforgotten season: the gentlest rain which brings a familiar fragrance from other lands... when spring hides its flowers! Whenever the lonely poet dreams, his unerring hand is quicker that the flowing streams: the distant vison of his flourishing thoughts is carried to unseen places; and all he wishes is to feel a sublime peace... when spring hides its flowers! The wishful child ,led by his mom ,searches the leaf-covered paths with a sorrowful glance, even the robins and blue-birds can't confort him, or give him some kind of hope for his unleashed whim; and will he relish the joyful promise of each year, as a gentle hand caresses his blonde hair... when springs hides its flowers from his zealous eyes, and one of those adolescent dreams unexpectedly dies? I, once, was like him: curious,cheerful and so restless: seeking surprises in unexpected places... finding myself in front of simple wonders that couldn't be perceived by the adult mind, as if they were another mystery, not the creation of God... when spring didn't hide its flowers!
The trees are made of feathers and sticks The sun is made of golden cheese The moon was made of whipped cream A place where the water was made out of blue Kool- Aid The grass was made of gummy green strings There was no houses and no place to hide A place where a boy ate the sun A place where the Moon swalloed up the world A tragedy that melted and turned to liquid No one could swim in the sea No one could tan underneath the branches A world where time stood still and the hours were long A place where humans never existed "Please Try to Go Beyond Earth Hour" Treat earth like something you imagined when you were a kid a place where these things happened and you could be safe. Pick up your trash and clean up your yard! after all this is your world too :)!
UNSUPPORTED CODE Take the threads of my being. weave them wind them around and entwine love in those knots then snip snip seize them apart before the poison seeps in before the time takes away what is sweet and what is mine UNSUPPORTED CODE
upstairs in my room i put my ear to the floor only to hear my parents screaming the argument is about me my mom yells "look at what your son has become!" Heartless, unintelligent, fake... my father replies back "hes your son, hes your own pile of dirt!" whenever my family is out together we act happy like these fights never happen but every night they do and i cant tell anyone i have to act like someone else in order not to get introuble What have i become?...hurt..dishonest..will this feeling dissapear? I will drag you down and i will make you hurt.. I lift my head from the floor still hearing the angry voices of my parents i found an old needle, and i dug it into my skin the next morning i go downstairs with a cut off shirt on, and baseball shorts My father grabs my arm "what is this boy?" i yank my hand away from him and i sit down on a chair "its nothing sir" my father repeats "are you cutting yourself?, why?" i grab my bookbag and i disapear out the door My father runs outside pulling me to the ground "are you cutting yourself boy?!" he screams i say "no sir i just scrapped my arm on my dresser" My father grabs my face "you better not cut yourself again" he replies He hits my face, as i lay on the ground. I didnt wake up until i felt something wet drip on my face it was raining and dark outside i run into the house and into the bathroom looking into the mirror i see the bruise that was left on my face My father wasnt home and my mother went to bed "everything goes away in the end right, if i let him have it all, my moms pile of dirt?" I sit upon my liars chair full of broken memories i cannot repair I become someone else, but the old me is still right there if i could start again a million miles away i would keep myself i will find my way
a triquint The night so long with dreaded suspense and pain the darkness augments. Morning circumvents the silence. Grope! A mist of dew inspires common sense dread retreats in self-defense. Morning circumvents the silence. Cope! As birds break forth with triumph intense, stirring light and breeze commence. Morning circumvents the silence. Hope! "courage to change the things I can" 3
The ease with which we catch a cold, Or hold, or up, or ball; A numbers game in nature that, Bar none, affects us all. Gravity and friction Games that everyone can play. No need for predilection, Don't let rules get in the way. Sit back and close your eyes As Mama Nature calls the roll, And contemplate the searing Mathematics of the Soul.
Past the grain fields clanks the old train, and it goes beyond the fertile valley; then it vanishes amid the swaying hills, not too far from the massive castle built by the Normans, and it's pelted by rain, washing the pollen off the golden yarrows. I saw many wild kids playing with the yarrows, laughing and hurling them at the passing train; these rascals weren't intimidated by the rain as the scorching sun reappeared in the valley... reaching the steaming walls of the massive castle, all robins were happy to take flight over the hills. Somehow the lilacs survived on the eastern hills, and quick relief eased the discontented appearance of the yarrows, their drooping stems struggle to stand erect by the stately castle only to be brought back to life by the whistling train; but many were taken away by the flood straight to the valley... they were too feeble to challenge the fury of the rain. Some occasianal sunray invited the quails to defy the rain, as if harmony had a chance to return to the misty hills; and they fluttered their wet wings and departed from the valley. By instinct, throngs of butterflies flocked to the joyful yarrows; people returning from the big city saw that spectacle from the train, dreaming of a quiter past life inside the protective walls of the castle. Falcons were the quickest and safest messangers of the castle, they carried letters in their strong beaks despite of the rain; and they never were distracted by anything, but they were faster than a train... the journey was long...many days not soaring over the andulating hills, or watching the dames of many charms picking up lovely yarrows; and those gentry faces missed their adored falcons gone to the remote valley. The early-risers, peasants with callous hands, left the semi-dark valley; and climbing the rocky slopes abundant with olive groves that led to the castle, and walking they captured meadows swarming with awakening, gleeful yarrows... remembering how sad and miserable they were being soaked by the pouring rain! They sought shelter, but no tree stretched their brenches like they protected the hills; oh, they didn't mind the whistling and the clink-clank of the early morning train! Valley subsidized to darkness, finally clears of the boring rain; castle guarded by the falcons disappears in the tenebrous hills... yarrows fall asleep and cannot hear the whistle the distant train. Entered in Jared Pickett's contest, " The Sestina "
Twilight embraced the peaceful valley, While the crisp bite of fresh fallin' snow, Clung cloyingly to our hands and cheeks, Quietly christening us with its wintry show. A romantic ballet of Nature's Grace, Played out before our wondrous eyes, As shimmering snowflakes and gusts of wind, Danced; wheeling and spinning across the starlit skies. 'Come join us!', they called, lost in their ballet of grace, As they spun and weaved, before melting in our hair, Laughing, we caught the wild merrymakers on our tongues, Tasting the music and dance that lingered in the cold air. Our warm breath, frosted the air as hand and hand we walked on, The brush of sweet snow still caressed our lips and tongue, We passionately kissed, while snowflakes danced 'round our heads, singing, 'Happy Valentines Day!', to all that joined in their song! ©Jane Richer 11/02/2012
More delliquit than a flower Stranded on an island of thieves Rising up from the ashes of the burning trees The constant smell of burning flesh We laid down to rest The crisp feel of the leaves Bark burning at a raging speed But our eyes are to blind to see What I feel is no less That would be your guess
A sprinkling of symphony lingers my ears As though seducing me to move on its rhythm. It had a distinct taste; which intoxicated my mind It had a distinct scent; which intoxicated my spirit. A aroma of ecstasy spread in my body For I was amidst the mysterious nature. I had joined it in the 'Dances of the Wind' My lips had only one chant to repeat My body had only one position to hold. For I had joined the exotic nature in reverences. The Time has beheld its count and Wind the flow. The Sun has beheld its light and Moon the Glitter The Life has beheld its genesis and Death the havoc. All the elements seems to pause for the moment. All the work seems to pause for repose. For it was the Time, all join together to summon the Almighty. .................................................... Written way back in 1998, just as i was being introduced to new perception of life, linking the spiritual self with the physical self. This was also the time when i was hooked to Newage Music by Vangelis, yanni, and few other contemporaries, some times inspiring me to compose poetry on their compositions. Some what modern sufistic touch and feel to whole poem. ..................................................... .musafirs
How does one know for sure that spring has finally arrived... by the aromatic perfume that fills the warm air, or by the cheerful melody of a bird not being recognized? So why doesn't anyone step out and wander freely on paths to meditate a season so mild and fair? Written for Francine Roberts's contest, " Wow Me In Five Lines"
Matzos slip into their mouths Voices project merrily...tonight is The night of Unleavened Bread Lamb and other delicious Meats and veggies... satisfies our taste buds What a splendid night it is! Wine's brewin' in our wine cups The dinner table - creates pleasant talk During this meaningful night There's moments of quietude When it comes to de-leavening our lives But, there's moments of gladness On this night of peacefulness Cheesecake - a delightful treat to savor During this night of pure bliss
The birds are hamming They tweet, tweet, tweet, sing, sing, sing A precious music
Like a meter I count the lyrics- That journey about my heart. From battles they all converge For truce they settle minds with ease The strings! Rhythmical in nature- Are caressed but pressured by sticks. The wind! From the east you sing To the west my heart dance Loving the rhyme as trees swish Quick my mind follows the song That fashions the treaty of love To sing, end of my baffling thoughts
It does not cast a shadow, Nor does it judge, mimic, or belittle, But it is full of emotion, When expressed, time stands still, Ubiquitous to society, And inspired by nature, More valuable than gold, But cannot be spent, More real than the stars, But cannot be seen nor touched, It can calm the most incorrigible of people, And create passion in the most stoic souls, It remains the same, But is constantly changing, And is older than life, But will never age nor die, To move by it is beautiful, But to create it is a gift from God…
The verdant leaves of the cherry trees rustle as a wagon loaded with corn rides deeper into the wide ruts of a rustic road, hungry ruminants wallow by a limpid lake; cheerful kids wave and wagtails warble at my unexpected arrival... suddenly my Dalmatian barks. O jovial Autumn incite my surprise, and renew my decadent mood! The grapevines rest while giving off their fragrance, and this weary steed must rest in tranquility to continue this journey... before he pants-up grief; and for mine and his sake, let him get some sleep! A sanguine sky promises the loveliest sunset ever seen by me in this rustic Vermont landscape; thrushes sing with me to embellish my harmony, not minding the crickets that conspire in the hickories, or the fluttering hawks that return to their nests.. Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci
The sun's devouring rays Reveals an astounding sensation against the marvelous universe It caresses the earth with warm hugs and gives life to the motionless gaze Its auras are above nature's designating exteriors Its swaying beauty is beyond Earth's inhabitants, deserving my praise It treasures the sky with joyousness and forms swarms of jeering birds The sighs of the wind attracts clamoring herds The sun's appalling flames Unshackles a zealous tune that reveals the Earth's accord It embraces the atmosphere with remarkable claims Unraveling my curiosity; my ears are pleading to hear more, so I go forward! It prizes the ocean with eagerness and forms swarms of screeching seagulls The strength of the waves draws in scorching souls The sun's unattainable rays Motivate life to trail on till its duty is done Its auras seep through the whirling sky and strays Embracing ambitious love like a father and son
A city made from nothing, on a lagoon with shallow waters to keep the invaders away ; still today those bell chimes ring out to remind everyone of her victory at Lapanto...when the ships brought back the banners of the defeated enemy! Venice's splendor is seen everywhere... even in San Marco's Square, swarmed with pigeons and visitors, where the Venetians' genius built a splendid Basilica reminiscent of their wealth and power...making Venice: the Queen of the Sea! Down the Rialto Bridge and the Bridge of Sighs, gondolas row...carrying visitors and lovers; the artists seek inspiration for their works, while their stunned eyes are delighted by beauty, which pulls them out of virtual reality! Intrigue and mystic fascinated many a devoted soul, and the entire city echoed with delirious voices breaking the silence of midnight; violins and lutes played in palaces and in gondolas on the Grand Canal... did anyone stare at the brilliant stars? A masquerade was an invitation to love, all disguised themselves behind a mask; many were seduced by passions with haste... as Venice revelled in their merry-making, celebrating a glory that knew no ending; and when it declined, it was deserted by all! Venice's splendor seems eternal, not diminishing through ages; her fame ever-increasing and each stone can tell a different story of people who partook of her greatness, leaving a legacy we regard as our own...
Birdsong twitters Sunlight flickers in and out of clouds Weaving messages with light You resonate with sound Chirping virtuoso Eco vibrato on a pleasing wind A melody to serenade my ears As wings glide legato Wings flap staccato From bird's eye view Your chorus chimes I beg reprise ...
