The Gospel singer
The atmosphere was smoky blue.
The singer’s voice was smoky too
When she picked up the microphone
she fascinated everyone.
Her frail form hid a mighty voice
you listened to. You had no choice.
A voice which made the rafters ring.
She certainly knew how to sing.
She sang without accompaniment.
Then she set up a precedent.
She softly crooned a gospel song
and took her audience along
Tough mobsters sat tears in their eyes
such was her power to hypnotise.
Cold killers who had made their bones
affected by her dulcet tones.
She sang as though she was possessed
without a break without a rest.
From nine o clock til near midnight
Then suddenly was gone from sight.
Nobody knew the singers name,
nobody knew from whence she came
Some believe she was a ghost,
an angel from the heavenly host.
But I don’t care I heard her sing
and to this day I proudly boast.
That I was there and listening
to an angel or a ghost.
I only know that she changed me
She altered my whole attitude
so now I live respectably.
Recalling her with gratitude
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Melody
Melody
By: Adam M. Snow
O' Melody, names like the angel's song;
music swaying around thine love
but of thy love my days be long;
O' my Melody, sang my song.
I long to hear thy voice, thy angelic voice
soothes away my hearts desire.
But it be that of love's choice
echoing upon thy voice.
Can thee forever love a lonely man such as I,
or do thee live on knowing not that of love,
or do thee walk passed and curse myself to die?
This feeling, this love O' Melody I cannot deny.
Let me hear thy choir of thy song;
a voice so deep calming the soul.
Let thy voice and passion be strong;
O' my Melody, sang my song.
Sing; let thy voice be heard across the Earth.
Let it pierce thy shadows.
Let the world see a new found birth
and the wonders its worth.
O' Melody, a song I longed after
to cleanse my immortal soul,
to feel the joy and laughter
and be with you hereafter.
O' Melody, names like the angel's song;
music swaying around thine love
but of thy love my days be long;
O' my Melody, sang my song.
O' Melody, play thy music for I love thee.
Thy lyrics be true thy heart,
Thy song be thy key
to set all souls free.
Let me hear thy choir of thy song;
a voice so deep calming the soul.
Let thy voice and passion be strong;
O' my Melody, sang my song.
poem by Adam M. Snow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sing Softly the Songs of Your Angel
Sing softly the songs of Your angel
Let Your angel let you sleep
For Your angel, in her wisdom
has begun her angel’s song.
Sing softly song’s of Your angel.
It holds the angel’s power
It lets the angel let You laugh
It lets the angel make You cry
Sing softly songs of Your angel
In your angel You must trust.
Your angel only cares for You.
Your angel won’t let anyone hurt You.
WHEN YOU ARE LONELY
JUST CLOSE YOUR EYES.
SING SOFTLY SONGS OF YOUR ANGEL
YOUR ANGEL IS WITH YOU
Sing softly the songs of Your angel
Let Your angel let You sleep
For Your angel, in her wisdom
has begun her angel’s song.
poem by Timothy Venard
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The First Day
The day we met i knew
from the distance i could see
a angel in the sun, in heaven I must be
the smile, the sparkle eyes, the soft voice
the gorgeous body, the elegant walk
for evey move i knew, it's you
I drool, endless looks
just gotta meet
seeing you dance, hearing you sing
bring music to my ears
brings tears, and fears
one day i hope you'll be mine
then i will be fine
there's never a day goes by
when the day i seen you
I knew we be true
that first day
a angel came
poem by Michael Peterson
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The Voice
One feather is a bird,
I claim; one tree, a wood;
In her low voice I heard
More than a mortal should;
And so I stood apart,
Hidden in my own heart.
And yet I roamed out where
Those notes went, like the bird,
Whose thin song hung in air,
Diminished, yet still heard:
I lived with open sound,
Aloft, and on the ground.
