The Broken Soldier
The broken soldier sings and whistles day to dark;
He's but the remnant of a man, maimed and half-blind,
But the soul they could not harm goes singing like the lark,
Like the incarnate Joy that will not be confined.
The Lady at the Hall has given him a light task,
He works in the gardens as busy as a bee;
One hand is but a stump and his face a pitted mask;
The gay soul goes singing like a bird set free.
Whistling and singing like a linnet on wings;
The others stop to listen, leaning on the spade,
Whole men and comely, they fret at little things.
The soul of him's singing like a thrush in a glade.
Hither and thither, hopping, like Robin on the grass,
The soul in the broken man is beautiful and brave;
And while he weeds the pansies and the bright hours pass
The bird caught in the cage whistles its joyous stave.
poem by Katharine Tynan
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Soul Singing
Written by: r. robinson & c. robinson
Ive been down
Cascading and blue w/out a sound
Now Ive traded my black feathers for a crown
So feed me milk & honey
Lay me down
Lay me down
Look around
Show me holy places not yet found
Lets disappear and well hide underground
Well get high and well feel safe & sound
It comes around arayayayound
Chorus:
You got my soul singing my soul singing
You got my soul singing my soul singing
You got my soul singing my soul singing
You got my soul singing my soul singing
Home bound
Tired of tired of running town to town
Tired of my heart turned upside down
Now my lifes a smile not a frown
The sound
The sound
Chorus
song performed by by Black Crowes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Singing Birds Are Endangered Species!
Singing bird's songs
enjoyed,
wonderful melody, wonderful words,
Rhapsodical Sometimes,
More often romantic!
A power hungry,
another powerful
both listen a while,
They want the bird to sing for them!
Now the bird has to stop singing,
Or should think of flying far away!
Power hungry will kill
or powerful will,
Singing bird ability of throat
Is its own enemy,
Two hands are ready to squeeze,
Two blades ready to cut,
Singing bird's throat often
squeezed,
Several died,
not even found in history,
they fear even that bird's story!
For it sings only truth,
Singing birds throat is cut,
Because it can't keep its mouth shut!
Poor bird! Its talent,
gifted voice became
its own enemy,
Not even they are listed
Though singing birds are endangered species!
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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Caged
People began bidding for a confined bird on a ledge
A poor bird in a iron cage.
No one knows this birds age.
It was the pleasing color of sage.
The sea was in a constant rage.
Everyone was afraid of standing near the outside stage.
The bird went to the highest bidder for a high price.
The auctionor asked him what he was going to do with the bird?
The owner of the bird set it free.
So it could fly from tree to tree.
The bird said thank you by singing its wild glee.
This reminds me of how God can set a mans souls free.
Thank you God for setting my soul free.
A Nighbor Singing Out Of Tune
at first one feels that this disturbance is killing all the
the animate things
alive in this small community
singing out of tune, again, but no one really has the temerity
to make him stop, for he is at the height of recreating himself
recomposing
from an old form of sadness, we all understand his art of
reverberating what destroys him and now
he sings
that is the most important thing, look they say, do you hear him singing?
loving neighbors, oh, how happy their hands are, clapping clasping
for another broken heart has healed itself
after days and days of bleeding
profusely
i am listening, and deep within my own feelings of woe
woe relating to woe,
there is this light though dim,
yet it appears so bright
to the incalculable depth of the
heart
and too pleasing to the heart is the sound of a broken song,
the soul of the out of tune, we always say
welcome, welcome, we're with you, in all these.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Of Sonya And Tracy
i am reading your lyrics
and like mifael and candice
i hear the guitar strings of tracy
i see a lover waiting for you
at the crossroad of longing
i can smell the kinkiness of hair
the strong song of a man
agains this dark horizon
singing his soul singing himself
see his soul see his self and
then the music stops and then
sonya you hear the birds singing.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Broken wings of love
I Know that my love is gone
I know that it never will come
But broken
Heart of mine
Still singing the love songs
And how admiring that
Broken wings of love
Still trying to fly
Dough they know you will never come back
How great is the love!
I know that my heart will never stop singing
Your song
I know that my soul will never
stop trying to fly
Dough you have broken the wings of love thousands of times
How admiring that they still alive and survive
And still trying to fly
How great is the Love...
poem by Sossi Khachadourian
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The Sermon of the Birds
I was clearing thirty or forty acres once
Out in the western range near Nightcap Mountain.
