With Oars at Rest
A boat is beating in the breast of the lake.
Willows hang over, tickling and kissing
Neckline and knuckles and rowlocks-O wait,
This could have happened to anyone, listen!
This could be used in a song, to beguile.
This then would mean-the ashes of lilac,
Richness of dew-drenched and crushed camomile,
Bartering lips for a start after twilight.
This is-embracing the firmament; strong
Hercules holding it, clasping still fonder.
This then would mean-whole centuries long
Fortunes for nightingales' singing to squander.
poem by Boris Pasternak
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Crossed Oars
My boat throbbed in the drowsy depths,
willows bowed, kissing collarbones,
elbows and rowlocks – oh wait, yes,
all of this might happen to anyone!
Isn’t it all just trivial…a singing.
Isn’t its meaning – the lilac petals on
water, camomile’s sensuous sinking
lip on lip, into starry extinction!
Isn’t its meaning – clasping the sky,
arms embracing mighty Hercules,
isn’t its meaning – for endless lives,
squandering on nightingales your glory!
poem by Boris Pasternak
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Piper At The Gates Of Dawn
Piper at the gates of dawn
The coolness of the riverbank, and the whispering of the reeds
Daybreak is not so very far away
Enchanted and spellbound, in the silence they lingered
And rowed the boat as the light grew steadily strong
And the birds were silent, as they listened for the heavenly music
And the river played the song
The wind in the willows and the piper at the gates of dawn
The wind in the willows and the piper at the gates of dawn
The song dream happened and the cloven hoofed piper
Played in that holy ground where they felt the awe and wonder
And they all were unafraid of the great God pan
And the wind in the willows and the piper at the gates of dawn
The wind in the willows and the piper at the gates of dawn
When the vision vanished they heard a choir of birds singing
In the heavenly silence between the trance and the reeds
And they stood upon the lawn and listened to the silence
Of the wind in the willows and the piper at the gates of dawn
The wind in the willows and the piper at the gates of dawn
The wind in the willows and the piper at the gates of dawn
Its the wind in the willows and the piper at the gates of dawn
The wind in the willows and the piper at the gates of dawn
The wind in the willows and the piper at the gates of dawn
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Li Po drowns
Li Po sits drinking wine;
he is in his garden
below the tree
reciting his poems to the night
and he sings to the cool air
and he sings to the moon
and he drinks more in between
Li Po walks to the lake
and he sings to the moon:
I will come to you, beloved
I will come to you
for you have waited for me centuries
for you have glowed nights
looking for me;
I will come to you, even now,
beloved moon,
I will come to you, even now
and Li Po walks to his boat
and he rows his boat
and he rows his boat gleefully
and he rows singing
and Li Po is in the middle of the lake
and he stops there to look at his beloved
whose radiant wholeness
shimmers in the water
and Li Po sings always
his song of love to his moon:
I will come to you, beloved
I will come to you
for you have waited for me centuries
for you have glowed nights
looking for me;
I will come to you, even now,
beloved moon,
I will come to you, even now
and Li Po jumps into the lake
and he struggles and he swims
and he swims and he struggles
and he sings:
I come to you, beloved,
I come to you
you who have waited centuries for me
radiant and a-glow in the sky
I come to you now
and he swims towards the distorted moon in the lake
and he beats his hands at the moon in the lake
and Li Po struggles
and Li Po clutches at the watery moon
and Li Po is his with his beloved
after centuries he is come
and Li Po is with his love
Li Po is with his beloved moon:
Li Po flies to the moon; Li Po flies to the moon
poem by Raj Arumugam
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A Soul Dies
Sky overcast, moon was sad.
Ashes were sent to the lake.
Who killed the bird in morning rain?
Ashes were sent to the lake.
A hidden slaughterman did not die.
Ashes were sent to the lake.
The good old name now spells the doom.
Ashes were sent to the lake.
I will call you in pitch-dark night.
Ashes were sent to the lake.
Ascending gods have ruined my life.
Ashes were sent to the lake.
A child was stolen from a mother’s bed.
Ashes were sent to the lake.
poem by Satish Verma
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The River Song
This boat is of shato-wood, and its gunwales are cut
magnolia,
Musicians with jewelled flutes and with pipes of gold
Fill full the sides in rows, and our wine
Is rich for a thousand cups.
We carry singing girls, drift with the drifting water,
Yet Sennin needs
A yellow stork for a charger, and all our seamen
Would follow the white gulls or ride them.
