Cuckoos are like poets. They sing accurately and at regular hours.
aphorism by Valeriu Butulescu from Immensity of the Point, translated by Eva A. Ziem
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Spring Song
The cuckoos and the swallows sing the spring song.
They just remind us of spring season.
The cuckoos and the swallows sing the spring song.
They just remind us of spring season.
One more time, I am on cloud nine!
One more time, I am on cloud nine!
To dance Bihu this season…
The cuckoos and the swallows sing the spring song.
They just remind us of spring season.
The spring breeze acts as my heart stirrer
The Red flowers redden my heart’s colour.
The beats of the Dhol cast its rhythmic flavour..
It rightly awakens some sleeping lover.
“O’ brothers, O’ boys! O’ come O’ girls! ! ”
“O’ brothers, O’ boys! O’O’O’ come O’ girls! ! ”
“Lets dance Bihu holding our hands together”
“Lets dance Bihu holding our hands together”.
The cuckoos and the swallows sing the spring song.
They just remind us of spring season.
Different castes and community…
It’s a hallmark of Assam’s beauty.
Keeping aside conflicts of ethnicity..
W’ll give Assam, golden identity..
“O’ spring lovers! O’ O’ O’ country lovers! ”
“O’ spring lovers! O’ O’ O’ country lovers! ”
“In this spring, let us pledge together! ”
“In this spring, let us pledge together! ”
The cuckoos and the swallows sing the spring song.
They just remind us of spring season.
The cuckoos and the swallows sing the spring song.
They just remind us of spring season.
One more time, I am on cloud nine! !
One more time, I am on cloud nine! !
To dance Bihu this season…
(Originally sung in Assamese as ‘Kuli Ketekiye Eenaley Beenaley’ by Dr. Bhupen Hazarika)
(Set to original tune)
poem by Kamal Jyoti Borah
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Let There Be Love
Lyrics by ian grant, music by lionel rand
Let there be you, let there be me
Let there be oysters under the sea
Let there be wind, occasional rain
Chili con carne, and sparkling champagne
Let there be birds to sing in the trees
Someone to bless me whenever I sneeze
Let there be cuckoos, a lark and a dove
But first of all, please
Let there be love
Musical interlude
(scat)
Let there be birds to sing in the trees
I need someone to bless me whenever I sneeze
Let there be cuckoos, cuckoos
A lark and a dove
But first of all, please
Let there be love
Oh let there be love yall
Ooh we gotta have some, really gotta have some
We need love, love, love, love, love, love, love, love
Say we need a little bit of love, little bit, little bit of love
(scat)
Really need a little bit
(scat)
song performed by by Natalie Cole
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What Bird So Sings
What bird so sings, yet so does wail,
'Tis Philomel the Nightingale;
Jug, jug, jug, tereu she cries,
And hating earth, to heaven she flies.
Ha, ha, hark, hark, the Cuckoos sing
Cuckoo, to welcome in the Spring.
Brave prick-song; who is't now we hear!
'Tis the Lark's silver lir-a-lir:
Chirrup, the Sparrow flies away;
For he fell to't ere break of day.
Ha, ha, hark hark; the Cuckoos sing
Cuckoo, to welcome in the Spring
poem by Thomas Dekker
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Let There Be Love
Let there be you,
Let there be me.
Let there be oysters
Under the sea.
Let there be wind,
An occassional rain.
Chile con carne,
Sparkling champagne
Let there be birds
To sing in the trees,
Someone to bless me
Whenever I sneeze.
Let there be cuckoos,
A lark and a dove,
But first of all, please
Let there be love.
Let there be cuckoos,
A lark and a dove,
But first of all, please
Let there be love
song performed by by Westlife
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If I Knew What Poets Know
If I knew what poets know,
Would I write a rhyme
Of the buds that never blow
In the summer-time?
Would I sing of golden seeds
Springing up in ironweeds?
And of rain-drops turned to snow,
If I knew what poets know?
Did I know what poets do,
Would I sing a song
Sadder than the pigeon's coo
When the days are long?
Where I found a heart in pain,
I would make it glad again;
And the false should be the true,
Did I know what poets do.
If I knew what poets know,
I would find a theme
Sweeter than the placid flow
Of the fairest dream:
I would sing of love that lives
On the errors it forgives;
And the world would better grow
If I knew what poets know.
