The Idea of Order at Key West
She sang beyond the genius of the sea.
The water never formed to mind or voice,
Like a body wholly body, fluttering
Its empty sleeves; and yet its mimic motion
Made constant cry, caused constantly a cry,
That was not ours although we understood,
Inhuman, of the veritable ocean.
The sea was not a mask. No more was she.
The song and water were not medleyed sound
Even if what she sang was what she heard,
Since what she sang was uttered word by word.
It may be that in all her phrases stirred
The grinding water and the gasping wind;
But it was she and not the sea we heard.
For she was the maker of the song she sang.
The ever-hooded, tragic-gestured sea
Was merely a place by which she walked to sing.
Whose spirit is this? we said, because we knew
It was the spirit that we sought and knew
That we should ask this often as she sang.
If it was only the dark voice of the sea
That rose, or even colored by many waves;
If it was only the outer voice of sky
And cloud, of the sunken coral water-walled,
However clear, it would have been deep air,
The heaving speech of air, a summer sound
Repeated in a summer without end
And sound alone. But it was more than that,
More even than her voice, and ours, among
The meaningless plungings of water and the wind,
Theatrical distances, bronze shadows heaped
On high horizons, mountainous atmospheres
Of sky and sea.
It was her voice that made
The sky acutest at its vanishing.
She measured to the hour its solitude.
She was the single artificer of the world
In which she sang. And when she sang, the sea,
Whatever self it had, became the self
That was her song, for she was the maker. Then we,
As we beheld her striding there alone,
Knew that there never was a world for her
Except the one she sang and, singing, made.
Ramon Fernandez, tell me, if you know,
Why, when the singing ended and we turned
Toward the town, tell why the glassy lights,
The lights in the fishing boats at anchor there,
As the night descended, tilting in the air,
Mastered the night and portioned out the sea,
Fixing emblazoned zones and fiery poles,
Arranging, deepening, enchanting night.
Oh! Blessed rage for order, pale Ramon,
The maker’s rage to order words of the sea,
Words of the fragrant portals, dimly-starred,
And of ourselves and of our origins,
In ghostlier demarcations, keener sounds.
poem by Wallace Stevens
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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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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The Poet's Song
I HID in the world and sang,
And I sang so loud and long
That all the ages rang
With the music of my song.
I sang of the earth and sky,
5
I sang of the whispering seas,
I sang of the mountains high,
And I sang of the flowers and trees;
I sang of the early spring,
I sang of the dawning day,
10
I sang, for I had to sing
As the young lambs have to play;
Till heaven and earth were ringing,
And all the people heard,
And they said, "We love his singing,
15
For his song is the song of the bird."
poem by Frederick George Scott
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I woke up to a lullaby
I woke up to a lullaby
The birds sang a song for me
They sang their hearts out all the while
Dancing on the maple tree
Each bird sang a different song
That melted into one
A song full of promises
For the day that’s just begun
They sang of sorrow
Of happiness and mirth
The sang of marriage
And of birth
They sang of people laughing
And of them crying
They sang of sickness
They sang of dying
This little song
They sang for me
Made me think
Made me free
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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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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May This Song Reach Your Heart
A strong young woman sings,
Her voice so divine.
'May this song reach your heart.'
She showed the epitome
Of soul, body, and mind.
'May this song reach your heart.'
She sang to the heavens
With uplifting spirit.
'May this song reach your heart.'
Her song was made
So the world could hear it.
'May this song reach your heart.'
The song she sang
Was that of fine art.
'May this song,
Reach your heart.'
poem by Devon McElveen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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She Sang A Mariners Song
Out to sea an ocean lay
Beyond the fall of all the stars
I saw a world asleep on the horizon
And while the waves rolled in
I heard a voice rising up
A girl sang as if to soothe the world
Each note a rise and fall
To match the sea in perfect symmetry
The words she sang sailed
Into the soul a beautiful dream
She sang a mariners song
To inspire the heart to write
An ode to the sea and her song
The rise and fall of a timeless grace
As beautiful, as perfect
As any sunrise or sunset
Out to sea an ocean lay
poem by Matthew Holloway
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Out Of The Night
The singer sang a soft refrain,
standing so still out in the rain.
With such emotion she did sing
to whom this song, did appertain.
As peaceful as a lullaby,
her voice rose up and touched the sky.
Gentle on both the heart and mind,
like a freed bird, her notes did fly.
Who was she trying to persuade,
would she be leaving here dismayed.
As over hair and down her coat,
water tumbled in a cascade.
Out of the night his voice did sound,
as he traversed the sodden ground.
