1.0ne most beautiful Song
a bird in the tree sings
one most beautiful song
is it his ode to the world?
or is it a symphony nature
plays through one brilliant piano
it has fashioned and held close
to its fingers and heart?
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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I'd Like To Know More About Nature
I'd like to know more about Nature for of Nature so little i know
Though we see the beauty she creates and the beautiful things she does grow
Her rill that is born by the mountain flows downland by many a hedgerow
And it swells into a mighty river and on towards the ocean does flow.
I'd like to know more about Nature for Nature is an amazing thing
The song bird who sings in your garden sings the same song his father did sing
This is just one wonder of Nature how a small bird remembers a song
And passes it on through his genes to his offsprings a secret that to Nature belong.
I'd like to know more about Nature for of Nature i know little at all
Though i just like billions of others can recognize some birds and animals by their call
Great human minds have studied Nature but they only do learn to realize
That there is far more to our Earth Mother far more to her than meets our eyes.
I'd like to know more about Nature though i look at her every day
She guards her secrets with secrecy and from us she hides them away
And those who say they know all of Nature are those who do broadcast a lie
And Nature she lives on forever and we like all of her life forms must die.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Flower and Bird
Amongst the lonely branches of a tree,
Stood a lovely flower fragrant and free,
She was the sight of every passer-by,
'What a beautiful flower! ' people would cry.
The flower in the prime of its youth,
Couldn’t identify life and its real truth,
Proud by its fragrance and beauty it stood,
And thought that beauty was what made it good,
Impressed by its beauty a little bird would sing,
The tale of its love and the whole valley would ring,
Perched on the branch of the great oak tree,
The bird sings its love for the flower to see,
People would stop and look at this tale,
Of the beautiful lady and the gallant male.
And one day the bird let its heart out,
And the beautiful flower refused with pout,
The bird wanting its beloved’s heart,
Asked her, 'What do I do so that we don’t part? '
And the proud flower told the lonely bird,
'There is a flower down the valley, have you heard?
Its brilliant red, is said is more beautiful than me,
So dear bird, make me red, as red as I can be! '
The bird said, 'But your beauty is no match,
So beautiful are you that my heart, you did catch! '
The flower in its pride and anger,
Told the bird 'Oh! Don’t bother',
The sadness in its eyes, the bird couldn’t see,
And said, 'I gift the colour red to thee! '
Saying this he pierced his heart on a thorn,
And spilt the blood on her till he was torn,
And the flower indeed did become red,
With the love of the little bird’s blood,
People would stare at the beautiful flower,
And amongst the branches it would hover,
The people passing soon forgot the song of the bird,
But the silent lament of the flower was never heard,
The flower never forgot the love of its bird,
But the melody of the poor bird was never heard!
poem by Supriya Mothay
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Listen to The Song of Invisible Bird!
Listen to The Song of that invisible bird,
The Song of great singer several souls heard,
Sings sitting on tree of life, hidden under every leaf,
Its song go unheard by those pretend deaf,
Ever tuned to that great music,
Everytime it sings same song,
But with different lyrics and different words,
Autumn may come followed by spring,
Leaves may fall to make way to new,
Each leaf has that song, the bird flies under cover of green leaf,
When old yellow one fall,
Green leaves should learn from the fall of the old!
One can wait flowers to bloom,
Or can reap all fruits mature,
or remove immature buds or raw fruits,
The tree of life spread to several worlds,
One parallel to other,
Makes one world happy by another,
some may cross and intersect,
only to give or take life!
Come an sit near a flower,
Look at frog waiting for insects to come,
The invisible bird sings its song,
May it be heart of the flower,
It is flower for you,
source of nectar to insects,
place where frog gets its food!
It is cage for that bird ready to fly,
enters as nectar into insect,
and it enters frog as insects,
and moves along food chain,
It may be invisible to these eyes,
Yet it has its flight can be seen,
Look at your heart, the same bird sing,
Who knows when and where is its next flight?
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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Birdsong
The morning air suddenly comes alive,
With beautiful birdsong, in bursts of five.
Sometimes, there are bursts of seven or six,
To add a dash of variety, to the musical mix.
From other birds, there is no competition;
To sing the best, this bird is on a mission.
He sings his song loudly, and crystal clear;
Sat way up high in the tree, he feels no fear.
To his heart’s content, the little bird sings;
Joy, to nearby shoppers, his sweet song brings.
I hear the shrill trill of a nearby burglar alarm;
Compared to the bird’s trill, it holds no charm.
Hearing his call, really brightens up my day,
As I pass him by, and go steadily on my way.
Some people are too busy to notice his call;
Upon their deaf ears, his pretty voice falls.
In the natural world, there’s beauty to be found;
You need only to listen, and look all around.
If you just take your time; if you do not rush,
You will find beauty aplenty in the relative hush.
Listen to the birds singing, way up in the trees;
Their voices are carried upon the winter breeze.