Please be quite! Pond music starts at night If you're loud, the music will be gone The many singers are each repeating their song Yet the syncopated notes are where they belong Frogs have a musical brew that swings Listen, hear how it rings Nature Sings! Submitted by: Charles Sides For the "Night Melody" contest Aug.20, 2012
I love to watch birds in flight- Wheeling and zooming in their delight, Flying high then low, as though they knew They were free to do whatever they wanted too. I love to listen to birds in song, Warbling and whistling-never did wrong, Just being themselves and acting so happy- Without remembering their Mammy or Pappy. I love to watch birds walk and strut- Puffing out their chests and holding their heads up As if they knew God had a perfect design for them, A special gift of beauty and song just from Him. God has His birds sing their songs for Him- He makes their beauty and voices safe from sin, He makes them so natural and free To be themselves and show us how WE could be.
Then those your vibrant eyes, shining with a soft tremulous light. Luminous and deep, deeper than any ocean or blue outback sky. as i may have tried to tear my gaze from the scorch of our promising unison, even so for the sake of dearest life, so transfixed. Igniting within me a passion that burns throughout and never ebbs. The heat of it so high in sexual potency, Then the shimmer in yours eyes & your cheeks begin to gleam, as your heart begins to thump to a certain beat, your blood rushing up towards your mind, making your thoughts haze & your decisions vague. Recognition follows, like a deeper knowledge of neither name nor age Some awareness of something elemental. A desire like no other, pacifying some other deeper demon inside me. May i have this tango
My rage builds up inside This is the face that cried The body that died The world that has no more space This is the hand that bruised your face The blood I taste The depression deep inside my soul These are the hands that are so cold The hate that can't unfold The life placed upon Thee' These are the eyes that cannot see The things that should not be The shame that was placed This is the mistake that cannot be erased The time we have left to chase The words that were spoken too clear These are the ears that cannot hear The friend who is no longer near Shayla Dendinger
Spring, flabbergast me with your scented flowers: show me the gracious lilies and flaboyant tulips as they spent their time brightening lovers's eyes; yes, open up your garden where the red sun dips, and the voluptuous lovers hug and passionately kiss... rising in me a desire that takes me back to youthful days! Down the rusty path, flanked by pines and fir trees, the blue-jay parched on the lowest branch, is quite and waits; at exactly twelve o' clock he starts warbling as a siren wails... we have become friends, and he inspires me to write melodies, but without a pencil and music sheet I must retain those notes into this active brain, until I get home and write them down while he shelters himself from he misty rain. Spring, flabbergast me with your scented flowers: show me the stately sunflowers and the wild roses growing taller than any plant seen in the wind-swept wilderness as the mariachis play their song to console a marchioness sitting in a breezy corner; these aren't musicians found in a parade, they are peasants with colorful costumes... soon someone will say," Alla manana, Segnora. " as the calm returns on the shore. 4/16/2012
Oh beloved dear one , sing to me your song its caress to rest my ears to fall thereon the tenor of its soothing balm unto my heart from its intonation wish never I to part Break the mold beloved to the high exalt sing about true justice compared to mans default take true aim with words designations mark lift them from their misery with the divine spark Your skill of composition compliments of sound where breathes a truth in stories made renown highlight their intentions for the cause you wish effect pointed the veracity that leads to circumspect Take elements of history a tale told in note outline in detail its morality in wrote expressed is your ability the mind to mesmerize where realities of men's behavior brought to size Accompany with melody instruments design harmonize those tones and tales ultimately fine your songs can lead one to the right conclusions break the chords wrapped with mankind's illusions Oh beloved Bard your ballad sets me a sail a chronicle of joy or those that we bewail from you shall I never turn away my ear its narration and aria brings recitals near COPYRIGHT © 2012 C Michael Miller Via Duboff Law Group LLC
A frog in a pond Plays a deep bassoon-like song Clouds of mosquitoes fly by But not for too long
Somewhere, someplace, someone is playing a guitar. Sitting alone, in a room, in an unromantic city. Somewhere, someplace, someone truly honest, sublime birth of a phoenix renaissance of hope where the snow piles up and the sun becomes a clouded pimple. Somewhere, someplace, someone is alone in an unromantic room. Believing that no one hears, or cares. Never caring, never hoping, someone is playing six strings to the beat of the oversoul.
If all the things I have right now were taken away and I had nothing left I would fantasize about nature and how beautiful it is. I would imagine that I was swinging on an old tire swing in front of a river. In the river were little ducks and I would go feed them. In my life right now I don't think of nature that way. I think if my freedom was taken away I wouldn't take it for granted the way I do and I would know how much it actually means to me. I would also imagine my family getting together for my family reunion. We would usually have them in September. My aunt would make her fancy white cake topped with chocolate drizzle. My grandma always made her jello cake; I still don't know exactly how she makes it. The others would bring KFC, at least three boxes full of chicken and fries. All the kids would sit together and play games and laugh as we threw food at one another. We would have a game where the kids lined up from age 1 to age 13 and you would get to pick a prize appropriate for your age. I would always get stuck with bath soap and tooth brushes.I take a lot of ordinary things for granted and I think a lot of people do but they won't admit it. Sometimes I even take life and my freedom for granted. I think that if maybe we wouldn't take things for granted like the trees or our freedom that maybe our lives would be a lot better and things wouldn't happen the way they do. I have lived long enough to know that it won't happen, nothing happens the way you want it to. Just a few months ago I lost my grandma and I couldn't do anything to help her. I took all of the things she did for granted and now that she's gone I miss her. She used to make this tuna casserole, it was just amazing but I never told her just how much she meant to me. I think if I would have told her that more then I wouldn't feel so guilty or depressed that she is gone. I never told her what I needed to. If people could use the words of John Lennon "Imagine Peace" and actually think about it then maybe the world wouldn't have to end because there wouldn't be any enemies, murders, drugs, none of the bad things would have happened. If we could have just accepted everyone around us for who they are and known that one day we all have to die, we could have stepped back from it all and said I had a good life and I don't regret any of it. I think it's no good to step back from something and tell yourself that you could have done something to prevent it.
The starry illumination reflected upon the glazed Christmas snow, which had fallen much earlier as silent children waited with anticipation, not showing a frown; they wished to see Santa's sleight flying low: would he do away with this old tradition? This was the night when angels choruses would be heard over a land waiting for His birth; then the shepherds saw many wonders, now silence hushes the white, solitary fields, and nobody is awake to be amazed by angelic visions... why hasn't Christmas come and why do children wait? The Starry illumination is the same the Magi saw from their palaces, and certain of their expectation: they loaded their camels and left for Bethlehem happily; three gifts they brought to honor the new King, why have all forgotten that he is born to show humility? Hasn't he become small for us to love him with less fear? Gathered as sheep in an October field, all children lose hope of getting presents, tonight Santa will not come down the slope; perhaps they were thinking of giving them to Jesus as he peacefully lays in the small crib made of hay: oh, how much they would love to watch him play! One of them picks up a wooden drum and says, " Follow me to the manger and sing, " The Drummer boy. " Jesus won't ask us for a gift...He wants us to feel His glory! "
Friend, do you have time from the routine To turn back to Mother Nature's veranda And to listen to her musical notes galore Which are available to all those who adore. She demands to have an appreciative psyche To follow the many tones of her symphony That lay scattered in her spacious courtyard That exhibits a grand and striking harmony. She offers it to the intensely sincere listener Her musical facets in marvelous measure In the gurgling sound of brook and river And in the breezy night winds' murmur. The chirp of feathered tots, beloved of her And the squeaky chorus from the corner Together with the sound of falling leaves Reveal her many charming soulful tunes. Her sanctuary is strewn with many chimes Creating myriad sounds, gentle and pleasant It calls for tuning of the mind unconditionally That helps one enjoy boons of her melody fully.
Walking along the crystaline sand , the mists from the water world, glean in her hair. Thrum,she can feel. the beat of a liquid heart, against her breast. The rhythm, of the saline life's blood, play a beat, symphonies, from the dawn of time. The exhale of a breath , gentle zephyrs, warmed of the sun, caress her skin. Fragrant ........ the acrid tang of salt, eddies, of the life giving currents. Gazing above in the heaven, winged messengers, ride on saddles of air. Singing in the morn light, hinting at unfortold secrets. She stands in quiet rapture, listening to the voice, on the winds. Alas the Sea, holds her secrets close, almost heard, but buried with the crash of each ebb tide wave.
The fog thickens over the waters, making every island vanish into the misty sea rolling by; but the lonely and trembling gull stands on a skaky lamp-post, and his loud,distant cry is revealed by a deep anguish adding to an unpleasant day... Mindless and shameless lovers, take advantage of the pelting rain to satisfy their urge with passionate eyes; these lovers came to this marine with the intent to cheat without concern, not honoring their promise to those who are eternally faithful: isn't instant gratification a foolish game? The steady raindrops turn into a tempest, causing the eere wind to whistle wildly and as they pelt on my windshied and dance, the music of my melody,so lively, changes to a tune played with melancholy; winter effects my mood so dramatically... I look out of the driver's window twice and the same bird sits still where he was, I'm wondering if he waits for his mate, to take a plunge into the water and bathe; it's not only humans who experience loneliness: it is seen in the wilderness as well... Amid the fury of the relentless storm, I'm caught between land and air, and does anybody feel the awesome force that makes us look so insignificant and small! Our works are temporary and frail, like the empires that were great and invincible, they may seem perfect and beautiful, but they will lose luster and suddenly fall and crumble into a dust of oblivion: only this Universe was made to last forever... My wish for serenity is swept away by the wind's fierce currents above, and the frenzy waves carry it along to follow that ship that left a while ago; and still there's no visible sky over the prestine, white beach where I would lie down and sleep, hidden away from anything and anybody... In this treacherous month of March, I can't lay back or be faint of heart; somehow, with willingness and brit, I must start being realistic and take in consideration an unpleasant day and make the best of it anyway...
Vibrant melodies Searching for virgin ear drums Lone mocking bird sings Nathan Bane Leccese © All Rights Reserved 05/17/2009
The sun shines in a friendly glow while the birds sing mating songs, searching for that lost bond of intimate natural longing. Greenery illuminates the path through the garden, colorfully decorating the atmosphere with contentment. Leaves drift beatifically to their resting place in the aura of serenity; wisdom in the blossoms wherein dastardly royalty is usurped by inane benevolence. Such generosity cannot freely bandy about when originated from petulant systems of feigned philanthropy. Evidence mystifies the instituted kindness with otherworldly martyrdom prevailing over dynamically advantageous disproportion. A youthful sprite exudes sage harmony that listens intently to ruminated introversion and callously disregards obnoxious outburst. A twig snaps into seventy equivalent sections; equilibrium begets solitude among the predetermined assortment. Begin again and sweetly profound anew. Did it start? Nevermore, with the exception of a shift in the concept of causality's influence: kleptomania for knowledge and acceptance of besmirched spirits. Souls pine for an existential seed to spurt roots and permeate the dirty confinement. Cyclical imperfection trudges through sludge, almost cinematic in its unveiling. It is astounding in each fresh, yet repitious succession. A song skips lyrical lust and jumps to instumental amelioration: The symphonic glory of all encompassing, magnificent, eternal, ascending powerfully and synthetically descending, original, cooperative, and unorthodox love.
I hear the music of the heavenly angels Coming softly through the blue sky from above Blending with the music from on the mountain tops Bringing to all earth's people messages of love. The song birds are singing to the angels' music Telling us to hear the words of truth very clear, "All of earth's people are more alike than different And to help each other will leave no room for fear". Come listen to the music of quiet gentle breezes And music from wild flowers growing on the hill Whispering softly to awaken our spirits Saying, "Only listen and let your hearts be still
I hear birds fly above I listen to their call It's like music to my ears When there's no music at all.
For millions of years mankind lived just like the animals. Then something happened which unleashed the power of our imagination. We learned to talk. These are the words spoken by Stephen Hawking on Pink Floyd's track Keep Talking from the Album - Division Bell from 1994. Is it not a sad indictment on us humans, that we were graced with the cleverist of intellegence, yet we can hardly use it. I wrote a poem today called Gorillini, and this is the last two lines:- We are barely their servants The real King of the primates
We jump off the delirious thoughts into measured wisdom Big huge chains of thought and mists of dream boat invention While out on leave from the present day The world turns another inch in your favor Misty morning metal armor, the dream bent on delivering the goods Trying to peel the outer layer of a person Trimming the infested material born drumbeat Hey man it's one more time and I'll be on my way Back to the brilliant splash of molten storybook teamwork Jeffrey Bovee 01/11/2012
The engorged sky billows, a monochromatic delight of soft tones ... a lullaby of tissue paper edges fragile as a primrose. The bashful sun blushes sending pastel light through notes of grey to white soft, velveteen. harmonies overlap shadow less, spiritual. Ah, the sweet octaves of visual light defrayed by motes of earthly ash upon the sky bring such joy to mankind fragile as a primrose.