Kutsu's prose song
Hangs with the sun and moon.
King So's terraced palace
is now but barren hill,
But I draw pen on this barge
Causing the five peaks to tremble,
And I have joy in these words
like the joy of blue islands.
(If glory could last forever
Then the waters of Han would flow northward.)
And I have moped in the Emperor's garden, awaiting an
order-to-write !
I looked at the dragon-pond, with its willow-coloured
water
Just reflecting the sky's tinge,
And heard the five-score nightingales aimlessly singing.
The eastern wind brings the green colour into the island
grasses at Yei-shu,
The purple house and the crimson are full of Spring
softness.
South of the pond the willow-tips are half-blue and
bluer,
Their cords tangle in mist, against the brocade-like
palace.
Vine-strings a hundred feet long hang down from
carved railings,
And high over the willows, the fine birds sing to each
other, and listen,
Crying—‘Kwan, Kuan,' for the early wind, and the feel
of it.
The wind bundles itself into a bluish cloud and wanders
off.
Over a thousand gates, over a thousand doors are the
sounds of spring singing,
And the Emperor is at Ko.
Five clouds hang aloft, bright on the purple sky,
The imperial guards come forth from the golden house
with their armour a-gleaming.
The Emperor in his jewelled car goes out to inspect his
flowers,
He goes out to Hori, to look at the wing-flapping storks,
He returns by way of Sei rock, to hear the new
nightingales,
For the gardens at Jo-run are full of new nightingales,
Their sound is mixed in this flute,
Their voice is in the twelve pipes here.
poem by Ezra Pound
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A Song For All Lovers
This song was first released on the the wildlife concert album. it is the only album it has been released on.
I see them dancing somewhere in the moonlight
Somewhere in alaska, somewhere in the sun
I hear them singing a song for all lovers
A song for the two hearts beating only as one
Imagine the morning no longer alone
The arms of another, a place to belong
No longer the struggle, no longer the night
And ever becoming in the quickening light
To see the darkness, to listen within
To answer in kindness, to ever begin
To ever be gentle, to always be strong
To walk in the wonder, to live in the song
In a place of enchantment where the wild things are known
Will the future remember when the lovers are gone?
And I see them dancing somewhere in the moonlight
Somewhere in alaska, somewhere in the sun
I hear them singing a song for all lovers
A song for the two hearts beating only as one
A song for the two hearts beating only as one
Words and music by john denver
song performed by by John Denver
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Song (Sylvia The Fair, In The Bloom Of Fifteen)
Sylvia the fair, in the bloom of fifteen,
Felt an innocent warmth as she lay on the green:
She had heard of a pleasure, and something she guessed
By the towsing and tumbling and touching her breast:
She saw the men eager, but was at a loss
What they meant by their sighing and kissing so close;
By their praying and whining,
And clasping and twining,
And panting and wishing,
And sighing and kissing,
And sighing and kissing so close.
"Ah!" she cried, "ah, for a languishing maid
In a country of Christians to die without aid!
Not a Whig, or a Tory, or Trimmer at least,
Or a Protestant parson, or Catholic priest,
To instruct a young virgin that is at a loss
What they meant by their sighing and kissing so close;
By their praying and whining,
And clasping and twining,
And panting and wishing,
And sighing and kissing,
And sighing and kissing so close."
Cupid in shape of a swain did appear;
He saw the sad wound, and in pity drew near;
Then showed her his arrow, and bid her not fear,
For the pain was no more than a maiden may bear;
When the balm was infused, she was not at a loss
What they meant by their sighing and kissing so close;
By their praying and whining,
And clasping and twining,
And panting and wishing,
And sighing and kissing,
And sighing and kissing so close.
poem by John Dryden
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Again
I see you turn your back on life again
And I see your stumbling down worked smooth again
I feel despair kissing our lips again
I feel despair holding our hearts again
You hear me crying behind your back again
You hear my heartbeat slowly down again
I feel despair kissing our lips again
And I feel despair holding our hearts again
I feel despair kissing our lips again
And I feel despair holding our hearts again
Oh baby yes
I feel despair kissing our lips again
And I feel despair holding our hearts again
I feel despair kissing our lips again
And I feel despair holding our hearts again
Despair holding our hearts again
That's right
Yeah
song performed by by H.I.M.