That ghost was my own choice,
The shy cerulean bird;
It sang with her true voice,
And it was I who heard
A slight voice reply;
I heard; and only I.
Desire exults the ear:
Bird, girl, and ghostly tree,
The earth, the solid air--
Their slow song sang in me;
The long noon pulsed away,
Like any summer day.
poem by Theodore Roethke
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Idea of Order at Key West
She sang beyond the genius of the sea.
The water never formed to mind or voice,
Like a body wholly body, fluttering
Its empty sleeves; and yet its mimic motion
Made constant cry, caused constantly a cry,
That was not ours although we understood,
Inhuman, of the veritable ocean.
The sea was not a mask. No more was she.
The song and water were not medleyed sound
Even if what she sang was what she heard,
Since what she sang was uttered word by word.
It may be that in all her phrases stirred
The grinding water and the gasping wind;
But it was she and not the sea we heard.
For she was the maker of the song she sang.
The ever-hooded, tragic-gestured sea
Was merely a place by which she walked to sing.
Whose spirit is this? we said, because we knew
It was the spirit that we sought and knew
That we should ask this often as she sang.
If it was only the dark voice of the sea
That rose, or even colored by many waves;
If it was only the outer voice of sky
And cloud, of the sunken coral water-walled,
However clear, it would have been deep air,
The heaving speech of air, a summer sound
Repeated in a summer without end
And sound alone. But it was more than that,
More even than her voice, and ours, among
The meaningless plungings of water and the wind,
Theatrical distances, bronze shadows heaped
On high horizons, mountainous atmospheres
Of sky and sea.
It was her voice that made
The sky acutest at its vanishing.
She measured to the hour its solitude.
She was the single artificer of the world
In which she sang. And when she sang, the sea,
Whatever self it had, became the self
That was her song, for she was the maker. Then we,
As we beheld her striding there alone,
Knew that there never was a world for her
Except the one she sang and, singing, made.
Ramon Fernandez, tell me, if you know,
Why, when the singing ended and we turned
Toward the town, tell why the glassy lights,
The lights in the fishing boats at anchor there,
As the night descended, tilting in the air,
Mastered the night and portioned out the sea,
Fixing emblazoned zones and fiery poles,
Arranging, deepening, enchanting night.
Oh! Blessed rage for order, pale Ramon,
The maker’s rage to order words of the sea,
Words of the fragrant portals, dimly-starred,
And of ourselves and of our origins,
In ghostlier demarcations, keener sounds.
poem by Wallace Stevens
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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The River Sings
The river sings
A voice rises above
Fairer than the water, rings
I know you well
For the river has told
All there is to tell
It sung of a maiden
Fair as the water’s song
Her heart heavy laden
Though she sang
Her song was sorrowed
In voice the sadness rang
No words were needed
The river knew
Her voice it heeded
She walked alone
Her gaiety was lost
River, her only home
She listened to the water
Telling a story
Calling her River Daughter
The river sang, through day and night
Sang for her, the only listener
She joined the song, through dark and light
She called to her lover
Come free me!
Called with song and river
poem by Rachel Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Singer Sang His Song
Hed sing his song most evry night
Wishing she was there behind the light
The people danced and sang along
On the cardboard stage he never sang it wrong
And the piper played the tune
And the drummer wore his spurs
But the song that the singer sang was for her
Now the singers song is never heard
And the visions he once saw are disappeared
Now they never dance or sing along
But on the cardboard stage he never sang it wrong
And the piper played the tune
And the drummer wore his spurs
But the song that the singer sang was for her
(break)
Ah..........
song performed by by Bee Gees
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Angel Eyes
(macauley/potger)
Tossing and turning last night I was burning
For you my love
I couldnt sleep or face one more night on my own
Somehow the wind and the rain seem to call out my name
In the still of night
The sound that I heard was your voice
And the words, oh I knew
You called me angel eyes
Child of the morning
You and I will soon be together
My darling
Angel eyes, Ill be beside you
Through the night you called me your angel eyes
Closing my eyes I could still visualize
All those golden days
In letters you write you promise well share them again
Oh darling nevertheless still I have to confess
That last night I cried
When a voice in the rain softly called out again
Ill be home
Dont cry my angel eyes
Child of the morning
You and I will soon be together
My darling
Angel eyes, Ill be beside you
Through the night you called me your angel eyes
Angel eyes, child of the morning
Your angel eyes
song performed by by Olivia Newton-John
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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ode to Karen C.