Fox and katydids Moths dance to their symphony Owls crickets and frogs By Robb A. Kopp
Each one of us follows a specific quest, and there many different ones; for me it's that passionate love which blooms in spring when rain becomes mist. Watching roses drip as eyes that weep restores the memory of that forgotten sadness brought by a faithless love known too briefly to discover the scope of its insincerity. Why didn't I believe in her fickle promise? She only gazed at those radiant stars, as a true one wouldn't have to compromise the beautiful truth not stained with lies. Still waiting to feel that passionate love which blooms in spring... happy wagtails by the petal-draped lake, gather to make their notes ring. Besides velvet-soft kisses that I eagerly steal from tempting lips seeking this man's warm hand, what else could please me more than an indulgent will with that passionate love which blooms in spring?
He's of a bright yellow and auburn color, and Autumn leaves match his feathers well; what a gorgeous canary stands on my window-sill... and I call him the friendliest, most talented warbler! Next door, there are heartless and crazy boys who harm birds by using slings and stones to bring them down, and then watch them die by inflicting more pain; that's so cruel, don't ever do it to another canary, rascals! Kids, don't kill my bird...he's a useful animal with the biggest heart in the Fauna's kingdom, if he ever died, I would be confined to dreary boredom! Let him live, so that I can continue living through the Fall! He comes to visit me hardly flipping his wings so fragile, and he surprises me sometimes, while I play at the piano so carried away by the notes that himself sings for me in a triad chord so simple; would you want to hear him sing that melody...are you listening to me? Birds are put in cages, if they were wild animals like lions and tigers, but they are the beautiful and gentle creatures of the Wild and they run from hunters, not from bird-watchers...and you say,"They aren't intelligent or wise!" Watch them in their habitat: you'll learn to adore them, and love them for life! Kids, don't kill my bird...he has caring parents like those in a loving family, I rescued him from a forest's trap...his legs were caught and they bled; I took him home and gave him first aid, and he miraculously survived! Did God send this bird to me...to test me how compassionate I would be?
What colour is your blues For it always fails to reach our spring Adams abreach And Eve's the moment Our gardens sing If the stars don't reach for you At least the sun will greet you Provides the light that allows smiles to blossum Illuminates the soil that greens your pigment clean And on to June Bugs you remain unseen Did you finally settle that dust that rose With the winters you miss I grow It left you at a spring time breaze Did you roll up your sleeves, fall to your knees draked in the soil from which cotton seeds Did you prick your skin and bleed Did you lie in a petal of roses and read as you gazed upon a sky that refused to die Did you wish for the frost To touch the wind and fall subordinate to the cause And as April died You realized how much you hated The fact that summer was over rated Yea as April died You thought about how much you hated The fact that summer was over rated "songs of a blank season"
The faces are stamped in. They sit and play. having done this all their maturing lives. It is familiar and new. I love the immersion in civilization, want more, Like a tantalizing spice. the faces reach into me, dancing in soundspace. The time fused with sound, are sufficient in the faces of the men, but in the woman's face a permission remains.
mr ralph said i was plump, fat, quiet and annoying i was just a shy old boy when i was only thirteen he said he cudnt have been more proud of me because i've escaped frm childhood dreams to reality what have the past many years taught me.. i guess i found what i want, i dream to be.. i found my songwriting is a great ability.. i have been in downfall manie times. that's juz the way it is. i am what i am now. and i have no regrets.. i made this far sumhow to come back up again.. i am what i am. life was a rollercoaster but it had been a great journey the only thing that i wish i could feel.. i have been mischievious, so excited and daring.. i can't wait for my b'day and i'll turn sixteen!!
In June everything was festive and green, a patch of deep blue couldn't be seen... the struggling sun was kept off, with dire, by a dense foilage of emerald; and the robins competed with the blue-jays to harmonize a new song with notes that even a great composer couldn't write... Oh, how I loved that sweet sound! Auburn trees in Fall showed a dull color andulated by the softest wind, which wasn't as perfumed as that of spring, and its sadness was compensated by a beauty, which inspired a poet and a composer to write it with a tender melancholy; and I jotted down the impressive images of a peaceful Nature that revealed its loveliness! The freight trains scurred through the defoliating forest, I found a massive rock and laid my body to rest; and finally those struggling sun-rays broke through to warm my forehead quickly: so glad to have seen, with awe and curiousity, the forest's beautiful and swift creatures storing away food for those gloomy winter's days!... Oh, how happy I felt to have been the wanderer of the forest!
The glimmering stars with their eternally silent chimes of white, red, blue, and yellow an orchestra of colors heard by few seen by all glistening instruments tuned out by those who hear only the noise embraced by those who hear its music, seen by one and all heard by none but the ones who hear the notes of spaces only symphony.
The dawn Birds warbling in unison All over
Cold steel loosely hanging Spirit wind passes by --- A warm melodious song.
Venus peaks from beneath her veil. Saturn tips his wings. The moon is a full orchestra resounding in my belly. The trees are singing to me, lullabies to sleep by, drawing, through their roots, music from the other side of the world, their leaves playing notes in the stars.
Tiny bar percussion instrument, I am in awed. I rhythmically stroke my thumbs across your tines, My soul floats upon your notes; my heart applauds. Tensions and sorrow float away; your music unbinds. It seems natural to hold you in my hands. Your inharmonic overtones, to some, may seem odd. Sweet dissonances lull me like no marching bands. Simple reverberations discover my inner-self's facade. I love to hear your pure tones resonate, floating. Upon the breeze, contrasting sounds drift away. Trickling timbre, like a bubbling brook…naturally calming. Together, we become one with nature, joys stay. Dreams drift to forever where fantasies thrive. When you are in my hand, my soul soars. I become ecstatically thrilled to be alive! Awakened by the freedom your music implores. INSTRUMENT: Thumb Piano A.K.A. Kalimba © Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen October 29, 2011 Poetry Soup Member Contest: >>> SOUND MADNESS <<< Sponsored by: Nette Onclaud
a black shadow pries... her earthly music floating the moonlight dance
there is a moon, shining all alone under all seas looming side to cloud fall in our night and wait for the one who makes slip in the prowl the beasts hold night at growl howling their sorrows move midnight forever is tomorrow come to our dark we run deep in the dusk trust your lost soul while wait here for the sun trust your yearning haven safely break grey sky a-standing standing far astray lost under the sun lost under the sun lost under the sun lost under the sun there is a place marble floor and blue there is a space that was meant for what was you summer now white a different sort of lone cold in our skin deeps looking towards our glow lost under the sun lost under the sun lost under the sun lost under the sun
Just as the sun sets the moon ries I'm pleasured with candle lit surprises you gave me your hand to trust But i don't want to rush Baby just understand you are you my man Let's meet and became friends After then we can make our own Lose ends amends Closer, closer, and closer Until we are together.
Shadow dancers cast your spells your enchanting steps to the rhythm of unseen forces hypnotic trances the longing of passionate glances in a smoke filled darkened room under dim light of observation. Guitar strings filled the air trumpets blasted emotional tunes smoking hues laughing tears drowning in beers of forgetting. Stealing kisses in the night from hungry strangers aching for something they can not fight their loneliness following them like a sleepless stalker with zombie eyes and frozen hearts. Sleeping alone again on their vacant sheets of painted glass. Watching over me. You are my only lover.
No sun has ever shone So clear through the night No moonbeam ever glown So true with delight The more I look The more I see When something new Occurs to me No winds have ever blown With no change in sight No mind's-eye ever known Such meaningful flight The more I dream The more I sleep Where space and time Are mine to keep
Carrying humor in the eyes, there goes summer.... of it goes with its bright morning.... with its sweaty noons..... with the tapering evenings.... Cool evening breeze, giving pleasure to the eyes.... giving pleasure to the body.... still with humor in its eyes... the flooding evening.... Raining hard for hours, washing the day's pain away.... changing the signs.... with darkness in the sky's bosom... there goes the summer...
The band is the storm Thunder cracking Rain drops beating a steady rythym The whistling wind The crashing and the thrashing It's an orchestra you see Coarse a musician with untrained eyes and ears see nothing in this band All they hear or see Is racket and fear I, myself, see a story Never told before I am a dancer in the rain Hearing their self speaking stories In my sensitive ear
All I hear through the songs In that rhythmic tempo out of your lungs Your woeful mourning and sorrow Your elegiac speech of morrow The same old lines in despair When you sing the notes and share The scented lyrics of lilacs Your frolic is sometimes lissome sometimes lax And those pop songs in mania The isolated rhythm in echolalia Your big heart pumping hard Being entrapped hitting itself all around Your gasping soul sweats Still the same melody comes out of thy chest Don't shout; don't even squeeze your scratched heart It's still the same song Still people enjoy thy twittering When you are hung! Come and be calm on my arm And I will play your song and will be your balm Dazzle at my eyes with thy shiny eyes Still I enjoy this line when it says: "Drink to me, only with thine eyes."
Jacob Musician, artist. poet , student Brother of Niko, Anna Lee, and Alex Lover of heavy metal music, nature, death, and poetry Who feels forgotten, pain, loss, love, and expressive Who fears cancer, family death, and banning of poetry Who would like to see the Amazon rain forest, the Galapagos and Tazmania resident of Cumming Georgia Wölf ??
Way down here In the swamps of Dixie, Where I learned to dance With gators grinning, There's music like none You've ever heard. It laces the bayous In passionate tones, Enough to make you Want to move your feet. There's more history In this place Than you might imagine, Alive and burning On the edges Of modern civility. It refuses to die, Won't settle for living In the past, As though it didn't matter. This is where I studied life and love, Knowing my neighbor, Sharing the burden Of cottonmouth dreams And moss-hidden nights Beneath sweltering pines. This is who I am, As salty as the sweat Upon your brow. But the music Has been silenced, My people no longer sway In the humid breeze, Muted by ravaging winds And torrent tides. Drowning in the madness Of hopelessness, We don't feel Our narrated past anymore. Now we count The changes of hours Marked by saturating grief; There is only today. No human should have to bear These ravages Polluting our memory, Yet we are helpless To prevent The scars for generations. Credence Clearwater Revival, Tennessee Williams, Affects my blood, And I cannot forget Louis Armstrong Or B.B. King. Jimmy Buffett, Harry Connick, Jr., And scores of others Will help them survive. Till I once again Find myself In the House of the Rising Sun, Until a Streetcar Named Desire Fills my senses, I shall mourn, My tears flooding The mighty Mississippi River, To overflowing. Way down here In the swamps of Dixie, Where I learned to dance With voodoo grinning, I remember the music, Taste the brackish waters, Before Katrina knew me, And standing below an American Flag, I think the South Shall rise again.
The scribble of pen on paper The low rumble of hushed voices The shuffle of people walking by The tapping of keys on a keyboard The rustle of turning pages The hum of lights above me The tap of subconscious fingers The whizz of cars passing by The clip of opening and closing binders The thunk of a mug landing on desk The buzz of the bees outside The screech of seagulls over the shore The chink of the hole-punch The glug of a water bottle The crash of waves against the sand The bells of laughter in the distance Lifes Natural Rhythm.
The lovely thought of being remembered... rarely crosses the unperceptive mind of the uncaring ones who live life all for themselves, and one day soon...all that will change; on their last, expiring breath... they cannot call on anyone who's not standing by! How I like to be remembered... is to think of me as simple and wise, loving as true as anyone else; no regret for having been helpful and kind! And this name will be honored and read out aloud by a generation that never knew me at all, and it's the legacy of an undying spirit: still challenging and vibrant! Many great men and women have come before me, and I don't call myself the greatest...most certaintly; this decision is left to the lovers of literature; all they will see is my distinguished signature on the bottom of each poem and song... how wonderful it would be to hear them recite and sing along! On my tombstone...in a country not of my own, flowers will bob upon my gleaming grass, and undearneath the cold soil I will rest; and my body will become a skeleton without flesh; it's everyone's destiny to turn into dust, until we are resurrected by that Almighty voice! Like the very fragile petals of a rose,so perfumed, that will scatter before the flight of the gull; I'd like to float as brightly as these after dawn: to be elevated by my spirituality and reach that place of profound serenity, thinking how I like to be remembered...
