Virgo
Ghost song's refrain in years reprise
this message sends, in candle faint glow,
that we are wraiths boarding the breeze,
stalwart and lone our soul aggrieves,
white auster foams above the bow,
the gusts play wind's notes of oboe,
homecoming ball where smiles cerise,
fromward of bright Spica Virgo.
Out yon the Princesses in dark,
transmit their laughs in cryst'l glory
life merchants send us to embark,
harmonic verdict - sirens' harp,
abstruse odd song and strange story,
our life resembles a marble quarry,
abandoned where the winds howl-bark,
when shadows pass in white flurry.
poem by Giorgio Veneto
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Related quotes
The Heart of a Boy
To Mrs. Guy Wyndham
The heart of a boy is full of light,
Naked of self, quite pure and clean,
No shadows lurk in it: it is bright
Where God Himself hath been.
I looked in a boy's heart and saw
How its desire was white desire,
Burning upward, as winds might draw
The flame of a candle higher.
What was the heart's desire that burned
Like a white candle stirred in a breeze?
Power or glory or honour earned?
Love that is more than these?
The heart of a boy has but one goal.
The flying Danger smiles as she flies,
Makes her own of him, heart and soul,
With the lure of her lovely eyes.
The boy's heart now is set on a star,
A sword for the weak against the strong,
A young knight riding forth to the War
Who dies to right the wrong.
poem by Katharine Tynan
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Chill Warning
Wolves howl, chill warning,
Song of blood.
Hunters smile, men reach for spears,
Stone, one with wood.
Our Lady of wolves, with fangs,
In dark shadows is seen.
Howl, children of darkness, follow,
Run with your white queen.
Circles of shadows, cover the prey,
Red stains the snow.
Blood, on white snow, ice and fire,
Stars spin, and glow.
poem by Jerome Brooke
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Unopened Letter To The World
If i died tomorrow
would this song live on forever?
and here is my
unopened letter to a world
that never shall reply
if i died tomorrow
would this song live on forever?
and here is my
unopened letter to a world
that never shall reply
never shall reply
from this second story window
i can hear the church bells calling out my name
this table is set for one
even angels would be homesick
in this forsaken town
on random notes of parchment
i'm scrawling my existence
dressed in white
this candle radiates throughout the night
and it's never burning out
never burning out
from this second story window
i can hear the children down on main street
they're singing their songs tonight
in the shadows i will listen to their every movement
Mr. Higginson am i not good enough for the world?
am i destined only to die
the same way that i lived,
its seclusion?
but high up on this mountain
i can almost see your lonely window sill
they'll carry you off tonight
there's a ghost in your old bedroom
and a candle burning bright
if i die tomorrow
will this song live on forever?
song performed by by Ataris
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Sing Of A Song Of Life
a song in our eyes
a song in our imagery ears
a song in our hands
a song in our feet
It's a distant song
It's a future song
A song who says
beyond future, beyond distances, beyond nothing,
a song that resembles your life, so tell it
in a song as if you were telling it in a story
poem by Anye'a B. Pinnock
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The Rosary
Not on the lute, nor harp of many strings
Shall all men praise the Master of all song.
Our life is brief, one saith, and art is long;
And skilled must be the laureates of kings.
Silent, O lips that utter foolish things!
Rest, awkward fingers striking all notes wrong!
How from your toil shall issue, white and strong,
Music like that God's chosen poet sings?
There is one harp that any hand can play,
And from its strings what harmonies arise!
There is one song that any mouth can say, --
A song that lingers when all singing dies.
When on their beads our Mother's children pray
Immortal music charms the grateful skies.
poem by Joyce Kilmer
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The Wolf's Howl
Have You Ever Heard
A Lone Wolf’s Howl
… Sends Chills, Up My Spine
In Memory, (Even Now)
… Not Out Of Fear …
That’s Not What I Hear
It’s A Longing
A Calling
A Soul-Star Rising
And Vocalizing
A Notice … A Need
A Heed of The Breed
He’s Lifting His Head
Out Of The Dark
Not Like A Bark
But, Rite of Passage-Mark
Thru the Air, ‘Hahooooo’ Zooms
In Moonlight, and in Tune
A Long, Mellow Note
The Wolf Sung-Spoke
Wolf, is Howling To Say …
Same Things, We Pray …
Have You Ever Heard a Lone Wolf Howl
Sends Chills, Up My Spine (Even Now) ! …
poem by MoonBee Canady
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Flowers Blend
Morning of May,
She shines bright,
blooms a bouquet,
of roses white.
