A Hidden Bard
Anyanwu, Ihekaire, Onyema, Onyeka, Onuwa, Igbokwe and Akalonu;
The roll call from my past to tell you a story;
Chikwe, Nwagbraocha, Chioma, Obidike, Uchebulem and Nnkiru;
I am the hidden bard to all of you;
But my presence is untold for a reason.
My hand is the handmade of the Creator but,
Do take me to 'Umueze' to look for my lover;
For, i am from Ikeduru.
I am the hidden bard to you people,
And from Umueme to Umuehihe to tell you a story;
For i lost my identity to the Bushmen some years ago.
From Umumkpe to Amamba,
And from Umuagwu to Umualumaku;
Of the floating faces of my identities lost in the drain,
But today i am in thwe rain telling you this story.
The hidden bard,
The mind of a floating bag at sea;
For many are they who ares till searching for me,
But my love is what they need to seek for.
I am real and living among them but,
For how long should i spell out my name for them?
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Related quotes
Timeless
In the bud lies hidden the fragrance
Of a blossom not far away
A secret mystery an untold romance
Though it won't for long stay!
In the dawn lies hidden a story
Of a day not far away
A dark despair a shining glory
Though it won't for long stay!
In the journey lies hidden an end
That is never too far away
Together in love the time we spend
Will be forever there to stay!
poem by Pradip Chattopadhyay
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Hidden Chapters
pieces of our story
waiting to be written
lay hidden in tomorrows
in places were yet to see
and the things still to do
events unfolding, reveal
so that we find in time
all that we will need
search and you shall find
the pieces to complete
yesterdays and today's
parts of our story
hidden away
together we search
together we find
together we live our lives
one hidden chapter
at a time
poem by Matthew Holloway
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Fundamental of Liar Chapter LXXX: Story
Story about future is called imagination
Story about past is called memories
Story about present is called reality
Story that becomes true is called prophecy
Story that becomes unfulfilled is called regret
Story that becomes no end is called boasting
Small story is called experience
Epic story is called history
Forgotten story is called lesson
Story that becomes obsession is called ambition
Story that becomes untold is called secret
Story that becomes go its own way is called life
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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11 Minus 2
I am living closer to a bard whose mind is afar off with wisdom!
But i always lay low to learn from him;
Because, his words touches me like the songs of the lovely birds around.
I am sitting here with the bard today,
But i am 11 minus 2 years old! !
Yes, very young to learn from him all year round,
And his wisdom is all that i need to imperove on my status-que in life.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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The Muse Of A Bard
This is the muse of a bard:
Isometrics and macrocosm,
Microbe and schlasticism,
Scientology and physiology,
Philanthropy and gynaecology,
For what he was is not what you see today.
A woman in love needs only one man,
For the synthesis of love do have many branches;
And this is the muse of a bard in the land of the living!
For what he was is not what he is today.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Once when I was in Hawaii, on the island of Kauai, I met a mysterious old stranger. He said he was about to die and wanted to tell someone about the treasure. I said, "Okay, as long as it's not a long story. Some of us have a plane to catch, you know." He stared telling his story, about the treasure and his life and all, and I thought "This story isn't too long." But then, he kept going, and I started thinking, "Uh-oh, this story is getting long." But then the story was over, and I said to myself "You know, that story wasn't too long after all." I forget what the story was about, but there was a good movie on the plane. It was a little long, though.
Jack Handey in Deep Thoughts
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Never Ending Story Theme Song
Search around, look at what you see,
In her face, the mirror of your dreams,
Make believe I'm everywhere, hidden in the lines
Written on the pages is the answer to our neverending story
Neverending story
Reach the stars, and fly a fantasy,
Dream a dream, and what you see will be,
Lives that keep their secrets will unfold behind the clouds
And there upon the rainbow is the answer to our neverending story
Neverending story
Story
Neverending story
Show no fear, for she may fade away,
In your hand, the birth of a new day,
Lives that keep their secrets will unfold behind the clouds
And there upon the rainbow is the answer to our neverending story
(3x)
Neverending story
song performed by by New Found Glory
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Never Ending Story Theme
Turn around, look at what you see, yeah-eh
in her face, the mirror of your dreams, who-oh
Make believe I'm everywhere, hidden in the lines
written on the pages
is the answer to a neverending story, neverending story-eeh
Reach the stars, fly a fantasy
dream a dream, and what you see will be-eh, yeah, yeah, yeah-eh
Rhymes that keep their secrets, will unfold behind the clouds
and there upon the rainbow is the answer to a neverending story-eeh
neverending story-eeh
story-eeh
neverending story-eeh
Show no fear, for she may fade away, yeah-eh
In your hand, the birth of the new day-hee, yeah, yeah, yeah-eh
Rhymes that keep their secrets will unfold behind the clouds
and there upon the rainbow is the answer to a...Neverending story! oho-wo-oho-wo
Neverending story, woo-owo-oho-wo-oho-wo
Neverending story, wo-owo-oho-wo-oho-wo
Neverending story, Who-owo-oho-wo-oho-wo
song performed by by New Found Glory
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Because you're telling a story, and I'm sure people fifty years ago would tell the same story differently if they were telling it to you today. Because the time is different. The film is the work of today's audience.