He Said Words could Not express Scottish Hebrides Outer banks, only music could Mendelssohns' Violin Concerto in A Minor Expresses the beauty, wind, barreness, the sand, waves, the castles, the vegetation all (Heard that Mendelssohn wrote this while staying on these islands and that he loved this land.)
A low surge of words, In mellifluous cadence: Aquatic concert.
The turbid clouds hover mountains of fluttering maples,spruces and pines while I am crossing those bridges of wonder, adjoined by sturdy steel cables that even an impetuous wind couldn't oscillate; man's ingenuity outwitting Mother Nature... a tuneful voice rising from a spirit that perpetuates! Rageful rivers resent their lament, as fast currents struggle to find an inlet; my hard breath surrenders to an unchallenged fear! From above danger is like the force of gravity, I race with a brave face, but the harsh wind still whips it with the strength of a twister, blowing the pristine white sand... turning it into a whirling dust cloud only to diminish my visibility! Let me cross those bridges of wonder, in spite of lightning and thunder... I'll brave the fiercest storm, as long as courage allows me to proceed; night may come as quickly as frightening thoughts, but nothing would make my will recede to a darkness that suppresses the freedom of choice! When warriors are faced by a threat, they don't turn back and accept defeat, no doubt can thwart their plan: it's either death or glory, unsurmountable pain or joy; their ego is hardly broken through dire! Ah! See them crossing those bridges of wander, and like me, they rejoice when the battle ends!
dear summa i got so used 2 bein around u da way u kept me warm da way u let me touch u deep conversations all night like we n high schu u got me feeling good summa i wanna wife u when it rain i feel all ya warm wetness i got my rain boots no worry about da messes and when im thirsty my tongue up n ya greatness we a bomb combination and we cant fake dis Dear summa can i have ya love year round swimin in ya warm beaches bae i wont drown let me surf across waves as i go down hide tide is comin in im goin deeper now da heat is pickin up baby feel my love stroke widely televised baby yep dis da love boat summa we hittin da billboard on a good note volcanic eruptions girl and now u wanna smoke now da night is young and we just started nice whip big rims now we gotta a party summa got da club jumpin baby neva partin think i need anotha drank PO dat bacardi each day i wake up i feel i want u mo n mo beamin thru my eyes now u got me i glow feel da cool breeze baby let yo wind blow time is tickin summa but we still gone take it slow when u run away girl how do i deal wit dat u leave me in da cold lady wit a fitted cap i see my air blowin baby where yo warmin at when u gone away my mind get up off track u say u comin back will it be the right time n while u gone away will u keep me on ya mind im not tryin 2 get frost bitE baby i ain lyin metaphorically speakin my summa you are my rhmye
Entering the fields of my childhood around two, overjoyed by the vibrant flowers that gently lulled and dispersed their gentle aroma into the noon; I passed under the old balconies with flower-pots painted in russet as the leaves of late and quite Autumn, which elated me with their sweet-smelling scent , to please my nostrils everywhere I went... body and spirit in full harmony, never being alone! Hummingbirds fluttering from tree to tree, to announce their departure by the dawn's blaze, still warbling and making me immensely glad; I hummed that song to ease their misery, they flew around and landed on my shoulders to start the making of a lively symphony: and with no instruments and vocals, we created a musical masterpiece worthy of praise! Entering the fields of my childhood, leaping like frogs chased by cruel rascals, my escape to freedom from noisy streets and voices of mothers calling out to their mischievous children, to hurry home before their dad imposed discipline; jolly and care-free I explored that unknown world... solitude was the source of joy for a prodigious child, no genius ever became great without the urge of the wild! Pondering over my advancing age, and recalling that child run towards the lilies' fields made golden by the scorching sun, I wish to become little and start running again, until I run out of breath and take a brief rest; and should the storm pelt on the rose-bushes, and their buds fell off, I would pick them all with the swiftest care and hold them in my wet palms, and ever preserve them in this memory... to enter the fields of my childhood and vanish into their immensity! Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci
Oh, lovely and adored one... descend as a star over the top of a pine to hear my guitar! Oh, Lovely and adored one... let love inflame us as the moon wanders alone amid haze and clouds!
the underside of the Snapple bottle cap reads that the nothingness of a black hole generates a sound in the key of B flat who can doubt a Snapple cap
Living in a world That's destined to die Dying in a world That wants to survive Ignoring problems people put aside Just seems to be the nature of mankind Taken for granted that our eyes can see We do not look at what can be perceived Rainforests are rapidly losing there trees They help to create the ozone up high But man does not care for his vital need Take a good look now, please look carefully Without the ozone Our future will lie Beneath the chaos That will doom our lives What will become of the prosperous seed? It dies with the rest of humanity Cause we are living (In a world that's destined to die) We are dying (In a world that wants to survive) Ignoring problems people put aside (Just seems to be the nature of mankind) I am a mortal Just the same as you Accept it, forget it Do what you do There will come a time when all this proves true So let's hope it best, I'm lying (I'm lying) to you. -Boz-
Read me verses vibrant with life, not sad epitaphs; paint me my portrait with a lustrous light... be a Cavaraggio, or Rembrandt, and my replicas sell in the market for a price that suits any wallet. I was given a name, and with gilt I embellished it; gladsome to glitter and giggle, blooming as a rose bud caressed by the wind's soft breath; and its seed will be transported far-away, to germinate by a godly temple, and there I will meet a favorable, clement fate. A tombstone is the place for the soul's eternal rest, my bones will lie within it...these brittle bones once covered by flesh, but its spirit will depart to ascend from the realm of mortals; and sleep it will...until a mighty voice will awaken it, there with the angels of Paradise I will write my praises, and seeing the sorrow of the living, I will act upon their behalf. Read me verses vibrant with life; epistles that the New Testament's devoted scribes wrote. Sing me odes of the glory to come, put aside the longest elegy, don't trifle with my final wish, everything else is trivial; look into the Heavens, I will smile... Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci
Eleven days before Christmas, as we were singing, " A Child Is Born"... fluffy snowflakes came down and they were as big as white popcorn. Surprised mom yelled, " Run to the window, they are more beautiful than snow flowers and daises... " Go, catch some into your warm hands and dream of Bethlehem's stars!" Astonished as those shepherds watching their sheep under the starriest sky, we saw pretty snowflakes not a wondrous star followed by the three Magi. They kept on falling and floating like dry leaves on a December's cold evening... when carols were played on a church organ that was taller than any ceiling. Merrier than angels announcing Christ's birth, we stared at His bright stable... and what we felt was the humbleness of a King whose love was so ample. Once again, we ran back to the snow-dusted window and looked into the quite sky, among the gleaming snowflakes: a golden child appeared asking for a happy lullaby. Entered in Francine Robert's contest, " A Winter Couplet " My theme: First Snowfall
ancient hills resound with strains of music tones
I ask for nothing, just relying on Providence; surprisingly I will experience an enriching event that fate has sent... does anybody wonder why I sing? I age, and furthermore I feel younger; wrinkles appear to attest their reminder that my troubles are of another sort, and despite more unpleasant occurrences confirming my tort: these upheavals are raging storms that will soon pass, and this phase is the ultimate test! Destiny, unfold this enriching event, and usher in an age of contentment; the vitality of these years don't reflect fragility: resolute and strong, hopeful and diligent... I can face any hurdle and defy tragedy, and the hardest challenge is finding trust! An enriching event was predicted in my natal chart and astrologers are putting much effort in their research, to assure me that a better tomorrow is coming; and should I place my total trust in them, and catch a rare glimpse and be content... but Who has given me a last chance at living? I could never be guided by the unpredictable stars, what I am amazed about them: is their mysterious glimmer, but fortune and wealth is the damnation of the sinner, of that one cursing God for all the plagues and sorrows inflicted upon them...to punish them for all that was taken without honor and appreciation; and wouldn't they envy the one opening the golden door? My harvest is finally ripe, and spacious fields offer their abundant fruits, every bird has a more sonorous song to make me feel vibrantly alive: o larks and nightingales, let your joyful ode reach the Heavens above! My blessings have been too numerous to be counted and this joy exalts Him with a gratefulness that is equal to every breath I inhale and exhale; when peace blends with silence: a realistic Heaven is an enriching event! Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci
As the sound surrounds, acapellas and solos resound , with silent and loud proverbs and nouns. Taking one to and from the crowd. With the change of a song, a track, melting the wax, breaking the mold, running away with it, while bringing it back. Pumping through the veins , reaching arteries , articles and ventricles making them more than 2 and 3 dimensional. The various combinations of words and beats that make the heart beat. How neat the flux that is created. How a mirror's image without paint can be painted. How emotions and their corrosions can be peacefully or violently narrated. Through his finger tips, inking quiet melodies. Inspiring and annunciating thoughts that act but may only at times taste like a remedy for the memories. Creating with it a crate full of symphonies composed of prose and poetry. The same feeling of tranquility received when feet enter the warmth of the moist sand. Played continuously in varying songs in all pores of the body by a miniscule band. This is how is orchestrated the workings of not our fellow man, but he, the music man. Ask him the question of, "Why so much depth, emotion, and passion brought forth by your hand?" He'll reply ," Look I can say that tunes are an essential fragment of my essence. I can make an analogy comparing how dear music is to me say and say it's how to a flower's life crucial is lights presence. I can even go on to say I exhale the things that society wants banned. But in all honesty I'm inspired by a lot of things. But it's mainly because of the music.........Man."
That cheese and apple affect, chaotic yells for morning revolutionised by the simple cup of tea. With smiling echo's in grim passageways of graffiti laughs, concrete surfs and chewing gums dalmatian. Rackets of rain like falling rivers are the singing shouts of ambient joy.
Find myself digging through snow, a tunnel with no light at the end; blistered hands crimson and sweat stain'd. It looks to me like a cast iron heart will bend with a little touch of warmth, even in the middle of a vast snowstorm. I only asked for the truth, but as long as your heart still has a beat, I'll sing of you. And you know, it really hurts, to be cast into the blue; it's a feeling not worthy of words. Like a perfect seed that never grew. Every step forward is like two steps back, spiraling deeper down into the ground; deviated, less motivated... Sing me your song, and I'll play the keys, throw back a few and melt away this freeze. And kiss the fabric's sweet reprise. I only asked for truth, still as long as your heart has a beat, I'll sing of you. And you know, it really hurts, to be cast into the blue; a feeling not worthy of words, like a perfect seed that never grew.
Memories of troubled, sunless days have passed over my solitary place, and with much expectancy, I predict lasting peace with stiller waters for a calmer heart full of awerness; tomorrow will not fail me, I will know a good rest never before experienced...not spoiled by uneasiness! Happy events weren't anticipated with sorrow, unhallowed and fearful they wrestled within, but my lack of understanding made me bitterly weep! O refreshing river never stop flowing, giving your stiller waters to a repenting soul being purified, forgiven, changed, uplifted, and loved by all. Lively are the lilies in that sunny field on the peaceful outskirts of town, unbosoming their loveliness without uncanniness or impurity, and their splendor is reflected in these stiller waters; take some of them and put them into a tall vase, or bring them to an altar to redeem your grace: expose your guilts and pray...belief is the source of felicity! Not repugnant anymore, but thankful and singing with a mellow tone, hearing the melodious organ so accordant and melliflous... a godless lifetime is not worth living with thoughts so spurious! Rebellion was a mere whim whose memory I will have no recollection with stiller waters soothing me and mending my once-righteous ways... only my merciful Lord can restore my faithfulness, and not let me wander alone! Copyright 2010 by Andrew Crisci Inspired by the poem, " The Lord Almighty" written by Constance, The Rambling Poet for the contest, " I am sending you a gift of poetry, dear heart."
