Moonrise
Will you glimmer on the sea?
Will you fling your spear-head
On the shore?
What note shall we pitch?
We have a song,
On the bank we share our arrows—
The loosed string tells our note:
O flight,
Bring her swiftly to our song.
She is great,
We measure her by the pine-trees.
poem by Hilda Doolittle
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Related quotes
The love of music
Notes go up
Keys go down
When you rest
The race has stopped.
The race has stopped
The race has stopped
Oh no the race has stopped.
You play a note
You sing a song.
You play a note
You play a song.
A song
A song
You sing a song.
A song
A song
You played a song.
You had it all
I knew you did
You had it all
You won it all
Know that you have it all to show
There is one more thing left to know.
Whether it be high or low,
How far will this race go?
poem by Christa Rhodes
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The Song’s End
Where will the song end? Here?
Here by the stretching arc
Red-rimmed and clear>
Or there in the dark?
Where will the song end?
Here, where the lizard sticks its tongue
Into the wide air?
Or there with a friend?
Where will the last note be sung?
Here, or there?
How will the song end? High?
Hight with a fighting ring
Through the wild sky
Re-echoing?
How will the tune cease?
Slow-droned beneath a quiet heaven?
With a dead foe?
Or ‘mid bells of peace?
How will the last note be given?
High, or low?
poem by Leon Gellert
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One Flight Down
One flight down
There's a song on low
And your mind just picked up on the sound
Now you know you're wrong
Because it drifts like smoke
And it's been there playing all along
Now you know
Now you know
The reeds and brass have been weaving
Leading into a single note
In this place
Where your arms unfold
Here at least you see your ancient face
Now you know
Now you know
The cadence rolls in broken
Plays it over and then goes
One flight down
There's a song on low
And it's been there playing all along
Now you know
Now you know
song performed by by Norah Jones from Come Away With Me
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The songster
Music, music with throb and swing,
Of a plaintive note, and long;
'Tis a note no human throat could sing,
No harp with its dulcet golden string,--
Nor lute, nor lyre with liquid ring,
Is sweet as the robin's song.
He sings for love of the season
When the days grow warm and long,
For the beautiful God-sent reason
That his breast was born for song.
Calling, calling so fresh and clear,
Through the song-sweet days of May;
Warbling there, and whistling here,
He swells his voice on the drinking ear,
On the great, wide, pulsing atmosphere
Till his music drowns the day.
He sings for love of the season
When the days grow warm and long,
For the beautiful God-sent reason
That his breast was born for song.
poem by Emily Pauline Johnson
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Music Thy Innerself Reveals
music is the language of the soul,
a rhythm that beats, a meaning that
pitch
it becomes the window of the soul,
a destiny beyond the horizon of
every man's heart
every lyric fulfills every one's soul,
that there is a moment of our life
beneath every breath is a choice
of music to sing
that every life has its own tune,
produces different pitch that when all
is played it gives harmony of meaning
that only you can give the meaning
in every note you sing, that harmonizes
the decrescendo and crescendo in
each line
as it faces the final high pitch, that only
you can reach the melody
the song that you want to listen
as it pleases in your heart
sing every note that you can do,
take always the beautiful pitch that you can
reach, never give up, for only
in singing that music
lives in you
music in you, now its you
poem by Antonio Liao
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All day long - Original by Rabindranath Tagore
All day long
I dance with the music of your song!
O my Ektara has only one string;
It can’t bear the pain of songs that you sing!
All along
I have lost in this game of your song!
This string is tuned to make sound of the near
But you are playing your flute from up there!
Can everyone join that shore of your song
By the music to impress everyone?
All along
I have lost in this game of your song!
poem by Asif Andalib
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I'm Singing
I’m Singing…
I’m Singing a New Song…
Deep Inside my Heart…
It’s a Song…that is different from any other song I have sung before…
It is a Song of…
A Song of Hope,
A Song of Love,
A Song of Fate,
A Song of Peace,
A Song of Friendship,
A Song of Family,
A Song of Life,
A Song of Healing,
A Song of Strength,
A Song of Courage,
A Song of Light,
A Song of Flight…
My Heart is beginning to Soar…
I’m finally starting to Fly…
I’m Singing…
poem by Bleeding Heart
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Heart of My Song
Lord JESUS
You are the heart
of my song
every joyful note
proclaimed
a song of love
of wonders
of grace
and mercy
a song
for you alone
in my veins
and flesh
beating
with happiness
a commitment
to CHRIST
the heart of my song
poem by Rita Umali
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The Aim Was Song
Before man to blow to right
The wind once blew itself untaught,
And did its loudest day and night
In any rough place where it caught.
