I wrote the song For A Dancer for a friend of mine who died in a fire. He was in the sauna in a house that burned down, so he had no idea anything was going on. It was very sad.
quote by Jackson Browne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Houses
1898 -- A Song of the Dominions
'Twixt my house and thy house the pathway is broad,
In thy house or my house is half the world's hoard;
By my house and thy house hangs all the world's fate,
On thy house and my house lies half the world's hate.
For my house and thy house no help shall we find
Save thy house and my house -- kin cleaving to kind;
If my house be taken, thine tumbleth anon.
If thy house be forfeit, mine followeth soon.
'Twixt my house and thy house what talk can there be
Of headship or lordship, or service or fee?
Since my house to thy house no greater can send
Than thy house to my house -- friend comforting friend;
And thy house to my house no meaner can bring
Than my house to thy house -- King counselling King.
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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The Story Behind The Fire This Morning
before the house was razed by fire
the old man visited the house and cried
telling me about a young man who promised
that if he ever loves another woman
the house shall be burned
to strip it of its meaning
at 6: 30 today early morning the firemen
called it a day. The house is gone
The old man gone. The young man gone.
i like to write the story behind all these
misfortune
but i am afraid that some parts of it
may not be true
or that if true, it may not be fair at all,
or that it be totally unjust
so that there is no use
writing it anymore
The old woman died a year ago
She floated in air
suffered vertigo
she gave up finally
the young man to the world
heard the promise of the old man
who could not do anything
when the house
got burned.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Today My Friend Died
Today my friend died,
I still cant believe my eyes.
It seems like my world has ended.
Today my friend died,
the cute face and sweet smile,
keeps flashing in front of my eyes.
Today my friend died,
my first and last best friend.
She was waiting for this day,
as she had only sorrows and troubles with her.
Today my friend died,
the friend who cared about me,
the friend who solved my problem,
the friend who always fought with life.
Today my friend died,
and I think,
I am filled with problems with no solution,
a human with no confidence,
today I am here with no hope,
I am here today without happiness.
Today my friend died,
she has stepped into my life,
as a spirit of mine.
I cannot express how important she is to me.
Today my friend died,
I recall my memories with her,
and cry....
poem by Afreen Khan
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Dirty old fire
Fire in my hair
Fire in my eyes
Fire between my thighs
Thank you for the fire
Fire gone and burned down my house
Fire deflowered me
Fire drew me in
Fire on the television
Fire dancing in the nude
Fire the best liar of them all
Thank you Fire
poem by Lindsay Crosby
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This Is Your Song
Live your life to the fall
With a lifetime of smiles
Made us know right from wrong
Always knowing a lie
You made us to be tough
But never too rough
Rise above what you said
Never easily lead.
And one day well all sing along
cause this is your song
I wrote it for you
It wont take all day
Just a minute or two
You were a friend
Walk with you to the end
And one day well all sing along
cause this is your song
So Ill try and go on
Loving all that we know
Through the hardest of times
You put on a show
You made us stand tall
When all around us would fall
Even when you were alone
You believed you could fly
And one day well all sing along
cause this is your song
I wrote it for you
It wont take all day
Just a minute or two
You were a friend
Walk with you to the end
And one day well all sing along
cause this is your song
And one day well all sing along
cause this is your song
We wrote it for you
Itll take all our lives
Just to help us get through
You were a friend
Walk with you to the end
And one day well all sing along
cause this is your song.
song performed by by Ronan Keating
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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He Was A Friend Of Mine
He was a friend of mine
He was a friend of mine
Every time I think about him now
Lord I just cant keep from cryin
cause he was a friend of mine
He died on the road
He died on the road
He never had enough money
To pay his room or board
And he was a friend of mine
I stole away and cried
I stole away and cried
cause I never had too much money
And I never been quite satisfied
And he was a friend of mine
He never done no wrong
He never done no wrong
A thousand miles from home
And he never harmed no one
And he was a friend of mine
He was a friend of mine
He was a friend of mine
Every time I hear his name
Lord I just cant keep from cryin
cause he was a friend of mine.
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Wind Outside
Winds are sounding outside,
In fear we are sitting very dried.
The air in here collects the aroma
Of an idea, the idea of a sauna.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Losses
It was not dying: everybody died.
It was not dying: we had died before
In the routine crashes-- and our fields
Called up the papers, wrote home to our folks,
And the rates rose, all because of us.
We died on the wrong page of the almanac,
Scattered on mountains fifty miles away;
Diving on haystacks, fighting with a friend,
We blazed up on the lines we never saw.
We died like aunts or pets or foreigners.
(When we left high school nothing else had died
For us to figure we had died like.)
In our new planes, with our new crews, we bombed
The ranges by the desert or the shore,
Fired at towed targets, waited for our scores--
And turned into replacements and woke up
One morning, over England, operational.
It wasn't different: but if we died
It was not an accident but a mistake
(But an easy one for anyone to make.)
We read our mail and counted up our missions--
In bombers named for girls, we burned
The cities we had learned about in school--
Till our lives wore out; our bodies lay among
The people we had killed and never seen.