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Long Song Comin
Politician 'bout to make his speech
Signal for attention, please
Then he shuffled his notes
And wiped his sweating brow
I looked at my friend next to me
And we don't dare agree
Before this is over
We'll wish we woulda left right now
'Cause it sounds like a long song comin'
And it looks like he might throw in a little dancin', too
Yes, it sounds like a long song comin'
And buddy, listen buddy
We got better things to listen to
Lady from a church bizarre
Was smiling from her head to her feet
All the way down to her feet
That she couldn't see
She started speeking her piece
I said "Stop, Wait a minute, please
Before you start talkin'
I wish you'd please listen to me."
'Cause it sounds like a long song comin'
And though some of the things you say might be true
It still sounds like a long song comin'
And baby, listen lady, I got better things to listen to
Yes, it sounds like a long song comin'
And it looks like you might throw in a little dancin', too
Yes, it sounds like a long song comin'
And buddy, listen buddy, I got better things to listen to
Say, so it sounds like a long song comin'
And it sounds like some just might be true
Still it sounds like a long song comin'
And buddy, listen buddy, I got better things to listen to
And buddy, listen buddy, we got better things to listen to
song performed by by Bob Seger
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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That Same Song
Well back in time with just a rhythm and rhyme
Gregorian chants were a real big thing
They took that chant and added harmony
It was a different sound
But had the same meaning
I know (I know) I know (I know)
It took us a long while
To go (to go) to go (to go)
And find us a rock style
I know (I know) I know (I know)
That we can take it one more mile
Because
Were singing that same song
Were still singing that same song
Were singing that same song
That same song
That same song
The rock of ages
Built that rockin sound
til more and more people start to come around
They worshipped in church
And built that great big choir
It grew and it grew
Until it spread like fire
I know (I know) I know (I know)
It took us a long while
To go (to go) to go (to go)
And find us a rock style
I know (I know) I know (I know)
That we can take it one more mile
Because
Were singing that same song
Were still singing that same song
Were singing that same song
That same song
That same song
Same song
Oh yeah
Same song
Oh yeah
Same song that same song
Same song
Oh yeah
Same song
Oh yeah
Same song that same song
song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Just Listen To My Song (from 'Meet the Moments')
When my heart is lonely and blue
And just wondering about you
When the world outside is all cold
And my dreams to nowhere are true
And to the dark they surely unfold
Just listen to my song of loneliness
Just listen to the song I'm singing
I'll be touching out for each caress
That my feelings and paths are bringing
Every world has its own to care for
Love is something to adjust and to be
We can never be of us assure
Because freedom is to learn and to see
It's all about free will to you and me
Just listen to my song to the open air
Just listen to the singing from my heart
I will try to reach out and be there
To make each open opportunities start
Just listen to my song of loneliness
Just listen to the song I'm singing
I'll be touching out for each caress
Which those believes and ways are bringing
Whenever you touch and bring out of trouble
Anything you stand for on your own
It shall raise each fortress from rubble
Make each struggle for freedom be known
poem by Peter S. Quinn
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Mandolin Rain
(bruce hornsby/john hornsby)
The song came and went
Like the times that we spent
Hiding out from the rain under the carnival tent
Id laugh and hed smile
And it would last for a while
You dont know what you got til you lose it all again
Listen to the mandolin rain, listen to the music on the lake
Listen to my heart break, every time that he goes away
Listen to the banjo wind, a sad song drifting low
Listen to my tears roll, down my face as he turns to go
A cool evening dance
Listening to the bluegrass band takes the chill
From the air til they play the last song
And Ill do my time
Keeping you off my mind but theres moments
That I find, Im not feeling so strong
Listen to the mandolin rain, listen to the music on the lake
Listen to my heart break, every time that he goes away
Listen to the banjo wind, a sad song drifting low
Listen to my tears roll, down my face as he turns to go
Running down by the lakeshore
He did love the sound of a summer storm
It played on the lake like a mandolin
Now its washing him away once again
Once again, once again
Listen to the mandolin rain, listen to the music on the lake
Listen to my heart break, every time that he goes away
Listen to the banjo wind, a sad song drifting low
Listen to my tears roll, down my face as he turns to go
Listen to my tears roll, down my face as he turns to go
song performed by by Pam Tillis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Beauty Of The Sky
Beauty of the sky, is the richness of the blue.
Deepness of the sky, is the richness of the red.
Darkness of the sky, is the richness of the black.
Freshness of the sky, is the richness of the rain.
Glimpses of the sky, is the richness of the stars.
Smile of the sky, is the richness of the moon.
Sparks of the sky, is the richness of the lighting.