Man came to tell it what was wrong:
It hadn't found the place to blow;
It blew too hard - the aim was song.
And listen - how it ought to go!
He took a little in his mouth,
And held it long enough for north
To be converted into south,
And then by measure blew it forth.
By measure. It was word and note,
The wind the wind had meant to be -
A little through the lips and throat.
The aim was song - the wind could see.
poem by Robert Frost
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Tears Of Blood: The Song (I'm not super depressed I wrote this to scare my friend but its deep)
Words are probably the strangest weapon
They kill more cruelly than a metallic gun
Sometimes we don't even know
Cause the wounds don't show
But the pain is there
Because it hurts when you don't care
The bleeding from your words is internal
The sting of their venom.... eternal
So this is the song I wrote for you
Can you hear me scream it?
This song's from my heart so I'll hit
Every note and pitch, and you can sing along too!
Because these are my tears of blood, can't you see?
Now this IS me
Because I'm broken
Because I'm bleeding out invisible blood
I'd rather it just end
No 'To be or not to be' it is, this is no mood
Swing, there is no question
NO redemption
NO self reflection
All I know now is my tears
And I'm running out of blood, overwhelmed by my fears
So this is my song, are you happy now?
So this is the song i wrote for you
Can you hear me scream it?
poem by David Knox
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The Note You Never Wrote
Later on, the story goes,
A bottle floated out to sea.
After days, when it had found the perfect spot,
It opened up,
And I read the note that you never wrote to me
After all, Im sure you know,
The mayor of baltimore is here.
After days now he can finally appear,
Now at last hes here,
But he never is gonna get my vote,
cause he never is gonna get a quote
From the little note
That you never wrote to me.
Further on, along the line,
I was arrested on the shore,
Holding papers of governments galore.
I was taken in,
But I read the note that you never wrote.
Yes, I read the note that you never wrote.
Oh, I read the note that you never wrote to me.
To me.
To me.
To me.
song performed by by Paul McCartney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The river's song
The river's song
~
There's a song in the river
that streams from mountains and rain
it plays upon rocks and riverbanks
the birds and fish know it well
it flows effortless in a rhythm
pitched by its own will
a rolling waltz, serenely sweet
feeds the thirsty trees
there's a song in the river
an acoustic serenade
the endless symphony
where unwritten words decree
that there is music here
tide eventually to the sea
insects dance upon each note
while sticks and leaves
twirl away to its beat
there's a song in the river
and it plays for free
poem by Matthew Holloway
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The Song Of An African
The Song Builds
The Song Destroys
The Song Dispenses
In Suspence The Song Reveals
In Time I Sing It
At Times I Bring It
To The Bank Near To My Heart
I Lie Awake With My Sleeping Eyes
And The Song Sings Herself
The Lyric Sings Himself
The My Mind Braniwashed With Honey To My Ears
The Song Feeds
The Song Provides Seeds
With Knowledge It Is Food.
With Wisdom Declared Wate
The Song Heals
And Yes In Pays The Bilss
For Long Named It Belief
So Long Came To My Mind Hardwork
Percevearance Its Clan To Tribe Success
The Song Is Mine
Oh Yes It Is.
