Job Work
'Write me a rhyme of the present time'.
And the poet took his pen
And wrote such lines as the miser minds
Hide in the hearts of men.
He grew enthused, as the poets used
When their fingers kissed the strings
Of some sweet lyre, and caught the fire
True inspiration brings,
And sang the song of a nation's wrong--
Of the patriot's galling chain,
And the glad release that the angel, Peace,
Has given him again.
He sang the lay of religion's sway,
Where a hundred creeds clasp hands
And shout in glee such a symphony
That the whole world understands.
He struck the key of monopoly,
And sang of her swift decay,
And traveled the track of the railway back
With a blithesome roundelay--
Of the tranquil bliss of a true love kiss;
And painted the picture, too,
Of the wedded life, and the patient wife,
And the husband fond and true;
And sang the joy that a noble boy
Brings to a father's soul,
Who lets the wine as a mocker shine
Stagnated in the bowl.
And he stabbed his pen in the ink again,
And wrote with a writhing frown,
'This is the end.' 'And now, my friend,
You may print it--upside down!'
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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Related quotes
Angel On My Shoulder
There's an angel on my shoulder,
asking me whats wrong?
and as i speak the words to her
she starts to sing a song
This song she sings is powerfull
yet its the saddest song you'll hear.
She sings a song of pain and love,
even the angel has a tear.
She sang of how she found true love,
and how she let it go.
she sang of how she pushed aside
the only love she'd know
she sang of how she pushed him away
to find another love thats true
she sang of how she looked at him
as he spoke the words 'thats you'
She never faulted in her words
as she sang and as she cried
for as she sang she told me
of how her true love died
She said he died of a broken heart
that only she could mend
her true love died because of her
his true love and friend
as the angel sang her final words
she looked at me and said
Kolee this is not my song
but your true loves instead
There's an angel on my shoulder
asking me whats wrong
asking me to love you,
and to never hear your song.
poem by Angel of Darkness
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I woke up to a lullaby
I woke up to a lullaby
The birds sang a song for me
They sang their hearts out all the while
Dancing on the maple tree
Each bird sang a different song
That melted into one
A song full of promises
For the day that’s just begun
They sang of sorrow
Of happiness and mirth
The sang of marriage
And of birth
They sang of people laughing
And of them crying
They sang of sickness
They sang of dying
This little song
They sang for me
Made me think
Made me free
The Poet's Song
I HID in the world and sang,
And I sang so loud and long
That all the ages rang
With the music of my song.
I sang of the earth and sky,
5
I sang of the whispering seas,
I sang of the mountains high,
And I sang of the flowers and trees;
I sang of the early spring,
I sang of the dawning day,
10
I sang, for I had to sing
As the young lambs have to play;
Till heaven and earth were ringing,
And all the people heard,
And they said, "We love his singing,
15
For his song is the song of the bird."
poem by Frederick George Scott
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What Then?
His chosen comrades thought at school
He must grow a famous man;
He thought the same and lived by rule,
All his twenties crammed with toil;
'What then?' sang Plato's ghost. 'What then?'
Everything he wrote was read,
After certain years he won
Sufficient money for his need,
Friends that have been friends indeed;
'What then?' sang Plato's ghost. 'What then?'
All his happier dreams came true –
A small old house, wife, daughter, son,
Grounds where plum and cabbage grew,
Poets and Wits about him drew;
'What then?' sang Plato's ghost. 'What then?'
'The work is done,' grown old he thought,
'According to my boyish plan;
Let the fools rage, I swerved in naught,
Something to perfection brought;'
But louder sang that ghost, 'What then?'
poem by William Butler Yeats
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Bo-beh-o-bi Sang The Lips
Bo-beh-o-bi, sang the lips,
Veh-eh-o-mi, sang the glances,
Pi-eh-eh-o, sang the brows,
Li-eh-eh-ey, sang the visage,
Gzi-gzi-gzeh-o, sang the chain.
Thus on a canvas of some correspondences
Beyond dimension lived the face.
poem by Velimir Khlebnikov
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A Nightingale Sang In Berkeley Square
That certain night, the night we met,
There was magic abroad in the air.
There were angels dining at the ritz,
And a nightingale sang in berkeley square.
I may be right, I may be wrong,
But Im perfectly willing to swear
That when you turned and smiled at me,
A nightingale sang in berkeley square.
The moon that lingered over londontown
Poor puzzled moon, he wore a frown.
How could he know that we two were so in love?
The whole darn world seemed upside down.
The streets of town were paved with stars,
It was such a romantic affair.
