Related quotes: Why don't the records go...

A Poem About Miracles

Why don't the records go blank
the instant the singer dies?
Oh, I know there are explanations
but they don't convince me
I'm still surprised
When I hear the dead singing
As for orchestra's
I expect the Instruments
To fall silent one by one
as the musicians succumb
to cancer and heart disease
so that toward the end
I turn on a disc
labelled Gotterdammerung
and all that comes out
is the sound of one sick old man
scraping a shaky bow
across an out-of-tune fiddle.

poem by Alden Nowlan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Music In The Heart

Music of the heart sounds in the orchestra
For others to judge according to taste;
The pumping of blood made you nearly ask
For the music to stop and make farewell.

O how the heart senses your happy tune!
The melody survives the laughter;
O how the harmonious smell of wooden instruments
Involves us with sound and the astonishment!

Music is a happiness, music is sound,
More than a thought, more than a word;
May wise musicians design the good noise
And turn it into a message of hope.

poem by Naveed Akram
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I Am Sick....

I am sick …. The pain I feel.
I am sick…. This must be surreal.
I am sick…. I will not die.
I am sick…. But I must live on with this lie.
I am sick…. It’s not like cancer it’s not that bad.
I am sick… but the say depression goes with this pain I have.
I am sick…. It will never disappear.
I am sick…. My days will go on with the same o’l tear.
I am sick…. That I have thought of taking my pain away.
I am sick…. For that I cannot for the pain must stay.
I am sick… and no one can fix me.
I am sick…. That no one can see.
I am sick…. They believe nothing is wrong with me.
I am sick…. Because of this disease.
I am sick…. Because I beg god please.

poem by Winifred Harkness
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Playing Music Is Like Making Love

PLAYING MUSIC IS LIKE MAKING LOVE

Many people who insist that they enjoy
music known as classical merely say
they do, pretending. Far more serious is the ploy
planned by LSO, who'll just pretend to play.

There is surely nothing wrong with those who fake
enjoyment, like a woman faking an orgasm,
but pretense of playing music's a mistake,
since music needs not only sound, but ectoplasm.

Orchestras and lovemakers should never mimic:
they should always show their skin when they perform,
and should not be, although poetic, metonymic:
the use of any substitute is rotten form.

Denis Bartel reported the news about the London Symphony Orchestra's decision to mimic their playing while a performance is broadcast to visits at the Olympic Games. David Ng writes in the LA Times:
Musicians with the London Symphony Orchestra are reportedly going to have to pull a Milli Vanilli when they appear at the opening ceremony of the Summer Olympic Games in London. Reports from Britain state that the orchestra will mimic playing to prerecorded music due to concerns about the weather and the shape of the performing venue - a large, oval-shaped arena whose scale would apparently make a live-music performance tricky….
The London Symphony has reportedly recorded the music that is scheduled to be played during the July 27 ceremony. The Daily Mail reports that Boyle wanted the orchestra to perform live, but that he was overruled by the organizing committee for the Games. When viewers around the world tune in for the ceremony, they can expect to see the conductor and musicians from the renowned orchestra going through the motions while a soundtrack plays.
This wouldn't be the first time that the mimicking of live music was used at an Olympics ceremony. In 2008, a mini-controversy developed during the Beijing Games when it was revealed that a 9-year-old singer lip-synced to the voice of another young girl whom officials had deemed less telegenic. Similarly, at President Obama's inauguration, the musical performance by cellist Yo-Yo Ma, violinistItzhak Perlman, pianist Gabriella Montero and clarinetist Anthony McGill played, unamplified, to a recording. The decision to use a recording was made over fears that the cold weather that day could damage the instruments.

