Recollection - First Poetic Impulse
my first poetic impulse
was in my pre school days
i must have been only four
years old lying sweet on the
kitchen floor one fine morning
sucking on my milk bottle
out on the tip of a pointed roof
a magpie had gathered itself
comfortably and started singing
its heart out to the sun just beginning
to warm up the new day
its song was edged like the roof
pointed here and there
in the rhythm and fractured tone
of a disconcerted soul
complaining all the world's
injustices to the heavens
like a chirpy woman crying mad about
poor treatments of her in laws
it sang for so long i was
provoked to ask the bird
what it was pining all about
about the black and white
of its days?
i asked and it sang
i asked and it sang
beak pointed to the sky
i asked and it sang
i asked and it sang
until it thought it was done
and flew away without a note
leaving a trail of silence and
melancholy on an empty
roof, the morning and -
an unrequited heart
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Related quotes
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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Hearing the Early Oriole
When the sun rose I was still lying in bed;
An early oriole sang on the roof of my house.
For a moment I thought of the Royal Park at dawn
When the Birds of Spring greeted their Lord from his trees.
I remember the days when I served before the Throne
Pencil in hand, on duty at the Ch'eng-ming;
At the height of spring, when I paused an instant from work,
Morning and evening, was this the voice I heard?
Now in my exile the oriole sings again
In the dreary stillness of Hsün-yang town ...
The bird's note cannot really have changed;
All the difference lies in the listener's heart.
If he could but forget that he lives at the World's end,
The bird would sing as it sang in the Palace of old.
Remembered
She sang, and I listened the whole song thro'.
(It was sweet, so sweet, the singing.)
The stars were out and the moon it grew
From a wee soft glimmer way out in the blue
To a bird thro' the heavens winging.
She sang, and the song trembled down to my breast,--
(It was sweet, so sweet the singing.)
As a dove just out of its fledgling nest,
And, putting its wings to the first sweet test,
Flutters homeward so wearily winging.
She sang and I said to my heart 'That song,
That was sweet, so sweet i' the singing,
Shall live with us and inspire us long,
And thou, my heart, shalt be brave and strong
For the sake of those words a-winging.'
The woman died and the song was still.
(It was sweet, so sweet, the singing.)
But ever I hear the same low trill,
Of the song that shakes my heart with a thrill,
And goes forever winging.
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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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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Bird Song
All I know is something like a bird within her sang,
All I know she sang a little while and then flew on,
Tell me all that you know, Ill show you snow and rain.
If you hear that same sweet song again, will you know why?
Anyone who sings a tune so sweet is passin by,
Laugh in the sunshine, sing, cry in the dark, fly through the night.
Dont cry now, dont you cry, dont you cry anymore.
Sleep in the stars, dont you cry, dry your eyes on the wind.
All I know is something like a bird within her sang,
All I know she sang a little while and then flew off,
Tell me all that you know, Ill show you snow and rain.
song performed by by Grateful Dead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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May This Song Reach Your Heart
A strong young woman sings,
Her voice so divine.
'May this song reach your heart.'
She showed the epitome
Of soul, body, and mind.
'May this song reach your heart.'
She sang to the heavens
With uplifting spirit.
'May this song reach your heart.'
Her song was made
So the world could hear it.
'May this song reach your heart.'
The song she sang
Was that of fine art.
'May this song,
Reach your heart.'
poem by Devon McElveen
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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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Bennie The Frog
Bennie always sang in the bath tub
and his dream was to sing with a band.
At night he visited the clubs and pubs
and he travelled throughout the land.
In a pub called the Pig and Whistle
he heard music loud and clear,
but he didn’t hear anyone singing
and thought his chance was here.
When the band took a break from playing
Bennie went over to have a chat.
He asked if he could sing a song with them
and they said yes at the dropp of a hat.
They asked what song he’d be singing
when they returned on stage to play.
Bennie chose an old Rock ‘n’ Roll number,
Buddy Holly’s ‘That’ll Be The Day’.
The room soon filled up with people,
as Bennie stood in front of the band,
the pianist played the introduction
then Bennie grabbed the mic’ and sang.
There was plenty of foot-tapping and clapping
and the audience stamped on the floor.
They liked the sound of Bennie’s singing
and when he finished they shouted for more.
Bennie at last had become a singer
and his dreams had all come true,
and instead of just singing in the bath tub
he now sings to audiences too.
poem by Orlando Belo
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Letter To Hermione
People stared at the makeup on his face
Laughed at his long black hair, his animal grace
The boy in the bright blue jeans
Jumped onto the stage
And lady stardust sang his songs
Of darkness and disgrace
And he was alright the band was altogether
Yes he was alright the song went on forever
And he was awful nice
Really quite out of sight
And he sang all night long
Femme fatales emerged from the shadows
To watch this creature fair
Boys stood upon their chairs
To make their point of view
I smiled sadly for a love I could not obey
And lady stardust sang his songs
Of darness and dismay
And he was alright the band was altogether
Yes he was alright the song went on forever
And he was awful nice
Really quite paradise
And he sang all night long
Oh how I sighed when they asked if I knew his name
And he was alright the band was altogether
Yes he was alright the song went on forever
And he was awful nice
Really quite paradise
And he sang all night long
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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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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The Day The Sun Sang
The moon stood,
The sea sank,
The mountains melted,
And no man died,
The day the Sun sang.