And as we kissed and said goodnight,
A nightingale sang in berkeley square.
~interlude~
When dawn came stealing up, all gold and blue
To interrupt our rendez-vous,
I still remember how you smiled and said,
Was that a dream? or was it true?
Our homeward step was just as light
As the dancing of fred astaire,
And like an echo far away
A nightingale sang in berkeley square.
song performed by by Nat King Cole
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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
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A Little Songbird
A little songbird sang
from a treetop high.
It sang for blue skies
for within to fly.
It sang out its message
at the first rays
of the dawning day.
It also sang for peace and love
within a world filled with unrest.
It sang a joyous message
for all those who wanted to hear
that little songbird
that sang in a treetop high.
13 January 2008
poem by David Harris
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A Poet To Be
A poet I claim not to be,
For words are never there.
In all the years I've tried to write,
I have no words to share.
I sit and think but nothing comes,
No inspiration here.
I want to write of anything,
But still no words I fear.
I read the works of other poets,
I wish I were like them.
How do they write such beautiful lines,
A poet, I'm not him.
I try to write from the heart,
From deep within my soul.
I try to write of the love I have,
But cannot reach my goal.
But why I ask, why can't I write,
Of love so pure and true.
Why can't I write about her eyes,
A mix of green and blue.
I want to write about her smile,
It brightens up my day.
I try to think of anything,
But words I cannot say.
I wish I knew how to write,
A poem with such bliss.
I wish I knew how to describe,
Her soft but tender kiss.
I cannot even begin to write,
How she holds me tight.
How her arms around me,
Makes everything just right.
A poet does not have to think,
The words flow right out.
When I sit and try to write,
I want to scream and shout.
I mean come on, how hard can it be,
To write about her hair.
Such long beautiful natural blonde,
That flows in the air.
I try to write about her laugh,
The words will not fly.
Time passes and finally,
I say it's soft and high.
It's been an hour and a half,
I'm here on verse twelve.
I had to go to Rhymezone,
To find out the rhyme is shelve.
A poet does not do that,
Go online to find a rhyme.
A poet has it in his head,
And can write at any time.
But a poet I am not,
For I cannot write of love.
How the girl I am with,
Is an angel from up above.
How I love her with all my heart,
And want to spend my life with her.
How her love for me is more,
Than I can ever be for sure.
As I draw near the end,
My mind is not so numb.
I realize I've just written of love,
A poet I have become.
poem by Adam McKim
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Day Of The Locusts
Oh, the benches were stained with tears and perspiration,
The birdies were flying from tree to tree.
There was little to say, there was no conversation
As I stepped to the stage to pick up my degree.
And the locusts sang off in the distance,
Yeah, the locusts sang such a sweet melody.
Oh, the locusts sang off in the distance,
Yeah, the locusts sang and they were singing for me.
I glanced into the chamber where the judges were talking,
Darkness was everywhere, it smelled like a tomb.
I was ready to leave, I was already walkin,
But the next time I looked there was light in the room.
And the locusts sang, yeah, it give me a chill,
Oh, the locusts sang such a sweet melody.
Oh, the locusts sang their high whining trill,
Yeah, the locusts sang and they were singing for me.
Outside of the gates the trucks were unloadin,
The weather was hot, a-nearly 90 degrees.
The man standin next to me, his head was exploding,
Well, I was prayin the pieces wouldnt fall on me.
Yeah, the locusts sang off in the distance,
Yeah, the locusts sang such a sweet melody.
Oh, the locusts sang off in the distance,
And the locusts sang and they were singing for me.
I put down my robe, picked up my diploma,
Took hold of my sweetheart and away we did drive,
Straight for the hills, the black hills of dakota,
Sure was glad to get out of there alive.
And the locusts sang, well, it give me a chill,
Yeah, the locusts sang such a sweet melody.
And the locusts sang with a high whinin trill,
Yeah, the locusts sang and they was singing for me,
Singing for me, well, singing for me.
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Nightingale Sang In Berkeley Square
When two lovers meet in Mayfair, so the legends tell,
Songbirds sing; winter turns to spring.
Every winding street in Mayfair falls beneath the spell.
I know such enchantment can be, 'cos it happened one evening to me:
That certain night, the night we met,
There was magic abroad in the air,
There were angels dining at the Ritz,
And a nightingale sang in Berkeley Square.
I may be right, I may be wrong,
But I'm perfectly willing to swear
That when you turned and smiled at me
A nightingale sang in Berkeley Square.
The moon that lingered over London town,
Poor puzzled moon, he wore a frown.
