Soon Rejoicing Comes
Darkside melodies sung,
Are coming to an end...
For some who sang,
In tones
Not in tune!
And soon rejoicing comes,
In cheers
To harmonize dissentions!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Related quotes
Praise me not.
Here they come, in low tones,
Eagle eyed, prey in hearts, concealed
He is our son, bring him up! Only ram for our ewes.
The ‘Our Son, oblivious, in innocence
Dance in a tune, made of them, in them not
Goodies gone, in hearts, they laugh in mirth
Praise me not, the ‘Our son ‘
Pitied against our other sons
In anxiety waited for a cast dice,
To his home coming was non, in high tones sang
One other son, crown assumed!
Curse me, praise me not, myself I'm captain.
poem by Charles Jagongo Ogola
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Offering As An Ignorant
The tune
You tuned
At the time
Of my birth
Cryingly I find
To harmonize
My living
My love
My journey
To make its end
The tune
You tuned
I listen in the wind
The dream sends the signal
Yet the life the present the past
The seeker I ever unrest
Unsettled to synchronize
Me with the chariot
The rein you hold
Yourself yet to path unending
After death
After...after....
The song I have to sung
For the final return!
Pranab k c
21/06/2012
poem by Pranab K. Chakraborty
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Endless Love
'Where are the other passengers?
Has everyone survived?
Is everyone keeping their hopes alive? '
Some stayed aboard the vessel.
With hopes to bail themselves out!
The rest of them that did not drown...
Are in the rowboat with the Captain.
With cheers and their undivided devotion!
'Cheers?
Devotion! '
Yes!
They are proud he stayed the course.
And kept to his principles.
Even though the ship is sinking.
From lack of common sense.
Never used to bring about...
A collective process,
To produce comprehension...
Triggered by the act of thinking!
'What is that song...
They keep singing over and over?
And what is that appearing on the horizon? '
They are singing 'Endless Love'.
I believe the Captain and his wife are singing.
It sounds like him.
A bit intoxicated.
Some of the others have been heard whispering,
Amongst themselves.
Something about a new commander.
Coming to save us.
'New commander?
Coming to save us?
And what is his name? '
I'm not sure!
But they too are singing.
I hear it.
Listen!
It's getting louder.
It's that Pointer Sisters tune from years back!
I remember it now.
It is called 'Yes We Can Can.'
It's ethnic.
And has a lot of rhythm!
Note:
The song 'Endless Love'
composed by Lionel Ritchie.
And sung in duet originally
by Lionel and Diana Ross.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Three Songs
The poet sang of a battle-field
Where doughty deeds were done,
Where stout blows rang on helm and shield
And a kingdom's fate was spun
With the scarlet thread of victory,
And honor from death's grim revelry
Like a flame-red flower was won!
So bravely he sang that all who heard
With the sting of the fight and the triumph were stirred,
And they cried, "Let us blazon his name on high,
He has sung a song that will never die!"
Again, full throated, he sang of fame
And ambition's honeyed lure,
Of the chaplet that garlands a mighty name,
Till his listeners fired with the god-like flame
To do, to dare, to endure!
The thirsty lips of the world were fain
The cup of glamor he vaunted to drain,
And the people murmured as he went by,
"He has sung a song that will never die !"
And once more he sang, all low and apart,
A song of the love that was born in his heart:
Thinking to voice in unfettered strain
Its sweet delight and its sweeter pain;
Nothing he cared what the throngs might say
Who passed him unheeding from day to day,
For he only longed with his melodies
The soul of the one beloved to please.
The song of war that he sang is as naught,
For the field and its heroes are long forgot,
And the song he sang of fame and power
Was never remembered beyond its hour!
Only to-day his name is known
By the song he sang apart and alone,
And the great world pauses with joy to hear
The notes that were strung for a lover's ear.
poem by Lucy Maud Montgomery
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The Lyric Of Fiona
As daylight appears above the earth's horizon
My thoughts begin with this perpetual race
In which my inner voice always steps in to the rescue
On the pretense of reassurance,
Whisper the very same tone and lyric
'Here's cheers to your pain'
'Here's cheers to your sorrow'
'As it happens long and gone'
'The damage has already done'
'time to let go, something meant not grow'
These words usually carry me through for sometime.
They are constructive and wholesome
They are used as a basis for relating values to my issues
They are used as principle to reach me out
They are supposedly therapeutic words, useful while they last
>
'Here's cheers to your strength'
'Here's cheers for breaking the silence'
'Here's cheers for coming out of the isolation'
'Here's cheers for taking the step toward your healing journey'
poem by Patricia Etienne
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An Old Man Walks And Sings
An old man walks and sings-
He no longer knows the words
But the melodies remain-
He sung for years
But now he no longer knows the words-
The melodies as he walks
Console him and convince him
He is still worth something -
May the melodies please go on as long as he does
And may his mind go to its final rest still singing.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Gone Are Those Sad Songs Sung
Gone are those sad songs,
Sung begun some sang.
With the singing of those sad songs,
Gone
Once sung 'then' now no one sings,
With a wish to begin them again.
Too many on the streets.
Now too accustomed to fresh beats,
Declare they will not be defeated.
By a repeating of old tunes.
Too many collectively.
Have decided to leave.
Gone are those sad songs,
Sung begun some sang.
With the singing of those sad songs,
Gone.