The toot of a lute Rang through the air The carnival was uproar with laughter A little boy's eyes a much larger size at the sight of what he was after A stale piece of bread Sat in the trash It made the little boy in rag's mouth water. So he reached through the gate as soon as it got late Hoping to avoid his slaughter For stealing was a crime Even from a trash-bin They'd have his head off in seconds A guard caught his eye But before he could cry Fate thought he'd need a hero, I reckon. Some strangely dressed women appeared from the shadows and drew their shiny swords The strangers fought In the dead of night The boy was lost for words One of the women She approached the child She bent down to get another look Seeing his starvation The pain in his eyes And the energy that life's stresses had took "Come with us," Said the women With a friendly smile She offered the little boy her hand. "You'll be safe with us," The women explained "No more getting kicked in the sand." The boy gave the women a cautious look He greatly considered her offer His parents had just died Of a horrible starvation Tonight, hunger wouldn't take another The little boy agreed To join the Gypsies Together they ate and they danced They traveled from place To place to place With a merry smile around he pranced But what they didn't know Black magic was brewing The pagans couldn't sense it upon them But the hungry little boy Had always had a gift He knew when trouble was near him Immediately he ran To alert the Gypsies He said something dark was coming The pagans all stopped The music died down They'd send this enemy running With candles and an altar Some herbs and a pendant The pagan's had formed a plan They'd cast out a spell That would protect the people The animals and the land Suddenly the sky darkened Rain started to fall Their magic wasn't working With no wind blowing A candle tipped Danger was definitely lurking The fire spread through out the camp Tents burned down to ash The gypsies all panicked And fetched buckets of water These problems surely couldn't last The next two moths were full of bad luck The boy got covered by glances "These problems didn't happen" "Untill this boy came along." They said getting rid of him would raise their chances Of surviving in this Horrid world we live in They shunned him within a matter of hours The boy wandered the earth With tears in his eyes His cries rang out with power So on he walked Following the road As his gypsies had taught him Though his spirits were crushed and his body hungry Nobody in the world would stop him
Tear drops falling from the sky Each one has a sad story to tell Who will listen? And who will wipe them off their windsheild? Tear drops everywhere Ending their lives on the streets Why do people find their sounds so peaceful? Each tear drop is a musical note Playing its own little, sad song For the people willing to listen
James Father, friend, cool co-worker and cheery Son of Andrew James Fraser Lover of: Nature, Music and Poetry Who is: Emotional, polite and proud My worries are: World Peace, Society and Glasgow Celtic winning the League I would love to see: America, it's Grand Canyon and Canada's Fraser River Resident of: Inverness, The Capital of the Highlands Fraser
Harmoniously With colors of the rainbow Nature's choir sings By Robb A. Kopp All Rights Reserved © MMX
Yildizlar yildizlar Isiklar duser topraga Kanatsiz adsiz akinti Aglar unutur saklanan adi Yildizlar yildizlar Ucarim sessiz melteme Kanatlarim isiginda yakamoz Soyler hikayeni dalgalar prangada Yildizlar yildizlar Erismeyin batimina gunun Korkar saklanir adimi unutur nefesim Kaybolurum olumsuz hikayende
truth's radiant sunrise uplifting to one's soul sweet dreamy melodies forever lively and bold life's triumphant spirit a joyful songbird at play bursting forth in song at any time of the day a beautiful nightingale rejoicing one's heart singing jubilant praises from ballads to pop art a light-hearted repertory harmoniously attuned with whimsical verve making heart's swoon a delightful balladeer singing tuneful rhyme poetic wishful dreams everlasting beyond time © Eugene Harvey
Whispering through trees. Flowing waves in the dark sky. Wind is Nature's music.
Un bruit si plaisant venez de la petite fontaine, Je regarde dehors au-dessus du côté du balcon, cinq histoires du sable mou ci-dessous, au-dessus de la courbe douce de l'horizon, au delà de ce que mon oeil peut voir, un écoulement doux, plinking et éclabousser, vers le bas de la fontaine, allumé avec les lumières minuscules, en sautant des ombres cabriolez sur le sable, contre les murs et les fenêtres, autour de l'eau, enroulant au rivage blanc pâle, de lucioles dérive paresseux environ la nuit leurs queues rougeoyant sur l'eau comme ils vont humblement sur leur chemin, la fontaine envoyant toujours une cascade de l'eau dans l'air dos vers le bas encore l'envoi de peu éclabousse sur le sable mou, et réfléchir la lumière comme tenir le premier rôle. ~Translation from French~ Such a pleasant sound coming from the little fountain, I look out over the side of the balcony, five stories from the soft sand below, over the gentle curve of the horizon, beyond what my eye can see, a soft trickling, plinking and splashing, down from the fountain, lit up with tiny lights, leaping shadows cavort on the sand, against the walls and windows, around the water, lapping at the pale white shore, fireflies lazily drift about in the night their tails glowing on the water as they humbly go on their way, the fountain still sending a cascade of water into the air back down again sending little splashes on the soft sand, and reflecting the light as a star falls from the night.
Looming between the nights I shiver In too deep with the frost that I bring Humming too music that was given Dancing to save the days I forgot Along came the secrets that pierce the skin I forgive the damage I cost to myself Shredded pride amongst my feet Stepping over the remorse of humility That I threw to the ground and turned my back Over the water tried to walk with grace Even if I believed in the force that would take me I feel the liquid rushing around me Summon the strength to break the surface It seems I only breath when there is no air Crawling to safety where I know it despised me So I lay on the sand until the moon lights I walk only the night I see only the fire Waiting for the darkness To wash out my face To be nocturnal But I am woken in the day
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Tepid breeze, lull me to sleep on this grass softer than hay; all the aches make my brittle bones weak, they need rest, not asking my body to wander away... And if I fall asleep, I would like every star, spotting me. to keep watch; and should the owls, hiding amid the shadows of the hickories, emit very scary and strange sounds and fix their vicious eyes on me, angels will guard me... No harm will come to me from those treacherous evil spirits, and by just invoking His Holy Name, it will prevent any attack on me; and my light can be seen from far, this light which strengthens me: and while praying alone, I will hear the fluttering of cherubs' wings... Tepid breeze, lull me to sleep, and without the lovebirds' song, something must replace that harmony when a sudden rush of fear: slowly and uninvitingly seeps into my throbbing chest... And would I let any noise spoil this peace, to allow distrust lessen my courage and let hope cease? I am endowed with the faith of the martyrs that evil men are afraid of hearing; come Satan, try to deceive me: the Holy Spirit will abide with me 'till my awakening... Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci
when you see the sticks of leaf-less trees across the backdrop of moon-lit skies when you hear the robins distant ring sustained by winds afar_ _ lay thy head upon a pillows sleep. with anxious thoughts awaken of this spring that is to be
Not far from my bustling town of Baiano, which welcomed anyone, there was a camp set up for gypsies, not with dangerous tramps and thieves, it looked like a concentration camp: a territory restricted and feared by the locals when they burned logs themselves to keep warm; and despite alienation and distrust, out of it came inner beauty. Mandisa and I became friends, and we chatted after I finished school; many wonderful stories of Egypt she told me: from every Pharaoh who ever lived to the last tribe of gypsies. While everybody was suspicious and kept the distance, prejudice didn't keep me away from her...we shared the same feelings of two young people, but mine were somewhat more real, hers were not too realistic considering the condition she lived in: a camp that resembled a ghetto without any help from the Government. At dusk, the males played the Ouds and Riqs that surely brightened up a cloudy sky over their squalid tents... residents listened, but thought their music was dedicated to their Goddess Iris: what a misconception they had about theses gypsies who never hurt anyone! With arms hugged across my chest, feeling the crispness of the evening breeze, I listened to every song they sang with a nostalgia an outsider couldn't describe, then I grabbed Mandisa's hand and started to dance! They cheered and played that music louder..everyone came out of their homes thinking that a concert was in progress, but they were taken by shock: their bitter looks changed to human tenderness seeing two kids dance, one of their own country: beautiful Italy and the other from mysterious Egypt which they knew little about. We looked at them and smiled and invited them to join us to form a ring where all held each other hand: two races coming together in friendship and harmony that before seemed a mere impossibility! Copyright 2012 by Andrew Crisci
when the mountains hum the seas awaken, sending waves against the rock
Oh the tempest of the dance and with it's heartbeat move within it's rhythm that perchance that graceless not you prove to soar within a cheerful tone as motions weave to melody does touch within the core of bone and in abandoned harmony Cast with flowing piroutte and symmetry of step on floor a caper to a minuette and into dance emotions pour like children playing in the field and in song does hearbeat skip to the feeling one must yield laid to ballad on the lip Dance is such a sensuous thing to seek to feel in songs narration like butterflies in meadow wing being warmed by the sensation as sinuous as a roebucks spring to a blithful destination and in its depths the heart must sing to movement and it's facination COPYRIGHT © 2010 C. Michael Miller via Duboff Law Group LLC
Oh — what marveling is thy earing The rhythm music —sound once By way-long tours —by slings air Echo traveling strongly in the wind. If so combine, masters so divine Of songs by admiral listen on Touring sniffs' outer euphony in apart Crowds had been called to scenes. Emotional the players' voices-in-unity Upping listens by tour wind Its tending deep melody thou asunder In long-way whole unites it shipway. Oh music orbs listen in, by echo wind The rhythm song — tho echos to mind!
we started out kinda real young baby i know i was a fool, now ive grown up all of the things we use to do do you remember i wanna be your man, aint tryna be ya friend (be ya friend) so tell me do you like it drop, top, mercedes benz top up ,cause your hair be (blowin thru da wind) wheels spinning, hair did( blingin ring) ya dig she pull up at the club lookin like, millions, billions, watching you from a distance all the fellas be watching you like a vision ya sexy thighs,sexy hip, sexy midsect looking real good,make a reggin wanna hit that, forget that, i think im ready for commitment so are you ready for submission "oh" n-e-ways, i know you with him for a short change but you and me together forever, will never change when i was younger all i thought about was spitting game never caring about your feeling was to remain, the same, im sorry i cause you all this pain ( i promise you) i fill them all with brighter days (and hopefully) i just get a chance to say, that (i love you) and i hope that you feel da same way Hmmm.... we started out kinda real young baby i know i was a fool now ive grown up all of the things we use to do do you remember i wanna be ya man aint tryna be ya friend, be ya friend i aint tryna be ya friend... girl i only wanna be ya man so baby want you let me in... and i promise it will never end repeat2x
El Condor Pasa means Flight of the Condor Song preformed by Simon and Garfunkel I'd rather be a sparrow than a snail Yes I would If I could I surely would. (Do you remember this one?) The Buzzard Watching the buzzard up high Circling in the clear blue sky Catching the air currents, free Looking down on you and me Searching for nourishment, meat As he circles what does he see His homeland, his dead tree A great country that's still free A homeland riddled with crime No longer really safe, nor free Freedom to leave doors unlocked Cars no longer safe to just park Maybe the buzzard is waiting To feed, on filth that rules The streets with crime, drugs Handguns wildly handled (Unfinished and rhymes somewhat. Can you think from news of something to add?)
Hear the music in mid-flight, A soft trophy moment as Melodies of mandolins and violins weave together; Listening and watching My eyes and ears follow As starry night sky and music Create a personal sanctuary; In unison the strings blend And rejoice while proclaiming and Communicating without words; The recital ends in a whisper as The audience reflects on Dreams of sweet desire.
Zaman gul zamani bu yaz Beklenmeyen heyecan Goncolanan katmerlerde Eriyen rengin hasretim kokun Zaman gul zamani umidim Kan kirmizi sevgim diken Operim yapraklarini aglarken Zaman gulse umid nefese yagmur Tirmandi goklere gul yurudu Alevinde sevginin gul zamanin
And as I watched the sun set over that lake I thought to myself in reflection How would I find my way back to this place This menagerie of earthly wonder When my reassurance came slowly To mind in the form of a song, sweet lyrics And as my mind recalled that simple melody That sight before me was imprinted upon my mind Along with the road that I'd taken to arrive At that lake of humble serenity And I understood that it was not only the sunset Or the delicate shades of pink and blue But rather the journey, the curious steps The gentle notes leading into the chorus And as I turned to make my departure I could hear the last few notes sounding in the trees
s- is for sunday a day of the week u-is for union that you have with your family n-is for nagative when the rain poors from the sky s-is for snowcone all frozen and cold h-is for hunny that the beez like to eat i-is for icecream that you eat everyday of the year n-is for naughy or nice its almost that time of year e-is for exacellent what a great poem i wrote!