And as I was working, I heard a gathering of the crows
Singing out in a jungle gully. Their clamorous cries
Drawed the attention of all the other birds.
Jackass and butcher-bird, soldier-bird, sparrow-bird,
Scrub-robin, magpie, and the black and white cockatoo,
They all flew down to the crows in the jungle-gully.
And I followed after their clamour, and in the midst
Of all the splendid excitement of the birds
I heard one feller was singing above them all.
It was the lyre-bird, the mimic of all the scrub,
And they held this beautiful sermon or half an hour.
The birds would stop and listen a while but still
That beautiful voice, the lyre-bird, would keep on singing
And draw then and join them all to a chorus again.
And as I stood there and listened, the Scriptures was
Hitting me all the time. The sermon seemed
Like the prophecy when Christ shall come and summon
The birds, the valleys, the hills, the mountains and the ocean
To sing in praise of the grace and the reckoning day,
And the beauty of earth in the splendour that He crated.
And I went back and told my people of what I had seen,
And the sermon of praise I heard in the mountain range.
poem by Roland Robinson
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Singing All Day
Singing all day, singing 'bout nothing.
Singing all day, singing 'bout nothing.
Singing all day, singing 'bout nothing,
Oo, my, my, my,
Oo, my, my, my.
Went down to the station to look for her there,
Looked through the crowds for a glimpse of her hair,
Nothing to see but the crowds keep a-staring at me,
My, my,
Oo, my, my, my.
Down in the street, tryn to remember,
Shuffling my feet outside a menswear,
Is that her in the fur coat?
No its not december yet,
My, my, my,
Oo, my, my, my.
Singing all day, singing 'bout nothing.
Back to the house, maybe shell phone me,
Singing my song, feeling so lonely.
Ill sing very softly, so if the phone rings
I can hear it, I can hear it.
Singing all day, singing 'bout nothing.
Singing all day, singing 'bout nothing.
Singing all day, singing 'bout nothing,
Oo, my, my, my,
Oo, my, my, my.
song performed by by Jethro Tull
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Rockin Robin
He rocks in the tree tops all day long
Hoppin and a-boppin and singing his song
All the little birdies on jaybird street
Love to hear the robin go tweet tweet tweet
Chorus :
Rockin robin, rock rock
Rockin robin
Blow rockin robin
cause were really gonna rock tonight
Every little swallow, every chick-a-dee
Every little bird in the tall oak tree
The wise old owl, the big black crow
Flappin their wings singing go bird go
Chorus
Pretty little raven at the bird-band stand
Told them how to do the bob and it was grand
They started going steady and bless my soul
He out-bopped the buzzard and the oriol
He rocks in the tree tops all day long
Hoppin and a-boppin and singing his song
All the little birdies on jaybird street
Love to hear the robin go tweet tweet tweet
Chorus
song performed by by Michael Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The soul and the name
While a ball is laughing with fire rays,
The soul can't sleep quiet.
But I was named by God in the other way,
It is the sea name, of sea kind!
In waltz rounding, with a tender sigh
I can't forget the melancholy sight.
And God presented me the dreams another:
The sea dreams, of sea kind!
The hall is singing, luring with fires,
Singing and calling with the sparkles.
But God has given me the soul other:
It is the sea soul, of sea kind!
poem by Marina Tsvetaeva (1911), translated by Lyudmila Purgina
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The Soul Cages
The boy child is locked in the fishermans yard
Theres a bloodless moon where the ocean died
A shoal of nightstars hang fire in the nets
And the chaos of cages where the crayfish lie
Where is the fisherman, where is the goat?
Where is the keeper in his carrion coat?
Eclipse on the moon when the dark bird flies
Where is the child with his fathers eyes?
There are the soul cages these are the soul cages
Hes the king of the ninth world
The twisted son of the fog bells toll
In each and every lobster cage
A tortured human soul
These are the souls of broken factories
The subject slaves of the broken crown
The dead accounting of old guilty promises
These are the souls of the broken town
These are the soul cages these are the soul cages
These are the soul cages these are the soul cages
i have a wager the brave child spoke
The fisherman laughed, though disturbed at the joke
you will drink what I drink but you must equal me
And if the drink leaves me standing,
A soul shall go free
i have here a cask of most magical wine
A vintage that blessed every ship in the line
Its wrung from the blood of the sailors who died
Young white bodies adrift in the tide
and whats in it for me my pretty young thing?
Why should I whistle, when the caged bird sings?