The Light kisses
her radiance fair,
as then she misses,
hope in despair.
A forest shadow,
subdued her eyes,
dreams are a throe,
Stygian demise;
Adored will pace,
in corridors gray,
romantic her lace,
in aphotic dismay;
Adored is her valor,
brilliant twinkles
embrace her calor,
in tearing sprinkles.
North wind traces
marble in quarry
aloneness embraces
her ulterior glory.
Wraiths ascend
float upwards high;
and flowers blend,
and dreams die.
poem by Giorgio Veneto
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The bier of precentor a. reitan
With smiles his soft eyes ever gleamed,
When God and country thinking;
With endless joy, his soul, it seemed,
Faith, fatherland, was linking.
His word, his song,
Like springs flowed strong;
They fruitful made the valley long,
And quickened all there drinking.
Poor people and poor homes among
In wintry region saddest,
In Sunday's choir he always sung,
Of all the world the gladdest:
'The axis stout
It turns about,
Falls not the poorest home without,
For thus, O God, Thou badest.'
With sickness came a heavy year
And put to proof his singing,
While helpless children standing near
His trust to test were bringing.
But glad the more,
As soft notes soar
When winds o'er hidden harp-strings pour,
His song his soul was winging.
His life foretold us that erelong
With faith in God unshaken
Shall all our nation stand in song,
And church, home, school, awaken,
In Norway's song,
In gladness' song,
In glory of the Lord's own song,
From life's low squalor taken.
Fair fatherland, do not forget,
The children of his bower!
He, poor as is the rosebush, yet
Gave gladness till death's hour-
With failure's smart
Let not depart
From this thy soil so glad a heart,-
His garden, let it flower!
poem by Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson
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Ballad of Joe and Satchong
There's a lady from the orient sea
Such winsome lady and lovely
With her voice so sweet to hear
Melodious within the wind zephyr
A sweet rhythmic sound like a song
A pleasing tune of such song
That enchanted this fellow
And made his heart glow
Ah - lovely voice, said Joe
That encourage him to go
Or search for that voice
That makes his heart rejoice
He followed the gentle breeze
Across Atlantic and Pacific seas
As the ocean waves and rolls
He goes on with the gentle breeze with goals
In the air is the song for Joe
That makes his heart glow
And search that voice
That makes his soul rejoice
So within the breeze is the song
Said Joe, Oh what a lovely song
And so melodious voice
That makes my heart rejoice
He continue to follow gentle breeze
Across Atlantic and Pacific seas
There in the orient sea he found that such song
is from the lovely lady named Satchong
With the little winged Cherubim
Coveted them and their love woven
Their love are like in the air
Life like the gentle wind zephyr
'til now their love so sweet like a song
With this couple Joe and Satchong
So blessed with bright lifetime
So solid maybe until the end of time
poem by Ency Bearis
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Bright Colors
bright colors hang
on a horizontal pole
a white bench a red
pail and purple clouds
yellow sand black
sea grass and lavender
shadows umbrellas
on alternate orange and
white and saffron and
yellow green and crimson
blue sea with white foams
escape from a shrinking world
to the sea breeze and solitude
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Warning and Promise
Wolves howl, chill warning,
Songs of red blood.
Hunters smile, men reach for spears,
Stone, one with wood.
Our Lady of wolves, with fangs,
In dark shadows is seen.
Howl, children of darkness, follow,
Run with your white queen.
Circles of shadows, cover the prey,
Red stains the snow.
Blood on white snow, ice and fire,
Stars spin, and glow.
poem by Jerome Brooke
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Music (The Song)
It plays to my heartstrings...
It is the music to my ears-
...It is the tender love song of my life-
And the refelections of my years...
All in a simple sweet melody-
...The rhythm and harmony flow-
Yes, dancing at my heartstrings-
...The memories, they come and they go...
It is the music of my lifetime-
...It is the gentle refrain, in my head-
'A play it to my soul song'
...Down the road of love-
...I am led...
It is a once, in a lifetime song-
...Forever growing, it is, in me-
It is, a broken heart tune-
...And a haunting melody...
