And my father was a comic. He could play any musical instrument. He loved to perform. He was a wonderfully comedic character. He had the ability to dance and sing and charm and analyze poetry.
quote by Lynn Johnston
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Related quotes
We really were a very musical family. Father managed to buy us a small pump organ, and I just loved this instrument.
quote by Lawrence Welk
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It's easy to play any musical instrument: all you have to do is touch the right key at the right time and the instrument will play itself.
quote by Johannes Sebastian Bach
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The three parts of the theory are analytical ability, the ability to analyze things to judge, to criticize. Creative, the ability to create, to invent and discover and practical, the ability to apply and use what you know.
quote by Robert Sternberg
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Diminished
I watched you fall
I think I pushed
Maybe Im crazy
Maybe diminished
Maybe Im innocent
Maybe Im finished
Maybe I blacked out
How do I play this
I will give my best today
I will give myself away
I have never hurt anythig
Is the jury wavering
Do they know I sing
Maybe Im crazy
Maybe diminished
How do i
How do I play this
Jealous lover self defense
Protective brother chemical
Dependence
Ill consult the I ching
Ill consult the tv
Ouija oblique strategies
Ill consult the law books for
Precedents
Can I charm the jury
I will give my best today
I will give myself away
I have never hurt anything
Is the justice wavering
Does she know I sing
That song
Sing along
Sing along
Sing along
I will never hurt anything
I watched you fall
Maybe theyll see me
Maybe theyll say
I can see the truth in his statement
Smallpox blanket no way
Can I charm the jury my defense
Maybe Im crazy
Maybe Im diminished
Maybe I loved you
Baby I loved you
Baby I loved you
Baby I loved you
Baby Im finished
I will give my best today
I will give myself away
I have never hurt anything
Is the justice wavering
Does she know I sing
That song
Sing along
Sing along
Sing along
I will never hurt anything
I have given myself away
I have given my best today
I have never hurt anything
Is the justice wavering
Does she know I loved you
Does she know I loved you
Does she know I sing
song performed by by REM
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Taming The Shrew!
You can even move a mountain by faith, they say;
You can melt even a mountain by poetry, I say!
You can crack even a hard nut by poetry, know you!
Who cannot be moved by music in the world?
Music makes even a poisonous snake dance to its tune!
Music has the power to tame or drive away wild animals.
Poetry is musical words created by poet’s magic power;
Man being a higher being is tamed by musical poetry.
Poetry has the power to absorb, tame and inspire many!
Poetry consoles as music, art and Nature worn out souls
As poetry is the best and final resort for the hopeless here
For, it’s like God’s power that can turn hopeless into hopeful!
Poetry, the source of music and song, is the first and last
That tames the shrew and turns a dolt into a daunting don!
poem by Ramesh T A
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Music of Poetry!
Grief stricken violin music,
Boasting trumpet music,
Dance inducing guitar music,
Thrilling beats of drum music,
All these and more as words
Making rhythm of poetry
Make all dance to sing songs
Depicting message of poetry
To be amused and enlightened!
Let us all sing and dance as to
The music of heart inspired
By the poetic words forever!
Music, song, dance and poetry
Amuse all with information fine!
poem by Ramesh T A
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As the 1960s began, a new breed of Hollywood leading lady was emerging. She was elegant, international, and wonderfully comedic.
quote by Maureen O'Hara
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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One and All
Run and run
Sing then sing
Dance the dance
Play during work
We all are the same
In every little way
The way you run
How I sing
When they dance
And how we all play
A single voice
A rose in bloom
It's all the same
Like me, like you
We are the feet that run
We are the voice that sings
We are the best of the dance
We are the playing beings
We are one
We are all
We are the same
One and all
poem by Janelle Morehart
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Oh See How They Dance!
their form
their posture
their movement
oh see how they dance!
their laughter
their joy
their smiles
oh see how they dance!
behind their faces of happiness and joy
they hide their true self
behind their masks they hide...
oh watch how they dance! ! !
across the stage
across the floor
up and over and under
they dance oh they dance! ! ! !
they act
they sing
they play
we watch how they dance! ! ! ! !
while we watch we think
what they hide behind their masks
on that stage and in character
and rejoicing! ! ! ! ! ! !
like nothing is wrong with their lives
i wish i would dance! ! !
but i go and i live my
boring old life and
oh i see how they dance! ! ! ! !
as
i
simply
stay lost in the crowd...
who sees how they dance.................
poem by Lost Princess
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The ability to play the clarinet is the ability to overcome the imperfections of the instrument. There's no such thing as a perfect clarinet, never was and never will be.
quote by Jack Brymer
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I play a percussion instrument, not a musical saw; it needs no amplification. Where it's needed, they put a microphone in front of the bass drum. But, I don't think it's necessary to play that way every night.
quote by Buddy Rich
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I play a musical instrument a little, but only for my own amazement.
quote by Fred Allen
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An act of poetry
Ruin is what we need –
Despair is what we feed
Upon in poetry
A shock resets the nerves –
Helps remould the curves
Of written art
Catharsis helps portray –
Acting out a play
On expurgation
Tears or hidden fears
Release the bottled years
To ink a page:
The pen be our salvation.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Has music gone from poetry?
