I do not mind having written the song at all. I just wish that I had written it in a different key, as the high d is hard to play. I am glad that I wrote something that brought joy to millions of people.
quote by Chuck Mangione
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I am glad that I wrote something that brought joy to millions of people.
quote by Chuck Mangione
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Written In Blood And Love
In pages written in blood, in pages written love.
Stories are told of you grow old together.
Live to dieing forever.
Scarred by the pain of misery.
Scarred by the imperfections the have created so many rejections.
Give me the antidote to the poison that I have slipped in my own drink.
Let me breath the life in again.
Drowned out all the cowardliness of my angel who holding me up.
Such a beautiful crutch.
Still in the pages written in blood, in the pages written love.
We are just one of millions.
Every story is the same.
All that's changed is the names, places, and faces.
Erase it all.
Rewrite the entire fall.
Let the wind take me.
Let the lightning strike me here and now.
For i will not let it cloud my judgement.
No matter the storm that's brought on.
In the pages written in blood, in the pages written in love
Hate me for the right reasons
Hate me because I am what you wanted me to be.
In all the irony.
I didn't change for you.
It was done way before you came along and sang your song.
All the pages have been written, in blood and love.
The Shakespeare play Romeo and Juliet to the fullest.
Its the cruelest games in tragedy strikes without a ounce of leniency.
No mercy to those who are jumping without a life line.
Protection against the evil of an accident so quick.
A slip becomes a fall.
Next your trying to stall buy a little time.
But its in vain.
Nothing can be changed.
Its sink or swim till you reach shore.
So long off stripped of everything you thought was important.
Values so mixed up in these pages written in blood, in the pages written in love.
We have killed another pair of doves.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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My song of love.....
Listen to my song that I have written for you
This song comes from bottom of my heart for you
It will tell you how much you are mean to me
and how much I love and care for you my love
Read my song that I have written for you
This song comes far away from me for you
It will tell you my days are not enough to love you
and how much you will feel for me, my love
Sing my song that I have written for you
This song comes in the air for you
It will make you feel my love thirst on you
and how much I need to be closed to you my love
Oh, my song of love, show me the way to reach my love
without crying rain tells me it has been in vain
poem by Ravi Sathasivam
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My Song
I wrote a song
It's called 'my life'
I tried my best to make it a good one
I'd never written a song
Twas indeed my first
I had an eraser
I couldn't clean my mistakes though
It turned out to be a long song
A hundred and twenty pages worth
A page a year
I made a mess of it
Blue pen made a mark
As depression took a quarter of it
Yellow pen made an entrance
I decided it was better than blue
Red pen tried to hurt me
As all anger was kept inside
Green pen whispered a note
I wished I had my neighbour's song
So many colours on just one song
Twenty-five pages were dark
I knew not which way to go
I tried to turn a page but couldn't
I basked in pages gone
Hence left several pages blank
Twenty-five pages were wet
As tears serenaded my heart, it did the pages
Too much pain in one song
Tried to change the words
The things I thought all made the song
On a scale of good to bad, bad stole the day
I searched and found other songs titled 'my life'
I wrote my song the way they had
My song was like a painting
One in utter disharmony
One drawn by a clueless artist
But an artist whose passion burned his painting
I set my heart on fire on page 35
There had to be more
And more I had
On page 120, my eyes were dim and hands tired
Since pages couldn't be turned
My mind sat, and looked back
What had I done?
I'd been mountain high
I'd been valley low
I'd been good
I'd been bad
I'd been....
I lay my head on my song
Took my last breath
But before I did
I held a girl
Who had a song called 'my life'
She read my song
And shed a tear
And said I had written....a masterpiece.
poem by Jenim Dibie
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There Was Nothing Left To Write
THERE WAS NOTHING LEFT TO WRITE
There was nothing left to write
Everything had already been written
And was being written over again and again
By thousands elsewhere-
There was nothing left to write
And nothing new to say -
And no need for anything he had to give-
It was over for him as a writer
Whether he accepted it or not-
No one would ever need or want anything he could do again-
And so when he despite all this still wrote
It seemed to many simply pathetic-
The obsessive reflex of an already lost soul-
Who wrote and wrote and wrote
Who writes and writes and writes
Who cannot stop
However senseless all he does, is.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Exclusively For Me
This is a song written exclusively for me
Something to warm me on a lonely Winter's night
And if I want to think someone's thinking of me
I look into my song, see who I can see
My pace is curlin', hurlin' now, from key to key
Written through the gloom
Of a lonely empty room
All the lines start to unlock my mind and I feel free
The Winter's night gives way to a warm Summer's day, yeah, yeah
The light's turned off, but there's nobody to turn on
And there's no happiness in having to undress
I put such thoughts aside and listen to my song
Now, it makes things better
My song does the rest, yeah
This is a song written exclusively for me
Something to warm me on a lonely winters night
And if I want to think of someone's thinking of me
I look into my song and see who I can see
song performed by by Dusty Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Day Old Shep Died
it's been thirty years,
that he's been gone,
the day he died, brought tears,
all day, i played his song.
