I'm not doing contemporary songs unless something comes along that really knocks my socks off.
quote by Frankie Valli
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Songs of Summer
The songs of summer are over and past!
The swallow's forsaken the dripping eaves;
Ruined and black 'mid the sodden leaves
The nests are rudely swung in the blast:
And ever the wind like a soul in pain
Knocks and knocks at the window-pane.
The songs of summer are over and past!
Woe's me for a music sweeter than theirs--
The quick, light bound of a step on the stairs,
The greeting of lovers too sweet to last:
And ever the wind like a soul in pain
Knocks and knocks at the window-pane.
poem by Mathilde Blind
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To Knock on a Door
Who
Who
Who knocks?
Who knocks at
Who knocks at my door?
Who knocks at my door - not chamber
Who knocks at my door - not chamber door, but door. Who knocks?
Who knocks at my door - not chamber door, but door. Who knocks? Is it a raven - a raven
Who knocks at my door - not chamber door, but door. Who knocks? Is it a raven - a raven named Nevermore that knocks, knocks at my non-chamber door?
Who knocks at my door - not chamber door, but door. Who knocks? Is it a raven - a raven named Nevermore that knocks, knocks at my non-chamber door? ... No, it's just my brother, Josh, that knocks, knocks at my non-chamber door:
It's time for dinner.
poem by Hannah Shier
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Portis and Coco
Where the hell are my socks?
I have no more
Portis and Coco
are at it again
all are torn, I can't wear them
Portis, the pit
Coco the Shepoo
playing tug of war
with my socks
so it's back to the store
I'ts never enough
to play with a toy
they still get the joy
for some reason, to sniff with my jocks and
tear up my socks
poem by Matt Mondschein
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Those Dance Moves
When I see you pull
those dance moves
it knocks me out
When the music
is screamin'
it knocks me out
You know I gotta smile
It makes me so happy
It makes me so happy
it knocks me out
I can't see anyone else
when those
dance moves
knocks me out
poem by Rachel Nichols
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My place in Chicago is a 105 year old house, but I really like contemporary spaces too, so it's refreshing and fun to be in a space where you can do contemporary things.
But you know in the contemporary art world, you pose a very interesting conundrum. All sorts of people collect very contemporary art, yet when it comes to the music which is analogous to that sort of art, they are not interested, or perhaps even hostile.
quote by Michael Tilson Thomas
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To The Bone
In the back of a record rack
Theres a old double pack
Twelve inches and black
With an old crumpled cover
But every track is stacked
And it takes me back
To the one who caused this melancholy mood
And every single groove
Cuts me to the bone
Yeah, she rocks me to the bone
I took her back to my bachelor flat
While the stereo played for two
She unwrapped her gift
And played me a riff
And said, this old record was just made for you
Then we danced to songs of passion and
The singers velvet tones
On the gramaphone
While the record played
She rocks me to the bone
Knocks me to the bone
Those those rock n roll romantic songs
Played all summer long
And she rocks me to the bone
Knocks me to the bone.
Yeah, she rocks me to the bone
Yeah, she rocks me to the bone
In dreams shes smiling in slow motion
Devouring all of my emotion
Angels singing rock n roll
While demons take away my soul
Voices sound, her image fades
Every time that record plays
She rocks me to the bone
Knocks me to the bone
In my back room theres an old 45
That we played all summer long
Shakin the beams so loud it covered up the screams
When lovers harmony went oh so wrong
And in every word emotion is torn
And blood flows down the drain
Like she opened up a vein
And cut me to the bone
Yeah, she rocks me to the bone
And now Im just a prisoner
In that stereo hi-fi jail
The needle pierced just like a nail
As she rocks me to the bone
Knocks me to the bone
Do do do do do do do
She rocks me to the bone
Yeah, she rocks me to the bone
Yeah, she rocks me to the bone
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Opportunity
Opportunity, it is said,
knocks but once.
Opportunity, sometimes
knocks a few times.
The gospel truth is,
Opportunity's frequency is erratic.
Opportunity is a windfall,
in true truth a one-off affair.
This explicitly explains why
To the wise the plausible option,
is to grab the first opportunity.
Striking when iron is hot
Sparing oneself the guilt
Of not grasping an opportunity,
When it itself, presents.
Opportunity to the fool,
knocks when requested.
It is there to be clasped,
when really required.
No doubt missed opportunity,
is the facet of a fool.
Be wise, act rationally
Be guided by the reasoning
The time- tested saying
‘opportunity, knocks but once'.
poem by Emmanuel Oduro
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There are a whole lot of historical factors that have played a part in our being where we are today, and I think that to even to begin to understand our contemporary issues and contemporary problems, you have to understand a little bit about that history.
quote by Wilma Mankiller
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In this tour around the world I was not interested in contemporary buildings because I had seen contemporary buildings actually until they came out of my ears in a sense.
quote by Minoru Yamasaki
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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But, in the end, even a song that's as politically bland as Blowin in the Wind, you probably wouldn't get up and sing that now, whereas some of Bob Dylan's love songs that were contemporary with that, like say Girl from the North Country, you can still get up an play now.
quote by Billy Bragg
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Old Man Rain
Old Man Rain at the windowpane
Knocks and fumbles and knocks again:
His long-nailed fingers slip and strain:
Old Man Rain at the windowpane
Knocks all night but knocks in vain.
Old Man Rain.
Old Man Rain at the windowpane
Reels and shambles along the lane:
His old gray whiskers drip and drain:
Old Man Rain with fuddled brain
Reels and staggers like one insane.
Old Man Rain.