Ode to Karen C.
She sang love songs, of rainy days and Mondays,
Moon dust in your hair of gold and
Starlight in your eyes of blue—
Yet her broken heart just never knew.
Her relentless pursuit left her empty soul
Though love all abound her
And fans did scream for perfection,
In her eyes there just was no pot of gold.
Her life was a jigsaw-
But could never make all the pieces fit-
For her own self love did hide itself
In struggles of pain and guilt.
She sang this masquerade, you're the one I love, with angelic tones,
And no one could compare.
A silken voice so quelled in secrets
Suffering she just could not share.
Her aching heart no one ever knew,
It smiled and laughed yet cried real tears-
Yet when finally revealed so scarred
Letting it go was always the true fear.
God saw fit to take you at 32
Into his arms to further sing those melodies.
And those of us who love and miss you,
For yes we've only just begun a song for you.
Michel Antoine
April 15,2012
poem by Michel Antoine
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Out Of The Night
The singer sang a soft refrain,
standing so still out in the rain.
With such emotion she did sing
to whom this song, did appertain.
As peaceful as a lullaby,
her voice rose up and touched the sky.
Gentle on both the heart and mind,
like a freed bird, her notes did fly.
Who was she trying to persuade,
would she be leaving here dismayed.
As over hair and down her coat,
water tumbled in a cascade.
Out of the night his voice did sound,
as he traversed the sodden ground.
With arms outstretched he called her name,
and knew that here his bliss he’d found.
poem by Ernestine Northover
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Desmond Barrow
Was a singer, lost his voice
Was sent by his doctor to
a Sangatarium – a resort
for the improvement of
one’s voice; met Molly, a
nurse – also liked to sing,
heard her rehearse; told
Molly she had a pretty
voice, would she like to
come sing in his band;
In a couple of years they
built-up the band, changed
the name to the ‘Barrow
Gang’ – Desmond’s middle
name was Clyde, Molly’s
middle and last were Bonnie
and Parker - their music and
singing was as melodious as
a Chicago Typewriter; were
not a hit with the ‘G Men’,
They claimed the Barrow
Gang stole from the rich
song writers, and sang the
songs to the poor; were
soon tried for copyright
infringement and sent up
‘da lazy river without a you
know what’...
‘2008’
poem by Robert Sheridan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Castro Alves From Brazil
Castro Alves from Brazil, for whom did you sing?
Did you sing for the flower? For the water
whose beauty whispered words to the stones?
Did you sing to the eyes, to the torn profile
of the woman you once loved? For the spring?
Yes, but those petals were not dewed,
those black waters had no words,
those eyes were those who saw death,
still burning the tortures behind love,
Spring was splashed with blood.
I sang for the slaves, aboard the ships
as a dark branch of wrath.
They travelled, and bled from the ships
leaving us the weight of a stolen blood.
I sang in those days against the inferno,
against the sharp languages of greed,
against the gold drenched in the torment,
against the hand that rose the whip,
against the maestros of darkness.
Each rose had one dead man in their roots.
The light, the night, the sky were covered in tears,
the eyes separated from wounded hands
and it was my voice the only one to fill the silence.
I wanted that from the man we could be rescued,
I believed that the route passed through the man,
and from there destiny would be made.
I sang for those who had no voice.
My voice hit doors that until then were closed
so that, fighting, Freedom could be let in.
