They would wake me up when I was sleeping, and say sing a song for our friends. I had a sweet voice, I had a nice little tenor voice. God knows what I sang, but my whole family would admire me.
quote by Dominic Chianese
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
The Songbird
With the voice of an angel she sang everyday
She sang everywhere we went
Someone said she could become a star
With the voice that was heaven sent
She looked up at the jewelled night sky
Wondering how far she could go
They offered a record contract
And a bit part in a west end show
She could see herself singing around the world
Packing her bags off she went
She appeared on TV, even made it into a film
She climbed each rung of the ladder
Sometimes taking several steps at a time
Parties followed one by one all along the way
Old friends she ignored and plastic new ones she made
She was riding on the crest of a wave
Nothing could stop her now
Fans grew and grew as her star shone bright
The parties still raged until one fateful night
No one could recall exactly what went wrong
Only that in the morning her voice was without a song
The doctors they all shook their heads
They pronounced she would never sing again
As the months went on her plastic friends
Disappeared like the wind
One day she looked around and everything was gone
Friends, fans, record contracts and songs
Broken and beaten she headed for home
She hoped that what she’d left in a whim
Would still be waiting there for her
As the train pulled into the station
She looked out for crowds to welcome her home
But there was no one only me
All the friends she had ignored
As she quested for fortune and fame
Moved away and never came
I smiled and took her hand as she stepped off the train
Then held it as I walked her to her family home
As the years moved on by the closer we became
Until the church bells one day rang out our names
The day after we were married
Her voice came back again
She could now challenge the birds
For who sang the sweetest song
As for fame and fortune they were long gone
She had more in her life now than an empty stage
In the fields and the meadows
Where she once sang before, she now sings again
Love can mend most anything
Even a voice that has been broken
As we walk towards our sunset
Nothing can tear us apart
We walk as one
With love and song in our heart
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Melody
Melody
By: Adam M. Snow
O' Melody, names like the angel's song;
music swaying around thine love
but of thy love my days be long;
O' my Melody, sang my song.
I long to hear thy voice, thy angelic voice
soothes away my hearts desire.
But it be that of love's choice
echoing upon thy voice.
Can thee forever love a lonely man such as I,
or do thee live on knowing not that of love,
or do thee walk passed and curse myself to die?
This feeling, this love O' Melody I cannot deny.
Let me hear thy choir of thy song;
a voice so deep calming the soul.
Let thy voice and passion be strong;
O' my Melody, sang my song.
Sing; let thy voice be heard across the Earth.
Let it pierce thy shadows.
Let the world see a new found birth
and the wonders its worth.
O' Melody, a song I longed after
to cleanse my immortal soul,
to feel the joy and laughter
and be with you hereafter.
O' Melody, names like the angel's song;
music swaying around thine love
but of thy love my days be long;
O' my Melody, sang my song.
O' Melody, play thy music for I love thee.
Thy lyrics be true thy heart,
Thy song be thy key
to set all souls free.
Let me hear thy choir of thy song;
a voice so deep calming the soul.
Let thy voice and passion be strong;
O' my Melody, sang my song.
poem by Adam M. Snow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The River Sings
The river sings
A voice rises above
Fairer than the water, rings
I know you well
For the river has told
All there is to tell
It sung of a maiden
Fair as the water’s song
Her heart heavy laden
Though she sang
Her song was sorrowed
In voice the sadness rang
No words were needed
The river knew
Her voice it heeded
She walked alone
Her gaiety was lost
River, her only home
She listened to the water
Telling a story
Calling her River Daughter
The river sang, through day and night
Sang for her, the only listener
She joined the song, through dark and light
She called to her lover
Come free me!
Called with song and river
poem by Rachel Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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All 4 U
Your voice is a song
Sweet and long
I sing along
Your eyes are like pools
Bright and cool
They see through fools
I'll never change my point of view
(I wanted you to know the truth)
That everything I'll ever do
I do for you
All for you
Your hands make me feel
Feel for real
Feel so healed
My love is so true
And my love is all for you
Your voice is a song
Sweet and long
I sing along
song performed by by Warrant
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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All 4 U
Your voice is a song
Sweet and long
I sing along
Your eyes are like pools
Bright and cool
They see through fools
I'll never change my point of view
(I wanted you to know the truth)
That everything I'll ever do
I do for you
All for you
Your hands make me feel
Feel for real
Feel so healed
My love is so true
And my love is all for you
Your voice is a song
Sweet and long
I sing along
song performed by by Warrant
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Little Voice
A little voice sings
To the smiles in the room
While admiring eyes look on
Each with a particular pride
To have seen this voice grow
Is a memory to share, cherish
Little voice sing on
Grow, blossom and flower
Fill the air with your song
The deft notes play to the ear
And the heart is dancing
Little voice sing on
The room will fill with smiles
While all eyes look on
At the one they have come to know
The one who has grown and flowered
The little voice who sings
Little voice sing on
poem by Matthew Holloway
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Mama, sing for Me
Mama, sing for me...