With arms outstretched he called her name,
and knew that here his bliss he’d found.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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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Intro/walk On Water
Here is the water
The one that rushes
From our hearts into the sea
Endlessly hoping to be
Here is the water
The one that rushes from our
Minds into the street
Endlessly hoping to meet
They said we could walk on water
They said we should knock on wood
We did none of these things and they said we could sing
So we sang about falling in love
They said that we were getting smarter
They said that we were something new
We were none of these things and they said we could sing
So we sang about twenty and two
We done all the wrong things
And all we done good
They said we were the new beginning
They said we were a brand new start
We were none of these thing and they said we could sing
So we sang about the state of the art
They said we were the second coming
They said we were a different breed
We were none of these things and they said we could sing
So we sang about the birds and the bees
Bunch of do nothing that were down on your knees
Can you walk on water
But can you walk on - w a t e r (oh no)
Can you walk on - w a t e r
Oh can you walk on water
They said we could walk on water
They said we should knock on wood
We did none of these things and they said we could sing
So we sang about falling in love
They say that we say we say something
They say that we say something new
We say some of these things and they say we can sing
So we sang about a hundred and two
But if nobody listens well nothing comes true
When you walk on water
When you walk on - w a t e r (oh no)
Can you walk on - w a t e r
Oh can you walk on water
Can you walk on - w a t e r (oh no)
Can you walk on - w a t e r
Oh can you walk on water
We never walked on - w a t e r
So tell me something smarter w a t e r
Matadors monkeys, a million balloons
As we walk through the sea to the sand
Knowing full well that were perfectly tuned
As we skip through our hearts hand in hand
Well jenny the older
Whose music we heard
Will we all meet again at the end of the world
No sense in fooling
Were covered in dreams
Having too much fun flying to land
Floating waste high in tendrils of green
Were so small but we feel oh so grand
Well jenny the older
Whose music we heard
Will we all meet again at the end of the world
End of the world
Well jenny the older
Whose music we heard
Will we all meet again at the end of the world
The end of the world
On tuesday
The end of the world
Pop goes the world
The end of the world
Pop goes the world
On tuesday
The end of the world
The real world
Pop goes the world
On tuesday
song performed by by Men Without Hats
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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This Poem is Dedicated to Karen Carpenter....Nightengale of Our Times
She was an icon in her own time
She sang like a nightingale
With the sweetest of sounds
As it cascaded through the air
Her voice was more than anyone could say
She made you cry and laugh
As she sang her songs of old
The tunes and the melodies
That made me sing and dance
From one end of the house
To the other, singing, dancing
She inspired me to dance
She inspired me to sing
And her brother that wrote
The songs she sang
Inspired me to write
The rhymes and words
That I love so well
They worked as a team
They grew from strength to strength
And inspired so many to aspire
To be just like them
poem by Kaila George
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Song
I SANG of the sun on the waters,
And then of the wind in the wood;
And the people hearkened my singing
And said that the song was good.
I sang of the sheep on the mountains,
And then of the thrush on the hill;
And the people hearkened my singing
And said it was better still.
I sang of the bliss of lovers,
And then of their hopes that fall;
And the people hearkened my singing
And said it was best of all.
For the song that is loved of the people,
And sought since the world began,
Is the sad and beautiful music
Of the loves and sorrows of Man.
poem by Roderic Quinn
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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The Three Songs
The poet sang of a battle-field
Where doughty deeds were done,
Where stout blows rang on helm and shield
And a kingdom's fate was spun
With the scarlet thread of victory,
And honor from death's grim revelry
Like a flame-red flower was won!
So bravely he sang that all who heard
With the sting of the fight and the triumph were stirred,
And they cried, "Let us blazon his name on high,
He has sung a song that will never die!"
Again, full throated, he sang of fame
And ambition's honeyed lure,
Of the chaplet that garlands a mighty name,
Till his listeners fired with the god-like flame
To do, to dare, to endure!
The thirsty lips of the world were fain
The cup of glamor he vaunted to drain,
And the people murmured as he went by,
"He has sung a song that will never die !"
And once more he sang, all low and apart,
A song of the love that was born in his heart:
Thinking to voice in unfettered strain
Its sweet delight and its sweeter pain;
Nothing he cared what the throngs might say
Who passed him unheeding from day to day,
For he only longed with his melodies
The soul of the one beloved to please.
The song of war that he sang is as naught,
For the field and its heroes are long forgot,
And the song he sang of fame and power
Was never remembered beyond its hour!
Only to-day his name is known
By the song he sang apart and alone,
And the great world pauses with joy to hear
The notes that were strung for a lover's ear.
poem by Lucy Maud Montgomery
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Gospel singer
The atmosphere was smoky blue.
The singer’s voice was smoky too
When she picked up the microphone
she fascinated everyone.
Her frail form hid a mighty voice
you listened to. You had no choice.
A voice which made the rafters ring.
She certainly knew how to sing.
She sang without accompaniment.
Then she set up a precedent.
She softly crooned a gospel song
and took her audience along
Tough mobsters sat tears in their eyes
such was her power to hypnotise.
Cold killers who had made their bones
affected by her dulcet tones.
She sang as though she was possessed
without a break without a rest.
From nine o clock til near midnight
Then suddenly was gone from sight.
Nobody knew the singers name,
nobody knew from whence she came
Some believe she was a ghost,
an angel from the heavenly host.
But I don’t care I heard her sing
and to this day I proudly boast.