Castro Alves from Brazil, now that your pure book
is reborn to a free land,
let me, poet of our America,
to crown your head with the laurels of the people.
Your voice joined the eternal and loud voice of the men.
You sang well. You sang how it must be sung.
poem by Pablo Neruda
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Mary-Jess (Singer)
A remarkable singer, by the name of Mary-Jess,
Stands on stage, in a gorgeous, flowing dress.
She opens her mouth and her singing is sweet.
To hear her sing her songs live is truly a treat.
She waves her arms as though she’s freely floating.
She’s a new artiste who’s definitely worth noting.
About her, the critics have only good things to say,
And it’s already clear that she’s going to go a long way.
Her music sounds distinctly oriental,
But her interpretation of it is pure and gentle.
Charmingly pretty with a fresh-faced complexion,
With an audience, she’s able to make a real connection.
With her new album just released,
Her popularity has greatly increased.
To be a singer, has always been her dream,
But her journey hasn’t been as easy as it seems.
She oozes such elegance and style,
And possesses a very radiant smile.
In her dress, she resembles a beautiful princess.
Wisdom beyond her years, she does possess.
This young singer, at only twenty one,
Is amazed to think how far she’s come.
She’s come a long way in such little time,
And now she’s definitely ready to shine.
Her music is beautiful and a tad exotic.
Listening to her sing is almost hypnotic,
The emotions in her songs mix and swirl.
So endearing is this gentle and charming girl.
Her voice soars up to an all time high.
Inside, her spirit and soul upwardly fly.
Her journey to fame has been a real whirlwind.
On reaching the top, she has her hopes pinned.
There are different colours and tones to her voice.
In what she sings, she gets a personal choice.
Her songs are full of feeling and inspiration.
She’s already the new singing sensation.
The songs of this pretty brunette,
Are ones which you won’t forget.
She softly closes her smoky looking eyes,
As the song ends and the music gently dies.
poem by Angela Wybrow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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OH, Angel in Heaven Above
Oh, Angel Eyes One Day I heard an Angel's voice & I Said To The Angel I see Your Big Beautiful Eyes in The Haven's Above, OH, Angel in Heaven Above,
OH! Wont you Come Down here & Talk to me..I long to Hear your Soft Sweet Voice Sing to me, When you just Talk to me..When the Heaven above Had opened up & your wings stretched out so proud & wide with Your feathers unfolding, like a gentle
tide, Soring throw the midnight sky so Gracefully, Just like an Swan Swimming in a pond. & then
an Angel Appeared, Oh to my eyes My dearest Angels the most beautiful site, I have ever seen that has
just came from Heaven Above, Standing In front of me singing that never ending Sweet time Summer song So
Gracefully with your Angel's eyes, they shine so bright It, lights the darkness of a moonless
midnight sky. As you Talk to me with those Sweet worlds of Fraze in my Ear, Oh so sexy, soft &
sweet, Oh How I love it......I had such Fun hearing it. But now That I am down & out For Awhile.
Can you Repair my Broken Heart so I Can take control of my life again. That you Have Broke, For
Which You Don't Seem To Talk to Me any More Or is it like a beat that my heart is Missing.