By such sights and sounds, you will be thrilled;
With nature’s beauty, your senses will be filled.
poem by Angela Wybrow
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Evensong
It is late, on a cold, dark, wintry afternoon;
Up high in a tree, a small bird merrily croons.
Trade in the town, has now begun to wind down,
And taking centre stage, is the bird’s sweet sound.
Like an operatic singer, his voice soars high,
And his song delights many, as they pass by.
Your ears can not help, but hear his loud call,
As the sun, once again, sets and darkness falls.
He sings for joy, at the very top of his voice;
To listen to his song, you have little choice.
He sits at the very top of the tallest tree,
Singing so loudly; his heart full of glee.
His plaintive call pierces the cool air,
As he sings his song, without a care.
A pure quality, his sweet song holds,
And he sings it out, so bright and bold.
His singsong attracts many a nice comment;
His performance appears to be Heaven sent.
Of his captivated audience, he is unaware;
His song boasts beauty, beyond compare.
Like a church choir, as they sing evensong,
This small bird sings so very keen and strong.
Through the dark streets, home, I wearily wind;
Sad to be leaving the bird’s sweet song behind.
poem by Angela Wybrow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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For All Pianos All Around The World
pi
piano
piano use
piano key
piano roll
piano wire
piano note
pianoforte
piano store
piano pedal
piano bench
piano effect
piano sound
piano string
piano mover
piano maker
piano music
piano action
piano player
piano lesson
piano design
piano course
piano soloist
piano tuning
piano recital
piano replica
piano sonata
piano rhythm
piano sample
piano teacher
piano program
piano concerto
piano repertoire
piano brand name
anno piano twenty twelve
poem by Nicolas Grenier
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A beautiful bird that got away
Help me cry for the beautiful bird
So full of life and spotless in nature
Help me cry for the beautiful bird
The one who found refuge and treat me with pleasure
I will cry for the beautiful bird
The bird who shield me with feather and showed me love
I will cry and cry again for the beautiful bird
My beautiful dream that left my heart in knots.
poem by Olufunmbi Aransiola
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The Day the Piano Came
His fingers caressed the new, shiny keys, pulling out the strings
of Chopin melodies and chords that tugged at the heart.
We had never heard anything so beautiful as the gentle notes
that rolled into my ears, soft and warm. I shivered
in this warmth. It was too beautiful. This man
was a genius, bringing us this new and beautiful happiness.
That night, while everyone slept, I crept downstairs
and sat at the new piano. The smooth white glistened
under my curious fingertips. They itched to play.
This was a real piano.
I had never seen such an elegantly monstrous instrument,
and it was right here, in my house, under my fingers.
I was wrapped in bliss that night, and in the years
that followed, that silent piano brought me peace.
poem by Zoe Guillory
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I Feel Grateful
I feel grateful for all of the beauty I've seen
Since I've last seen wildflowers bloom by the bohreen
And though little of Nature's ways I seem to know
Her beauty surrounds me where-ever I go.
The wonders of Nature is a marvellous thing
There's more to the bird than the song that he sing
And there's more to the animal than meets the eye
And learning of Nature is a thing I enjoy.
The songbird who whistles and sings on a tree
Does not waste his energy on singing for me
In his song his territory he does define
He sings out to others of his borderline.
Of Nature's great beauty we all seem aware
Though her secrets with humans she never will share
In the vastness of Nature we are like grains of sand
And her ways we are not born to understand.
I feel grateful for all of the beauty I've seen
The colours of Nature the brown and the green
And though little about her I do seem to know
Her beauty surrounds me where-ever I go.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Why Do You Sing?
A beautiful bird
Sits in the cage
And sings
Still it sings
Even after its imprisonment
And I cannot under stand why
Why do you sing your pretty song?
When you have no one but me to listen
Why do you sing your pretty song?
When your own kind is gone?
Taken from home
Domesticated and tamed
Why do you sing, beautiful bird?
poem by Autumn Winds
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Her Song
Can you hear how she sings her song
and how it contents her so?
Can you tell when she sings it
where it has her go?
No, I think only she can say
as it takes her to a place
beyond this world, beyond this time
to somewhere out in space.
There she finds the comfort
that her soul is searching for.
There she finds the enchantment
that her fingers are aching for.
That's why each day she sings her song.
It's a transport for her mind.
For without her song she would always be
in a place her heart can't find.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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His Special Song
one's mood
the bars
on the piano
for outlets
one's temper
the pedal
to control its
intensity
from low to
high notes
from joy
happiness
sadness
despair
to pure
estacy
the world
plays on
the human
heart, organic
piano for
the man's
special song
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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I'm Old Fashioned
I am not such a clever one
About the latest fads
I admit I was never one
Adored by local lads
Not that I ever try to be a saint
I'm the type that they classify as quaint
Im old fashioned
I love the moonlight
I love the old fashioned things
The sound of rain
Upon a window pane
The starry song that april sings
This years fancies
Are passing fancies
But sighing sighs holding hands
These my heart understands
I know I'm old fashioned
But I don't mind it
That's how I want to be
As long as you agree
To stay old fashioned with me
(bridge)
I'm old fashioned
But I don't mind it
That's how I want to be
As long as you agree
To stay old fashioned with me
Oh won't you stay old fashioned with me
Oh please stay old fashioned with me
song performed by by Ella Fitzgerald
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Spell For Creation
Within the flower there lies a seed,
Within the seed there springs a tree,
Within the tree there spreads a wood.