quote by Dennis Muren
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Murder Story
You say to me things should soon be alright
I get so scared if I dont get out at night
The questions real
The answer so false
I just cant cope no more with this rate of pulse
I lost my past
I gave it away
I feel so insecure
I couldnt take another day
Please be kind
Dont call me no wreck
My nerves are very live you know
But soon theyre going to break
No oh no
Another murder story
No oh no
Another murder story
So dont come too close
I cant stand the heat
I get nightmares of places people go to meet
Its so apparent when I walk in the door
That Im all alone
Theres no one home and no one wants me anymore
So claustrophobic if I stand I one place
This state of mind Im in is positively quite a disgrace
The children from the street call out my name
Hey you
Its all so mutual but you know
I just dont want to share no fame
No oh no
Another murder story
No oh no
Another murder story
No oh no
Murder story
No oh no
No oh no
Lyrics : j kerr music : burchill/kerr (c) emi publishing ltd reproduced without permission
song performed by by Simple Minds
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To Cut A Long Story Short
Soldier is turning
See him through white light
Running from strangers
See you in the valley
War upon war
Heat upon heat
To cut a long story short
I lost my mind
Sitting on a park bench
Years away from fighting
To cut a long story short
I lost my mind
Standing in the dark
Oh I was waiting for man to come
I am beautiful and clean
And so very very young
To be standing in the street
To be taken by someone
Questions questions
Give me no answers
Thats all they ever give me
Questions questions
Oh look at the strange boy
He finds it hard existing
To cut a long story short
I lost my mind
song performed by by Spandau Ballet
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Wirtz
Ideological leader,
I am Wirtz and i have a story for you;
But it will take only 20 minutes to touch your heart!
For the windows of heaven are now opened to pour out the rain.
Cover your grains from the rains my love!
And train your children to gain wisdom on this earth;
For your love to me is now like a hidden treasure,
But i am Wirtz and i have a story for you.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Before the Bard dies
It’s time you turn the machine off, it’s time
Before the bard in you flies away
With the last melodious rhyme
For too long your eyes are fixed on the screen
Living in a virtual world forgetting your kin
While you looked away, the rainbow came and went
The flower bloomed and withered
You never got her scent
The clouds gathered on you for your glance
Then wilted, you frittered away the chance
Every bit of nature on your door knocks
To find you lost in the rectangular box
Switch it off, turn your eyes
Before the bard in you forever dies!
poem by Pradip Chattopadhyay
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Its The Same Old Story
M. field / n. oliphant
The same old story
Its as old as the stars above
The same old story
Of a boy and a girl in love
The scenes say more moonlight
The times say more june light
Romances the thing
Two hearts away deep in a dream
The same old story
Its been told much too much before
The same old story
But its worth telling just once more
Its all fun and laughter
They lived ever after in ecstacy
The same old story but its new to me
song performed by by Billie Holiday
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Wandering Bard
What life like that of the bard can be --
The wandering bard, who roams as free
As the mountain lark that o'er him sings,
And, like that lark a music brings,
Within him, where'er he comes or goes --
A fount that for ever flows!
The world's to him like some playground,
Where fairies dance their moonlight round; --
It dimm'd the turf where late they trod;
The elves but seek some greener sod;
So, when less bright his scene of glee,
To another away flies he!
Oh, what would have been young Beauty's doom
Without a bard to fix her bloom?
They tell us, in the moon's bright round,
Things lost in this dark world are found;
So charms, on earth long pass'd and gone,
In the poet's lay live on. --
Would you have smiles that ne'er grow dim?
You've only to give them all to him,
Who, with but a touch of Fancy's wand,
Can lend them life, this life beyond.
And fix them high, in Poesy's sky --
Young stars that never die!
Then welcome the bard where'er he comes,
For, though he hath countless airy homes,
To which his wing excursive roves,
Yet still, from time to time, he loves
To light upon earth and find such cheer
As brightens our banquet here.
No matter how far, how fleet he flies,
You've only to light up kind young eyes,
Such signal-fires as here are given--
And down he'll drop from Fancy's heaven,
The minute such call to love or mirth
Proclaim's he's wanting on the earth!
poem by Thomas Moore
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Something
I'm writing in hope for something with sweet melody,
A rhythm that can be felt,
A beauty that can be read.
With words flowing like water over rocks,
Steadily without fault or obstruction.
A liquid in its purest state.
I'm writing in hope for something with sweet remembrance,
Like the scent of falling rain,
Or the memorable sound of a mothers cooing voice.
Something so memorable,
The slightest reminder sends you back to the exact moment,
Replaying in unbroken pattern of mind.