6/4/12 #10403

poem by Gershon Hepner
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Body Violin Voices Sing In Heaven

flesh is but an instrument of thy will
normally in form case left unplayed
musicians free so choose instruments
to suit a mood styles orchestra played

not so is music of spheres found in heaven
music spontaneous bursts forth instant glee
everywhere souls in bliss sing souls hymns
music in rainbow sound stirs vibrant heaven

melody times solo compositions heart writ
played to honour master composers purpose
notes crystal pure music songs angels voice
who in hosts listen worship serve God praise

in heaven all creation sings in praise of God
in every voice form style tone heart rhythm
millions individualistic praise as souls may
yet all voice song tune unique worships God

all in heaven are body violin to trumpet songs
all in heaven sing in all voices unique creation
styles differ as snowflakes do soul heart longs
worship in love one true creator of all creation

poem by Terence George Craddock
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Born With The Hunger

Hear the coyote howl
He's found his pray at last
In one moment of weakness
The chase is over so fast
He celebrates his kill
No mercy in his eyes
When you're born with the hunger
The hunger never dies
Midnight is on the prowl
And I hear it call my name
Danger lurks in the shadows
But it's all part of a game
Until I quench this thirst
I will not close these eyes
When you're born with the hunger
The hunger never dies
You and I, we're the same
We both carry this flame
To depths of our souls
Once the fever awakes
We can never escape
It's beyond our control
We're both born with the hunger
Oh with the hunger
Temptation bites your lip
One kiss ignites the fire
So begins the seduction
As we succumb to desire
Your body aches for more
Why are you so surprised
When you're born with the hunger
The hunger never dies
When you're born with the hunger
The hunger - it never dies
Never dies
When you're born with the hunger It never dies
When you're born with the hunger Oh, it never dies
He celebrates the kill
You're born with the hunger
It never dies

song performed by by Cher
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Old Time Fiddle

(Vince Gill / Leslie Satcher)
I wanna hear an old time fiddle
Play an old time fiddle song
I might even drink just a little
If you play Little Jolie Blon
If you're lookin' or me
I'm liable to be
In the middle of the ol' dance floor
I wanna hear an old time fiddle
Like you never get to hear anymore.
First Chorus:
I wanna throw down on a hoe down
Hanging with the people I know
Hear the sweet sound
Of a breakdown
When you put a little rosin on the bow
Y'all come on over when the sun goes down
Bang on the ol' screen door
I wanna hear an old time fiddle
Like you never get to hear anymore.
I miss ol' Herman Stover
Playin' Listen To The Mockingbird
It was Piedmont, Oklahoma
It was the sweetest sound I ever heard
Skinny ol' man in a cowboy band
You could barely get the people in the door
I wanna hear an old time fiddle
Like you never get to hear anymore.
Second Chorus:
I wanna throw down on a hoe down
Hanging with the people I know
Hear the sweet sound
Of a breakdown
When you put a little rosin on the bow
Play diggy diggy li
Diggy diggy lo
The a little Cotten-Eyed Joe
I wanna hear an old time fiddle
Like you never get to hear anymore.
First chorus:
Y'all come on over when the sun goes down
Bang on the ol' screen door
I wanna hear an old time fiddle
Like you never get to hear anymore...

song performed by by Vince Gill
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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the big C

those who fear it cannot call it
by its own name

big C for cancer,
but cancer is cancer
no more no less
depends on what stage
then you are taken
as the next
victim by an old
expert culprit
so unforgiving
mercilessly taking the lives
of those
destined to die

cancer is cancer
no more no less

a friend of mine dies
today of cancer of the
liver.

period. I say another prayer.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Eroica, Eroica, Eroica

Beethoven Third Symphony
A Beethoven master piece
The First Movement
The music starts softly and sweet
Picks soon with full force
In charm awakening
With the orchestra in full display
Loud with majestic power
We are overwhelmed
No place to go
We are exhausted
He relieves us now
With soft melody that follows
He has master command
The music comes quick in flurry
with persistent repetition
We are whipped with emotions
The music comes back again and again
In fresh successive succession
Like a boy coming hurriedly in the field
The tunes comes back
Haunting us in familiar rhythm
It is over and over again
Filling and nourishing our soul
Some sound comes again
From far away
Like someone we knew
Calling us softly,
Gently and beautifully
Racing and touching our heart
The old familiar tune
Comes back and back again
Teasing us
With power
Hurriedly closing on us
The music casts some sadness
The familiar tune comes back
Full of charm

Second Movement
A faint sad sound
So sad
Like funeral procession
The same tune comes back
dressed in sadness
So sad
Revival the music comes strong

Third Movement

The old tune revives back
In full force with energy
With tunes of warning and destiny
Some sadness tunes
Goes deep in our hearts
Crushing us
Dwelling in us again
Mercy
Is there hope?