It is the songs of our Nation-
...The Anthems and Hymns...
It is the: 'Glory to the World My Friend, ' song-
...That has become, way too dim...
It is the 'Light of My Life' ballad-
...In perfect melodic harmony-
It is the say it all: 'With Words and Music'
...It is the Best that Music Can Be...
poem by Theodora Onken
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Song Of The Spirit
Too sweet and too subtle for pen or for tongue
In phrases unwritten and measures unsung,
As deep and as strange as the sounds of the sea,
Is the song that my spirit is singing to me.
In the midnight and tempest when forest trees shiver,
In the roar of the surf, and the rush of the river,
In the rustle of leaves and the fall of the rain,
And on the low breezes I catch the refrain.
From the vapours that frame and envelop the earth,
And beyond, from the realms where my spirit had birth,
From the mists of the land and the fogs of the sea,
For ever and ever the songs come to me.
I know not its wording - its import I know -
For the rhythm is broken, the measure runs low,
When vexed or allured by the things of this life
My soul is merged into its pleasures or strife.
When up to the hill tops of beauty and light
My soul like a lark in the ether takes flight,
And the white gates of heaven shine brighter and nearer,
The song of the spirit grows sweeter and clearer.
Up, up to the realms where no mortal has trod -
Into space and infinity near to my God -
With whiteness, and silence, and beautiful things,
I am bourne when the voice of eternity sings.
When once in the winds or the dropp of the rain
Thy spirit shall listen and hear the refrain,
Thy soul shall soar up like a bird on the breeze,
And the things that have pleased thee will never more please.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Play On
All of my life, the wheels were turning
Drawing me near, to something that's burning bright
The music begins, a song that is new
Joining as one, it leads me to you
(Chorus)
Play on, play on, lifting our voices to reach the sky
Play on, play on, singing a song and my heart's on fire
My morning star, has always been with me
Lifting me up, when I couldn't carry on
Turning the page, to each song I write
Leading me on, on through the night
(Chor us)
Living the song
Holding on to a dream that never dies
I open my eyes
Learning the word that never fade
Now it begins
Never to end
It's the prize I long for
Play on, play on, lifting our voices to reach the sky
Play on, play on, sound a refrain to be heard on high
Play on, play on, singing a song and my heart's on fire
song performed by by Kansas
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Floating Brim
An eerie song spelled by the auster,
but no one, must listen to the gusts
we receive on our cargo's pilot cutter
as we sheer off, to a nightly cussed.
The wind sings this divergent song,
with a conceived vision to whisper,
upon the pilot cutter, sailing along
Atlantic, as we stare at the big dipper.
On long route, attention sharpens,
with our steersman's whistling song,
heard in a liquor bar in Antwerpen
but he was not so lucky or strong.
A quarrel and a flashing blade, drawn
just for a solitude's question spend,
on Ocean wondering his soul 's upon,
in the winds, a harmonica will blend.
A ghostly port to stop, at Cape Coast,
a shinning and all was a dim past,
an end aghast, a thorny crowned post
to visit my sleep, for I remained last.
Our cargo slowly cuts on a bluish drape,
our diesels hum a besetting rhythm
in mists, as we envision a dark gate
that opens to engulf our floating brim.
poem by Giorgio Veneto
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The Curlew Song
The viewless blast flies moaning past,
Away to the forest trees,
Where giant pines and leafless vines
Bend 'neath the wandering breeze!
From ferny streams, unearthly screams
Are heard in the midnight blue;
As afar they roam to the shepherd's home,
The shrieks of the wild Curlew!
As afar they roam
To the shepherd's home,
The shrieks of the wild Curlew!
The mists are curled o'er a dark-faced world,
And the shadows sleep around,
Where the clear lagoon reflects the moon
In her hazy glory crowned;
While dingoes howl, and wake the growl
Of the watchdog brave and true;
Whose loud, rough bark shoots up in the dark,
With the song of the lone Curlew!
Whose loud, rough bark
Shoots up in the dark,
With the song of the lone Curlew!
Near herby banks the dark green ranks
Of the rushes stoop to drink;
And the ripples chime, in a measured time,
On the smooth and mossy brink;
As wind-breaths sigh, and pass, and die,
To start from the swamps anew,
And join again o'er ridge and plain
With the wails of the sad Curlew!