I'm writing in hope for something spectacular to happen,
For my words to form a feeling so deep they hurt,
For each image to be as clear as these words on this paper.
I want you to feel what I feel,
A feeling of lonely discontent,
Sitting alone in my own my own world, writing away.
I am writing this in hope for something to stick with you,
A message or a meaning that I've hidden inside a syllable,
A voice of reason that you have kept from yourself,
Silenced with the voice of your shallow desires.
A dream that you once had forgotten,
Lost in the darkness of the night.
I am writing this in hope for something to be brought to light.
Maybe a buried thought that you wish you never had,
Or an inner conflict that you hadn't noticed but feel tearing apart your skin,
Even an aspiration you promised to live up to but left to die.
Something so lost in the world of your mind,
Swallowed by deep chasms of thought and memory.
I am writing this in hope of telling a story.
The story of a world that can only be imagined in a dark room,
Hidden from the world and apart from anything else.
The story of a broken heart of a shortened life,
The story of the silent cries of a lost soul reaching for sanity.
My own story, perhaps, or even yours, is this your story?
I am writing in hope of making your thoughts and feelings dance,
A slow and steady music in the background,
Propelling your eyes left to right and back again.
Following the steps of each word,
The flow off each line and stanza.
An endless waltz with the reader and the writer, will you dance with me?
I am writing in hope of making an impression on your mind,
Maybe not an everlasting one, but even just a brief moment,
A moment of realization that you are now reading what I have written,
That for one moment in time our minds share the same space and thought,
Each word playing in our head the same as the other's.
Can you hear my voice, can you feel my thoughts?
I don't know why I am writing, or why I am writing what I am writing,
But I know that it has accomplished one thing,
It has given a purpose to something, if even just a piece of paper,
It has given worth to something that at one point was just a blank sheet,
Waiting for something to be etched into its surface, making it something.
I guess that's why I'm writing, I'm just writing; something.
poem by Bethany Maxwell
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Lament
Where are those dazzling hills touched by the sun,
Those crags in childhood that I used to climb?
Hidden, hidden under mist is yonder mountain,
Hidden is the heart.
A day of cloud, a lifetime falls between,
Gone are the heather moors and the pure stream,
Gone are the rocky places and the green,
Hidden, hidden under sorrow is yonder mountain,
Hidden, hidden.
O storm and gale of tears, whose blinding screen
Makes weather of grief, snow's drifting curtain
Palls th'immortal heights once seen.
Hidden, hidden is the heart,
Hidden, hidden is the heart.
poem by Kathleen Jessie Raine
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Hidden Talent
Written by gerry beckley, 1998
Found on human nature.
Just like a person from another world
My eyes can see inside you, little girl
I see things that you dont want to see
I see things youre trying to hide from me
Im just trying to make you understand
All the ways you can affect this man
From the moment that you came in touch
With the power there to burn so much
Youve got hidden talent (yeah)
I bet youre gonna find some hidden talent, oh
You know your past is whats been bugging you
If youre ready girl ... do what you gotta do
Look for your life between the lines
Bad directions and poor designs
Youve got hidden talent (hidden talent, yeah)
I bet youre gonna find some hidden talent, oh
Hidden talent (hidden talent, yeah)
Check it out you ... got it, hidden talent, oh
With the advantage of perspective i
See theres more to you than meets the eye
But now the time must come to spread your wings and fly
Yeah (hidden talent) yeah
Hidden talent (hidden talent, yeah)
I bet youre gonna find some hidden talent, oh
Hidden talent (hidden talent, yeah)
Check it out ... you got it, hidden talent, oh
Hidden talent (hidden talent, yeah)
Affair without warning
Hidden talent, mmm (mmm)
Hidden talent (hidden talent, yeah)
I bet youre gonna find some hidden talent, oh
(fade)
song performed by by America
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bookworm
There's a story that like a dessert I love
And I enjoy every page slowly as much as I can
There's story that makes me desperate
And even my day becomes gloomy after I read
There's story that safe to be read anytime
And I don't mind if it's going up or down
There's story that could burn me to the core
And left me with desire to create another story
There's story that easily predict
And I could finish it without much thinking
There's story that has a very good cliffhanger
And I need to rush to the publisher to make it comes fast
There's story that goes like my dream
And I want to repeat over and over until I'm getting bored
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Shrinking (Revised)
Why does a conversational ploy that charms
one colleague fall flat on its face for others?
When I enact a little tragi-comedy for Hanlie
she embroiders the tales I tell, brings out the
hidden glitter in every situation and adds joy
by weaving her wan spell -
but when I share the same anecdote with
other colleagues my story loses its appeal,
I feel guilt and fatigue, and the story shrivels
up and dies; a more robust, feisty colleague
simply kills the story by pulling down corners
of her mouth -
thus, with Hanlie on leave, I already know
why life at work keeps shrinking
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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