Fourth Movement
The movement with so elegance
In a while
So Happy tune finally appears
A relieve
The tune comes back again
In happy setting
It is getting louder
And majestic
A new tune
Taking us by surprise
The tune dominating all
We are taken to the wilderness in
Now where we go
We need guidance
The familiar tune comes back
Nibbling music
The music has died out
The faint tune in the back ground
Oh revived
a hurried tune
it comes back
all in force, strong
oh the main theme
bringing joy
the music instruments
bring announcement
talking to us
in language
we do not understand
then it is all beginning
same thing
all again
all again
to a loved tune
strange change of music
curious steps
like a sleuth
and echoing drum beats
as the end nears
very joyful music comes along
to wipe the stress
of past harsh suspense tunes
the music crashing
the trumpets are loud
the old tune comes teasing us
like flute in prairie
Mysterious tune
Like the awakening of the morning
So melodious and deep
Going fast like streaming river
And there is
The calmness of early morning
What we expect
Leaving us in expectation
The orchestra in full force
The repercussion instruments
In control
The French horn
Angry music comes in warning
A new tune born tune
Sad melody
Music comes like small wavelets in the ocean
The old tempo
Comes back in hurry and energetic
Like celebration
Like walking in the woods
Beautiful soft tune
It is all over
The symphony in all power
And fury in closing
Eorica, Eorica, Eorica

poem by Sherif Monem
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Sick of Being Sick

I’m sick of being rejected;
I’m sick of being emotionally neglected;
I’m sick of crying so many tears;
I’m sick of running away from my fears;
I’m sick of my childhood nightmares;
I’m sick of being told to do those stupid dares;
I’m sick of not having friends;
I’m sick of all these dead ends;
I’m sick of myself for what I’ve become;
I’m sick of feeling oh so numb;
I’m sick of watching myself drown;
I’m sick of my heart falling to the ground;
I’m sick of this life;
I’m sick of this everyday strife;
I’m sick of not having a dad;
I’m sick of getting mad;
I’m sick of my childhood past;
I’m sick of being harassed;
I’m sick of the dread;
I’m sick of wanting to be dead;
I’m sick of being the one who’s always so strong;
I’m sick of being somebody that doesn’t belong! !

poem by Shelby Brockway
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This Disease

This disease
Im out of my class
This disease
Im needle sick again
This disease
We must expect such things
This disease
She finds me the girls
Tick tock tick
All gone all gone all gone
Tick tock tick
Whispering goodbye
Tick tock tick
Who is talking?
Tick tock tick
I dont have the choice
Look at me
A puppet dancing on strings
Look at me
And this is easy?
Look at me
I got the screams
Look at me
Words failing
This disease
This disease

song performed by by Gary Numan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Old Man

This song was first released on the rhymes and reasons album. it is the only album it has been released on.
(these words are incorrect at this time)
My old man had a round of soul
Hed hear an old freight train
Then hed have to go
Said hed been blessed with a gypsy bone
Thats the reason they guessed
Hed been cursed to roam
Came into town back before the war
Didnt even know what it
Was he was looking for
He carried a tattered bag for his violin
It was full of lots of songs
Of places he had been
He talked real easy
Had a smiling way to pass abn^. to you
When his fiddle played
Making people drop their cares and woes
To hum out loud those tunes
That his fiddle howed
Till the people there began to join that sound
And everyone in town was
Laughing, singing, dancing round
Like the fiddlers tune was
All the years that passed
That love would keep them warm
All their lives theyd share
A dream come true
All because she danced while his fiddle tuned
My old man had a round of soul
Hed hear an old freight train
Then hed have to go
All that I recall said when I was young
No one else could really
Sing those songs he sung
Words and music by walker

song performed by by John Denver
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Lover's Melody or And from the Oboe Came a Pretty Sound