Old Man Rain is back again,
With old Mis' Wind at the windowpane,
Dancing there with her tattered train:
Her old shawl flaps as she whirls again
In the wildman dance and is torn in twain.
Old Mis' Wind and Old Man Rain.
poem by Madison Julius Cawein
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I Can Feel...
she said:
'you're not a poet,
you're just an old man...
old hat, old beard,
even your socks are old! '
'yes, and my socks
are full of holes...
when i walk across
the bare floor i can feel...'
and therein lies
the poetry!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Three Knocks Door
One knock
just say my name
Two knocks
you should clear your ears
Three knocks
open the door!
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Ode to My Socks
Mara Mori brought me
a pair of socks
which she knitted herself
with her sheepherder's hands,
two socks as soft as rabbits.
I slipped my feet into them
as if they were two cases
knitted with threads of twilight and goatskin,
Violent socks,
my feet were two fish made of wool,
two long sharks
sea blue, shot through
by one golden thread,
two immense blackbirds,
two cannons,
my feet were honored in this way
by these heavenly socks.
They were so handsome for the first time
my feet seemed to me unacceptable
like two decrepit firemen,
firemen unworthy of that woven fire,
of those glowing socks.
Nevertheless, I resisted the sharp temptation
to save them somewhere as schoolboys
keep fireflies,
as learned men collect
sacred texts,
I resisted the mad impulse to put them
in a golden cage and each day give them
birdseed and pieces of pink melon.
Like explorers in the jungle
who hand over the very rare green deer
to the spit and eat it with remorse,
I stretched out my feet and pulled on
the magnificent socks and then my shoes.
The moral of my ode is this:
beauty is twice beauty
and what is good is doubly good
when it is a matter of two socks
made of wool in winter.
poem by Pablo Neruda
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The night has left the stranger in the heart
who knocks and knocks but never lets in
I don't know if the dawn will find his home
the beam to write a message upon his door
'please come in or come no more'
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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It ain't about if he knocks a guy out. It's about how he knocks a guy out. It's the style, the improvisation.
Knocks Me Off My Feet
I see us in the park
Strolling the summer days of imaginings in my head
And words from our hearts
Told only to the wind felt even without being said
I dont want to bore you with my trouble
But theres sumptin bout your love
That makes me weak and
Knocks me off my feet
Theres supmtin bout your love
That makes me weak and
Knocks me off my feet
Knocks me off my feet
I dont want to bore you with it
Oh but I love you, I love you, I love you
I dont want to bore you with it
Oh but I love you, I love you, I love you
More and more
We lay beneath the stars
Under a lovers tree thats seen through the eyes of my mind
I reach out for the part
Of me that lives in you that only our two hearts can find
But I dont want to bore you with my trouble
But theres sumptin bout your love
That makes me weak and
Knocks me off my feet
Theres sumptin bout your love
That makes me weak and
Knocks me off my feet
Knocks me off my feet
3*(I dont want to bore you with it
Oh but I love you, I love you, I love you)
Darling I dont...
song performed by by Stevie Wonder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Because my socks were wet
That day, when clouds were frowning
And the ants and the antelopes were drowning
The almighty deciding to have a bath
And the rooftops feeling the sky’s wrath
I got a bad ache in head
Allowing me to stick to my bed
When it went indispensable
I moved towards my table
Hoping to see some help
I made a small yell
Deciding by myself then to buy a tablet
But I couldn’t have my shoes because my socks were wet
Yes, that day the master of hell had a laugh
To see my condition so rough
…Because my socks were wet
Someone I had to meet the other day
The sun was shining by my bay
I ran towards the stop but was late
I had stepped into a ditch and my socks went wet
Yes the devil smirked again
As he found his ultimate gain
…because my socks were wet
Once visiting my god’s place
“Temple” they call it in general phrase
We had a long chat
Impressed by my ballad
He decided not to let me go
He contacted his biggest foe
Arrangements were made
Plans were laid
When I bid my goodbye
He smiled and just sighed
My shoes were stolen from his portal
He just wished me to be mortal
I ran, and ran in haste
It rained heavy that eve and made my run a waste
The two geniuses partied and partied till late
…because again my socks were wet
poem by Anurag Chaudhary
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Contemporary Freedom
I am who I am
Because of what I am
I ask for freedom from love
I ask for freedom from slavery
I ask for freedom from hunger
I ask for freedom from desire
You know and I know
That not all seeds you sow
Will eventually grow
This is contemporary poem
Seeking for freedom with my pen
I read there was an old man
Who bade farewell to his only son
At the hands of his own gun
Where his actions contemporary?
Was his anger or concern temporary?
This is contemporary poem
Seeking for freedom with my pen
Vivid imagination leads to frustration
It could trigger a chain-reaction
Hence the concept of mass-killing
Is born out of an over-reacted feeling
There is no cure or process of healing
Once death is the meal we are dealing
This is contemporary poem
Seeking for freedom with my pen
We drink with intention to forget
We drink but later on regret
And the people are walking
And the people are talking
Talking about freedom, freedom
Talking about a heavenly kingdom
Talking about their great grandfathers and their moms
Talking about freedom in any shape or form
This is contemporary poem
Seeking for freedom with my pen
And it does not make any sense
Why we always speak first in defense
And it does not make any sense
Why our passion for life despite the struggle is immense
We crave for human heroes
Those who started from zero
Their brave tales flows tremendously
So our fertile hope elongates endlessly
So when you tell a lie
Look your victim deep in the eye
Penetrate their mind
Find out what you can find
Because freedom is a lie
Because freedom is a lie
This is contemporary poem
Seeking for freedom with my pen
Copyright 2007 - Sylvia Chidi
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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