The purpose of a flower Is to look beautiful And smell sweet Inset with a tiny card Of compliments And poetic words It adorns a costly vase Arrays a field Beneath the feet To powder bees with pollen To give drink Of its nectar to birds It's but a passing vision With a fragrance That is fleeting Yet speaks of Just Becauses Holds the flame Of three months wages It's worthwhile to pick a few To give to you Upon our meeting For a lasting arrangement Upon your wall Or between the pages
The perching birds, in the branches sing, Some are killed by atrocious hunting, The observers bewail, the fellow-mates mourn, A poem blooms by Nature's inspiration. Buried in the seed a plant little, Obeying the Nature's laws subtle, Sprouts the seed to the call of the Sun, A poem blooms by Nature's inspiration. Steady flows the stream, the brook babbles, The blooming flowers, spread fragrance in the ambience, The changing skies of the changing season, A poem blooms by Nature's inspiration.
It's so mild in the quite suburbs with rain falling in October, and unable to sleep, I face insomnia for certain; rain, keep on falling and let me hear that steady, pelting sound on the closed windows....a melody for the saddest song should be written. I must choose the right mood, a minor scale to match this melancholy, and a slow tempo growing into a crescendo, and I could even throw in a scherzo; and transport it with a C Major to smooth some sadness out of the melody, which tomorrow somebody will hum, or whistle by learning the easy tune. Hoping this song will be a hit, thanks to the falling rain in October for the sudden inspiration... when I couldn't think of anything else! Wishing the rain would stop at six, so I could see the rising sun across the eastern sky and listen to the lark that built his nest under my windowsill. It's past sunrise, and the shimmering clouds hesitate to leave, and with nothing to look forward to... I must believe that the rain falling in October, can teach me the game of solitaire; and pinned against my warm pillow, I don't have anything to share but sorrow! Flap your wide wings, friendly lark and repeat my song, note by note; and without a lead sheet, I can't play it for very long... Copyright by Andrew Crisci
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The rhapsody Sonata of the heavens In the woodwinds of dusk Are the cherubic voices Underneath a harvest moon The songs of passion Sweetly painting The nocturne
Hush.... Imagine... Clouds rolling Grey marbles drop White wind floating up Iced rain makes their landing Trees whisper a night song My soul dreaming to fly home Ride in the arms of crescent moon A yellow blanket in blackened sleep Memories dream back to first shattered page.
Born deformed, Dejected, crippled, A child has talent, Is extremely intelligent. Wisdom upon the handicapped, Bestowed by You, O! Omnipotent Lord! I venerate You!! The delicate colours, The enticing fragrance, The beautiful roses, Though laden with thorns! Beauty in adversity, Created by You, O! Omnipotent Lord! I venerate You!! The rainbow spectacular, The lightning splendour, The countless stars, The endless universe, The resplendent Truth, Created by You, O! Omnipotent Lord! I venerate You!!
The wind in the trees blows with the sound of the seas' returning high tide.
It has been raining All the day. But now silence. Stillness Where just before The drops a rhythmic downwards breeze Poured, And gave us quiet melody to our thoughts, Are suddenly no more. The trees, stilted now, Waving hesitant. This new, patternless breeze And our lives are a little more boring As the clouds sweep past And leave us alone. No accompaniment seems to last.
Softly; slowly the waves caress the beach Gulls sing their somber song to the beat As Gymnopedies is being played by Satie Inviting the waves and gulls to hum along The tune matches the gray of the morning Where Cobalt blue mountains reflect Off the almost silver water Geese fly around the sound heading back to warmth As the pale orange sun slowly crosses the sky Going into the night Where there is only Gymnopedie and full moonlight To sleep and gently dream good dreams of you
Flakes scramble for one Last breath as they Plummet towards her face. Glazing each cheek, puddling Down to her lip. Her shrieks shatter the Clouds- spreading then Disintegrating into the beams Of light- crowing the aura, Pushing through the gray. Quivering legs radiate Into the soil Awaiting the final Push into daylight. Releasing out of her Worn and weathered womb, Melodies of swift willows and Grazed petals intertwine down Her veins migrating into the lonely soil. Greeting each other with a warm smile, And a soft kiss. The melodies make their Home there, spread stretches of chords Through the ground and rest. Once they are settled in, they Breath in our world, and Ready themselves for the Cavatina.
Oh my friend you sing tonight to some soul have brought delight some empty night you may have filled with happiness the world has killed to entertain you've taken part and hoped to lift a heavy heart but if you hope their heart to lift priceless truth the only gift Master musician a story you tell understanding lies within your spell weaving the listening upon the ears the sorrow of their own life's fears You know not all is as it seems the world imparts it's own dreams into your well you have dipped upon it's wine have listeners sipped music vibrates it's chords upon the soul can tear it apart or help make whole the message that you choose to give can impart death or light to live Commune with God upon your bed the tenderness of love don't leave unsaid with seduction to gain worldly treasure and lure mankind to lesser creature Things you hold within your hands with instruments tones and word understands a piper who leads minds on a passage what should be the call of the message With the song of the Bard is God concerned where it leads and what teaching is learned harken to you do the children of youth be careful to impart only the truth source "The pied Piper" COPYRIGHT © 2098 C. Michael Miller via Duboff Law Group LLC
I Hear Drum-Beats Across The Land… Can You Hear It? All Our Homes Are Handed Down by The Highest Spirit Long-Ago, The Native Peoples of The Land Knew… The Earth and Us – Go Hand in Hand I Hear Hoof-Beats Across The Land… Can You Hear It? Its Not The Buffalo or Antelope – Who Grew To Fear It Its Battles of Braves and Soldiers – Both Grim Reapers Can't Forget… We 'Are' Our Brother's Keeper… Blood – Brothers … We Are Blood-Bound To Love Blood – Brothers We Are Blood – Brothers Of All Sons and Daughters of Mankind The Great Spirit Binds… … Blood – Brothers I Heard Hate – Beat Down The Land… Did You Hear It? Pollution and Persecution… Its Time To Cure It End Our Journey On The Trail of Tears With Broken Arrows and Rivers – Running Clear I Hear Heartbeats Across The Land… Can You Hear It? If You Turn and Face The Wind… You Are Near It It Pounds Deeper Than The Skin, Or A Flood It Echoes To All … Its In Our Blood ! Blood – Brothers … We Are Blood – Bound To Love Blood – Brothers We Are Blood – Brothers Of All Sons and Daughters Of Mankind The Great Spirit Binds… … Blood – Brothers * * * * * The Eagle Flies On The Breath Of Life And So Do You May The Blue Sky And Your Clear Eye See Many More Moons Keepers Of The Earth… Guard This Turf And Each Other For Every Human Birth… Has Worth As A Blood – Brother For Those Killed and Blood Spilled The Ground Cries Soaks The Dust… And Curses Us When A Brother Dies… Blood – Brother …
hand in hand we walk through the verdancy of our love invigorated by our close environment breathing it in with reverent awe we step to the synchronized beating of our hearts birds in the distance are singing our song with grasshopper metronomes and toads laying the bassline we stop to dance to the private symphony in celebration of our romantic sunrise
A Waterfall A Tropical Rain A Hurricane All a Symphony Conducted by the Great Conductor Tempo, Beat Nature a Treat To the ears Nothing to fear Perfect in all ways Created in seven days A Symphony
Waves of blue like rambling Gems of indigo reflections, Waves of blue, beauty hemmed, Dancing on shores of perfection, Waves of blue, ripples of delicacy, Swinging neath a sky of twilight, Waves of blue, feelings of intimacy, Shining with the moonlight, Waves of blue, waves of exquisiteness, Eternally sway along, Waves of blue, waves of elegance, Eternally sing this song…
Spring has come early, cherry trees are in full bloom, Juniper Street resembles a country orchard; what's really missing are sweet songbirds... who longs for their harmonious sounds: when loneliness abounds? Entered in Russell Sivey's contest, " A Mesh Of Forms " Written by Andrew Crisci Forms used: Dodoitsu& Kimo
dragging in denim notes through a tide-pool creek laughing lyrics bubbling on wearing wet my mystique dragging those blue chords rinsed in aqua and stone awash, panting, melodic remember eight bars rockin' overblown smokin' blues, roachin' rhythm trilling trumpet tonin' notes words sung growling aphorism textiled chords from our throats riffs cascade rock and fall pants and moans fit real tight cottonin' tactile harmonies enthral glissando down jus' feels alright singing chorus warbled lines don't matter to know the words stonewashed song feelin' fine bright sun-dried waterworks © Goode Guy 2011-11-27
Dazzling twilight Sparkling starlight Ocher lights all around Heavens are chanting Nature is prancing Anticipating concerto sounds Zephyr tantalizing Music harmonizing Grand flora sway lofty in a row Nightingale ready Standing steady Awaiting her cue from the Maestro Gesture is given Moment for singing She shares an inspirational serenade Welcome midnight waltz Tonight, no faults Night dances in a splendid cascade Sonata swarms Tranquility warms Finale' is here. Morning's first light Evening in awe Heaven applauds Bravo. Fortissimo. Thank you. Goodnight.
Lights shine in the wood, the flicker in the wood, the wood with the fairy ring. ''No tresspassing'' Bold black words printed on a plastic sign nailed to a tree, a tree in a the wood, the wood with the fairy ring. The nails on the sign sit rimmed with rust, the words begin to fade but no one dares to wander in the woods, for they've been warned by the woods, the woods with the fairy ring. The sign lies blank, one nail is gone but the message still remains for on moonlite nights the sign drips with blood its message crimson and clear ''Stay clear of our wood so the lights may shine in our wood let them flicker in our woods, in our wood with our fairy ring.''
O thy beauty So gentle! Grazing the breeze as you Sway indolently among its Freshness… O thy beauty So gentle! Dancing on the rhythm as you Create your own symphony, Noblesse… O thy beauty So gentle! Descending leisurely as you Comfort the air with your Caress… O thy beauty So gentle! Falling leaf of autumn, More than words can Express...
Whispers by a wandering brook their speakers shrouded by mist somewhere within the shadowed fog they hide laughing in time with the brook luring me so I'll follow their call and venture far from the path till I lose my way in the dark. Songs sung by rustling golden leaves screen their singers from view behind autumn foliage they snicker a sweet tinkling on the breeze snaring me in their well made net Till I see with growing sorrow that the woodland path is gone: I've lost my way in the dark. Silence in the silver moonbeams illuminates their figures with light around us sits the mist caressing the golden leaves obscuring the world from view. A peal of bell like giggling breaks into the dark.
Hidden in a meadow with shimmering grass and waving daises, I lay back and enjoy the Mediterranean's gentle breeze; fair lover, with eyes bluer and wider than the soft Italian sky, come and lay on my warm chest and delightfully sigh! No place in all the Earth makes lovers whisper and dream... while the peach and cypress trees, lower than the Tower of Pisa, diffuse their aroma by fluttering their branches to delight my Lisa; trust these lips, silent lover, and discover how passion becomes real! The rolling hills gracefully spread their scented, emerald blankets... as far as the distant horizon that greets every sunset and dawn, inviting us to watch the making of another superb season; and we accept their invitation by offering them an elegant dance! Frantic robins and canaries, warble at these sun-tanned feet, April's sadness has no unkind reason to impose its somber mood; your harmonious notes can create that perfect, danceable rhythm, not to let that hopeful heart, awaiting its joy, feel the emptiness of gloom! Kissing scarlet lips that demand a lover's touch and affinity, have the softness of the reddest roses in all Tuscany; many would sell their souls to have such a moment of ecstasy... as the Mediterranean's gentle breeze can make them taste eternity! Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci
It starts very far away. Where the mountains slope down to the stormy sea Slowly, surely, it comes lilting here, That strange, wild music meant for only my ear, With that tang of adventure, calling out to me. It speaks in its gypsy tongue. Of unexplored places, distant lands unknown, Where that haunting music plays night and day, In the hazy hills and weather-beaten bays, And the high cliffs with faces of ancient stone. It tells me stories. Legends of creatures that dwell in the deep, And surface in times of perilous gales. Heroes whose deeds are woven in tales, And strange beasts hidden in drunken sleep. It shows me visions. Pictures of seas of the deepest blue, And untamed forests of towering trees, Grassy plains swept by a playful breeze, Sunlight on peaks of shadowy hue. It entrances me With its bizarre melody of elfin tunes, That tells me so much and yet conceals, Even lovelier visions in its crystal veil, Of velvet nights graced by a thousand moons. It beckons to me. Tells me to follow wherever it goes, Flying and drifting with a flair of its own, In a gentle, persuasive tone, To pursue the familiar path it knows. And I yearn to go. To travel to strange sounding places far away, Leave my monotonous existence behind, I tell it I now am in reality entwined, But I know I'll freely follow the music someday.