Mama, sing for me
Your voice, is the melody to my ear
Your voice, is like the singing birds
When I feel down
Your voice, rise me up
Mama, sing for me
When life doesn't turns out to be right.
Mama, sing for me
One last time.
Your voice, put me to sleep
Your voice is
My soul
My life,
My spirits
When I hear you sing
There's no need to be fear
There's no need to be worried
I'm alive because of your voice
So, sing for me
Sing for me one last time.
Mama, sing for me
Let me hear your voice one last time
You can't go now mama
You were the path of my life
Come back to me
You can't go forever
Mama, sings for me one last time
That's all that i want
Mama, sing for me...
poem by Guenael Oristel
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Perfect Song
If I wrote the perfect song,
Its notes and how the cords
Ought to be played-
The song would be one to
Describe our love's journey
All our highs, lows, ups, downs,
Laughs- our cries—
Its melody would be tailored by
Orchestral instruments;
A shed of electric guitars and drums,
Its beat, our heartbeat- beating as one,
Choir of two, we would sing this song
Lost in ourselves; alto, baritone, bass,
Soprano, tenor- oh! The jollity,
Singing our past, singing our present
And our future- the now
We would sing with our heart and voice
The perfect song would never end.
poem by Isunge Mwangase
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Singing My Songs
Now when I sing my voice is shaky,
shaky beyond repair.
But inside I hear a voice that's achy,
achy from years of wear.
But I sing regardless of the voice
because I must, my dear.
And as I do I compose myself
so as not to cry a tear.
For the songs are solace for my heart
and were written to be heard.
I can't remember what came first,
the melody or the word?
But what does it matter the order of things
as long as the song takes form?
I sing it with my shaky voice
and the feeling I get is warm.
poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Song Of Joy
as a bird on the streets
i had a natural song
which came right from my heart
in my voice
which was graced by god
as a bird on the stage
in front of a gathering
a mic frightening me
i seem to have lost my voice..yet
to keep the cheer going
iam compelled to sing a song
which is not mine
i haven't gathered a crowd
who would applaud my silence even
i sing a song without joy
to keep the cheer going
i know i don't have to try too hard
to escape the situation
i still have my wings to fly
which would take me to the meadows
a song of joy i could sing there
my soul would listen
poem by Samanyan Lakshminarayanan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Song
I have no song
But still I sing
I let my voice
Fly on wing
For even though
My heart is bare
I have a song
Yet to spare
The song I sing
It has not one word
But far and wide
It's ever heard
My song is
Universal see
Song of wild
Always free
Sung by many
Sung by one
Sung beneath
A dying sun
Song of joy
Yet song of pain
Song of long nights
In the rain
Song of battles
Song of strife
Song of death
But also life
I'll sing untill
I have no breath
And then I'll sing
My song in death
poem by Anonymous Ghurl
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Luca
Jacob Tremblay (voice), Jack Dylan Grazer (voice), Emma Berman (voice), Maya Rudolph (voice), Marco Barricelli (voice), Jim Gaffigan (voice), Peter Sohn (voice), Marina Massironi (voice), Sandy Martin (voice), Giacomo Gianniotti (voice), Sacha Baron Cohen (voice), Jonathan Nichols (voice)
from Luca (2021)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Voice
One feather is a bird,
I claim; one tree, a wood;
In her low voice I heard
More than a mortal should;
And so I stood apart,
Hidden in my own heart.
And yet I roamed out where
Those notes went, like the bird,
Whose thin song hung in air,
Diminished, yet still heard:
I lived with open sound,
Aloft, and on the ground.
That ghost was my own choice,
The shy cerulean bird;
It sang with her true voice,
And it was I who heard
A slight voice reply;
I heard; and only I.
Desire exults the ear:
Bird, girl, and ghostly tree,
The earth, the solid air--
Their slow song sang in me;
The long noon pulsed away,
Like any summer day.
poem by Theodore Roethke
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Voice Of America
(from the b-side of the single in the shape of a heart; peformed by jackson browne)
Little stevens version appears on his album of the same name.