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Let There Be Love
(ian grant, lionel rand)
Let there be you,
Let there be me.
Let there be oysters
Under the sea.
Let there be wind,
An occassional rain.
Chile con carne,
Sparkling champagne --
Let there be birds
To sing in the trees,
Someone to bless me
Whenever I sneeze.
Let there be cuckoos,
A lark and a dove,
But first of all, please --
Let there be love.
~interlude~
Let there be cuckoos,
A lark and a dove,
But first of all, please --
Let there be love...
Hmmm umm...love
Hmmm umm...love
Let there be love.
song performed by by Nat King Cole
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Inspired by Issa-Two kissing Cuckoos
fiery love at tree
on flaring dusk sun rests the silhoutte
of two kissing cuckoos
inspired
from the fir tree too
two are singing...
mountain cuckoos
-Issa,1803
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Good Poets and Bad Poets
Some poets get awards and think they are good poets.
Some poets never get awards and think they are bad poets.
Some poets think they are good poets only in their own mind
Some poets think they are bad poets in somebody's else mind.
Some poets think they are good poets in somebody else mind.
Some poets think others think they are good poets but they don't in their hearts.
Some poets think they are good poets in their hearts but not in anyone else's mind.
All are insecure, except those who get security from the opinions of others and that, alas, doesn't last and isn't real.
Some poets have left the entire scene and live only in their mind.
Some poets take criticism and don't mind.
Some poets avoid criticism and do mind.
Some poets write poetry to get love.
Some poets love to write poetry.
Some poets are ahead of their time, in their mind
Some poets spend a lifetime feeling like failures in their mind
Some poets live only after they die.
Some poets have much to say but can't articulate
Some poets retreat, believing others don't understand
So which one of these am I?
I guess I am all of these and none of these
and no matter what my description
I intend to keep doing what I do:
Write. Right
poem by Lonnie Hicks
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Day Of Spring
On this day of spring
Wind is filled with flower's smell
And the cuckoos sing!
poem by Asif Andalib
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Regular Guy
Im the kind of guy a girl takes home to mom
Pleated khaki pants, and cologne thats the bomb
(you sure smell perty)
Shake her dads hand
Look him in the eye
And tell him straight up Im just a regular guy (ill have her home by 9 sir)
Im a regular guy who stays out of trouble( let me get that for you mam)
A regular guy says mam on the double( Im on it)
Im a regular guy just like dawsons creek
A regular guy just dont call me a geek, a geek yeah
But sometimes I remember what got me here
It was friday and cussing
Back off Im in a boy band
And showing no fear
I watch jay leno (hes funny) 7th heaven too
And I ask myself sometimes what would jesus do
Grab me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change
Im buds with my mom
And I hang out with my dad..hes my buddy
I play everything safe so Ill never be sad (boo hoo)
Im a regular guy who stays out of trouble( let me get that for you mam)
A regular guy says mam on the double( Im on it)
Im a regular guy just like dawsons creek
A regular guy just dont call me a geek, a geek yeah
Dont push me.
Damnt sometimes I wanna smash things up
Jacked up and wrapped upIm in a boy band.. a boyband
And have to pee in a cup
Im a regular guy who stays out of trouble( let me get that for you mam)
A regular guy says mam on the double( Im on it)
Im a regular guy just like dawsons creek
A regular guy just dont call me a geek, a geek yeah
song performed by by 2gether
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In the world of poetry there are would-be poets, workshop poets, promising poets, lovesick poets, university poets, and a few real poets.
quote by James Broughton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Memory's Care
Sing not to me a song of beauty bright,
Nor festive scenes of dazzling light;
Nor of gorgeous pageant in palace hall
Begemmed with many a coronal;
But sing to me my memory's care -
The misspent hours fled where - oh where?
Sing not to me of the battlefield,
Nor splintered lance nor of broken shield,
Not of gory plumes once freshly fair,
Not of banners rent nor pennon bare;
But sing to me my memory's care -
The misspent hours fled where - oh where?
Sing not to me of the sea-fight won,
By daring hearts and by flashing gun,
Not how o'er the deep in exultant glee
The victor's ship speeds galliantly;
But sing to me my memory's care -
The misspent hours fled where - oh where?
Sing not of summer, sing not of spring,
For these no joy to my heart can bring;
Sing not of autumn yellow and sere
Sing not of pallid winter frosty and drear;
But sing to me my memory's care -
The misspent hours fled where - oh where?