When we lasted long enough they gave us medals;
When we died they said, 'Our casualties were low.'
They said, 'Here are the maps'; we burned the cities.
It was not dying --no, not ever dying;
But the night I died I dreamed that I was dead,
And the cities said to me: 'Why are you dying?
We are satisfied, if you are; but why did I die?'
poem by Randall Jarrell
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Cry For A Bad Man
CRY FOR THE BAD MAN
He walks so tall to be so small,
I've never net a man stranger.
Lives his life for the dollar sign
and to deal with him is dang'rous.
Well, he knocked me down but I'm on my feet,
now I'm so much wiser.
I'd rather quit that to go back home,
than to deal with the money miser.
Ah oo, let's cry for the bad man.
Ah oo, I sing a song for the bad man.
Well, you treat me right, baby, I'll treat you right,
that's the way it's supposed to be
but I put my faith down in my friend
and he almost put an end to me.
Well, I work seven days a week,
eight when I'm able.
When you take my money from me
you take food from my momma's table.
Ah oo, let's cry for the bad man.
Ah oo, I wrote a song for the bad man.
Ah oo, let's cry for the bad man.
Ah oo, I wrote a song for the bad man.
Well, you treat me right, baby, I'll treat you right,
that's the way it's supposed to be
but I put my faith down in my friend
and he almost put an end to me.
Well, when you take my money, baby,
when you hurt my family
it's like walkin' through the swamps with no shoes
and step on a snake, it's deadly.
Ah oo, let's cry for the bad man.
Ah oo, I wrote a song for the bad man.
Ah oo, let's cry for the bad man.
Ah oo, I wrote a song for the bad man.
- Gary Rossington, Allen Collins & Ronnie Van Zant
song performed by by Lynyrd Skynyrd
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Linda Song
Music: Barry Manilow
Lyrics: Enoch Anderson
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
He never wrote a song for Linda
He wrote as though he lived alone
He wrote of dreams that end
And of sad brave men
Inventing worlds he'd never known
But he never wrote a song for Linda
And she was right there all along
Loved him back to life
When his luck ran low
But he never wrote a Linda song
He nearly broke his heart at writing
Linda kept him from despair
Standin' by his side
through the hungry days
But he hardly seemed to see her there
And he never wrote a song for Linda
And she was right there all along
The one real thing in his crazy world
And he never wrote a Linda song.
When the bills piled up
He couldn't pay
He couldn't dream no more
So he hitched a ride and he rode away
And he left a note for Linda by the door
By the door
When times got rough he'd phone her
Once or twice she took the call
Then she changed her number and she turned her head
And Linda never looked back at all
He'll never write a song for Linda
And she was right there all along
All he knows is no one understands
And he never wrote a Linda song
No he never wrote a Linda song
song performed by by Barry Manilow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I, Me, Mine
In the Beginning
(or perhaps a little later)
there was I.
And then, because I was lonely,
there was ME.
And WE got on like a house on fire!
And, so that we could have something in common,
there was MINE.
And we got on like a house on fire.
(Very MUCH like a house on fire!)
And then YOU came along
and spoilt everything
because YOU wanted YOURS;
and what YOU called YOURS
was actually mine.
And to make matters worse,
you brought HIM with you;
and he wanted HIS.
And although he could have SHARED YOURS,
he didn't. He wanted it all to himself.
AND he wanted MINE.
And so it all went wrong.
There was the Spanish Armada
and the French Revolution
and the Second World War
and Vietnam
and Tony Blair
and it's all such a MESS!
And yet, it started out so WELL!
poem by Brian Taylor
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No Poem Is An Original
No poem is an original
everyone who writes
poetry thinks their poem
was an original, it just so
happens that their poem just
surfaced to the top
of their mind first, so they
were able to write it.
Everyone has love, hate
compassion buried deep
in their soul.
Poets are able to bring
all of this to the surface,
to construct, add the words,
but it is not an original
idea, for the poet because
they wrote it now, it
becomes an original for them.
Who has not heard a song,
read a poem, story or book,
seen a movie and said,
to themselves, hey I had
that same idea.
Only thing is, someone else
brought it to the surface
of the mind, and wrote it first.
Even this poem I'm writing
now is not an original
someone out there
has this idea buried
deep in their soul.
So if you have an idea
for a poem, get busy
write it, don't wait,
or you won't write an original
start today,
don't delay.
wrote 2-2-07
The Night The Carousel Burnt Down
Werent you there when the carousel burned down
The fire and confusion, the smoke and the sound
I swear you were there when the carousel burned down
We were all around
The rings charred and tarnished all over the ground
And the heads hung down
And we all left town the next day
The children all cried when the carousel burned down
The old ladies sighed and the carousel burned down
The rest of us lied as the carousel burned down
And the flames did fly
The pipes steamed and shrieked out a blazing goodbye
As the boiler died
And they melted down the midway
And we all left town the next day
song performed by by Todd Rundgren
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In Making Up For Lost Time
We are as a heated sauna...