for nine long years,
i loved him and he loved me,
the day he died, broght tears,
toward the end, he could barely see.
when he died, i was seventeen years,
my child hood died that day,
the day he died, brought tears,
during his youth, we were always at play.
him and i was, so close in years,
when i got shep he was five and i eight,
the day he died brought tears,
he always ate his meals, off our plate.
he died at eighty-four in human years,
he lived to a ripe old age,
the day he died brought tears,
for this poem, he set the stage.
i can't believe, its been so many years,
i think about him, all the time,
the day he died, brought tears,
but old shep, was all mind.
of all these many years,
no dog has taken the place of old shep,
the day he died, brought tears,
i'll always remember, that dog with pep
in memory of old shep 1946-1960 written june 21,1990
Just Beyond The Sunset Revisited
Time flies by so quickly
almost in a blink of an eye
and years vanish almost completely.
It does not seem forty-three years ago
I put pen to paper and wrote
what has turned out to be my best poem ever.
The one that has attracted more attention
than any other I have written.
Its accolades still confound me
as I am in wonder of them all.
Especially as it was never written
as a poem at all, but a lyric for a song.
As a lyric, it was turned down
as being rather immature,
but as a poem, it is loved by everyone.
I find it hard to believe that forty-four people
have added it to their favourites list.
I am still rather in awe of its reception.
I am still trying to comprehend
that any one of my works would be so highly prized.
Every time I read it, I try to find
the essence everyone else sees.
The beauty within it that captures their imagination.
One day someone might explain to me
the beauty I actually captured,
at least I hope they will,
as I’d dearly love to know.
16 November 2009
poem by David Harris
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This Is My Poem
This is my poem of ______. (date)
This is my poem, written by myself.
This is my first poem never written.
This is my last poem now to be written.
This is the poem I would have written
if I had lived yesterday what I lived today.
This is my poem changing white light
into gold-leaf
and blue into violet.
This is my poem like a heaven twisting
and turning inside of me
all night long.
This is my poem of opening a window
to show what was always inside.
This is my poem encompassing everything
hope can bestow or chance agree with.
This is my poem of open-ended freedom.
This is my poem breathing life into motion.
This is my poem written as I wrote it
a living being.
And this is my poem ending;
but only for today..
poem by Patti Masterman
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I Will Have Written Only One
I WILL HAVE WRITTEN ONLY ONE
I wrote another poem today
The poem that I wrote yesterday
Tomorrow I will write a poem
Whose meaning will not be unknown.
Again and again I continue to write
The single poem of my only life
When all my poems and writing are done
I will have written only one.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hope for the weary
It's hard to think you matter,
Sometimes
It's hard to think people care
Sometimes
It's hard to go on
Sometimes
But all of those things are minor compared to how hard it is to get back.
Don't end you precious life
don't you dare snuff it out
I know it may seem hard
But that's what everything's about.
You can't give it to things like that,
You can't give in at all.
Even if some people think,
if they push you, you will fall
You were created for this life,
No one stronger for it than you
you may not believe the words I write,
But trust that they are true.
Your story is being written,
Your song is being sung,
You are the main character,
And your journey has just begun.
poem by Kimeyth Winchester
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Words To Be Written
Words can be said, they can be written
they can be funny or sad or informed
words are sought after by everyone
papers, scripts, books, letters or texts
they can gossip, tattle or lie
honest, trust worthy, confusing
written to story or rhyme to rhythm
they can be found in our minds
written or printed they are strong
brought together the bring magic
imaginations, fantasy, real life
many stories and songs by words
have touched the soul with in
my words are to enlighten and entertain your mind
to put you in places we never dreamed
and to think I could of done that
my words to you is my soul to share
written with love, hate and sorrow
take the time to enjoy the words
words make ours dreams come true
poem by Michael Peterson
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Even though we didn't actually record it as the Move I had already written a song called 'Dear Elaine,' which I subsequently put on the Boulders album. I thought at the time that was probably the best song I'd written.