poem by Anele ''The African Son'' kaPotelwa
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Please Mr. Please
(welch/rostill)
In the corner of the bar there stands a jukebox
With the best of country music, old and new
You can hear your five selections for a quarter
And somebody else's songs when yours are through
I got good kentucky whiskey on the counter
And my friends around to help me ease the pain
'til some button-pushing cowboy plays that love song
And here i am just missing you again
Please, mr., please, don't play b-17
It was our song, it was his song, but it's over
Please, mr., please, if you know what i mean
I don't ever wanna hear that song again
If i had a dime for every time i held you
Though you're far away, you've been so close to me
I could swear i'd be the richest girl in nashville
Maybe even in the state of tennessee
But i guess i'd better get myself together
'cause when you left, you didn't leave too much behind
Just a note that said "i'm sorry" by your picture
And a song that's weighing heavy on my mind
Please, mr., please, don't play b-17
It was our song, it was his song, but it's over
Please, mr., please, if you know what i mean
I don't ever wanna hear that song again
song performed by by Olivia Newton-John
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Song In Time
Notes floating, fleeting music in the air,
Swiftly flying, flowing one after another
Shaped in hues and fairydust scents
Of a melody once hummed by the birds
Tempo unaccented...a melancholic cure
Blended with beats of rhythm and blues
Molded into chords of frets and strings
Concocted an array of enchanting hymns
Gloomy, tearful eyes shining after a long time
Of polished new hopes spirited out from a song
Weep not! Say goodbye from sadness and blues
Promise never again sing a song out of tune
A song is a path like a journey we traverse
Composing and arranging to the ideal of pitch
A crescendo of life as in survival of the featest
A docendo discimus* from the trials of our lives
If once we have failed to write a song out of verse
Another time, another chance if we try to rehearse
Stop counting the times we stumble and fall...
Start counting the times we have risen from the fall
Music is mysterious like a life of trial and error
Of patience and time perfected in its splendor
A simple note to melody envisioned so divine
A maestro...an orchestra...and a song in time
poem by Cynthia Aluning
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Preparation
THE little bird sits in the nest and sings
A shy, soft song to the morning light;
And it flutters a little and prunes its wings.
The song is halting and poor and brief,
And the fluttering wings scarce stir a leaf;
But the note is a prelude to sweeter things,
And the busy bill and the flutter slight
Are proving the wings for a bolder flight!
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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A Linda Song
Music: Barry Manilow
Lyrics: Enoch Anderson
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
He never wrote a song for Linda
He wrote as though he lived alone
He wrote of dreams that end
And of sad brave men
Inventing worlds he'd never known
But he never wrote a song for Linda
And she was right there all along
Loved him back to life
When his luck ran low
But he never wrote a Linda song
He nearly broke his heart at writing
Linda kept him from despair
Standin' by his side
through the hungry days
But he hardly seemed to see her there
And he never wrote a song for Linda
And she was right there all along
The one real thing in his crazy world
And he never wrote a Linda song.
When the bills piled up
He couldn't pay
He couldn't dream no more
So he hitched a ride and he rode away
And he left a note for Linda by the door
By the door
When times got rough he'd phone her
Once or twice she took the call
Then she changed her number and she turned her head
And Linda never looked back at all
He'll never write a song for Linda
And she was right there all along
All he knows is no one understands
And he never wrote a Linda song
No he never wrote a Linda song
song performed by by Barry Manilow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Song of the World
such a wonderful song
song of life
song of death
wedding song
famine song
happy song
sad song
love song
all-american song
bullshit song
druggie song
girls' song
sweet song
crazy song
MY song
poem by Rachel Stoddard
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The Meaning Of Love
love
is just a dream, a beautiful dream
like bright, shine star in the sky
like a note of a song you & your dear sing that song
both of you see this song the most beautiful song
ever you listen to it.
a bird want to fly high high in the sky more than the other birds
poem by Marie Armany
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After My Death
After my death mourn me this way:
'There was a man-and see: he is no more;
before his time this man died
and his life's song in mid-bar stopped;
and oh, it is sad! One more song he had
and now the song is gone for good,
gone for good!
And it is very sad!-a harp too he had
a living being and murmurous
and the poet in his words in it
all of his heart's secret revealed,
and all the strings his hand gave breath
but one secret his heart kept hid,
round and round his fingers played,
and one string stayed mute,
mute to this day!
And it is sad, very sad!
All of her days this string moved,
mute she moved, mute she shook,
for her song, her beloved redeemer
she yearned, thirsted, grieved and longed
as a heart pines for its intended:
and though he hesitated each day she waited
and in a secret moan begged for him to come,
and he hesitated and never came,
never came!
And great, great is the pain!
There was a man-and see: he is no more,
and his life's song in mid-bar stopped,
one more song he had to go,
and now the song is gone for good,
gone for good!
poem by Hayyim Nahman Bialik
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