If I had wings to fly I would surely fly away To a desert time and place So none could find my face If I had wings to fly I would soar above the clouds Far from here and now To where? To there somehow If I had wings to fly If I had wings to fly I would fly to be alone Where nothing could go wrong And I would sing my song If I had wings to fly I would mount above the world To escape your winds that whirl And the stones of boys and girls If I had wings to fly If I, If I had wings to fly, I would view from a bird's eye How lonely you and I would be when doves fly, doves cry If I, If I had wings to fly I would view from a bird's eye How lonely you and I would be when doves cry, doves die (Chorus) If I had wings to fly I'd fly right back to truth To a place of hope with you Where we could start anew If I had wings to fly I'd make my flight complete And take you high with me For all the world to see If I had wings to fly If I had wings to fly I'd not fly away again For I was wrong there and then I won't wish for where I've been If I had wings to fly I'd give my wings to you For your love for me is proved And our love can not be moved Even if I had wings to fly
Warm rain gushes from the bright sky, to free all clouds of their heavy weight and nourish everything below... even the dry beak of a sparrow; we didn't ask for it and yet it came unexpectadly to end our physical thirst... another reminder of mercy! The thirsty crows invade the drenched meadows, once so dried-out and yellowed, to resemble an arid desert; water sustains life on this planet... and allowes the low rivers to overflow when winter can't bring any snow; then...is all hope useless? There'll be lots of beautiful flowers this spring, even those silent bells will joyfully ring; a brighter sun will radiate... illuminating our path until evening: so much joy in our singing, a perfect time to meditate! Warm rain gushes from the bright sky, surprise sparkles in the unbeliever's eyes; doubts make us unhappy and weak... considering the dark side of things! Vision makes us soar above the awesome stars, while despair causes our souls to die!
The next time you venture outdoor's additional eye's will create add-venture instead of focusing on pinpoint narrow view's open your eye's,realeyes,don't deneye yourself a moment of beauties greatness release yourself,new lease on life Feel your every surrounding's sensation don't deafeye yourself the music of the world isn't just heard it's felt,the herd walk's in single file the music of the world is life the rythmic flow of our hearts blood bump-bumpin' our favorite love song romancing your dancing's every motion Like having a moment you don't want to end you want to bottle it up,keep it forever that's the beauty of memory..... being an extension of the beauty.......
Beneath the blue sky Sailing tropical currents, Basking in the sun. * Basking in the sun, On the surface of beauty, The ocean bestows. * The ocean bestows The most beautiful soundscape, The music of waves.
Ducks float flawlessly waking up the sleeping sea, by the quacking sound
Notes put to page by mage intent Attempt at acting sage pro temp Unheard notes of songs and hymns Unsung as yet unwrit Using rythym of rhyming repeating With rippling echoes reacting Hanging ten while surfing brainwaves On the sharpening edge of reason Activating nodes in thinking patterns Chiselling in stoned memories Easily remembered by simple repetition Pictures registered in singing words Sunset clouds of changing color Shaded hues of blue and red Golden notes of symphonies Counterpointing purple coastlines Islands float in cloudy seas Songs unheard but plainly written In time to changing winds Dancing silhouettes of sunlight hung On shining stems of windblown waves Of bending blending grasses So many strings vibrate together And in minor chord the brass is sung By a thousand birds on cue Crickets add a million cymbals Until curtainfall is due
Wilderness We finally finished our album. I'm so happy. It will be on sale in 200 record shops in Norway. I hope our music speaks to people. I want them to experience that feeling when they listen to it. I want to change things. I'm not sure if my band members feel it or would agree with that? I can touch that feeling, like something's being born. I know it's possible and with luck will happen. My record, my singing, my words changing things and setting Norway on her new path. In a hundred years when I'm just dust, people will remember me and my record. I started the revolution from within. The wilderness understands.
Where sleeps upon the shelf his violin that in past with mournful tone he plucked who woo'd a maiden fair and shaped within the aria upon which ears had wanton supped For now that hollow wood become an empty thing and days her strings had sang so lovingly its heart now dead because of loss of dream and want of fingers who play now grudgingly Silent now the bow and string so smoothly licked and caught the graceful tones upon her played time did take its toll on misery sipped where in past her elations joys has stayed Gone now that audience who was his care buried in the tomb with their mosses deep the caress of the music they did share where both now lay in their closets sleep Twas grievous chords that last upon her sing whose chorus stroked reception to the ground since that place could not himself to bring or bless that happy wood her joyful sound COPYRIGHT © 2010 C Michael Miller via Duboff Law Group LLC
Raining metallic drops Pounding on my head, A drum roll... Raining metallic drops Slide along my hair, A violin serenade.. Raining metallic drops Bouncing from my eyelashes, A piano symphony.. Raining metallic drops Makes mascara disappear, The audience applauses.. Raining metallic drops, I'll be thinking of you Next time black clouds spit.
A wild pagan, the wind, a spectral masseuse, Blunt cudgel and claw dipped in liquid frost, To corrupt and ravage the pit head columns, As black trees threshed and leaves were tossed; Slapped against satanic steel mill backdrops, Thrust over crusty cracked fissures of rock, The rattling rain gunned down the mountains, Scattered the sallow, forsaken flock. In the forks and tines of lightning stabbing To bomb the moon and shivering stars, Ivories tickled by ozone and aftershock Shrilled in a sky of splitting white scars; The harpsichord played on a stormy night, A melody wracked and cracked with disease, Jagged enough to split open the heart, For nothing and no one were sat at the keys…
Flickering particles of dun, Shimmering underneath The torrid sun, The wind whistling, Echoing along with the Rhythm of the desert sand, Beauty flowing like a river In the world's hands Voiced from within Perfection…
Listen to The Wind and The Rain Playing Symphonies Again With Muted-Base of Thunder Raise The Window; Watch and Wonder Listen to The Wind and The Rain Crescendo – Clean and Rise – Refrain A Rush of Lightning Rhapsody Love-Struck A Chord… Deep in Me… (Listen to The Wind and The Rain…) Open Up The Door ! I Want to Feel the Choir's Full – Score Wind and Rain – By Maestro's Hand Make Melody to Woman and Man (Listen to The Wind and The Rain…) Listen to The Wind and The Rain In This Lullaby, We have Lain In Such Peaceful Harmony Singing in Love's Key… Listening to The Wind and The Rain...
Have you seen the man whom my soul loves does spring boundless like the antelopes afield whose consumations thus give to herds their yield like lightly soars in thermals flocks of doves The strength of pillars in the sinews of his limbs so skillfully lifts the music of his hands gathers those who so listen from their stands and bring pleasures where he whose talents spends I had searched the mountainous valley's long ago to find a soul whose depth as rich as he so many I had scanned though did not see the like of him in any people I did know Thus to my chambers I would him chance but he would have to leave the fields flocks exclusive is the devotion behind doors locks or partake the tables spread in harlots dance To waltz like winged bird upon the wind whose unseen direction comes from whence and depth of feelings that make not sense didst this emotion upon mine heart descend Tis now two years I have you letters sent to give mine thoughts you by song I sing that you might understand like bird on wing the nature of the truth in word now lent From the depths of what is true these words now formed whose intent to be like rain upon the fields of grass that might turn attention to so unbeautious of lass whose God has these feelings within adorned So has long in word have emptied out her soul that he might read and see what is her past so fashion to his reason and understanding cast thus the secret person within might come to know Could he not know that every word was given voice to paint a picture of what is of Love and True a gift wrapped like music in a tonal hue that he might clearly see and make a choice Thus seen like wisps of clouds in boundless sky whose movements formed by mists and winds invisible from where all courses begot sends and by word have fully fashioned what is I Source : Song of Solomon COPYRIGHT © 2011 C. Michael Miller via Duboff Law Group LLC
I sit beneath the sun as it beams a hello How God created such a painting I can't begin to know I take it all in as the wind dashes away The clouds roll by, just wanting to play I let the beauty take me over As the air picks up the summer flower's oder The breeze ruffles the heads of the trees The birds chip their precious melody And the warmth embraces me As nature's music plays through earth and sky Summer's music in harmony How much more lovely could it be The peacfulness of all creation Singing in a band so perfect For summer's ongoing music.....
We're two lost clouds drifting off, not knowing their destination; will someone give us a sense of direction? For quite some time, in chimerical rhyme, we ride these familiar skies, sending rain and storms down to earth's surface with such a spiteful mood... until we feel full! We dislike the presence of cheerfulness and brightness, and infuriate the clover and daffodils fields, or even the ingenious parrots that transform their notes into cantabile and joyful lyrics; we burlesquily watch the hungry butterflies hardly descending on any flower to pick, with labor, their delightful pollen! We're two lost clouds drifting off, carefree and unaware of what occurs below us...as if we're not a part of this wonderful creation in which all exalt; only superficial and nonexistent, nonemotional and so obstinate!
The brown tumbleweed rolling across the desert dances to a tune beside the running rabbit. They always gig together.
A dance I'll steal from this night And move slowly with the moon Stars will shine upon my feet I will create a waltz for each one. My arms move slowly, entrancingly Hypnotizing sleepy watching eyes Light sprinkles on my face from above My bare feet glide across the breezy grass A dance I'll steal from this night Sailing between each strong tree Fireflies accompany my spellbound trance Musical allusions fly alongside. The flowers bloom acceptingly in the still of the night Their quieted lights reveal the dreams of those asleep Nuzzled in their nests as I drift below the leaves Dancing in a daze, as I would in any sleep. My feet skim a cool stream's edge Fresh water glittering on my lively legs A skip across the small blue belt The constitution of the forest Winding from end to end. A dance I've stolen from the night In a forest of breathtaking captivities Each shining star a kindly ovation To my dreamy wander.
There Is a Lady sweet and kind luxurious Beauty look I way finely, time noctice Her shaking bye And yet I cherish Her till I fly Her gesture motion and Her smiles Her kiss Her voice my heart beguiles Precious my style in graceness I know not why political Yet I one love Her till I fly Her marvelous educated Talent steping looks will make a Poet burn His books I Touched Her not ready not I, and yet I love Her till i fly Had her fast betwixt mine Arms memories you that Think alone a poem harms were't and melony? Yes,yes, Fame! for I will love her till I fly rhyming I collaborate away There much long as writing poetry in sphere I to request She to ask Me yet would I love Her till I fly whim change,but Change She foundation, or change She Sky, Yet will I love Her till I fly.
Musical misery Sweet symphony A song to strong To touch humanity Violent vibrations Static stations Words heard Mass felt emotions Rhythm rhyme Expression of mind Eons of being Heard in a string Meaning of life I hear it now The coming dawn One verse song Then we'll all be gone A note will play A symphony in rain Rain drops drum An open plain Distant thunder Bass of the mother Breaking reeds Hands of the father The sound of two hearts beating End at two cars meeting
When we go to sleep The night comes alive From the womb of the day Here it arrives A beautiful thing With so much inner glow Sometimes it's revealed Sometimes you don't know The animals living within The whispers of the trees Cooling down it's mothers heat By giving us a chilling breeze Hidden witin itsef Are those mysterious music makers With a different face in the daylight Our beautiful music wakers So protective of its source Never are they revealed Hear them with no sight Yet you know they're real These are the sounds The night gives to us But never the musicians Showing its mistrust
Darkness is darkest beyond the wan street lights, and yet the rain still falls through it. With every gust the acacia trembles, sways its branches imploringly, its leaves pulled down, torn, randomly strewn on the puddles below. My fingertips ache and falter on these guitar frets, but my head sings on and on: "maybe the old song can bring back the old times," as torn pieces of the card she sent me drift about in the puddles below.
Her blue eyes, Reminiscent of skies, Her golden hair seem, Akin to a bright solar beam, Her limbs tender, Her waist slender. Nature bares the Truth Of full-blown-flower of Youth!
