A Fish Commissioner
Great Joseph D. Redding-illustrious name!
Considered a fish-horn the trumpet of Fame.
That goddess was angry, and what do you think?
Her trumpet she filled with a gallon of ink,
And all through the Press, with a devilish glee,
She sputtered and spattered the name of J.D.
poem by Ambrose Bierce
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
The Deaf Trumpeter
How long are you going to trumpets
Your sad melody for the Trumpet flower in the Trumpet woods?
Brother! You get trampled one day by the trumpet weeds
And we never hear of you again.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Flower To Auroville Mother-65
Blue Trumpet Bush
(Strobilanthes tomentosa
Aechmanthera gossypina)
Little eyes look at so many
Little brain eats as many
Yet too little known only
Puzzling blues as are many
My folly'Bluebell, Bluebell'
Yelled my mouth of little
In brain gathered brittle
Ho, but different and subtle
Shrubby bush leafed elliptic
Blue, violet, purplish hectic
Clustered flora trumpet-magic
Tubed raise of an elysian chic
Hunt o' my heart hunt ceaseless
Anyway for blue trumpet endless
Stop, hear her hush relentless
Wonder at the goddess ageless
poem by Indira Renganathan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Soft Sounds
Mute that trumpet.
Mute that horn.
Mute the cryin'
when babies are born.
Maybe they're cryin'
'cause they're here.
Maybe they're cryin'
'cause they remember fear.
Mute that trumpet.
Mute that horn.
The babies need quiet
like before they were born.
poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Trumpet Voice
I live to hear my father sing
People come
Far and wide
Gathering like anchovies in a can
To hear his deep, trumpet voice
My father burns a record
Neighbors and friends
Float from their lonely birdhouses
To hear his deep, trumpet voice
My father records a tape
The family sits in the living room
Under the golden chandelier
To hear his deep, trumpet voice
My father has a CD
My brother and I sit in my room
Playing Parcheesi
We open the player
To hear his deep, trumpet voice
I lie on the city bus
One seat for my head
The other for my feet
I turn on my small, silver iPod
And zone out from the world
To hear his deep, trumpet voice
poem by Aury Cecile
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
And my dad wanted me to play the trumpet because that's what he liked. His idol was Louis Armstrong. My dad thought my teeth came together in a way that was perfect for playing the trumpet.
quote by Jackson Browne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Trumpet Player
The Negro
With the trumpet at his lips
Has dark moons of weariness
Beneath his eyes
where the smoldering memory
of slave ships
Blazed to the crack of whips
about thighs
The negro
with the trumpet at his lips
has a head of vibrant hair
tamed down,
patent-leathered now
until it gleams
like jet-
were jet a crown
the music
from the trumpet at his lips
is honey
mixed with liquid fire
the rhythm
from the trumpet at his lips
is ecstasy
distilled from old desire-
Desire
that is longing for the moon
where the moonlight's but a spotlight
in his eyes,
desire
that is longing for the sea
where the sea's a bar-glass
sucker size
The Negro
with the trumpet at his lips
whose jacket
Has a fine one-button roll,
does not know
upon what riff the music slips
It's hypodermic needle
to his soul
but softly
as the tune comes from his throat
trouble
mellows to a golden note
poem by Langston Hughes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I enjoy singing, and the instruments which truly move me are the horn, the trumpet and the cello.
quote by Roger Bannister
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Bible in Poetry: Revelation 8
1He opened then the seventh seal,
And heav’n turned silent for half hour.
2The seven angels before God,
Were given seven trumpets then.
3An angel, with a gold censer,
Came and stood before the altar.
He had incense to offer much,
With prayers of all the saints,
On the golden altar of God.
4The incense-smoke and saints’ prayers
Went up to God from angel's hand.
5The angel took the censer then,
And filled it with altar’s fire,
And hurled it onto the earth’s face;
There came thunder, rumblings, flashes
Of lightning and an earthquake great.
The Trumpets:
6The seven angels then prepared
To blow their trumpets, one by one.
7 When first angel blew his trumpet,
Hail came with fire, mixed with blood,
And it was hurled down on the earth.
A third of earth was burned up soon,
A third of trees were burned up too,
And all the green grass was burned up.
8The second angel blew trumpet,
And something like a huge mountain
Ablaze, was thrown into the sea.
A third of sea then turned to blood,
9A third of creatures of sea died,
A third of ships were all destroyed.
10The third angel blew his trumpet,
A great star, blazing like a torch,
Fell from sky on third of rivers
And on the earth’s springs of water—
11The name of the star was Wormwood.