That I was there and listening
to an angel or a ghost.
I only know that she changed me
She altered my whole attitude
so now I live respectably.
Recalling her with gratitude
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Slave Singing At Midnight
Loud he sang the psalm of David!
He, a Negro and enslaved,
Sang of Israel's victory,
Sang of Zion, bright and free.
In that hour, when night is calmest,
Sang he from the Hebrew Psalmist,
In a voice so sweet and clear
That I could not choose but hear,
Songs of triumph, and ascriptions,
Such as reached the swart Egyptians,
When upon the Red Sea coast
Perished Pharaoh and his host.
And the voice of his devotion
Filled my soul with strange emotion;
For its tones by turns were glad,
Sweetly solemn, wildly sad.
Paul and Silas, in their prison,
Sang of Christ, the Lord arisen.
And an earthquake's arm of might
Broke their dungeon-gates at night.
But, alas! what holy angel
Brings the Slave this glad evangel?
And what earthquake's arm of might
Breaks his dungeon-gates at night?
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What The Chimney Sang
Over the chimney the night-wind sang
And chanted a melody no one knew;
And the Woman stopped, as her babe she tossed,
And thought of the one she had long since lost,
And said, as her teardrops back she forced,
'I hate the wind in the chimney.'
Over the chimney the night-wind sang
And chanted a melody no one knew;
And the Children said, as they closer drew,
'`Tis some witch that is cleaving the black night through,
`Tis a fairy trumpet that just then blew,
And we fear the wind in the chimney.'
Over the chimney the night-wind sang
And chanted a melody no one knew;
And the Man, as he sat on his hearth below,
Said to himself, 'It will surely snow,
And fuel is dear and wages low,
And I`ll stop the leak in the chimney.'
Over the chimney the night-wind sang
And chanted a melody no one knew;
But the Poet listened and smiled, for he
Was Man and Woman and Child, all three,
And said, 'It is God`s own harmony,
This wind we hear in the chimney.'
poem by Francis Bret Harte
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Day Of The Locusts
Oh, the benches were stained with tears and perspiration,
The birdies were flying from tree to tree.
There was little to say, there was no conversation
As I stepped to the stage to pick up my degree.
And the locusts sang off in the distance,
Yeah, the locusts sang such a sweet melody.
Oh, the locusts sang off in the distance,
Yeah, the locusts sang and they were singing for me.
I glanced into the chamber where the judges were talking,
Darkness was everywhere, it smelled like a tomb.
I was ready to leave, I was already walkin,
But the next time I looked there was light in the room.
And the locusts sang, yeah, it give me a chill,
Oh, the locusts sang such a sweet melody.
Oh, the locusts sang their high whining trill,
Yeah, the locusts sang and they were singing for me.
Outside of the gates the trucks were unloadin,
The weather was hot, a-nearly 90 degrees.
The man standin next to me, his head was exploding,
Well, I was prayin the pieces wouldnt fall on me.
Yeah, the locusts sang off in the distance,
Yeah, the locusts sang such a sweet melody.
Oh, the locusts sang off in the distance,
And the locusts sang and they were singing for me.
I put down my robe, picked up my diploma,
Took hold of my sweetheart and away we did drive,
Straight for the hills, the black hills of dakota,
Sure was glad to get out of there alive.
And the locusts sang, well, it give me a chill,
Yeah, the locusts sang such a sweet melody.
And the locusts sang with a high whinin trill,
Yeah, the locusts sang and they was singing for me,
Singing for me, well, singing for me.
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Killing Me Softly (feat. Fugees)
Strumming my pain with his fingers
Singing my life with his words
Killing me softly with his song
Killing me softly with his song
Telling my whole life with his words
Killing me softly, with his song
I heard he sang a good song, I heard he had a style
And so I came to see him, and listen for a while
And there he was, this young boy, a stranger to my eyes
(repeat chorus)
I felt all flushed with fever, embarrassed by the crowd
I felt he found my letters, and read each one out loud
I prayed that he would finish, but he just kept right on
(rpt chorus)
He sang as if he knew me, and all my dark despair
He kept on looking right through me as if I wasn't there
And then he kept on singing, singing clear and strong
(repeat chorus till fade
song performed by by Lauryn Hill
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Sing Last / Not For Tears
We've been told lies.
We've been herded around
Taken for rides, told that this is the one
We've learned all the steps and where do they lead
Right back to zero or not far I believe
Making history as we open our eyes
And no one's quite sure so we... We improvise
And wherever it leads us is wherever we'll go
I'd dance forever if they'd let me, you know
Wearing our hair up in anger we cry
The revolutions dead it went out in style
The children are learning much faster than we
Soon they'll be older but then again, so will we
Time has come for each of us to decide
To follow blindly or to step out of line
The party is over it has been for years
Let's use the water to wash up, not for tears
Seems such a pity
It seemed we had the same dream
And thinking of things past
You sang first I sang last
You sang first I sang last
You sang first I sang last
song performed by by Men Without Hats
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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