The songs of Bizet are by a French peer of Rossini. When Rossini stopped composing, he was living in Paris. He also wrote some beautiful songs in French.
quote by Cecilia Bartoli
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mr. Wagner has beautiful moments but bad quarters of an hour.
quote by Gioachino Rossini
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Wagner is a composer who has beautiful moments but awful quarter hours.
quote by Gioachino Rossini
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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Give me a laundry-list and I'll set it to music.
quote by Gioachino Rossini
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Write The Songs
Ive been alive forever,
And I wrote the very first song.
I put the words and the melodies together,
I am music,
And I write the songs.
I write the songs that make the whole world sing.
I write the songs of love and special thing s.
I write the songs that make the young girls cry.
I write the songs, I write the songs.
My home lies deep within you,
And Ive got my own place in your sole.
Now, when I look out through your eyes,
Im youg again, even though Im very old.
Chorus
Oh my music makes you dance
And gives your spirit to take a chance,
And I wrote some rock n roll so you can move.
Music fills your heart,
Well, thats a real fine place to start.
Its from me its for you,
Its from you, its from me,
Its a world wide symphony.
Chorus
I am music, and I write the songs.
song performed by by Barry Manilow
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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Wagner has lovely moments but awful quarters of an hour.
quote by Gioachino Rossini
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I wrote most of these songs right before the end. A lot of these songs are about that. Even if it's not direct, you can feel the beginning of the end of the breakup in these songs.
French women have been made beautiful by the French people - they're very aware of their bodies, the way they move and speak, they're very confident of their sexuality. French society's made them like that.
quote by Charlotte Rampling
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Tarantella - Sour Grapes
I admitted that I am utterly charming;
my specialty is to feed sour grapes,
to femmes causing a total disarming,
from this entrancing, none escapes.
After we jumped on the sand dunes,
and fighting against untamed sharks,
twas the hour of listening to tunes,
vented by an orbiting of love quarks.
I danced barefooted on the grapes,
on vigorous must-making tarantella,
thus I approached your curvy shapes,
hmm.. I knew your name was Stella! !
Was it not? While dancing I kissed,
those sour grapes you were holding,
and you insisted that I had to feed,
one by one the grapes on beholding.
What was that name; maybe Maria?
(stiff memory never helped my brain)
O, sour grapes! I called you Allegria,
singing Rossini's 'La Danza' refrain.
You stated you loved only the must,
your vine crown spelled 'Angioletta';
it did not? This loss made me aghast,
I thought Rossini called you Giulietta!
poem by Giorgio Veneto
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One can't judge Wagner's opera Lohengrin after a first hearing, and I certainly don't intend to hear it a second time.
quote by Gioachino Rossini
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Songs About Me, Songs About You
Well youve been movin all down that highway
You can turn another page
And if you finally get to the old folks home
Then you can finally act your age
I can make a million dollars
And you can spend it as fast as it comes
And you can sit there and cry on a bed full of lies
And be thankin that you got you some
CHORUS
Theyll be songs about me
Theyll be songs about you
Theyll be songs about everything from money to booze
But there wont be no songs of regret
Cause I aint wrote no songs like that yet
No I aint wrote no songs like that yet
You can hear me on the radio
You can see me on TV
You can dig you a hole to find your soul
And it gets you away from me
You can run as fast as an hourglass
You can fly as high as the wind
See you can be strong for as long as you like
But youll end up right back where you can
REPEAT CHORUS
I got a song for every occasion
Ive been told I got away with words
Ive been told that Id be loved forever
But its been only lies that Ive heard
Ive been bold in my days
Ive been goin my ways
Ive been packed up and moaned and gone right away
I belong to a song for as long as I say
But Ill always have a song to play
REPEAT CHORUS (2x)
No I aint wrote no songs like that yet (8x)
song performed by by Uncle Kracker
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Old Songs
There goes another one
Another happy couple on the road to emptiness
I think of my father and mother
Can they imagine how two people can get in this mess
But the old songs say - loves forever
And the old songs never say die
But a song cant keep us together
How can that beautiful song be a lie
Me I blame the old songs
Filling hearts with rebellion and romance
Our book of revelations
And all we had to do was dance
Play us another one
Play us the hopes and dreams of twenty years ago
Theyre all over the bloody radio
Its like theyre telling us theres nowhere left to go
And the old songs say - be my baby
And the old songs say - she loves you
All the songs well sing come what may be
I like those songs
But Id like something new
Me I blame the old songs
Protect us all against a change of course
All our great expectations
Turn to alimony and remorse
song performed by by Joe Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You Are My Everything
You are my everything
A beautiful star
That had fallen
From
The French Sky
At
Christmas
Eve
In
Paris
poem by Aldo Kraas
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Involvements Denied
Songs for devotion, songs for occasion,
Songs for merriment, songs for funerals
And songs for love and war are made and sung
To take you away from involvements there.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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French, The Language Of Love
French, the Language of Love.