If you lose a wager with the king of the sea
Youll spend the rest of forever in the cage with me
These are the soul cages these are the soul cages
These are the soul cages these are the soul cages
A body lies open in the fishermans yard
Like the side of a ship where the iceberg rips
One less soul in the soul cages
One last curse on the fishermans lips
These are the soul cages these are the soul cages
These are the soul cages these are the soul cages
Swim to the light swim to the light
He dreamed of the ship on the sea
It would carry his father and he
To a place they could never be found
To a place far away from this town
A newcastle ship without coals
They would sail to the island of souls
song performed by by Sting
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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No Fun Without Challenges!
I am a bird, flying in the sky,
Singing the beautiful notes,
That my vocal cord can spell,
Up near the cloud, it is cool,
Singing the songs of love,
Travel on the whitish cotton shroud,
Expressing my thought,
Without fear and freight,
Hearing me singing,
Someone wanted me,
To sing in his courtyard,
Ordered his subordinates,
To catch and clip my wings,
To put me in a cage,
For his own entertainment,
When I lose my freedom,
I forget all the notes,
Just shut my beaks,
Open only to eat.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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Joining The Colours
THERE they go marching all in step so gay!
Smooth-cheeked and golden, food for shells and guns.
Blithely they go as to a wedding day,
The mothers' sons.
The drab street stares to see them row on row
On the high tram-tops, singing like the lark.
Too careless-gay for courage, singing they go
Into the dark.
With tin whistles, mouth-organs, any noise,
They pipe the way to glory and the grave;
Foolish and young, the gay and golden boys
Love cannot save.
High heart! High courage! The poor girls they kissed
Run with them : they shall kiss no more, alas!
Out of the mist they stepped-into the mist
Singing they pass.
poem by Katharine Tynan
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A Song For The Journey
A SONG FOR THE JOURNEY
Sometimes you may sing in your heart
or have song running through your head
but there’s always singing’s in your soul
and it’s on this song’s journey you’ll be led.
Towards a distant point, as yet unclear
your singing soul will lead you on
to find that place of understanding
with all your preconceptions gone.
Yet we sometimes meet more questions
Hard, hash decisions we must make
So the Soul song leads you onwards
along the pathway you must take.
The road can be both rough and smooth
its horizon hidden from your view
But the power within the singing
gives you strength to see it through.
With every step upon the road
the soul song keeps its tune and beat
and from its verses courage comes
to face the challenges you meet.
For some the song is understood
they come to recognise the voice
and in the facets of their lives
they use the song to make their choice
Some feel of the sound of singing
but don’t care, or know, where from
The song it doesn’t differentiate
into each soul it still sings on.
If we can listen to the message
and the true meaning in the song
Our footfall becomes much gentler
down the paths we walk along.
It’s the soundtrack of the life we lead
of the choices in life we make
The pragmatic or compassionate
a search for beauty, greed, or hate
Somewhere wthin the soul song
are great sacrifice and pain
and a promise ever present
of eternal peace and life again.
In the silence and the stillness
between all the bustle and the strife
listen carefully and you’ll recognise
the first and last love song of your life.
poem by Bill Mitton
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Tuvvi Tuvvi
SERENADING THE SEASON OF SPRING WITH SMILES
ARE THE BIRDS SINGING MELODY OF TUVVI TUVVI
DANCING TO THE BEAUTY OF BLOOMING DAFFODILS
ARE THE LEAVES IN THE WIND WHISTLING TUVVI TUVVI
USHERING THE WARM SUNSHINE OF THE SPRING
ARE THE WALTZING SHADOWS SINGING TUVVI TUVVI
BORDERING THE GREEN GRASS ALL AROUND BEAMING
ARE THE SWAYING TREES SINGING TUVVI TUVVI
WELCOMING THE BRIGHT SPRING IS THE BEAUTIFUL MORNING
REFLECTING ITS LIGHT ON FLOWING STREAMS OF SINGING TUVVI TUVVI
SEEING THE SIGNS OF NEW LIFE PRAISING
ARE THE GRATEFUL HEARTS SINGING TUVVI TUVVI
BLOOMING ARE THE FLOWERS IN SPRING COLORS
INVITING THE BEES BUZZING TUVVI TUVVI
FILLING THIS WORLD WITH SWEET SOUNDS OF LAUGHTER
ARE THE CHILDREN SINGING TUVVI TUVVI
Transalation of Poem by KUVEMPU
poem by Mittur Ramprasad
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Hark! Hark My Soul!