Sing not of Love's deep tenderness
Nor its whispered words, share its sweet caress;
Sing not to me of Beauty's power,
Nor the bridal morn - Love's dearest hour!
But sing to me my memory's care
The misspent hours fled where - oh where?
Sing - sing to me with a mocking song,
Of the guilty past and its deeds of wrong;
Sing - till around me the phantoms come,
Or the broken hearts in a distant home;
These, these are my memory's care,
And shriek them forth to my soul's despair!
poem by Owen Suffolk
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Peace Poets
We are a bunch of peace poets
We hate war and sing songs of peace
Poets of the planet, come and join us
Our pens are now much stronger than weapons
It roars more than a gun.
Planet belong to peace lovers
Warmongers have no place on this planet
Days of warmongers are over
We are a bunch of peace poets
We sing songs of peace.
Oh poets of this planet
Come and join us
We shall make our planet a heaven
Warmongers are dead forever.
poem by Devil Poet
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Immature poets imitate; mature poets steal; bad poets deface what they take, and good poets make it into something better, or at least something different.
quote by T.S. Eliot (1920)
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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0005 Totally Boring Poem
I’m totally bored by:
poems that sound like other poems
poems that try to sound unlike any other poems
poets who never take risks
poets who think that taking risks
makes them good poets
poems with 'meaning'
poems with no meaning
poets who slag off other poets
as if that achieves something
poets that tell you that rhyme
is not for an age but for all time
poets that tell you that rhyme is outmoded and boring
poets who think that the poetry of 'the past'
is greater than that of 'the present'
poets who think that the poetry of 'the present'
is greater than that of 'the past'
poems that tell you the poet's the first to discover sex
poets that tell you they’re the best sex you’ll ever have
although you’ll never meet them to find out
poets that tell you they’ve been dumped
poets who've never known love and being dumped
poets who are ambitious
poets who are unambitious
poets who tell you all about higher things
poets who reject higher things
poets who think life’s just a joke
poets who think life’s no joke
poets who sit on the fence
poets who have no sense of balance
poets who despise 'the middle ground'
poets who talk about technique
poets with no technique
poets who just throw down their thoughts
poets who 'work up' their poems to a self-satisfied polish
poets who list what they like (who cares?)
poets who list what don’t like (who cares?)
poets who write about extreme states
poets who think they’re immune to extreme states
poets who tell you why they’re bored
poets who have opinions
poets who seem to have no opinions at all
poets who have boring opinions to air - why choose poetry?
poets who comment on others' poems
as if it's the last word
poets who never bother to comment
on others' poems
poets who don't love poetry passionately
poets who tell you they 'love poetry passionately'
poets who – oh I’m too bored to go on reading this,
how about you?
I suppose you have boring opinions too?
another time perhaps
and oh yes I'm most of all bored by
those who waste their precious time on this earth
being bored
well I feel better for that.
how about you?
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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We As Poets
We as poets must command a sacred accent over a language of our choice,
We as poets must gift the minds of a failing generation,
We as poets must demand a clear explanation and a fair occupation,
We as poets must dissolve into particles and dust if we have not known enough,
We as poets must destroy the living standards of low quality,
We are to be the poetry of utmost perception and suffering.
poem by Naveed Akram
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The regular hours necessary to be observed by those who follow country business, are perhaps of more consequence than any of the other articles, however important those may be.
quote by William Falconer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The two hours onstage is great. But I can only play a show and then take a night off. I have to sing for two hours, and then I've gotta rest it for a night. So it's the other 46 hours that are just boring as heck.
Isolation Rocks
to read poets
their poems
is time choice
actually poet
would write
more superior
poems
if educated read
other poets?
interacted more
nothing happens
in still isolation?
isolation rocks
soul voice would
become more
mainstream
golden voice
is orchestra
soloist singers
must solo sing
orchestra backed?
therefore
give me
the crags
rivers
waterfalls
wilderness
as I sing
their alone
only echoes
are
distant
heard
poem by Terence George Craddock
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A poor pen
Pen is
Not great...
On the paper...
poet write at
Moon+ sky...
Stars...
Earth and sea...
All are in poets
Hand only
At poets hand...
Poets is think...
Poets dream...
Thats all
pen is very poor
Noock out...
undrestad to try...
Try too under stand....
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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