And from the oboe came a pretty sound
The crescendo called love
From the bell that was his lover's heart
More beautiful than anything
Vivaldi could compose
True, she was an oboe
Alone, in an orchestra of drums, saxophones, and pianos
But she met a guitar
A beautifully carved acoustic instrument
That made a sound like no other
She'd ever heard

Together they made sweet, sweet music
The love-struck oboe wanted to stay
With the guitar, cut a deal, and
Make some records
But, alas, the guitar
Was completely unaware
Of the melody the oboe was playing

From the oboe came a pretty sound
And the guitar, he sung back
Of the returned love
The oboe was looking for,
It was a tune of lament—sad and slow
For he knew he could not give her
What she desired
So he set himself on fire
And from the guitar came a descend

When the oboe found her lover she
picked up what was left of he
and put it in a box of oak
and sailed it off to sea

the oboe knew no sad songs
but she wanted to sing him a tune
so on the beautiful sunset on June
she hummed him what she knew…

…and from the oboe came a pretty sound

poem by Alecia Carroll
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Bells Are Ringing

The bells are ringing
The song theyre singing
The sound is bringing the people round
They hear the instructions
They follow directions
They travel great distances to the sound
The bells are ringing
The song theyre singing
The sound is bringing the people round (the bells are ringing the song theyre singing the sound is)
They hear the instructions (bringing the people round)
They follow directions
They travel great distances to the sound (they travel great distances to the sound)
They are persuaded by the music of the bells
Theyre not responsible for anything they do
(no) the people know
(no) the way to go
The bells are ringing, they hear the sound
They hear the sound (they hear the sound)
They hear the sound (they hear the sound)
They hear the sound (they hear the sound)
They hear the sound
The bells are ringing
And everyones walking
With arms extended in a trance
Forgetting their washing
Neglecting the children
Theyre dropping all businesses at hand
A voice is telling them to act a different way
They tilt their heads so they wont miss what it will say
(no) and when its so
(no) theres this to know
The bells are ringing, they hear the sound
The bells are ringing
The song theyre singing
The sound is bringing the people round
They hear the instructions
They follow directions
They travel great distances to the sound
They are persuaded by the music of the bells
Theyre not responsible for anything they do
(no) the people know
(no) the way to go
The bells are ringing, they hear the sound
A girl with cotton in her ears
Is shielded from the bells effect
As if by hidden signal
The people turn to face her
One thousand eyes are staring
They pull away her earplugs
The bells are pealing
And theyre revealing
The simple key to happiness
It isnt evil
It isnt good
Its only what the people miss
The bells explain what theyve been lacking all along
They were disorganized and that was what was wrong
(no) and now they know
(no) the way to go
The bells are ringing, they hear the sound
The bells are ringing
The song theyre singing
The sound is bringing the people round (the bells are ringing the song theyre singing the sound is)
They hear the instructions (bringing the people round)
They follow directions
They travel great distances to the sound (the bells are ringing the song theyre singing the sound is)
The bells are ringing (bringing the people round)
The song theyre singing
The sound is bringing the people round (the bells are ringing the song theyre singing the sound is)
They hear the instructions (bringing the people round)
They follow directions
They travel great distances to the sound (the bells are ringing the song theyre singing the sound is)
The bells are ringing (bringing the people round)
The song theyre singing
The sound is bringing the people round (the bells are ringing the song theyre singing the sound is)
They hear the instructions (bringing the people round)
They follow directions
They travel great distances to the sound (they travel great distances to the sound)

song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A waltz of words...