And join again
O'er ridge and plain
With the wails of the sad Curlew!
The clouds are thrown around the cone
Of the mountain bare and high,
(Whose craggy peak uprears to the cheek -
To the face of the sombre sky)
When down beneath the foggy wreath,
Full many a gully through,
They rend the air, like cries of despair,
The screams of the wild Curlew!
They rend the air,
Like cries of despair,
The screams of the wild Curlew!
The viewless blast flies moaning past,
Away to the forest trees;
Where giant pines and leafless vines
Bend 'neath the wandering breeze!
From ferny streams, unearthly screams
Are heard in the midnight blue;
As afar they roam to the shepherd's home,
The shrieks of the wild Curlew!
As afar they roam
To the shepherd's home,
The shrieks of the wild Curlew!
poem by Henry Kendall
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Play Me a Happy Song
Mr DJ play me a happy song.
I want one about livin’ not dyin’,
about lovin’ not lyin’.
Something with smiles not cryin’,
so please Mr DJ, play me a happy song.
I don’t want anything
that mentions heartaches and pain,
or about losers in loves game.
I don’t want to hear about sadness and tears,
or about regretting those years.
Play me a happy song,
how love can be eternal,
or about dancing in the moonlight.
A nice romantic tune
about a candle lit dinner for two,
but no more sad songs, please.
13 August 2007
poem by David Harris
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Chorus of Fire
O! golden Hereafter, thine every bright rafter
Will shake in the thunder of sanctified song;
And every swift angel proclaim an evangel,
To summon God’s saints to the glorified throng.
Refrain
O! chorus of fire,
That will burst from God’s choir,
When the loud hallelujahs leap up from the soul,
Till the flowers on the hills,
And the waves in the rills,
Shall tremble with joy in the music’s deep roll.
O! host without number, awaked from death’s slumber,
Who walk in white robes on the emerald shore;
The glory is o’er you, the throne is before you,
And weeping will come to your spirits no more.
Refrain
O! mansions eternal, in fields ever vernal,
Awaiting your tenantry ransomed from sin,
We’ll stand on your pavement, no more in enslavement,
With home-songs to Jesus Who welcomes us in.
Refrain
O! Jesus, our Master, command to beat faster
These weary life pulses that bring us to Thee,
Till, past the dark portal, we stand up immortal,
And sweep with hosannas the jasper lit sea.
Refrain
poem by Robert Wadsworth Lowry
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Soulful Beats
Can I write a song with words that bring the beat to life with rhythm that feels alive deep into the core of your soul? The meaning hidden and buried for another intellect to feel the magic with the cords of there heart like my lover that smiles at me as the rain dances around her, above her, with her. She is my reason for this verse, this chorus, this repeat of a string of melodies that always see the light in her. She does not belong here in this place of confusion and misdirection of the minds.
She belongs in the arms of nature, smiling at the sky and watching all the beautiful universe pass her by. She is not a copy of perfection, yet she is not perfect, but seems to belong to an imperfect person. I cannot write a song without her eyes of knowledge that has read me through the years to make me a book of holiness to her. The music is between us and plays as we play. It is our love song, wedding song, anniversary song, birth song, happy ever after song and a funeral song. She hums the tune when she loves me and it our song that sings together that we are happy.
poem by Melvyn Mohan
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The Ghosts Of The Bunurong
On the sand dunes at Powlett river in the dead of the night
Dark shadows are moving in the faint moonlight
The Ghosts of the Bunurong dance their Corroborees
In a circle they jig to the music of the breeze.
And as they dance they sing an old Dreamtime song
This Country to their spirits always belong
When white people are sleeping the black tribes come out
And they sing on the sand dunes as they dance about.
The old ghosts of the Dreamtime have not gone away
Like the frogmouths they hide from the bright lamp of day
But on the stroke of midnight they come out from the trees
And they dance on the sand by the southern seas.
The ghosts of the Bunurong they have not died
They dance in the moonlight on the beach at low tide
And by old Powlett river their old Countryside
At dawn they return to their old trees to hide
From the bright lamp of day but on the stroke of midnight
They dance on the sand dunes in the faint moonlight
And to the music of the breeze they sing their Dreamtime song
This Country to their spirits always belong.
poem by Francis Duggan
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