Sign Of The Times
This is disposable, throw it away,
This is an animal, dont let it stray,
That was the past, so leave it behind,
This is the future, its all in our mind.
Feeding your interest, in between lines,
Reading the caring one, sign of the times,
This is your englishman, this is his lawn,
This is your female, undone and torn.
We are the people, and we really care,
We dont really look, we just like to stare,
Unprintable feelings that play on your mind
Get written in innocence, pretend we are blind.
Patience the virtue not learnt in schools
A-ha, its funny to break all the rules.
Law-breakers are broken, and so we all share
The family problems, the paper that cares
Cheapest and brightest, sexiest news,
Well make up some stories with unbiased cues.
We are the people, and we really care,
We dont really look, we just like to stare,
Unprintable feelings that play on your mind
Get written in innocence, pretend we are blind.
song performed by by Madness
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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At Home With My Writing
how often do i have to read
other people's work hoping that i may soon hone mine
and get
the admiration of other writers?
that is a long time ago and i guess
i have changed
whether admired or not we are all writers in our own ways
it is just a matter of self-expression
a way of telling those who will be left here that once we were here and we have written a lot, a legacy in words, that we are the ideas of our own time,
and time perhaps is glad about it
how we wrote and what we wrote for and whom
it's perfectly nice living life at your own pace
saying the words you want to say and leaving everything for the rest to see and judge
so to say, i am finally at home with my own words and style.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Beware Words Written
words celebrating what is written
beware allure of beauty in words written
seek instead words thoughts not written
words not written thoughts not written
themes not written which need to be written
the importance of the unwritten demands writing
important world needs consciousness needs writing
urgent global necessity issues demands needs writing
actions resolutions policy change harmony restoration needs writing
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Written In Sand
Your eyes are the color of the sea
You look my way and the waves
Wash over me
Your body shivers with the
Fading light
You say, baby, lets just make
It last tonight.
And when the morning comes
You take me by the hand
And say our love is written in sand
Written in sand
We hear the ocean roar
Were swept away on to some
Distant shore
You whisper secrets of the heart
They keep us close when the
World keeps us apart
Until tomorrow comes
Time is on our hands
Because this love is written in
Sand
Written in sand
Solo
Nothing lies between
A woman and a man
When their love is written in sand
When their love is written in sand
When their love is written in sand
song performed by by Santana
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Miss You
Something in me cant be straight about romance. I dont completely mean this song - Im not going to move up next door to my first wife, who lives in idaho. this one reminds me of that neil you
Ng, look out for my love, which says, its in your neighborhood, like, beware. but I miss you is genuine. I love my ex-wife. my boys told me I better warn her
This song was coming. she knows me, though - she knows Id sell anyone out for a song. we were married 18 years and I never wrote a song about her in all that time. actually, Ive never written
Ng about anyone in my whole life.
song performed by by Randy Newman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In The Stone
Maurice white, david foster & allee willis
I found that love, provides
The key-unlocks, the heart and souls, of you and me-
Love will love, to sing your song,
Love is written in the stone
Every man, I meet is walking time-
Free to wander, past his conscious mind,
Love will come, and take you home-
Love is written, in the stone
Do you believe, my friend, in what you claim, people of the world,
All doubt the same-bringing questions
Of their own-truth is written,
In the stone
In the stone, youll find the meaning
Why youre not standing tall
In the stone
The light is shining, forever touching all-
Life experience a passing day
Time will witness, what the ole
Folks say-getting stronger every day
-strenght is written in the stone-
Deep inside, our hearts for us
To keep-lies a spark of light that
Never sleeps
The greatest, youve ever known-
Yea is written-
In the stone
In the stone, youll find the meaning
Why youre not standing tall
In the stone
The light is shining, forever touching all-
Never, never my darling, never youll
Be alone-forever, ever my darling
True love is written in the stone-
song performed by by Earth Wind And Fire
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Can A Poem Be Written
CAN A POEM BE WRITTEN
Can a Poem be written
In Anger Frustration Fear Disappointment?
Can it be written
In Failure?
Can a Poem be written
When no light shines
And the middle of the night is longer
Than life itself?
Can a Poem be written now
When old afraid sad angry foolish failure me
Cannot even dream?
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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