Beauty of the sky, is the richness of the clouds...
poem by Manzoor ilahi
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Embracing the rain
No more raincoats, I’m embracing the rain
Sunny days long gone, I’m embracing the rain
Sometimes you are dying
A circle of life is changing
In the darkness is new light
evolving and growing through the night
No more raincoats, I’m embracing the rain
Sunny days are long gone, I’m embracing the rain
Sometimes you are trying
Starting new things without slowing down
Illumination is the key
Trust the unknown, wait and see
No more raincoats, I’m embracing the rain
Sunny days long gone, I’m embracing the rain
Okay to be fearful, I’m embracing the rain
Better days are coming, I’m embracing the rain
I’m embracing the rain
poem by Alana Joy Bailey
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Mysterious doings
As once I rambled in the woods
I chanced to spy amid the brake
A huntsman ride his way beside
A fair and passing tranquil lake;
Though velvet bucks sped here and there,
He let them scamper through the green--
Not one smote he, but lustily
He blew his horn--what could it mean?
As on I strolled beside that lake,
A pretty maid I chanced to see
Fishing away for finny prey,
Yet not a single one caught she;
All round her boat the fishes leapt
And gambolled to their hearts' content,
Yet never a thing did the maid but sing--
I wonder what on earth it meant.
As later yet I roamed my way,
A lovely steed neighed loud and long,
And an empty boat sped all afloat
Where sang a fishermaid her song;
All underneath the prudent shade,
Which yonder kindly willows threw,
Together strayed a youth and maid--
I can't explain it all, can you?
poem by Eugene Field
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Nailed
eyes will chew the words
i will not see all day along, do you hear
my thoughts in the icicles of flames, my bones
jutting out of knuckles,
i will go to memory lane once again:
where the stale smell of yellow pages
throws up invisible thighs groping for support
climbing in vain,
half moon floating on lake of tears
in fire of dark night –
drenched, he was escaping without legs
in white darkness of unaddressed pain,
sorrow of locked shame …..
victim of blisters on blasting flesh,
knees give way,
what was the date of surrender,
i was meditating on the ashes of serpents
beneath the ocean of protests in voyage
of solitude, as your lips quiver
in resilience of benign submission
poem by Satish Verma
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Paradox
unbelieve, what i have told you.
you like the unbreaking of hearts, you ask for that, and i am going to give in.
unbelieve what i have impressed upon your skin,
a tattoo of a heart with cupid's arrow
bleeding, please, try to remember how
someone has broken your heart
and there i was singing you a love song,
and you say how kind of me to listen to the dripping of your sorrow,
those nights when you only believe about the moon's story,
and there i was singing you a love song,
and you believe me,
unbelieve what i have told you
believe what is now put before your breast
it is the sun and the inkling of the tendril
to a certain bloom
a breaking of day, hands holding on,
in friendship.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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We're That Kind Of A Pair
You've got me.
And that matters.
We can skip idle chatter.
And what makes nitpickers tick.
With interferring nosiness.
And You've-got-me.
When kissing with our lips.
They feel a perfect fit.
And You've-got-me.
When holding one another,
We wish not to quit!
A blessing is there.
We're that kind of a pair.
When kissing our lips.
We wish not to quit!
You've-got-me.
We're that kind of a pair.
You've-got-me.
And I'll always be there.
You've-got-me.
Of that I am aware.
You've-got-me.
We're that kind of a pair.
When kissing with our lips,
They feel a perfect fit.
When holding one another,
We wish not to quit!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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singing nightingales
singing nightingales
green crowned hairstreak butterflies-
love story at night
haiku by Marius Alexandru (July 2020)
Submitted by anonym
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I Hear America Singing
I Hear America singing, the varied carols I hear;
Those of mechanics--each one singing his, as it should be, blithe and strong;
The carpenter singing his, as he measures his plank or beam,
The mason singing his, as he makes ready for work, or leaves off work;
The boatman singing what belongs to him in his boat--the deckhand singing on the steamboat deck;
The shoemaker singing as he sits on his bench--the hatter singing as he stands;
The wood-cutter's song--the ploughboy's, on his way in the morning, or at the noon intermission, or at sundown;
The delicious singing of the mother--or of the young wife at work--or of the girl sewing or washing--Each singing what belongs to her, and to none else;
The day what belongs to the day--At night, the party of young fellows, robust, friendly,
Singing, with open mouths, their strong melodious songs.
poem by Walt Whitman
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