I have existed through out time With all these elements I did combine; As my soul soars guess what I find I looked, I saw a message straight behind. The spirit turns around as I caught a sight An incredible twilight proceeded the night; A thought so pleasant and just right, I grabbed it's rein and I held on tight. So special a twilight I could tell, Always there it's wonder would not fail; Do not think this is some fairy tale, Pure radiance like buckets of hail. Inward I feel so freely as light air Floating as though I had not a care; Passing every whichway I know not where, Lights streaming down as luminas hair. Have you ever seen such a show, In One's presence is where I did go; It is His love I most certainly know, Thine being is my twilight of the soul.
The scrape of the blade the feel of the ice the rust of the wind and feeling free An uncontrollable high that feels like you can soar above anything It's an artistic movement of music the feeling rushing in and out You feel the music and display a spectacular show The colors and sparkles show the emotions not just the beauty Not many feel it or understand the physics and chemistry it's an equation of the mind that only the artist can solve
A new land beyond the mountains where sunlight paints a vision of timeless peace and flowing golden rivers at the edge of sight and time Peace - the joyous sound of silence songs without words, sound blending with color a glorious tapestry
From somewhere in the heart of the mile-wide valley below comes a clear peal of a chapel bell with the winds that blow; it undulates with the meandering flows of streams and creeks, echoing through yonder cliffs the music that my soul seeks.
Windswept rain slaps the bottoms of leaves as shiveringly they shed it Grassroots shake and slake their thirst and wave their blades together Tightly closed tree buds stand tall reaching upward fretly Shaking yes but through it all They hold together wetly Branches wave their banners green so many hues and shades and tints Spring is here and she is seen Dancing twixt the raindrops Wild gypsy Wind she sings and swings Her sylvan winged tambourines In rhythmic wetness witness Of the joy she brings and flings
~Well, shall we dance then. Rapid sensations float through hands as the band in the background sings and rings with everything Sound in and around teaming life in amazing voice Beaming bright in chorus for us They're joyous These rhymes of the Poet. We know it. In hour and our hearts we hear it the magical beat and our feet rejoice with Flow Write Voice of the Pen. We have a choice A choice to mend if we choose and voice. Yes Voice to include! Everything. ~Rhymes of The Poet.in.The Pen~
The light scatters, The sun sets, The purple twilight, Brings a calm delight Return home men weary, Attempting to find a moment merry, Kindle evening lights, That illuminate their dull homes' nights. With noiseless footsteps rises the moon To dispel from the earth despairs soon, Lays her gentle hand on the house, To impart a night's repose.
Master artist's, have shared with the world the plight of man for many years yet,fallen on deaf ears, fingers gnarled painted on paper inkwell tears.... As bird's sing,and the whale's song,their oral rendition treasured traditions,of life long an earthly beautiful continuation.... Communique of social order knowledge not to plummet feelings sound,resound beyond borders as an elephants silent trumpet.... Tall mountain still as evergreen quiet winds blow lightly oceans roar riot mother earth has a tale to be told day and nightly.... In the silence of song is natures revealing,of time honored healing,from yesterday's past wrong....
Frost of love melting On the grass of emerald, As trees feebly sway with the hymns Of the breezy wind, Flower petals weakly blown by the Smooth breeze, as they Amble on the moist grounds, Strolling… as they create Harmonious sounds of tranquility, Painted above the earth… Azure sky of divinity, As it reflects its beauty in the Eyes of value, Soothing feelings of playing Sonatas…humming, As the moon's violet radiation Shines the purple earth… Cocooning it with idyllic sensations, Serenely asleep in a dreamy Slumber, Tenderly veiled by The cloth of security, Held by the arms of purity…
The serenading ocean plays an eloquent tune As the maestro in the heavens controls the true beat The tone is so moving and set well by the moon For there's the crescendo as it plays then so sweet Aah, the forever romantic does carry me away As the sounds of the ocean seduce then my ears The music plays on as it causes my heart to sway Eternally playing for our accolades and cheers
I just put Elvis on my CD player, I'm still a Country fan at heart, In nursing school, I was considered a freak, Even though, at that time, I was pretty smart. Now at 74, I'm still an ole time country freak, My family are all rock 'n roll fans, I don't mind-I don't really care to change, They don't have to listen-they can wring their hands. Elvis is singin' that saddest of songs, "Old Shep", It always make me cry crocadile tears, Shep was such a cool dog with so much pep, Now I know what happens after all those years. I'm glad we don't euthanize people- Of course dogs don't know what's going to happen, Darn it! Now he's singin' "Your Cheatin' Heart", Guess I'll just get to clappin' and tappin'. Have FUN!
The she-wolf sits upon the rock In plain view the creature surveys her land Empty of human life, yet always moving With the activity of the animals of the forest The sun is setting in the west And it's time to sing Her muzzle is raised and so it begins Peacefulness and pain Life and death Sunshine and rain Confusion and understanding Sadness and Happiness Love and hate Are poured into the sky in a constantly changing melodious howl And drift over the land Filling all of those who hear it With awe and wonder at the glorious sound The meaning of her song is understood By those who listen But humans are deaf to the songs of the wolf They have shut their ears to its meaning No one cares for the truth that is told By the honest ones of this earth We should listen to the music of nature For every note tells a story A story meant for all of us If only we could hear
Circles of confusion and a mirrored box Image decisive instants of living and dying, Entering and leaving the state of existence In movement and idleness Capturing the connection of all things... The closer to, the less seen, The further away, the bigger the picture Yet, there's always something hidden That answers the reasons why, shows new ways Of thought that suggests stones and studs Metal and glass from ground, trees, air and sun With flesh and bone of darker shades of white Lighter shades of black interrelating for undertones Of what's his, what's hers and everything is theirs On paper without words for the deaf through The unseen for the blind... the emotional by way Of what is felt reveals the greatest mysteries And implications of the objective and subjective Views join together for knowledge to understand The crucial for a better society on earth As the truth that is a lie etches in the memory And freezes in time culture by capturing Critical moments that connect all things in A mirrored box through circles of confusion To usher in indispensable periods of success
Coursing thru space ensemble of sound intermitten pulsing forms a beat even in silence felt aloud harmonious treat Structured count coordinated movement energy flows from distant fount converging keynotes emit amazement
I'm so glad to have someone who cares About flowers and sunshine and birds The remarkable thing about birds on the wing Is their power to hover and sing The notes that they utter and twitter and flutter Are back ground for blooming and bliss But it's just not the same To be part of this game Without someone of grooming to kiss So I started to whistle this song And the humming birds twittered along As she refilled the feeder They too said they need her While the flowers smelled ever as strong
summer burns a lazy haze into the mind Of seaming endless days enjoyed The sea warms to a silk sun touch Rolling on hot sandy beaches Curling surf bursts boils and bubbles Froth afloat and running swiftly Then left on sand to disappear Before the next caress shells and stones all roll in water Dancing with the tempo's sound Falling tidal songstress whispers coastal breezes hum along Gulls and terns are singing background To a lazy Summer Song
relax your mind cause its about that time tonite we bump and grind we cant waste no time boy im feelin you im hungry for you if you do it right a sista, might cook for you plz dont say a word im takin over (yeah) "word" ima take it slow up and down i grind real slow you climbing up the stairs until ive reached my peak you plugged real deep then you erupted me creme filin, oozin my mind im, losin i like the way you take control this feelin-taken over me relax your mind cause its about that time tonite we bump and grind we can do it all night relax your mind cause its about that time tonite we bump and grind we cant waste no time
Cocooned by the light Of the tender moon, He sits surrounded by the warmth Of his melodies, He smiles with tears in his eyes… His fingers slide between the keys, As the hymn plays softly Whistling with the breeze… He sways as He smiles with tears in his eyes… Right and left, He slightly moves Encircled by the tunes Of magnificence, He smiles with tears in his eyes… Harmony, as seconds seem perpetual, The essence of beauty drenches the air, As he sits tranquil On his piano chair, He smiles with tears in his eyes… His eyes glimmer, As the moon reflects its violet Radiance on them, He contemplates the dusky night As he continues to play, He smiles with tears in his eyes… Tangible art, Released from the core Within the heart, The music continues to chant, He smiles with tears in his eyes… A night in which, it awaits dawn, Where he sits and plays, For everything else is gone... He smiles with tears in his eyes… Dawn is here, As the sun began to rise, He continued playing Smiling with tears submerging his eyes, He suddenly stops the music, And loudly cries… He weeps, as tears fall from his eyes…
Hey, willy, old pal, thanks for the comments I guess I owe it to you to answer your questions; re; joining the band- you're welcome to try out-if you live in the NYC metro area....as to playing 30's and 40's music- cool by me-- but can you play a Bach Fugue on the harp?? PS- My 'hard rock" days are long over..it's too simple, too boring, and....TOO LOUD!!! We're more R&B, and Jazz oriented. Last comment- who says I ain't world famous?? ha, ha, Thanks for the comments, your buddy in pen and thought, tom
loop clouds swimming lusciously, languidly through a fermented darkness – so strong it could leave you blind and hungry for more the streets defining pavement, still wind on into the heart of this addictive stupor one man stands alone squinting for the moon all men stand alone straining for hope in the awesomely twisted crevices of such a night, clawing their way out to only insanely benign sun rises; Sun Sets strewn with extras just filling a void in this thickly intoxicating air Summer's raining
truly balanced winged fluidity upswept from curling wave swirling to soar in savored grace on a cushion of descant airs sung at a surfing pace What hand could stroke with wetted brush This flow of captured sight what words could tell to show this spell of musical delight This flash of chance A passing glance Caught and held in memory's eye slow dancing more in favored space with incandescent Flair
Early morning chill in the air Jack the Frost with ice in his hair Sliding along on his slippered feet upon trails left from his whispered heat Singing so lightly his winter tune hoping ice remnants will last until noon Knowing that soon the icicles will stay just a dingaling instrument along his way Keeping tune with the wind chimes swaying tall grasses in pantomime Basso is felt from wind blown branches winters song music will always entrans' us As beautiful the melody,as ice crystals fall caution,be steady,avoiding Frost's snowy walls......
Whisper soft strokings Stirring up life tides Almost like bagpipes On descantic hillsides Echoes of losses of Tempers and friends Memories lingering Kneeling to mend that Tattertorn sweater a Soul of loose ends Rising to challenge Habitual pride Such is the music In rhythm and rhyme Flowing Forever in time Pulsation sensations Enlivened emotions Awakened and Ready to rise
Crystallized stardust sparkling eyes dreams drift trancelike from the sky millenia pass in a single blink sleeplike slumber constant wink Galaxy's spiral whirl of order womb of the universe breathes it's ardor from no-thing to something,infinity rings Angel's of heaven in song they sing In unison beauty synching sound as grandfather time toll it's bells natural mechanics gracefully found instruments vibrate within' the shell Soul of the whole in perfect harmony matrix of life our eventual matrimony.....
Bells and chimes every now and then rhymes soothing,betrothing of nature's time....
intro: when im with you chorus: i never ever wanna let you go "when im with you" happy days and beautiful rainbows "when im with you" i feel some like i never felt before "when im with you" cause when im with you when im with you repeat2x: verse: beautiful amazing girl thats what you are you make me feel like a shooting star the way you smile,the way you look at me it's the only look i wanna see cause.... repeat chorus2x: the way you walk the way you talk "when im with you" the way you move the way you groove "when im with you" the way you smile your class your style only for you i'll walk a thousand miles "cause when im with you" repeat2x: repeat chorus2x:
Deep silence interrupted by a brutal storm... wind lashing, buckets of rain pouring; lamp-posts were lit at four, as dakness advanced with haste! The brick-paved square, where the artists gathered to display their talents is empty and desperately laments; the struggling musicians don't play the flute and the violin... seeking attention and sympathy, but the desolation adds to their imagery! How sad is for the painters to put their brushes away in wooden cases... when the inspiration was at its peak; pitifully watch the pigeons, drenched and shaking, with nothing to eat... kindly offer them what they seek! Deep silence descended on the gloomy town, once enbued by passion and thrilled emotion... now no longer present; the perfumed peach trees in bloom have been stripped of their soft petals... to embellish the deserted,glittering streets! Listen...an harmonica is playing at close distance, to up-lift the low spirits subdued by doom!