My grandmother passed at 104. She sang and wrote songs until she passed.
quote by Rita Coolidge
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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One Time At Band Camp
I’ll always remember the day
I was writing in my notebook
Alone in the woods by our bunks
I was already thinking of you
Contemplating ways to be near you
Searching for an excuse to talk to you
I heard I twig snap behind me and looked
You laughed and said you were trying not to be conspicuous
I was still so nervous around you but I laughed and smiled at you
Just because I was nervous didn’t mean I couldn’t flirt
You had your guitar case in your hand and sat on the bench across from me
I laid on my stomach, facing you and I watched as you tuned
After a day of marching the slight breeze was welcomed
And the rustling of the leaves around us added to the moment
With your guitar tuned and my full attention you began to play
I was captivated by your voice and amazed by your playing ability
You sang of heart break
You sang of hope
You sang of lost love
You sang of days long since passed
You sang songs that meant a lot to you
You sang songs that you wrote
You captured my heart; even before that day
From that day forth we continued our odd status
So much more than friends
But never quite lovers
Now you are with someone who can make you happy
As am I
But I will always cherish those moments we shared
One time at band camp
poem by Brittney Wilhoit
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Alone
There came to me softly a small wind from the sea.
And it lifted a curl as it passed by me.
But I sang sorrow and ho the heavy day!
And I sang heigho and well-away!
Again there came softly a small wind from the sea,
And it lifted a curl as it passed by me.
And still I sang sorrow and ho the heavy day!
And I sang heigho and well-away!
Once more there came softly that small wind from the sea,
And it lifted a curl as it passed by me.
I hushed my song of sorrow and ho the heavy day,
And I hushed my heigho and well-away.
Then, when I was silent, that small wind from the sea,
It came the fourth time tenderly to me;
To me, to me,
Sitting by the sea,
Sitting sad and solitary thinking of thee.
Like warm lips it touched me-that soft wind from the sea,
And I trembled and wept as it passed by me.
poem by Sydney Thompson Dobell
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Rita Matlock Gruenberg
Grandmother! You who sang to green valleys,
And passed to a sweet repose at ninety-six,
Here is your little Rita at last
Grown old, grown forty-nine;
Here stretched on your grave under the winter stars,
With the rustle of oak leaves over my head;
Piecing together strength for the act,
Last thoughts, memories, asking how I am here!
After wandering afar, over the world,
Life in cities, marriages, motehrhood--
(They all married, and I am homeless, alone.)
Grandmother! I have not lacked in strength,
Nor will, nor courage. No! I have honored you
With a life that used these gifts of your blood.
But I was caught in trap after trap in the years.
At last the cruelist trap of all.
Then I fought the bars, pried open the door,
Crawled through -- but it suddenly sprang shut,
And tore me to death as I used your courage
To free myself!
Grandmother! Fold me to your breast again.
Make me earth with you for the blossoms of spring--
Grandmother!
poem by Edgar Lee Masters
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And Where Is She Now
How often do you wonder
what happened to your first love.
Sometimes I do it all the time.
I wonder what she is doing,
what kind of life she’s lead,
has she had any children and how many.
Did she ever marry the man of her dream,
or is she still waiting
for him to come along?
The questions are without answers,
as I really don’t know.
My first love was Gillian Reid.
I met her at a dance hall
where she worked.
I caught a glimpse of her
the first night I went there
from the corner of my eye.
It was enough for me
to fall madly in love with her.
I slowly got to know as time passed by.
We never went out together though I did try.
However, I had fallen madly in love with her.
Sadly, that love was never returned.
She did however become
a source of inspiration
for many years to come.
I wrote songs by the score,
even my first novel
was written for her.
As the years passed,
she still did inspire me
with short stories and a radio play
and of course
a poem or two.
The last I heard about her
was way back in the late sixties
when someone had told me
she went all hippie.
Still I never saw her again
and I often wonder
would I recognise her
if by chance we passed on the street.
One thing I do remember well.
I wrote her a letter,
the longest letter that I’ve ever written.
It took five envelops to sent it,
so I must have been smitten.
And where is she now
your guess is as good as mine.
All I can tell you is this,
somewhere in this heart of mine
a small fire for her still burns
for the first love of mine.
Time has never dampened
all the embers in there.
However, my wife
has nothing to worry about.