How could he know we two were so in love?
The whole darn world seemed upside down
The streets of town were paved with stars;
It was such a romantic affair.
And, as we kissed and said 'goodnight',
A nightingale sang in Berkeley Square
When dawn came stealing up all gold and blue
To interrupt our rendezvous,
I still remember how you smiled and said,
"Was that a dream or was it true?"
Our homeward step was just as light
As the tap-dancing feet of Astaire
And, like an echo far away,
A nightingale sang in Berkeley Square
I know 'cos I was there,
That night in Berkeley Square.
song performed by by Rod Stewart
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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This Poem is Dedicated to Karen Carpenter....Nightengale of Our Times
She was an icon in her own time
She sang like a nightingale
With the sweetest of sounds
As it cascaded through the air
Her voice was more than anyone could say
She made you cry and laugh
As she sang her songs of old
The tunes and the melodies
That made me sing and dance
From one end of the house
To the other, singing, dancing
She inspired me to dance
She inspired me to sing
And her brother that wrote
The songs she sang
Inspired me to write
The rhymes and words
That I love so well
They worked as a team
They grew from strength to strength
And inspired so many to aspire
To be just like them
poem by Kaila George
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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To Sylvia
"O love, lean thou thy cheek to mine,
And let the tears together flow"--
Such was the song you sang to me
Once, long ago.
Such was the song you sang; and yet
(O be not wroth!) I scarcely knew
What sounds flow'd forth; I only felt
That you were you.
I scarcely knew your hair was gold,
Nor of the heavens' own blue your eyes.
Sylvia and song, divinely mixt,
Made Paradise.
These things I scarcely knew; to-day,
When love is lost and hope is fled,
The song you sang so long ago
Rings in my head.
Clear comes each note and true; to-day,
As in a picture I behold
Your tur'd-up chin, and small, sweet head
Misty with gold.
I see how your dear eyes grew deep,
How your lithe body thrilled and swayed,
And how were whiter than the keys
Your hands that played. . .
Ah, sweetest! cruel have you been,
And robbed my life of many things.
I will not chide; ere this I knew
That Love had wings.
You've robbed my life of many things--
Of love and hope, of fame and pow'r.
So be it, sweet. You cannot steal
One golden hour.
The Spirit Of Wine
The Spirit of Wine
Sang in my glass, and I listened
With love to his odorous music,
His flushed and magnificent song.
- 'I am health, I am heart, I am life!
For I give for the asking
The fire of my father, the Sun,
And the strength of my mother, the Earth.
Inspiration in essence,
I am wisdom and wit to the wise,
His visible muse to the poet,
The soul of desire to the lover,
The genius of laughter to all.
'Come, lean on me, ye that are weary!
Rise, ye faint-hearted and doubting!
Haste, ye that lag by the way!
I am Pride, the consoler;
Valour and Hope are my henchmen;
I am the Angel of Rest.
'I am life, I am wealth, I am fame:
For I captain an army
Of shining and generous dreams;
And mine, too, all mine, are the keys
Of that secret spiritual shrine,
Where, his work-a-day soul put by,
Shut in with his saint of saints -
With his radiant and conquering self -
Man worships, and talks, and is glad.
'Come, sit with me, ye that are lovely,
Ye that are paid with disdain,
Ye that are chained and would soar!
I am beauty and love;
I am friendship, the comforter;
I am that which forgives and forgets.' -
The Spirit of Wine
Sang in my heart, and I triumphed
In the savour and scent of his music,
His magnetic and mastering song.
poem by William Ernest Henley
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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
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Her Song
I sang that song on Sunday,
To witch an idle while,
I sang that song on Monday,
As fittest to beguile;
I sang it as the year outwore,
And the new slid in;
I thought not what might shape before
Another would begin.
I sang that song in summer,
All unforeknowingly,
To him as a new-comer
From regions strange to me:
I sang it when in afteryears
The shades stretched out,
And paths were faint; and flocking fears
Brought cup-eyed care and doubt.
Sings he that song on Sundays
In some dim land afar,
On Saturdays, or Mondays,
As when the evening star
Glimpsed in upon his bending face
And my hanging hair,
And time untouched me with a trace
Of soul-smart or despair?
poem by Thomas Hardy
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She Sang the Songs...
She sang the songs... he wrote the words;
sweet words of love, in perfect time
to her style... soft words of love;
the lyrics to her Country songs
of love and heartbreak, hope and sadness;
life spread out in flawless rhyme,
but they were really hopes, and dreams
of his...
he knew this, all along.
