When someone sings his own praises, he always gets the tune too high.
quote by Mary H. Waldrip
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Give Thanks & Praises
Give thanks and praises to the most-i (jah!);
Give thanks and praises so high (so high).
He will not deceive us my brethren;
He will only lead us again (again):
Oh, take that veil from off of your eyes;
Look into the future of realize.
Noah had three sons, ham, shem and japhet (ham, shem and japhet);
And in ham is known to be the prophet.
Glory to jah, the prophet is come (through all these ages);
Glory to jah, the prophet has come (through all these stages).
When my soul was hurtin deep within,
And Im worrying to be free, desperately, yeah.
So guide and protect ini, o jah - jah,
Through all these ages;
Guide and protect ini, o jah - jah,
Through all these stages.
Rastafari is his name (jah!) -
Rastafari is his name (jah!).
If jah didnt love I (love I),
If I didnt love I (love I),
If jah didnt love I (love I),
If I didnt love i,
Would I be around today?
Would I be around to say:
Give thanks and praises, give thanks and praises;
Give thanks and praises, give thanks and praises;
Give thanks and praises, give thanks and praises. /fadeout/
song performed by by Bob Marley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Soul sings other’s poem
Soul sings other’s poem
When you don’t write one
It sings as if it is a dawn
In a tune of silence
Undresses unaware of around
Echoes to the strokes
As if it is climax…
Sings a song of rape
Unless you write one of Union….
Soul sings other’s poem
poem by Free Birds
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Heart Sings
My heart sings.
My heart sings the songs of happiness.
My heart sings the songs of joy.
My heart sings the songs of peace.
My heart sings the songs of the Blues.
My heart sings the songs of the Gospel.
My heart sings the songs of good news.
My heart cries a melody for all to hear.
My heart sings the harmonies of love.
My heart sings a song of beauty
that comes from the Thorne Birds
just before they die.
My heart sings songs to keep me alive.
My heart sings songs for as long as it beats.
My heart sings forever.
My heart sings haluwasa.
My heart sings.
poem by Jennifer Burns
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Knight's Return
Hark! hark! hark!
The lark sings high in the dark.
The were wolves mutter, the night hawks moan,
The raven croaks from the Raven-stone;
What care I for his boding groan,
Riding the moorland to come to mine own?
Hark! hark! hark!
The lark sings high in the dark.
Hark! hark! hark!
The lark sings high in the dark.
Long have I wander'd by land and by sea,
Long have I ridden by moorland and lea;
Yonder she sits with my babe on her knee,
Sits at the window and watches for me!
Hark! hark! hark!
The lark sings high in the dark.
Written for music, 1857.
poem by Charles Kingsley
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Sweetly Sings the Thrush
Sweetly sings the thrush
among the meadows fair.
All whose senses hear her
wish to wander there.
To be in tune with her fair voice
brings joy into your heart.
She sings of love for what she sees
of which you are a part.
Sweetly sings the thrush
before the night has come.
All the creatures of the day
are saddened when she's done.
To hear the silence of the night
you must wait for another ‘morrow.
For her song that permeates the air
to take away your sorrow.
poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Song
At her Junior High School graduation,
she sings alone
in front of the lot of us--
her voice soprano, surprising,
almost a woman's. It is
the Our Father in French,
the new language
making her strange, out there,
fully fledged and
ready for anything. Sitting
together -- her separated
mother and father -- we can
hear the racket of traffic
shaking the main streets
of Jersey City as she sings
Deliver us from evil,
and I wonder can she see me
in the dark here, years
from belief, on the edge
of tears. It doesn't matter. She
doesn't miss a beat, keeps
in time, in tune, while into
our common silence I whisper,
Sing, love, sing your heart out!
poem by Eamon Grennan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Master's Call
You made the sun and the moon
And all this with Love
You put the stars in the heavens
And the clouds high above
I see the mountains so high
They stand in your name
I see the birds in the sky
I hear them sing of your fame
Man praises man for painting these things
Yet it is because of God that the bird sings
Open your eyes and watch the dolphin dance upon the waves
Open your heart and know that our creator Jesus saves
Watch a baby crawl
Hear a man laugh and sing
See a mothers tears of anguish
And know that life is not a simple thing
To laugh, to cry, to feel, to see
I am truly amazed just to be
To hear, to touch, to breathe, to sigh
A walking miracle from the one on high.
As you live your lives no matter where
Dancing or crying, always be aware
Its better to have lived than not at all
For this is your chance to hear the Masters call.
poem by Frank McEleny
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The flatterer
The one who praises you in front, flatters.
The other who praises you behind, admires.
The one who praises you in front and
Derides you behind is worse than a foe.
And the flatterer is your inferior.
03.07.2007
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Proud man can't sing well
proud man can't sing well
his heart is too high
his voice is in his throat
his throat will be choked in high pitch
makes him can not breathe well
and his body trembled in lower ground
his voice is not clear and honest
he sings because he is proud
bot because he likes the song or likes to sing
he sings not for everybody
he sings for his pride
his heart is in his throat
and his voice will choke his throat
poem by Maria Sudibyo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Riverwalk
High above the mile high Colorado Rocky mountains,
Anywhere I see, I see the tall cliffs with silver lined snow caps,
The Alpine fir, blue spruce and oak trees abound,
The winter snow is gone, the summer greenery has come to stay.