The past is the past
and that is just where it is staying.
poem by David Harris
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Dooms Day
Many a times
I passed through trouble
Many a times
I passed through pain
I was exploited
I was was humiliated
I was condemned
I was consumed by mystery
My wings were taken
So i couldn't fly
All i eat all day was my cry
I asked myself why
And there came a voice saying
In your affliction
Will you learn right
In your oppression
Will you rise how to fight
The sun shines at day
And stars at night
Arise and see the light
After six comes seven
I passed through hell
Before i could see heaven
I did not know that my worries
Will lead me to my haven
Many times
I passed through trouble
Many a times
I passed through pain
poem by Matt Ancient
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She Sang the Songs...
She sang the songs... he wrote the words;
sweet words of love, in perfect time
to her style... soft words of love;
the lyrics to her Country songs
of love and heartbreak, hope and sadness;
life spread out in flawless rhyme,
but they were really hopes, and dreams
of his...
he knew this, all along.
She wrote songs as well; and, when he read them...
his heart missed a beat;
Beneath the stave, below the notes...
her lyrics, in her childlike hand;
soft words of love, he longed to hear
her say to him...
all whispered, sweet;
now, here they were, before his eyes...
but, accident...
or gently planned?
Were they whispers of her heart...
or just composed from out her head?
he had no way of knowing,
but... in either case, her words were sweet;
a silky glide across the page...
a wistful ballad... hearts that bled;
he sadly smiled, yes... his heart bled as well,
but,
to a different beat.
She sang the songs... he wrote the words,
words from his heart... soft, yet intense;
Perhaps, one day, she'd see
they were for her...
and, not her audience.
poem by Dream Weaver
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My songs reflected a lot the provincial world of a girl, living in Siena, with all its inside histories. I wrote songs and music they always told about psychological problems and I sang to the people that what I discovered. The results were songs of an endless sadness.
quote by Gianna Nannini
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Storms Have Passed
the days are getting cloudy for me,
storm clouds over my head,
so dark, i can barely see,
the storms have passed by me.
the swetness of life, has passed me by,
of my life, the storms have went,
and i look forward to when i die,
the storms have passed me by.
of the Lord, i'll meet and see,
to be with Him, ever more,
and there, i'll never need to plea
the storms have passed by me.
This Poem is Dedicated to Karen Carpenter....Nightengale of Our Times
She was an icon in her own time
She sang like a nightingale
With the sweetest of sounds
As it cascaded through the air
Her voice was more than anyone could say
She made you cry and laugh
As she sang her songs of old
The tunes and the melodies
That made me sing and dance
From one end of the house
To the other, singing, dancing
She inspired me to dance
She inspired me to sing
And her brother that wrote
The songs she sang
Inspired me to write
The rhymes and words
That I love so well
They worked as a team
They grew from strength to strength
And inspired so many to aspire
To be just like them
poem by Kaila George
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Strong Points
To perceive astounds my life of love,
Stars happen on the event of my eye.
Strong travel has passed, and torture
Is passed, and future is passed,
The past will be passed,
As time, the fifty-ninth dimension,
Shall fully tug at the strong mind,
Alien after alien entered for me.
The perception is strong, stronger for the
Points taken, a nature of strength
Is any when.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Tortosise and the Hare: The true story
So you think tortoise
won the race,
not so.
Today the last
of Hare's descendants
passed on.
Oh his death
bed from his
lips came this,
my great, great
so many grandfather
was bribed,
to throw the race,
to the Tortoise
by the way of carrots,
his greatest weakness
you didn't really think
the Tortoise could have
won do you. Then he passed on.
wrote 4-14-07
In A Windowpane
I looked into a windowpane
Last evening in a city far away
I was feelin sad and blue
I wondered then if I should really stay
Wanting someone to be with me in the light of this uncertain time
Waiting by the window for the man inside
To please make up his mind
Will you be one who passed through but never saw
Never knowing never feeling anything
Will you live your whole life through never knowing what to do
Will you be one who passed through but never saw
I walked along the roadway to a fountain
Where lovers come to meet
A hobo walked up to me, I could tell
He didnt have enough to eat
He said, good sir you look so kind
And though the years have stripped me to the bone
It seems I am the better man
For in this place Ive never walked alone
Will you be one who passed through but never saw
Never knowing never feeling anything
Will you live your whole life through never knowing what to do
Will you be one who passed through but never saw
Where will you be, my friendly, when your
Telephone aint givin out no calls
And when the seasons come to haunt you
Will you still find springtime in the fall
And when youre on your island
Will you wave at every ship that passes by
And will you feed a hungry man
I thank you, sir,
Now Ill just say goodbye
Dont you be one who passed through but never saw
Never knowing never feeling anything
Will you live your whole life through never knowing what to do
Will you be one who passed through but never saw
Will you live your whole life through never knowing what to do
Will you be one who passed through but never saw
song performed by by Gordon Lightfoot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I sang and wrote songs when I was 12 years old.