In the wood there burns a fire,
And in the fire there melts a stone,
Within the stone a ring of iron.
Within the ring there lies an O,
Within the O there looks an eye,
In the eye there swims a sea,
And in the sea reflected sky,
And in the sky there shines the sun,
Within the sun a bird of gold.
Within the bird there beats a heart,
And from the heart there flows a song,
And in the song there sings a word.
In the word there speaks a world,
A world of joy, a world of grief,
From joy and grief there springs my love.
Oh love, my love, there springs a world,
And on the world there shines a sun,
And in the sun there burns a fire,
Within the fire consumes my heart,
And in my heart there beats a bird,
And in the bird there wakes an eye,
Within the eye, earth, sea and sky,
Earth, sky and sea within an O
Lie like the seed within the flower.
poem by Kathleen Jessie Raine
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Strings Of My Heart
On the keys of a piano,
your fingers play upon the strings of my heart.
Such music fills my soul,
with your sweet notes.
You are the central 'essence' of me,
although we are, so far apart.
Your love vibrates with clarity,
as if a great concerto, is playing, in some vast auditorium.
A symphony floats within my head,
and I hear this 'love' of yours,
it plays my tunes,
and resounds around my 'staccato' afternoons.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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My Heart Sings
My heart sings.
My heart sings the songs of happiness.
My heart sings the songs of joy.
My heart sings the songs of peace.
My heart sings the songs of the Blues.
My heart sings the songs of the Gospel.
My heart sings the songs of good news.
My heart cries a melody for all to hear.
My heart sings the harmonies of love.
My heart sings a song of beauty
that comes from the Thorne Birds
just before they die.
My heart sings songs to keep me alive.
My heart sings songs for as long as it beats.
My heart sings forever.
My heart sings haluwasa.
My heart sings.
poem by Jennifer Burns
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Ode to the bird in the cypress tree
Ode to the bird in the cypress tree
~
I wish to be like the bird in the cypress tree
shaded from the heat of the midday sun
yet still free to ride upon the ocean breeze
whenever it chooses to blow from time to time
I wish to be like the bird in the cypress tree
and chirp my own little song aloud to the world
or to fly amongst the clouds so high above
and look down to watch the world below
I wish to be like the bird in the cypress tree
for all my wishes and day bought dreams
I am here and I am still me writing a poem
about that lucky bird perched in the cypress tree
poem by Matthew Holloway
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The Mystic And The Realist
in his poem 'To the Cuckoo' Wordsworth described the bird as a mysterious thing
As if a bird's voice without a bird out of nowhere did sing
As he told he searched for the bird on bush and sky and tree
And yet that voice to him remained as a great mystery.
John Clare the poet from Helpston where he lived when he was young
Once got so close to the cuckoo that he even see her tongue
A leading student of Nature's ways Nature he did not mystify
He never told of searching for a mysterious bird in bush and tree and sky.
Poor John Clare had a mental illness by life he was given a raw deal
But he did see Nature for what she is he see Nature as real
The birds and animals that lived around him he intimately knew
And to the reality of Nature till death he remained true.
The Mystic and the Realist they see things differently
What was a real bird to one to the other was a mystery
What makes us all interesting is that we are more different even than we realize
And we see the World around us through very different eyes.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Music Comes And Goes
by: Tripp
the soothing sounds of a piano to a guitar the sounds they make
the feeling It brings when the piano sings playing the strings of a guitar
the times come and goes as the music grows
in the heart of those who play
thinking of that one thing that brings epiphany to that instrument you play
as you hold and take care playing with hopes and dreams the music slips through
and sings
i can't get enough of what it does to me
when i hear that sound that voice
the music she brings to my heart when I'm with her
her voice is the epiphany to my heart
holding on to her the music keeps playing
my heart keeps beating as the music plays
i keep dreaming dreaming holding on hoping this song will never end
dreaming to fall in love with this instrument forever
she is my instrument
poem by Preston Trip
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A Love To Share
I wish the world to see my hearts joy
To hear the song within it
To know of this tender love
I wish the world to hear and see
How beautiful I find her
My heart once content to dream
Now wishes to lay in her arms
What could compare to her
For this hearts affections
I wish the word to witness it all
That I may shout from atop the sky
She is my love, she has my heart
I know where love now belongs
And I wish this love to spread
That the world may share such joy
The sweetest of thoughts
There is a song I feel inside me
It plays and sings aloud
A love to share
poem by Matthew Holloway
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