Can you hear me? wake up!
Wheres the voice of america?
Somebody help me, we gotta stop a crime
I been betrayed by my own kind
I been quiet, too quiet
While across the borderline
We die
Can you hear me? wake up!
Wheres the voice of america?
I know that we knew right from wrong once upon a time
Everything we stood for has been compromised
I been quiet, too quiet
While across our borderline
My people lie
Can you hear me? wake up!
Wheres the voice of america?
Youre quiet, too quiet
Are you still alive
Inside
Can you hear me? wake up!
Were the voice of america
Were the voice of america
Were the voice of america
Were the voice of america
song performed by by Jackson Browne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sing Me to Sleep…
After a long, long day,
All I want to hear is your voice,
Your soothing, calming voice,
Sing me to sleep,
My bird,
Sing me to sleep,
Let me bask in your music’s light,
For after a long, long day
Sleep still won’t come,
All I want to hear is your sweet bird song,
You song of love and sorrow,
Written just for me,
Sing me to sleep…
poem by Sage M. Gold
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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O Nightingale! Thou Surely Art
O Nightingale! thou surely art
A creature of a "fiery heart":--
These notes of thine--they pierce and pierce;
Tumultuous harmony and fierce!
Thou sing'st as if the God of wine
Had helped thee to a Valentine;
A song in mockery and despite
Of shades, and dews, and silent night;
And steady bliss, and all the loves
Now sleeping in these peaceful groves.
I heard a Stock-dove sing or say
His homely tale, this very day;
His voice was buried among trees,
Yet to be come at by the breeze:
He did not cease; but cooed--and cooed;
And somewhat pensively he wooed:
He sang of love, with quiet blending,
Slow to begin, and never ending;
Of serious faith, and inward glee;
That was the song -- the song for me!
poem by William Wordsworth
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Song be Delicate
Let your song be delicate.
The skies declare
No war — the eyes of lovers
Wake everywhere.
Let your voice be delicate.
How faint a thing
Is Love, little Love crying
Under the Spring.
Let your song be delicate.
The flowers can hear:
Too well they know the tremble,
Of the hollow year.
Let your voice be delicate.
The bees are home:
All their day's love is sunken
Safe in the comb.
Let your song be delicate.
Sing no loud hymn:
Death is abroad . . . Oh, the black season!
The deep — the dim!
poem by John Shaw Neilson
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Desmond Barrow
Was a singer, lost his voice
Was sent by his doctor to
a Sangatarium – a resort
for the improvement of
one’s voice; met Molly, a
nurse – also liked to sing,
heard her rehearse; told
Molly she had a pretty
voice, would she like to
come sing in his band;
In a couple of years they
built-up the band, changed
the name to the ‘Barrow
Gang’ – Desmond’s middle
name was Clyde, Molly’s
middle and last were Bonnie
and Parker - their music and
singing was as melodious as
a Chicago Typewriter; were
not a hit with the ‘G Men’,
They claimed the Barrow
Gang stole from the rich
song writers, and sang the
songs to the poor; were
soon tried for copyright
infringement and sent up
‘da lazy river without a you
know what’...
‘2008’
poem by Robert Sheridan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Castro Alves From Brazil
Castro Alves from Brazil, for whom did you sing?
Did you sing for the flower? For the water
whose beauty whispered words to the stones?
Did you sing to the eyes, to the torn profile
of the woman you once loved? For the spring?
Yes, but those petals were not dewed,
those black waters had no words,
those eyes were those who saw death,
still burning the tortures behind love,
Spring was splashed with blood.
I sang for the slaves, aboard the ships
as a dark branch of wrath.
They travelled, and bled from the ships
leaving us the weight of a stolen blood.
I sang in those days against the inferno,
against the sharp languages of greed,
against the gold drenched in the torment,
against the hand that rose the whip,
against the maestros of darkness.
Each rose had one dead man in their roots.
The light, the night, the sky were covered in tears,
the eyes separated from wounded hands
and it was my voice the only one to fill the silence.
I wanted that from the man we could be rescued,
I believed that the route passed through the man,
and from there destiny would be made.
I sang for those who had no voice.
My voice hit doors that until then were closed
so that, fighting, Freedom could be let in.
Castro Alves from Brazil, now that your pure book
is reborn to a free land,
let me, poet of our America,
to crown your head with the laurels of the people.
Your voice joined the eternal and loud voice of the men.
You sang well. You sang how it must be sung.
poem by Pablo Neruda
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