Like ingredients in some magical cosmic recipe,
I pour my words onto a blank empty page,
My fingers caressing the letters on each key,
Like the instruments in an orchestra without sound,
Each sentence paints a picture in words,
An alphabet of paint I have come to know so well,
To free my words from the page all you need do is read,
For only then may they swirl through the air,
Alive with their own meaning and motion,
A waltz of words... Dancing within your synapses...

Spread the love... The peace will follow...

poem by Cosmic Dreamer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Make Me Sick

What I got, couldn't feel any worse
It's like I'm possessed, under some kind of curse
Temperature on rise, I can't close my eyes
(I can't sleep at night and you're the reason why)

Got my heart out in the cold (Breaker, breaker)
I'm afraid of getting broke (Operator, 'rator)

S-O-S, I'm overboard (Cause you threw me in the sea)
Please get the medic, somebody rescue me (Got that fever from you)

Boy, can't breathe, bones are shaking (Ah)
Heavy spinning cause you make me (What?)
Boy, you make, see you make me
Ooh, you make me
You make me sick
Got the shivers when I'm near you
Call the doctor cause you make me, oh
Boy, you make, see you make me
Ooh, you make me
You make me sick

(Ha-choo) I'm allergic to your face
(So queasy even when I hear your name)
Dead on arrival from my self-denial
(I can't even breathe) Boy what you do to me

Got my heart out in the cold (Breaker, breaker)
Ooh, I'm afraid of getting broke, yeah (Operator, 'rator)

S-O-S, I'm overboard (Cause you threw me in the sea)
Please get the medic, somebody rescue me (Got that fever from you)

Boy, you make, see you make me
Ooh, you make me
You make me sick
Boy, you make, see you make me
Ooh, you make me
You make me sick

Mama said don't hate but your bitter pill
I can't get well cause you're keeping me I'll
(I need a check-up or maybe some pills)
Cause I'm sick of your shit
So sick of you here

Ah, ah, ah...
Queasy, shaky-shaky, got me spinning cause you make me sick
Ah, ah, ah...
Got that fever from you

poem by Krista Thomas
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A Nighbor Singing Out Of Tune

at first one feels that this disturbance is killing all the
the animate things
alive in this small community

singing out of tune, again, but no one really has the temerity
to make him stop, for he is at the height of recreating himself
recomposing
from an old form of sadness, we all understand his art of
reverberating what destroys him and now
he sings

that is the most important thing, look they say, do you hear him singing?
loving neighbors, oh, how happy their hands are, clapping clasping
for another broken heart has healed itself
after days and days of bleeding
profusely

i am listening, and deep within my own feelings of woe
woe relating to woe,
there is this light though dim,
yet it appears so bright
to the incalculable depth of the
heart

and too pleasing to the heart is the sound of a broken song,
the soul of the out of tune, we always say
welcome, welcome, we're with you, in all these.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Do You Care If A Soldier Dies

take a man put him all alone
put him 12000 miles from home
empty his heart of all but blood
make him live in the sand and mud
this is the life I have to live
this is the soul to god I give
you have your parties and drink your beer
while our men are dying over here
do you care if a soldier dies
do you even have to wipe your eyes
when you turn on CNN
tell me whats going through your head
do you know what those numbers mean
one less neighbor from across the street
one less hero silent from our eyes
do you care if a soldier dies
plant your signs on the white house lawn
saying 'Get out of Iraq', were gone
use your signs and have your fun
then refuse to pick up a gun
there's nothing else for you to do
and I'm supposed to die for you
there is one thing you should know
and thats where I think you should do
do you care if a soldier dies
do you even have to wipe your eyes
when you turn on CNN
tell me whats going through your head.
do you know what those numbers mean
one less neighbor from across the street
one less hero silent in our eyes
do you care if a soldier dies
I'll hate you till the day I die
because you made my buddy cry
I saw his leg, and his blood shed
then I heard them say.. this one's dead
it was a large price for him to pay
to let you live another day
he had the guts to fight and die
to keep the freedom you live by
do you care if a soldier dies
do you even have to wipe your eyes
when you turn on CNN
tell me whats going through your head
do you know what those numbers mean
one less neighbor from across the street
one less hero silent from our eyes
do you care if a soldier dies

poem by Chris Surdyk
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The Sound of the Spheres

The Rastenberg Philharmonic had sat,
Were shuffling in their seats,
And tuning their various instruments
To play ‘The Survivor Suite'.
It had only been played just once before,
They knew they were taking a chance,
The conductor and several cellists had gone
Right after Svrili's Dance!