All birds blubbered,
All goats flew,
All insects sailed,
And no woman menstruated,
The day the Sun sang.
No shoe was worn,
No cloth washed,
No undies lined,
And no baby cried,
The day the Sun sang.
Whose eye saw?
Whose nose perceived?
Whose hand laboured?
And which being ate?
The day the Sun sang.
Only a star shone,
Only a match lit,
Only a wood burned,
And no life slept,
The day the Sun sang.
Mankind wailed,
Animals flinched,
Dead bodies respired,
And no creature ever wished,
That the Sun should ever sing!
poem by Ajayi Olubunmi Kolade
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Little Bird
Little bird up in a tree
Looked down and sang a song to me
Of how it began
Na na na na na na
Na na na na na na
Na na na na na na
The trout in the shiny brook
Gave the worm another look
And told me not to worry
About my life
Na na na na na na
Na na na na na na
Na na na na na na
Tree in my own backyard
Stands all alone
Bears fruit for me
And it tastes so good
Wheres my pretty bird
He must have flown away
If I keep singing
Hell come back someday
Dawn, birds still gone
Guess Ill go mow the lawn
What a day, what a day
Oooo, what a beautiful day this is
Ooooooooo
Little bird up in a tree
Looked down a sang a song to me
The trout in a shiny brook
Gave the worm another look
And told me not to worry about my life
Little bird looked down
And sang a song to me
Little bird looked down
And sang a songto me
Little bird looked down
And sang a song to me
song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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The Hidden Heart
AS I rode out of Lochinvar
About me all the scene was fair;
The skies, with not a cloud to mar,
Were filled with fresh and dewy air,
While making song, a merry throng,
The thrushes warbled everywhere.
As I rode out of Lochinvar
Through Fairydom I seemed to go,
For round about, and near and far,
Enchanted lights began to glow;
And where I went, on what intent,
And who I was I did not know!
For lo, I met a troubadour
As I rode out of Lochinvar;
His like on earth is seen no more,
With feathered hat and gay guitar;
And loud and clear, and sweet to hear,
He sang a song of love and war.
As I rode out of Lochinvar
He sang a song I somehow knew,
The while he touched his gay guitar;
And when I asked him, 'Who are you?'
'Yourself!' he said — and bowed his head,
And vanished like the morning dew.
Though I may see him nevermore,
This much in very truth I ken,
That one, at heart a troubadour,
May seem a sober citizen,
Who sets afar his gay guitar
To seem just like his fellow men.
poem by Roderic Quinn
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A Bird's Happiness
A cherry hello to you
So the bird said to me
I asked him why he was happy
As he was sitting in a tree
I looked at him in the tree
And wondered what he was doing
Then he said that he saw a worm
And it was what he was pursuing
So we should take lessons
From the bird in the tree
Ashe was getting ready to build a nest
As he had use to be
Then he returned to his nest
As happy as could be
He sang and sang
As he was in the tree.
poem by Dolores Mahan
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She Pointed At Me
When the world became harsh on her,
When they tried to manipulate her choice,
When they said they know better,
Among the great was i novice,
She pointed at me
While they searched for better,
Resting on the bed was I,
They claimed to be great and mighty,
Among all the noble man she made a choice,
She pointed at me
Shivering was i in fear,
Among champions, was an amatuer,
Among the rich i was poor,
Yet she made a choice,
She pointed at me
Can i be the one?
Myself i asked with anxiety,
Looking into my eyes she smiled,
Regardless of that and regarding this,
She pointed at me
poem by Gaylord Munemo
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1841-1891
The wind rose, the sea rose
A wave rose on the sea,
It sang the mournful singing
Of a sad centenary;
It sang the song of an old man
Whose heart had died of grief,
Whose soul had dried and withered
At the falling of the leaf.
It sang the song of a young man
Whose heart had died of pain
When Spring was black and withered
And the winter come again.
The wind rose, the sea rose
A wave rose on the sea
Swelled with the mournful singing
Of a sad centenary.
poem by Joseph Mary Plunkett
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The Bird
A wounded bird stripped of flight
Upon the ground hopped and sang
A call to help a despairing plea
‘Oh please let belief bring a saviour to me’
It sang so beautifully and so sweet
While cradling its broken wing
The eyes which darted saw so much
To know and behold a world so vast
Then she came as though from nowhere
A girl with the tender touch to heal
Softly she took into her hands
And nursed so gently while she sang
‘Singer of beauty fly once more
Do not cry nor feel afraid
It is the belief you call out to
Which brought my heart to you’
Into a cage the bird was placed
And ate, sang then rested safe
The wing did heal so to fly again
She opened wide the cage
To see the bird fly away into the sky
She smiled and said goodbye
Some things are to be kept
Others are only meant to fly
poem by Matthew Holloway
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