A third of waters turned bitter,
And many people died from it.
12The fourth angel sounded trumpet,
A third of sun was darkened then,
A third of moon, and third of stars,
Was turned dark soon afterwards.
A third of day was without light,
A third of night also alike.
13And as I watched, an eagle flew
In midair, calling out aloud:
'Woe! Woe! To earth’s inhabitants,
Because of trumpet blasts about
To come from three other angels! '
Copyright by Dr John Celes 7-16-2007
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I play drums, clarinet, saxophone, trumpet, french horn, piano.
quote by Norman Wisdom
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Trumpets Blown
The trumpet blew a wand for the real river,
A caliph will show his knowledge afterwards;
On the level of time one sign has been shown,
Demonstrated by the leaders of the world.
This time a trumpet has blown to mock,
To munch away the life of stones and money.
I have ordeals that stretch a lifetime of worry,
Feeding a frenzy is my cup of knowledge.
Understand a fault of mine to understand,
This mighty feat condemns the snow that is a river.
Falling away fast, a snowy monument is a relative
To the mind that thinks along family matters.
One trumpet connects to be me,
One sound has obliterated the only reminder,
It reduces its speed and calls on more sayings
From the fame that brought you near.
A sound from a bugle is cheap and full of it,
Bells are better at chiming forming me as well,
The bells cling to bells and trumpets ask.
poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Clifford Brown was in the jazz circles considered to be probably the greatest trumpet player who ever lived.
quote by Herb Alpert
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
An Actor
Some one ('tis hardly new) has oddly said
The color of a trumpet's blare is red;
And Joseph Emmett thinks the crimson shame
On woman's cheek a trumpet-note of fame.
The more the red storm rises round her nose
The more her eyes averted seek her toes,
He fancies all the louder he can hear
The tube resounding in his spacious ear,
And, all his varied talents to exert,
Darkens his dullness to display his dirt.
And when the gallery's indecent crowd,
And gentlemen below, with hisses loud,
In hot contention (these his art to crown,
And those his naked nastiness to drown)
Make such a din that cheeks erewhile aflame
Grow white and in their fear forget their shame,
With impudence imperial, sublime,
Unmoved, the patient actor bides his time,
Till storm and counter-storm are both allayed,
Like donkeys, each by t'other one outbrayed.
When all the place is silent as a mouse
One slow, suggestive gesture clears the house!
poem by Ambrose Bierce
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Fame
(Van Morrison)
Oh fame, they've taken everything and twisted it
Oh fame they say
You never could have resisted it
What's in a name
And everybody's jaded by fame
Oh fame again
The press has gone and made another mess of it
Oh just because they got
So much invested in it
But they say you're to blame it's your own fault
'Cos you got mixed up in fame
Oh no don't believe all that old Andy Warhol guff
It takes a lot more than 10 or 15 minutes
That's just not enough
To qualify you for
Fame, you went beyond the boundries of sanity
And every day you defy
All the laws of gravity
You ain't got no shame
'Cos you're just addicted to fame
Oh no don't you buy none of that old Andy Warhol stuff
It takes a lot more than 10 or 15 minutes
That's just not enough
To qualify you for
Fame, they're already setting up your own Watergate
Oh fame, that stalker out there is just filled with hate
You'll never be the same
'Cos everyone's corrupted by fame
Oh fame, they took away all my humanity
Oh fame got to fight
Every second of the day for my dignity
It's a spectator's game
And there ain't nothing fair about fame
Oh fame, oh fame
Oh fame say it again, fame
They say you're to blame
'Cos you got mixed up in fame
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Well, my sister played trumpet. Can you imagine having a sister blowing the trumpet around the house, Fred? And my brother, he played piano. Everybody was playing some kind of music, so it was natural for me to get into it.
quote by Freddie Hubbard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
With Trumpet and Drum
With big tin trumpet and little red drum,
Marching like soldiers, the children come!
It 's this way and that way they circle and file---
My! but that music of theirs is fine!
This way and that way, and after a while
They march straight into this heart of mine!
A sturdy old heart, but it has to succumb
To the blare of that trumpet and beat of that drum!
Come on, little people, from cot and from hall---
This heart it hath welcome and room for you all!
It will sing you its songs and warm you with love,
As your dear little arms with my arms intertwine;
It will rock you away to the dreamland above---
Oh, a jolly old heart is this old heart of mine,
And jollier still is it bound to become
When you blow that big trumpet and beat that red drum!