quote by Mose Allison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Was So Lucky
Its no secret Ive been waiting
But I didnt expect this
Nothing will remain
Nothing stays the same
After you came
Its no secret Ive been starving
I never felt anything for years
I sat up all night
Just to watch your smile
When youre sleeping
I was so lucky you came by
And turned a different corner
I couldve been somewhere else
You couldve passed by, couldve passed by
Come on and sail the sea with me
Come on, lets go around the world
Maybe find a flat
Or a canyon house
For the season
I was so lucky you came by
And turned a different corner
It couldve been someone else
You had in mind
I was so lucky you found me
My rags turned gold and silver
I couldve been somewhere else
You couldve passed by, couldve passed by
What would you make of this, my baby?
The sun through the trees
Is there a better place to be?
I was so lucky you came by
And turned a different corner
It could have been someone else
You had in mind, oh my
I was so lucky you picked me
My trash turned to silver
Yea, I could have been somewhere else
You couldve passed by, couldbe passed by
song performed by by Roxette
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I always sang standards because the songs I wrote for myself weren't as easy to sing.
quote by Carly Simon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Increased Crescendo
The 'ifs' have passed...
As some from the 'old school'
Hold memory contests in bravado!
Remaining stifled, unproductive
And bonding into stupors of delusion...
They are in harmony and greet themselves,
As pioneers of some lost mission they survived.
Neighborhood jive, small talk and booze
Can do that!
I chose to take a nose dive...
And plunged myself right into the unknown.
With my faith in tow!
I discovered how to do that...
After riding along with my grandmother,
Who had recently gotten her driver's license
AND a new car!
I was stunned by both revelations.
Buckled in and scared for my life!
She sang hymns and loved to speed!
My grandmother taught me many lessons,
In a unique and adventurous ways!
She taught me how to deal with challenges...
And the myths of 'ifs'!
Once I was determined...
Not to bury myself
With each heartbreak.
Each emotional slam dunk.
Each stumble into and away from
A failed attempt I made...
Receiving rejection and disapproving looks!
My grandmama taught me,
With prayer there is fast action!
'As long as you keep your foot to the pedal,
You can do whatever you want!
With faith and prayer...
You will learn how to pass obstacles!
Honk your horn...
If anybody dares to get in you way.
And keep it clean and legal!
Just don't get hit by oncoming traffic! '
Of course I knew what grandma meant!
And I was glad she never had one accident,
OR a ticket!
And the 'ifs' have long passed.
That has been validated for me!
On several of grandma's trips!
And as I look out the window on some days...
Reviewing my journeys on grandma's drives,
I can still see the blurring country side
Whiz by
As grandma drove...
And I was frozen to the car door,
Listening to her sing in increased crescendo!
Knowing I was safe,
Whatever the decision I chose.
Whenever I chose to do it!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The World Has Passed Me By
THE WORLD HAS PASSED ME BY
The world has passed me by-
Its rules have changed-
I am playing an old game
No one plays anymore -
I cannot win
Because there are no winners of this kind anymore -
The world has passed me by
And it is as if I have already died.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Looking For Jesus
you got up early,
ate breakfast, showered,
put on your best clothes,
picked up your Bible,
got in your car and
drove to church...
looking for Jesus...
went to Sunday School,
said a coupla prayers,
listened to the preacher,
sang a coupla hymns,
made an offering...
looking for Jesus...
shook hands, patted backs,
jumped in your car
to hurry home...
passed an old blind man
in dirty clothes
standing on the corner...
pulled in the drive...
looking for Jesus...
you just passed Him!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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I don't see myself as the boss. I sing and write the songs, and it would feel strange if somebody else wrote the lyrics I sang.
quote by Gavin Rossdale
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Number Three
Theres only two songs in me and I just wrote the third
Dont know where I got the inspiration or how I wrote the words
Spent my whole life just digging up my musics shallow grave
For the two songs in me and the third one I just made
A rich man once told me
Hey lifes a funny thing
A poor man once told me
That he cant afford to speak
Now Im in the middle like a bird without a beak cause
Theres just two songs in me and I just wrote the third
Dont know where I got the inspiration or how I wrote the words
Spent my whole life just digging up my musics shallow grave
For the two songs in me and the third one I just made
So I went to the president
And I asked old whats-his-name
Has he ever gotten writers block
Or something like the same
He just started talking
Like he was on tv
If theres just two songs in ya, boy
Whaddaya want from me?
So I bought myself some denim pants
And a silver guitar
But I politely told the ladies
Youll still have to call me sir
Because I have to keep my self-respect
Ill never be a star
Since theres just two songs in me
And this is number three
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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