She wrote songs as well; and, when he read them...
his heart missed a beat;
Beneath the stave, below the notes...
her lyrics, in her childlike hand;
soft words of love, he longed to hear
her say to him...
all whispered, sweet;
now, here they were, before his eyes...
but, accident...
or gently planned?
Were they whispers of her heart...
or just composed from out her head?
he had no way of knowing,
but... in either case, her words were sweet;
a silky glide across the page...
a wistful ballad... hearts that bled;
he sadly smiled, yes... his heart bled as well,
but,
to a different beat.
She sang the songs... he wrote the words,
words from his heart... soft, yet intense;
Perhaps, one day, she'd see
they were for her...
and, not her audience.
poem by Dream Weaver
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Sing Last / Not For Tears
We've been told lies.
We've been herded around
Taken for rides, told that this is the one
We've learned all the steps and where do they lead
Right back to zero or not far I believe
Making history as we open our eyes
And no one's quite sure so we... We improvise
And wherever it leads us is wherever we'll go
I'd dance forever if they'd let me, you know
Wearing our hair up in anger we cry
The revolutions dead it went out in style
The children are learning much faster than we
Soon they'll be older but then again, so will we
Time has come for each of us to decide
To follow blindly or to step out of line
The party is over it has been for years
Let's use the water to wash up, not for tears
Seems such a pity
It seemed we had the same dream
And thinking of things past
You sang first I sang last
You sang first I sang last
You sang first I sang last
song performed by by Men Without Hats
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Intro/walk On Water
Here is the water
The one that rushes
From our hearts into the sea
Endlessly hoping to be
Here is the water
The one that rushes from our
Minds into the street
Endlessly hoping to meet
They said we could walk on water
They said we should knock on wood
We did none of these things and they said we could sing
So we sang about falling in love
They said that we were getting smarter
They said that we were something new
We were none of these things and they said we could sing
So we sang about twenty and two
We done all the wrong things
And all we done good
They said we were the new beginning
They said we were a brand new start
We were none of these thing and they said we could sing
So we sang about the state of the art
They said we were the second coming
They said we were a different breed
We were none of these things and they said we could sing
So we sang about the birds and the bees
Bunch of do nothing that were down on your knees
Can you walk on water
But can you walk on - w a t e r (oh no)
Can you walk on - w a t e r
Oh can you walk on water
They said we could walk on water
They said we should knock on wood
We did none of these things and they said we could sing
So we sang about falling in love
They say that we say we say something
They say that we say something new
We say some of these things and they say we can sing
So we sang about a hundred and two
But if nobody listens well nothing comes true
When you walk on water
When you walk on - w a t e r (oh no)
Can you walk on - w a t e r
Oh can you walk on water
Can you walk on - w a t e r (oh no)
Can you walk on - w a t e r
Oh can you walk on water
We never walked on - w a t e r
So tell me something smarter w a t e r
Matadors monkeys, a million balloons
As we walk through the sea to the sand
Knowing full well that were perfectly tuned
As we skip through our hearts hand in hand
Well jenny the older
Whose music we heard
Will we all meet again at the end of the world
No sense in fooling
Were covered in dreams
Having too much fun flying to land
Floating waste high in tendrils of green
Were so small but we feel oh so grand
Well jenny the older
Whose music we heard
Will we all meet again at the end of the world
End of the world
Well jenny the older
Whose music we heard
Will we all meet again at the end of the world
The end of the world
On tuesday
The end of the world
Pop goes the world
The end of the world
Pop goes the world
On tuesday
The end of the world
The real world
Pop goes the world
On tuesday
song performed by by Men Without Hats
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Blues In Minor Key
'Twas a lovely night in gay Paree
The stagelight was beating on him and me
He took my heart and spoke so well
And told me things no one else could tell
But far away in a barren tree
The birds sang the blues in a minor key
He was a lonely tramp in the world of rhyme
With words that caught me just in time
I gave him my body I gave him my soul
In front of the stage I played my role
But far away in a barren tree
The birds sang the blues in a minor key
The chimes of freedom rang that night
And stars in heaven were shining bright
The songs he sang were like ice and fire
Leading me through the bush and brier
But far away in a barren tree
The birds sang the blues in a minor key
Behind his mask and behind his name
He left the stage with nothin' to claim
Like a shooting star in the empty skies
Our love was done without any ties
And far away in a barren tree
The birds sang the blues in a minor key
And far away in a barren tree
The birds sang the blues in a minor key....
Copyright © 2011 Göran Gustafsson. All rights reserved
poem by Göran Gustafsson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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