Has music gone from poetry?
Words and music, still agree?
Dance and rhythm, song and laughter,
Do they echo, now, hereafter..?
Has singing gone from poetry?
Words that sing a listened tune?
Lullaby and melody,
Old rhymes that sleepy mothers croon?
Has rhythm gone from poetry?
Quick as a dance-step, slow as a glide?
Laughing now; now weeping; now shouting with glee –
Dancing round you, singing, can’t catch me…
Has magic gone from poetry?
Spells that summon fairy Fates?
Incantations solemn spoken,
Heroes, giants, to danger woken?
Have light hearts gone from poetry?
Hearts that know the tears of life,
hearts that know the grief of strife,
yet sing and dance and laugh with glee?
Who loves, who loves not poetry?
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Has music gone from poetry?
Has music gone from poetry?
Words and music, still agree?
Dance and rhythm, song and laughter,
Do they echo, now, hereafter..?
Has singing gone from poetry?
Words that sing a listened tune?
Lullaby and melody,
Old rhymes that sleepy mothers croon?
Has rhythm gone from poetry?
Quick as a dance-step, slow as a glide?
Laughing now; now weeping; now shouting with glee –
Dancing round you, singing, can’t catch me…
Has magic gone from poetry?
Spells that summon fairy Fates?
Incantations solemn spoken,
Heroes, giants, to danger woken?
Have light hearts gone from poetry?
Hearts that know the tears of life,
hearts that know the grief of strife,
yet sing and dance and laugh with glee?
Who loves, who loves not poetry?
*
(revisited)
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A lot of Irish people perform. They perform in drawing rooms. They sing songs and they play piano.
quote by Fiona Shaw
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Midnight
It's midnight, the house silent,
in the distance a musical instrument
being played softly. I am alone.
It's as if the world has come to an end
on a low musical note
poem by David Ignatow
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Interlude narrative verse for M lady Ernestine
The silent cello waits in vain.
Her owner can no longer play,
her twisted joints in so much pain
Arthritis has now won the day.
Those hands which once caressed the strings
are gnarled and twisted dreadfully
Though in her mind the cello sings,
its silent in reality.
The music stored within its soul
longs for release impatiently.
Its destiny to play a role
assisting some child prodigy.
The owner cannot bear to part
with her treasured instrument.
She holds a dream deep in her heart.
Some one will come who’s one intent
to learn to play the cello well.
Prepared to suffer for their art,
beglamoured by the subtle spell
this cherished cello can impart.
Her children show no interest,
no musical ability.
Perhaps, she thinks it’s for the best
The cello waits impatiently.
One day her grandchild comes to call
A pretty child who’s not yet five.
She exhibits no fear at all
her fingers bring the strings alive.
The cello knows this is the one.
The child it has been waiting for.
and grandma knows she has passed on.
The love she felt so long before.
Before she learnt to play a note.
She knew it was her destiny
that music was the antidote
to soothe her sensitivity..
The chills is lost in wonderment
and strokes the cello lovingly.
This could not be an accident.
It was her grandma’s legacy.
She seemed to know instinctively
Just as her grandmother had done
That music was her destiny.
The cello knew that it had won
In course of time the girl surpassed
The skill her grandma had possessed.
It was the spell the cello cast
She always said that made her best.
When grandma died she died content
Her well loved cello sang again.
Now her grand daughter’s instrument
Their patient wait was not in vain..
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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I preferred not to be laden down with a big instrument. If you're behind a guitar, you get used to being behind a guitar, and you don't really perform because you can't. I wanted to be able to just hold on to the mike and sing.
quote by Stevie Nicks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Poetry...Poetry...
Poetry...Poetry...
Poetry is in the beginning of new life,
Poetry is in the tears of a child,
Poetry is in the warmth of mother's kiss,
Poetry is in the child's bliss,
Poetry is in the hug of a father,
Poetry is in the love of a dear,
Poetry is in the happiness of affection,
Poetry is in the pain of separation,
Poetry is in someone's loss,
Poetry is in missing someone very close.
Poetry...Poetry...
Poetry is in the first rain,
Poetry is in the cultivation of first grain,
Poetry is in the first light of dawn,
Poetry is in the drops of dew o the grass of lawn,
Poetry is in the blowing of cool wind,
Poetry is in the beauty of green,
Poetry is in the twinkling star,
Poetry is in the aroma of a flower,
Poetry is in thunder and lightning,
Poetry is in the heat scorching.
Poetry...Poetry...
Poetry is something more sweeter than sweet,
Poetry is something more closer to heart beat,
Poetry is something more than the most beautiful creation,
Poetry is something more than the depth of an ocean,
Poetry is something more higher than the blue,
Poetry is something more true,
Poetry is something more enjoyable than wine,
Poetry is something more shiner than sunshine,
Poetry is something more pure than air,
Poetry is something which is present everywhere.
Poetry...Poetry...
Poet ry is not just rhyme,
Poetry is but the voice Divine,
Poetry is not just Poetry,
Poetry frames History,
After so many lines,
Poetry still remains undefined.
Poetry...Poetry...
poem by Akash Agrawal
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