...Your lips and mine are one
...Drenched in the sensual ambience...
...Hotter than Noon day Sun;
Sweltering dalliance upon the teak bench...
...Your arms they reach for mine
...Grasping mine as if to never let go...
...Pinned down my hands in lost time;
Seconds they pass the minute hand...
...But minutes seem to last an eternity
...Creating a fire of utmost desire...
...'Cross the coals of our meant to be;
poem by Theodora Onken
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Cry For The Bad Man
(gary rossington -- allen collins -- ronnie vanzant)
Well he walks so tall to be so small
Never met a man whos stranger
He lives his life for a dollar sign
And to deal with him is dangerous
He knocked me down but Im on my feet
Now Im so much wiser
Id rather quit and go back home
Than to deal with the money miser
Lets cry for this bad man
I sing a song for the bad man
Well, you treat me right baby, Ill treat you right
Thats the way its supposed to be
I put my faith down in my friend
And he almost put an end to me
Well I work seven days a week
Eight when I am able
When you take money from me you take food from my mamas table
Lets cry for this bad man
I wrote a song for the bad man
Oh baby you know who you are
Lets cry for this bad man
I wrote a song for the bad man way down in georgia
Well, you treat me right baby, Ill treat you right
Thats the way its supposed to be
I put my faith down in my friend
And he almost put an end to me
Well, when you take my money baby when you hurt my family
I go walkin through the swamps without no shoes
Step on a snake it scares you
Lets cry for this bad man
I wrote a song for the bad man br>oh lets cry for this bad man
I wrote a song for the bad man
Oh baby straight to you
Hes so bad, so bad
song performed by by Lynyrd Skynyrd
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Candle of Love
He was the fire...the fire to my burning candle
When I first recieved him he lit up my life
His flame burned vibrantly, it burned with care, and
it burned forever
Now that fire that once burned for me won't even
spark for me
Maybe its old, maybe I'm not lighting it right..or
maybe his flame is tired of my candle
poem by Octavia Tisdale
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The Request
The sun that you stole
Was mine.
The house that you threw into darkness,
Was mine.
The sunshine that smiles in your home, is mine.
My life is bleak without it,
The odor of my grief is heavy on it,
It was mine yesterday and is mine today.
It is I, bereft of light, who am its father.
It is my fire that is embedded in its limbs.
The smell of my sun is in it,
The sun that was stolen from me in broad daylight.
But you cannot be blamed for this theft.
The sun has been stolen in every era.
An afternoon has always died,
Weeping for the sun.
I, lightless, beamless, have a request,
I, a faithless father, stand at your door.
Let me place a sun upon your forehead,
And beg you for my sunlight.
I, who died long ago, beg you to bestow this on me.
Never utter my name again in the sunlight.
If ever some ray asks a question, remain silent,
Or call me a ‘black sun' and let it go.
This is the request of a father of sunlight.
From this day, on my sunshine is dead to me
Along with the sun it is yours now,
Wherever it smiles, is the home if its father.
The sun that you stole
Was mine.
The house that you threw into darkness,
Was mine.
[Translated from 'Arjoi' by Suman Kashyap]
poem by Shiv Kumar Batalvi
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Burning To Burned
You lied to me
I cant believe
That Ive been such a fool
I thought this time
I might find
Someone who would play by the rules
My mind said no
But my heart said go
And again Ive made the wrong turn
Now here I stand
My heart in your hands...
And Ive gone from burning to burned
Ah, youd think by now
Id know how
To keep this heart of mine safe
It goes to show
You just never know
Who can you trust these days
How could I make
The same mistake
But as far as Im concerned
Got myself to blame
Got to close to the flame
Now Ive gone from burning to burned
Everyone knows
The old saying goes
That a fool in love
Never learns
But I guess I forgot
cause the fire was too hot...
Now Ive gone from burning to burned
Oh I guess I forgot
cause the fire was too hot...
Now Ive gone from burning to burned
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dancer
Im not invited to the party
Been sitting here all night
Im all alone here at the party
Aint got no black coat
Aint got no tie
I gotta shape up now
You gotto know why
Dancer, dancer
I cant live with it Im gonna die without it
Dancer, dancer
Aint no doubt about it
Dancer, dancer
Why dont you kick off your dancing shoes
And come along with me
Youre the life and soul of the funk-tion
It took me all night
To get hold of the right introduction
Blew me out of sight
I taste your lipstick
I look in your eyes
You feel fantastic
My body cries
(chorus)
(hot space)
Dancer, dancer
I cant believe your dancing
Cant take you home, cant take your dancing
Dancer, dancer, dance the night away
song performed by by Queen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Song To You
what would you do
if i wrote you a song
if the song became famous
a song that we all sing
as the days go on
what would you say
if i composed you a symphony
one that everyone loved
and knew who you were
everyday we would sing
the song of you
deep down inside
the melody of you stirs
awakening passion
the fire of love
what would you do
if i wrote you a song
if everyone loved it
and fell in love with you
and everyday my heart sings
this song of you
to you
(by daniel tilton 3/2007)
poem by Daniel Tilton
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