Oh Angel Friend of Mine....... Can you restore Every thing That's Broken Does It matter If It's
black or white, Down & out for Awhile or Up & Running like A humming Bird............. But then
again I could be wrong. The words, they linger on the tip of my tongue Oh Angel My Dear.What have
I done wrong? In the heart My Darling Angel Friend.. A feather, A Feather Flowing in the Wind is
my Heart, Oh Please Cough that Feather for me my Darling Angel For Silence is Loulder Then THUNDER
& Talk to me Again....For It Been a Long Time For Thow Has Talked To Me........Oh Angel, Oh Angel
Where For Are Thow Angel...For Thow Has Gone Away & left Me In The Dark, Oh Angel Eyes, But, It's Not
That I am Sacred Of The Dark It's Because I Can't Sleep With a Light On..Or Is It Just That You've
Closed Your Angel Eyes For Awhile, Oh Angel friend Of Mine.So If That Is The Case Then Well you
Open Your Angel Eyes My Princess Darling To Me & Speak To Me With That Sexy, Soft & Sweet Voice That
You Sing To Me, When You Just Talk To Me. Oh Angel from Heaven Above......... Oh, I Long To Hear
Your Soft Sweet Sexy Voice Sing To Me Again Someday.... Because Your Voice Was Filled With
Sweet Melody, So Worm, Soft & Sexy To My Ear. Is It Really Good By For Ever My Princess Darling
To Me.......& For The Thunder Roll Again, Just As The Whisper From An Angel In Pain For Why Shall
Any Angel Be In Pain, Oh Angel, Oh Angel Wont You Opened Up Your Wings & Stetch Them Out, So
Proud And Wide With Your Feathers Unfolding, Like A Gentle Tide & Fly To Me & Tell Me What's
Wrong So May Help You Over Come This Pain In Your Heart & Be Free Again From The Pain That is
With In The, For I Have Looked To The Heavens To Find The, But Thow is No Where To Be Found, Oh
Heaven's Above Where For Art Thow Angel That Used To Talk So Sweetly In they Ear, But Now Has Gone
Away It Seems At Least For now, If Not For Ever, I Look In The Mirror & I Seen A Trace Of The One
That I Miss And Her Beautiful Face Be Bind Me But When I Looked Around There Was An Empty Feeling
Of The Love That I Once Made Is Now Gone Away..... Your Sweet Voice Warms Up My Soul & My Heart
Skips A Beat I Will Never Stop Looking For Her, You've Changed All Our Lives Every One That You
Meet OH Angel Eyes. Your Memory Will Last Forever, Forever And A Day, OH Angel In Heaven Above..
I live Without Her For So Long & now I Wont A Change.......I Live Every Day Now Just To Hear your
Sweet Soft Sexey Voice Sing To Me When You Just Talk To Me....But For Now I am Waiting On That
Sign I have Been Looking For All My Life...........1994
poem by Ronald Summerville
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Little Town Girls Dream
she was a litle town girl with a common name
a little town girl seeking fortune and fame.
she would do what ever her agent said
including with him going to bed.
she said that nothing would get in her way
and to an audience she would play.
she had the voice of an angel so rare
and with the world she wanted to share.
she was a little town singer
a MARILYN MONROE ringer.
her beauty like her voice
would capture the hearts of men
and take her to her journeys end.
realizing that there are so many who
would abuse, which one should she choose?
starting to feel hurt, lonely, depressed
she went to a church that she heard
voices of beauty filling the air
walked in and started to stare.
for in the church no one was there.
but the voices continued to sing
and filled her heart with strange emotions
and she raised her voice in devotion.
her voice so beautiful
that it resouded through out the town
that people left their homes to follow the sound.
then they saw this girl with her back to the crowd
looking up at the cross, with her
arms outstretched to her sides.
singing HALELUJAH ON HIGH.
her voice touching all that stood there
a voice which was beyond compare.
the people joined in and started to sing
startled and in dismay, she turned and tried to run away.
but the people stopped her at the door
and begged her to stay
and fell to their knees and began to pray.
seeing this she got choked up inside.
for now the choice was no longer hers
but of the LORD, who gave her this voice
for the world to see.
that in GOSPEL, she was meant to be.
she raised her voice once again.
now who do you think this is my friend?