So come; though I see not his dear little face
And hear not his voice in this jubilant place,
I know he were happy to bid me enshrine
His memory deep in my heart with your play---
Ah me! but a love that is sweeter than mine
Holdeth my boy in its keeping to-day!
And my heart it is lonely---so, little folk, come,
March in and make merry with trumpet and drum!
poem by Eugene Field
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Ye Shall Be Changed
You harbor resentment
You know there aint too much of a thrill
You wish for contentment
But you got an emptiness that cant be filled
Youve had enough hatred
Your bones are breaking (and you) cant find nothing sacred, (but)
Ye shall be changed, ye shall be changed
In a twinkling of an eye, when the last trumpet blows
The dead will arise and burst out of your cloths
And ye shall be changed
Everything youve gotten
Youve gotten by sweat, blood and muscle
From early in the morning til way past dark
All you ever do is hustle
All your loved ones have walked out the door
Youre not even sure bout your wife and kids no more, but
Ye shall be changed, ye shall be changed
In a twinkling of an eye, when the last trumpet blows
The dead will arise and burst out of your cloths
And ye shall be changed
(now) the past dont control you
But the futures like a roulette wheel spinning
(and) deep down inside
You know you need a whole new beginning
Dont have to go to russia or iran
Just surrender to God and hell move you right here where you stand, and
Ye shall be changed, ye shall be changed
In a twinkling of an eye, when the last trumpet blows
The dead will arise and burst out of your cloths
And ye shall be changed
You drink bitter water
And you been eating the bread of sorrow
You cant live for today
When all youre ever thinking of is tomorrow
The path youve endured has been rough
And when youve decided that youve had enough, then
Ye shall be changed, ye shall be changed
In a twinkling of an eye, when the last trumpet blows
The dead will arise and burst out of your cloths
And ye shall be changed
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The Trumpeter
The war was all around
And the city was small.
The doctors laughed at him,
He was not like de Gaulle.
Well, may be the trumpeter?
OK, trumpeter, as a trumpeter!
Being a trumpeter is so good,
At least you don't have to bow.
The bullets whistle over your head,
As the winds sometimes blow.
But why it happened like that?
For a boy the war was a spit.
But once in the autumn rains,
In a strange unknown land,
The regiment was waned,
No one heard the command.
No one was there to be astound.
Come on, trumpeter! You sound!
In smoke and flames he stood,
His lips pressed to the trumpet,
The regiment, like knighthoods,
Followed the trumpeter.
The International they sang,
And the triumph bells rang.
The trumpeter,.. but a real soldier
Was devoted to a peaceful music,
He had to defend the border,
With a trumpet to do the trick.
If you are a man but not a hick,
The trumpet you will pick.
poem by Larisa Rzhepishevska
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Perhaps Today
Perhaps today, in the open sky above beyond the oceans gentle shore,
Perhaps today, from the clouds above we will hear that Blessed horn.
For the Church will hear the angel shout and the trumpet call of God,
And all alive in Christ will be lifted from this earth's lowly sod,
Perhaps today, we'll see the very one who has been Eternally Adored,
Perhaps today, up in the clouds we'll meet our Glorious Blessed Lord.
For those who died in Christ shall rise first at that Glorious sound,
Their bodies to be resurrected as they're extracted from the ground.
Perhaps today, through His Mighty Power and His Loving Eternal Grace,
Perhaps today, with all who went before us we'll see His Loving face.
When we hear the trumpet we know that we are at the end of the race,
We will share the prize and see The Author and Finisher of our faith.
Perhaps today, when the Glorious Trumpet of our God above resounds,
Perhaps today, with all of our loved ones we'll be up in the clouds.
Regarding the rapture we shouldn't stay quiet according to The Word,
Paul says encourage one another and share with all who haven't heard.
Perhaps today, in the twinkling of an eye we'll see heaven's portal,
Perhaps today, this earthly body will be changed into one immortal.
As you long for His return and you ponder for the right words to say,
The words in your heart will burn as you openly reply Perhaps today.
Poem 92
VPon a day as loue lay sweetly slumbring,
all in his mothers lap:
A gentle Bee with his loud trumpet murm'ring,
about him flew by hap.
Whereof when he was wakened with the noyse,
and saw the beast so small:
Whats this (quoth he) that giues so great a voyce,
that wakens men withall.
In angry wize he flyes about,
and threatens all with corage stout.
poem by Edmund Spenser
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Moon In My Body
There’s a moon in my body,
There’s a moon in my body, but where can I see it?
This planet of worlds shall multiply
With this trumpet and drum,
This trumpet and drum!
Your heart beats according to the sun,
I can’t see it as well as before.
poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!