Darling, speak French to me when we make love, wicked words
I don’t understand, but have a whispering meaning of delight.
I stand before you with salutial erection, a soldier of love ready
to sacrifice myself for your subterranean pleasure.
Your wishes have to be expressed in French or the steed’s chase
will not react with proper force, It will think it’s time to go back
into the stable, hanging about, wondering what went wrong.
At the subway in Paris I was in the way of a woman who wanted
to exit, she swore at me, thinking it were words of love, I kissed
her and was arrested. But released, though when they understood
I was a foreigner, lost in the baffling ways of the French idiom.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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I am a guest of the French language. My poems in French are born of my interaction with the French language, which is not the same as that of a French poet.
quote by Tahar Ben Jelloun
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Young Woman From Paris In France
The one with brown eyes and brown hair her Hometown is Paris in France
She has such a sweet singing voice and to music she loves to dance
She is in her twenty fourth year and happy in her single life
For some very lucky young man she will make a beautiful wife.
Her accent is easy to love like the lilt to a beautiful song
Of her voice one never could tire I'd listen to her all day long
To this Town she's like a breath of fresh air not many French people live here
Except for the rare tourist who stop for a break from travel I meet one perhaps once a year.
She has such an old World charm and she has such a beautiful face
And she doesn't find it hard for to smile a woman of charm and grace
'Twould be nice if here she did settle but in our Town I know she won't stay
The young woman from Paris in France from home she is so far away.
She says she will go home next year in beautiful May of the Spring
In the green parks of Paris in France she will hear the birds whistle and sing
And on the verandah of her old home with family and friends out of the glare of the sunshine
She will sing along in the sing song as she enjoys a glass of good French made wine.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Two cows deconstruct Derrida
These two cows were ruminating
and one says, I was listening
to the milkmaid’s transistor
and this French philosopher
was explaining that there’s
no English translation of the French word
‘betise’ except ‘stupidity’ but
‘stupidity’ only refers to man
where the French ‘betise’ means
to behave like an animal…
and the other cow says
well what’s wrong with that
and the first cow says
well his point is, English cows
can’t be stupid; only man
can be stupid..
and the other cow says
well that’s a relief then
so does that mean that French cows
can be stupid
and the first cow says
no because they don’t have a word for it
in French
so the other cow says
so then is it better to be
an English cow
that can’t be stupid
or a French cow
that can’t be called stupid
and the first cow says
who cares, I’ve always said
the French ruminate too much
and then talk bullshit…
and the other cow says
I’m glad I’m a Jersey
what about that French milkmaid
I call sexyhands but
the farmer sometimes calls
a silly cow I wonder what
Derrida would say about that
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A legend and Diva, Whitney Houston
A legend and Diva, Whitney Houston
(Ode to Singer Whitney Houston)
Dedicating this poem
To you, Whitney
We all love your songs.
You're really a diva
Let your songs remain
In our mind and remain
Evergreen through time.
On February eleven,
Twenty twelve
You left us too early,
We never tire enough
Of all your songs.
You inspire us
With your lovely songs
And your beautiful voice.
Your songs
enrich our life,
motivate us,
make us happy.
We'll remember you
In all your songs
Let the world listens your songs
Always and forever.
Goodbye, Whitney,
A legend and diva,
May your soul be blessed by God
May you rest in Peace and in Joy,
May your songs be heard here and
In heaven.
Leaving a legacy behind
For all to hear and enjoy
Farewell to you, Whitney Houston,
We miss you,
Love you and
All your songs.
poem by Lawrence Hiung
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