In and around the trails,
I hear the music of river creek flowing down the hills,
The sparkling clean glacier water sings its own divine tune,
The gentle wind blows over and serenades her with whispering chime.
There are many obstacles in the river's path,
The fallen limbs, boulders and numerous rocks,
The river embraces these hurdles with tender touch,
It embraces, under flows, overflows, still playing its melodious tune.
I walk miles along the river walk,
I try to listen to the joy in the music of the current flowing fast and slow,
Whatever the intricacies and hurdles we face,
We must flow like the river, singing, dancing and living with joy.
poem by Jay P Narain
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Parody
When first, Philander, first I came
Where Avon rolls his winding stream,
The nymphs, how brisk, the swains, how gay,
To see Asteria, queen of May!
The parsons round her praises sung!
The steeples with her praises rung!-
I thought no sight that e'er was seen
Could match the sight of Barel's Green!
But now, since old Eugenio died-
The chief of poets, and the pride-
Now, meaner bards in vain aspire
To raise their voice, to tune their lyre!
Their lovely season now is o'er;
Thy notes, Florelio, please no more!
Nor more Asteria's smiles are seen-
Adieu!-the sweets of Barel's Green!
poem by William Shenstone
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I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
The free bird leaps
on the back of the wind
and floats downstream
till the current ends
and dips his wings
in the orange sun rays
and dares to claim the sky.
But a bird that stalks
down his narrow cage
can seldom see through
his bars of rage
his wings are clipped and
his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing.
The caged bird sings
with fearful trill
of the things unknown
but longed for still
and is tune is heard
on the distant hillfor the caged bird
sings of freedom
The free bird thinks of another breeze
an the trade winds soft through the sighing trees
and the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright lawn
and he names the sky his own.
But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams
his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing
The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom.
poem by Maya Angelou
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Not My Neighbor's Fault
On a very peaceful night
Like this
My neighbor sings again
Her videoke
Is still out of tune
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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201
On a very peaceful night
Like this
My neighbor sings again
Her videoke
Is still out of tune
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Wayward Wolf and Winter Owl
The wayward wolf howls to the misty moon,
His heart filled with sorrow,
That he spills into dead of night,
And echoes into silence of another cry,
Never stopping to let his weary feet rest,
Intensifying his cry.
The winter owl soars below the hollow moon,
Singing its sad tune,
Into sight as it sings and sighs,
Catching the sight of a wayward weary eye,
Together they meet and greet the rising of the dreary moon,
Filling their songs with the tune of the morrow,
Blending their hearts and souls in the tune of the morning’s morrow.
‘Till the moon doth rise again
poem by Talia Anziliero
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Caged Bird
The free bird leaps
on the back of the wind
and floats downstream
till the current ends
and dips his wings
in the orange sun rays
and dares to claim the sky.
But a bird that stalks
down his narrow cage
can seldom see through
his bars of rage
his wings are clipped and
his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing.
The caged bird sings
with fearful trill
of the things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom
The free bird thinks of another breeze
and the trade winds soft through the sighing trees
and the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright lawn
and he names the sky his own.
But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams
his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing
The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom.
poem by Maya Angelou (1994)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Worship
I know a quite religious man
Who utters praises when he can.
Now I find God in bard and book,
In school and temple, bird and brook.
But he says God is sweetest of all
Discovered in a drinking-hall.
For God requires no costly wine
But comes on the foam of a crockery stein.
And when that foam is on the lips,
Begin then God's good fellowships.
Cathedrals, synagogues, and kirks
May go to the devil, and all their works.
And as for Christian charity,
It's made out of hilarity.
He gives the beggar all his dimes,
Forgives his brother seven times.
'I love the rain,' says thirsty clod;
So this religious man of God.
For God has come, and is it odd
He praises all the works of God?
'For God has come, and there's no sorrow,'
He sings all night--will he sing to-morrow?
poem by John Crowe Ransom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Humming Bird
There's memories and dreams
and some pretty simple things
There's priorities and beams
from the sun as a humming bird sings
But Autumn brings such a sad song
The tune, the melody, the memory
I've dreamt of this for so long
I can't believe it's not a dream
I would like to show you something
but you'd just pass a blind eye
The humming bird sings
Its the melody, the memory, of you and I
poem by Moth Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Today to me, tomorrow to you [Azi mie, mâine ţie]
In me
And in you,
And in him
The heart sings the same
And weeps and it's grim.
It sings and it cries
Stuck deep in our chest.
It sings in the moment we open our eyes
And cries when our soul goes to rest.
When it sings and wind raves
We shut our sad graves.
When sings full of gloom
We shut our small room.
There is just one whim
In me
And in you
And in him.
poem by Ion Minulescu, translated by Octavian Cocoş
Submitted by anonym
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