poem by Louis Rams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sing A Song For You My Love
SING A SONG FOR YOU MY LOVE
A lovely song a love song
Sing a song for you my love
Sung in a wonderful soothing voice
Sending a melody message by the dove
Invites you to take your choice
Catch this ultimate chance to share
Truly wherever you will be I’ll dare
Musical notes show how much I care
To loose you I wouldn’t bare
Never ever let me down again
Open up the shutters of your heart
Don’t ask for another bargain
Pull out with strength the poisoned dart
Can this time be meaning for ever
Love has got such strangely ways
No understanding even though being clever
Deep different emotions filling our days
Want to sing a song for you my love
Higher notes song in my voice
Your love places spirit high above
Counting heartbeats final choice
Sing a song for you my love
A lovely song a love song
poem by Morhardt Carmen Mencita Monoi Angel
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I am an Angel
i am an angel,
with no wings;
i am an angel,
that has a sad song, but cannot sing.
i am an angel,
that in silience, i cry;
i am an angel,
that tells lies.
i am an angel,
with no halo;
i am an angel,
that lays low.
i am an angel,
that has an extra hand;
i am an angel,
that tries to care for everyone that i can.
i am an angel,
that steals;
i am an angel,
that has a broken heart that never healed.
i am an angel,
with some love to give;
i am an angel,
that sometimes, doesn't want to live.
i am an angel,
that wants to be;
i am an angel,
that wants to leave.
i am an angel,
that has a secret past;
i will always be an angel,
even though i sometimes move fast.
poem by Ariel Sampson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Slave Singing At Midnight
Loud he sang the psalm of David!
He, a Negro and enslaved,
Sang of Israel's victory,
Sang of Zion, bright and free.
In that hour, when night is calmest,
Sang he from the Hebrew Psalmist,
In a voice so sweet and clear
That I could not choose but hear,
Songs of triumph, and ascriptions,
Such as reached the swart Egyptians,
When upon the Red Sea coast
Perished Pharaoh and his host.
And the voice of his devotion
Filled my soul with strange emotion;
For its tones by turns were glad,
Sweetly solemn, wildly sad.
Paul and Silas, in their prison,
Sang of Christ, the Lord arisen.
And an earthquake's arm of might
Broke their dungeon-gates at night.
But, alas! what holy angel
Brings the Slave this glad evangel?
And what earthquake's arm of might
Breaks his dungeon-gates at night?
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Surprise
While climbing a tall mountain
Short of breath as expected
Desperately trying to reach the top
I lost my sense of direction
And to make matters worse,
I lost the map I only had
Nevertheless, one trail I must follow:
To achieve my ultimate goal...
Suddenly, by surprise,
I heard a strange voice
And also felt a strong light
Blindfolding me completely
I stopped, almost paralyzed
Possessed by a great feeling
That an angel was watching me...
I heard this angel's voice
Loud and clear:
'Why are you rushing,
When you are almost there? '
Flabbergasted by this voice,
And shock by its light's brightness
Turned into a woman's form;
I dared to ask this angel...
'What is your name? '
A response came immediately:
'You can call me, Angelyna'
By surprise it took me,
Realizing then, that the woman I love,
Came back to me, but this time,
Disguised as an angel...
©All Rights Reserved-2009
poem by Romeo Della Valle
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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It's A Lonesome Desert At Night
I stood in a phone booth
In the middle of the desert
And listened to it ring,
It sounded like some sad old song
I think I used to know how to sing -
I heard Spanish horns
Wailing in the distant air,
A longing upon the Western wind
Rolling in from somewhere, far beyond here, or there -
Rain started down
As hypnotically I picked up the phone,
I heard lightning crackle through the line
And thunder seductively groan -
A voice in the wind
Blew hot and low
Throwing desperate dust into the fading sky,
While shadows in the flashes and trembles through the ground
Gave clouds cause to cry and cry -
I wanted so to call Someone...
But, I didn't know how; and
It really wouldn't have mattered anyway,
For I had no quarters...
Nor any good words left to say -
Upon the desert floor the next morn
I awoke, cold and alone
Covered in both dust and dew,
The phone booth and storm were gone...
But the sky remains forever, the deepest shade of pure blue.
poem by Smoky Hoss
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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