Hark! Hark my soul!
For the ngels are singing for my works;
And like your lovely muse in the land of peace.
A galloping horse,
Hark! Hark my soul!
And like sagging spirits and the zest of life;
But, it sounded very scary to me.
Hark, Clark, park, bark, lark, mark, cark, dark, natk, quark;
But, it sounded very scary to me!
However, the angels were singing all day long for my works.
Fable, talbe, stable, able, cable, babble, grabble, parable;
But, it sound very scary to me!
And like the seagull in the land of your muse,
But, help me that i may not fail into the hands of the wrong crowd.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Song Of The Spirit
Too sweet and too subtle for pen or for tongue
In phrases unwritten and measures unsung,
As deep and as strange as the sounds of the sea,
Is the song that my spirit is singing to me.
In the midnight and tempest when forest trees shiver,
In the roar of the surf, and the rush of the river,
In the rustle of leaves and the fall of the rain,
And on the low breezes I catch the refrain.
From the vapours that frame and envelop the earth,
And beyond, from the realms where my spirit had birth,
From the mists of the land and the fogs of the sea,
For ever and ever the songs come to me.
I know not its wording - its import I know -
For the rhythm is broken, the measure runs low,
When vexed or allured by the things of this life
My soul is merged into its pleasures or strife.
When up to the hill tops of beauty and light
My soul like a lark in the ether takes flight,
And the white gates of heaven shine brighter and nearer,
The song of the spirit grows sweeter and clearer.
Up, up to the realms where no mortal has trod -
Into space and infinity near to my God -
With whiteness, and silence, and beautiful things,
I am bourne when the voice of eternity sings.
When once in the winds or the dropp of the rain
Thy spirit shall listen and hear the refrain,
Thy soul shall soar up like a bird on the breeze,
And the things that have pleased thee will never more please.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Blackbird
Blackbird singing in the dead of night, take these broken wings and learn to fly
All your life, you were only waiting for this moment to arise
Blackbird singing in the dead of night, take these sunken eyes and learn to see
All your life, you were only waiting for this moment to be free
Black-bird fly
Black-bird fly, into the light of a dark black night
Black-bird fly
Black-bird fly, into the light of a dark black night
Blackbird singing in the dead of night, take these broken wings and learn to fly
All your life, you were only waiting for this moment to arise
You were only waiting for this moment to arise
You were only waiting for this moment to arise
song performed by by Paul McCartney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It's My Heart's Song Ringing
It's my heart's song ringing
Singing special for my soul
Of the weedy hues waving
'twixt and 'twixt and weaving
AS red and pink and blue parole
White and yellow on the whole
It's my heart's song ringing
Singing special for my soul
Of the sunshine when in rising
As it there and there passing
Gold and silver set to enroll
When I blink for words to extol
It's my heart's song ringing
Singing special for my soul
Of greens and pines and all pining
As they range in rows all upping
Bush and breeze in hush and cajole
Heavenly chimes when play their role
It's my heart's song ringing
Singing special for my soul
Of the descent of water falling
Down in silence a stream rippling
Azured when she with morning tole
Astir green mountainous all an aureole
It's my heart's song ringing
Singing special for my soul
Of land and amber as sun's setting
Sky and grey as light is dimming
Star and silver when seen in pole
Sheeny moon in brightened control
It's my heart's song ringing
Singing special for my soul
Of days this way fast passing
By the window side me sitting
Stable there a heaven to insoul
For this oldie a salvational goal
poem by Indira Renganathan
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A Song For Labor
Oh, the morning meads, the dewy meads,
Where he ploughs and harrows and sows the seeds,
Singing a song of manly deeds,
In the blossoming springtime weather;
The heart in his bosom as high as the word
Said to the sky by the mating bird,
While the beat of an answering heart is heard,
His heart and love's together.
II.
Oh, the noonday heights, the sunny heights,
Where he stoops to the harvest his keen scythe smites,
Singing a song of the work that requites,
In the ripening summer weather;
The soul in his body as light as the sigh
Of the little cloud-breeze that cools the sky,
While he hears an answering soul reply,
His soul and love's together.
III.
Oh, the evening vales, the twilight vales,
Where he labors and sweats to the thud of flails,
Singing a song of the toil that avails,
In the fruitful autumn weather;
In heart and in soul as free from fears
As the first white star in the sky that clears,
While the music of life and of love he hears,
Of life and of love together.
poem by Madison Julius Cawein
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