One moment, the baton was waved in the air,
The next, the podium was clear,
A cellist had sawed at an awful E flat
Before he had disappeared;
Then holes had appeared in the group at the front
Where cellists and violins sat,
And all that was left of the treble bassoon
Was a sandwich, under his hat.

It wasn't as if they hadn't been warned
For Borchnik appeared on the stage,
‘I scribbled this suite in a white hot heat
As I paced, in a boiling rage!
For those sitting close to the glockenspiel,
They really should cover their ears,
For once that crescendo of flute, lute and cello
Is heard - that's the Sound of the Spheres! '

Karamov turned to the audience, bowed,
Then tapped with his baton, twice,
He wouldn't be fazed to the end of his days
Though the Devil was tumbling the dice!
He looked at the fear-crazed Orchestra
Who'd heard about Borchnik's curse,
Then launched them in to The Wages of Sin
As an introductory verse!

The music was nothing like you would expect,
It capered and trilled, and it soared,
It spoke of the aeons of military might,
Of the soldier that fell on his sword,
The audience sat with their open jaws
As it thrilled and it burst into flight,
And carried them out where the planets sang
In a paean to endless night!

The music it raged, and the music roared
And it came to Svrili's Dance,
A blonde violinist took off for the door,
No way was she taking a chance!
A hole opened over a cellist's head
And swallowed the glockenspiel,
While Karamov's face went as white as the dead
When he found himself out in a field!

The Orchestra, crazed, seemed unable to stop,
The instruments sang in their hands,
The audience freaked as the piccolo peaked
And the harpsichord melted in strands,
They made for the exits in panic and fear
For the horror that waited outside,
A mammoth was leaning against the front door,
And a raptor was caught in mid-stride.

It took seven weeks for the madness to stop,
And Borchnik was run out of town,
While Karamov wanders where dinosaurs crop,
Conducting some thoughts of his own.
The Rastenberg Orchestra‘s now in recess,
Unlikely to play now for years,
The musicians agree that there isn't a fee
That would bring back the Sound of the Spheres!

poem by David Lewis Paget
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I Am Shaky Today

I AM SHAKY TODAY

I am shaky today-
Why I am not sure
But after all I have been through
And after all I have done
And all I have learned
And all the many times I have gotten through shakiness in the past
I am shaky today
As if all my life and its lessons have been for nothing
And I cannot control a simple mood-
I am shaky today
Like the earth might open up and swallow me forever -
I am shaky –Shaky-
After all these years
I have learned nothing-
I am so so ashamed-
Shaky still now while writing this poem.

poem by Shalom Freedman
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A perfect setting

There was a concert in the park
On a lovely afternoon
The sun was bright
It was about 12noon
A great time to hear a wonderful tune
There was an large audience
Beyond eyes could see
Kids playing in a specific area
They were
Just as happy as they could be
There were couples presence too
Even the seasoned elderly had a pleasant view
The music was electricfying,
played
So skillfully, and
beautifully too
When the procession unleashed
was sure to capture you
It was the blissful sound of nature
The birds singing and creation creeping
The buzzing sound of the bumble bee
Accompanied by the orchestra
A swift sweeping sound of
What some may know to be
The leaves of the weeping willow tree
The concert in the park was simply
Delightful
Original
Also, Authentic to me
Beautiful for all ears to hear and
A glourious site for all eyes to see
A collaboration of
God's creation
Dwelling harmiously
Together in perfectly
sweet unity

poem by Angel A. Lockwood
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