Once sung now no one chooses to sing,
With a wish to begin them again.
Solos and duets seem for many more accepted.
With a clouding once done to dim overcasting skies.
Clearing now as a harmony begins,
To find eyes brightening.
With a listening to voices heard.
And giving each one specific attention.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Chimes
i am living here on the eaves
not on the eve of destruction
should I sing or should I swing
Or chirp out a ding o ling
I hung here for years and never complained
Of the snow or the rain
where is my friend the wind?
Lover of the music at a whim
birds nested close to me
for the tune that I sung
sweet lullabies for the children
the children to sing in our skys
the future that brightens our eyes.
flowing breezes with sweet melodies
that come before the frost and the freeze
me and my friends will sing you a tune
that will elate you well pastJune
so hang us anywhere you want you see
we just aim to please.
When we would prepare the mind by a forcible appeal, an opening quotation is a symphony preluding on the chords those tones we are about to harmonize.
quote by Benjamin Disraeli
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Pere & Fils
When I see reflected
In my son's eyes
My own soul's wit and mocking irony;
When with a secret glance
I recognize
The shared rejoicing
Of two souls that harmonize;
It takes my breath away
To be so understood;
Loving him all the more
For doubling good
poem by David McLansky
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Cheers!
A taste of wine, a welcome gesture,
One sunny day, in summer vesture
We sit, and talk of times gone by,
To laugh, to joke, to smile, to sigh.
With a garden full of scented blooms,
And subtle warmth that fills the rooms.
Sweet melodies to tune the mind,
Thus leaving all our cares behind.
'Cheers', we say, and glasses clink.
A calming, happy and convivial drink
With friends. It's such a pleasant way,
To spend a very amiable day.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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Sing in Tune
A song sung in tune,
The tone is immaterial.
A song sung out of tune,
The tone, though sweet, is sore.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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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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I sang opera, I sang show tunes. I got into a rock band for a while. I've sung a lot of different things.
Come and Play Your Music Well
When the ghost of disease
cripples my fantasies,
I must strum my guitar
and sing a song of peace.
When bright days are haunted
by dark clouds of pain and fears,
I must harmonize my strings
and play the sweetest melodies.
poem by Elizabeth Padillo Olesen
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The House of Hospitalities
Here we broached the Christmas barrel,
Pushed up the charred log-ends;
Here we sang the Christmas carol,
And called in friends.
Time has tired me since we met here
When the folk now dead were young,
And the viands were outset here
And quaint songs sung.
And the worm has bored the viol
That used to lead the tune,
Rust eaten out the dial
That struck night's noon.
Now no Christmas brings in neighbours,
And the New Year comes unlit;
Where we sang the mole now labours,
And spiders knit.
Yet at midnight if here walking,
When the moon sheets wall and tree,
I see forms of old time talking,
Who smile on me.
poem by Thomas Hardy
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Subway Musician
I saw her sitting in the subway
Next to a column
Wall-papered with advertisements.
She held an acoustic guitar,
And brushed her fingers against
The phosphor bronze strings,
And each note she plucked
Wrung clearly as a silver bell,
Or like one in a cathedral tower.
She sang her song to the spaces
Between the people
As they walked around her,
Deafened by their own busy lives
And the footsteps,
The conversations
Of others.
She was unaccompanied.
There was no drum beat,
Only the soft tapping thump of her heart—
Beating, beating, beating
Slow into the emptiness
Of the crowd consuming her.
It coupled with the clattering polyrhythms
The train created as it shook the track
Beneath its wheels,
All the while muffling her voice
As she tried to sing above it,
As she tried to strain her expression,
So it may be heard.
I saw her.
I watched her sing for someone that doesn't exist.
Someone that isn't real to anyone,
Except for her,
Though she knows she's lying to herself.
The aching breaks in her heart
Crack her voice in a way that the pain
Resonates from her chest,
Filling mine with a swell of longing.
At that moment,
That swell feels like a soul to me,
And I wish—
Oh, I wish—
She were singing to me.
She seems to know this feeling
That can't be explained in words,
That can't be articulated in sound,
That can't be understood
Until on feels it.
She seems to know how I am listening,
Lost inside the spell
Of her magic melodies,
And I would dream to harmonize
With the intimate tones
That she releases with passion,
But, the same as her,
I'm only writing my song,
And singing it here,
For someone who doesn't exist—
Not to anyone,
But me.
poem by Tim Stensloff
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A Song Thats Sung..
A song that's sung
tells more than a story
a song that's sung
is sung from the heart
a song that's sung
is a story from the soul
a song that's sung
is the greatest love
a song that's sung
is a give from above
a song that's sung
is an emotion in a melody
a song that's sung
can be whatever you want it to be
a song that's sung
can have a million meanings
a song that's sung
is a diary of emotions...
poem by Emily Summers
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The Graduation Blues
My days are soon coming to an end,
Of happy, yet sad, sent round the bend.
The friends I had when I was young
Are running as the song was sung.
Their laughter, sadly does not reach me,
As my thoughts fly sadly over sea.
My vision is blurred by maroon, gray, and white.
Why are these tears messing with my sight?
I cannot tell is to be happy or sad,
Especially when it comes from my dad.
Is there anybody out there?
Who has cheers that they share?
My thoughts keep going to the bay,
Just because it is my graduation day.
poem by Stephanie Varnadore
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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
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