A Cardinal Bright
Locked away and rarely fed
A cardinal bright in beauty red
Sings in spite the rusted cage
Woven round by fire and rage
Forever bound to love's duress
Silver stains her feathered dress
Yet in her weary soulful cries
Still is heard, love's lullaby
The rustle of her tattered wings
Like a harp with golden strings
She whispers in the perfect measure
Spilling secrets of a treasure
Standing firm she hides the pain
Trilling verses just the same
Searching for the shooting star
That holds the passion of her heart
Held like diamonds in her dreams
The soothing taste of honeyed cream
Tomorrow's dawn so far away
She recollects the thrill today
A wink of what life used to be
Carried on in memories
Tucked away beneath her wings
All the while…she sings, she sings
poem by Leria Hawkins
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Related quotes
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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From Spring Days to Winter (For Music)
In the glad springtime when leaves were green,
O merrily the throstle sings!
I sought, amid the tangled sheen,
Love whom mine eyes had never seen,
O the glad dove has golden wings!
Between the blossoms red and white,
O merrily the throstle sings!
My love first came into my sight,
O perfect vision of delight,
O the glad dove has golden wings!
The yellow apples glowed like fire,
O merrily the throstle sings!
O Love too great for lip or lyre,
Blown rose of love and of desire,
O the glad dove has golden wings!
But now with snow the tree is grey,
Ah, sadly now the throstle sings!
My love is dead: ah! well-a-day,
See at her silent feet I lay
A dove with broken wings!
Ah, Love! ah, Love! that thou wert slain -
Fond Dove, fond Dove return again!
poem by Oscar Wilde
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Dear In The Headlines
Still in moonlight the scarlet sings
silver and black like piano keys
somewhere an angel gets her wings
call her for supper
and other things
still the the moonlight the scarlet sings
candy wrappers voices
pinned to the screens
somewhere an angel gets her wings
caught in the arms of a speakeasy
still in the moonlight the scarlet sings
bathing in the flashbulbs
and the legalese
somewhere an angel gets her wings
breathless and smoking chambers sings
of pages of magazines
stillin moonlight the scarlet sings
somewhere an angel gets her wings
poem by Patricia Schooff
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The Tame Bird Was In A Cage
THE tame bird was in a cage, the free bird was in the forest.
They met when the time came, it was a decree of fate.
The free bird cries, 'O my love, let us fly to the wood.'
The cage bird whispers, 'Come hither, let us both live in the cage.'
Says the free bird, 'Among bars, where is there room to spread one's wings?'
'Alas,' cries the caged bird, 'I should not know where to sit perched in the sky.'
The free bird cries, 'My darling, sing the songs of the woodlands.'
The cage bird sings, 'Sit by my side, I'll teach you the speech of the learned.'
The forest bird cries, 'No, ah no! songs can never be taught.'
The cage bird says, 'Alas for me, I know not the songs of the woodlands.'
There love is intense with longing, but they never can fly wing to wing.
Through the bars of the cage they look, and vain is their wish to know each other.
They flutter their wings in yearning, and sing, 'Come closer, my love!'
The free bird cries, 'It cannot be, I fear the closed doors of the cage.'
The cage bird whispers, 'Alas, my wings are powerless and dead.'
poem by Rabindranath Tagore
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Autumn's Song
.
.
a cardinal sings this autumn morn
the chill refreshes
as a new day is born
the colors golden, and green
so peaceful, and serene
a cardinal sings this autumn morn
voices rip
a quiet now torn
footsteps slide in a pattern
smiles appear
glances of wonder clear
as a cardinal disappears
just like a breeze
a cardinal sang this autumn morn
a melody unheard before
ignored by many
cherished by me
it’s meomory forever more
as flickers of red touch the sky
i ponder the question why
a cardinal sings this autumn morn
.
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
The free bird leaps
on the back of the wind
and floats downstream
till the current ends
and dips his wings
in the orange sun rays
and dares to claim the sky.
But a bird that stalks
down his narrow cage
can seldom see through
his bars of rage
his wings are clipped and
his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing.
The caged bird sings
with fearful trill
of the things unknown
but longed for still
and is tune is heard
on the distant hillfor the caged bird
sings of freedom
The free bird thinks of another breeze
an the trade winds soft through the sighing trees
and the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright lawn
and he names the sky his own.
But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams
his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing
The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom.
poem by Maya Angelou
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Caged Bird
The free bird leaps
on the back of the wind
and floats downstream
till the current ends
and dips his wings
in the orange sun rays
and dares to claim the sky.
But a bird that stalks
down his narrow cage
can seldom see through
his bars of rage
his wings are clipped and
his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing.
The caged bird sings
with fearful trill
of the things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom
The free bird thinks of another breeze
and the trade winds soft through the sighing trees
and the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright lawn
and he names the sky his own.
But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams
his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing
The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom.
poem by Maya Angelou (1994)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Invisible Strings
(ian hunter)
One, two, three
Well I woke up this morning - theres a girl in my bed.
How did she get there? was it something I said?
I dont understand it but somehow it seems
She visits me in invisible dreams.
Over and over I try to explain
How did that girl get into my veins?
Did somebody send her - was it my velvet wings?
And how does she touch my invisible strings?
Invisible strings - invisible strings
These are a few of my favorite things
Now its all over when the fat lady sings
Ill still be playing my invisible strings
Well maybe she dont have a world of her own
Maybe shes using me just like a phone
And sometimes shes cool and sometimes she stings
And Im all tangled up in invisible strings
Invisible strings - invisible strings
These are a few of my favorite things
When youre wearing black and Im wearing wings,
Well still be playing those invisible strings
Well she never leaves - Im never alone
I aint in the book but shes still calling home
I tried to lose her - watch the tv
But that womans always picking on me
Well, theres strings round my body, strings round my heart
Id like to know where the string-pulling starts
Id give anything to meet the angel who sends
Invisible ink to my invisible pen
Invisible strings - invisible strings
These are a few of my favorite things
When youre wearing black and Im wearing wings,
Well still be playing our invisible strings
Invisible strings - invisible strings
These are a few of my favorite things
Now its all over when the fat lady sings
Well still be playing our invisible strings
Invisible strings - invisible strings
Oh yeah
song performed by by Ian Hunter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Waiting In The Wings
(andy hill/pete sinfield)
I need you like freedom
I feel you like rain
I see you like silver rails across an endless plain
And I know there are moments
You feel as I do
Thats why Im waiting for you
This time around I wont push for an answer
Both of us need to be sure
To be strong
When the moment comes
Ill be your dancer
Ill be your singer
And your song
When your heart is weary
When you want a love with no strings
I will be here waiting
Waiting in the wings
Waiting in the wings
A natural dreamer
A maverick soul
How close can I be to you
And still not lose control?
And as close as the ocean
As near as the sky
As near as the tears I dont cry
Maybe a fool has been drowned in a vision
Hung up to dry in the teeth of the wind
Believing in the truth of your decisions
Thats all there is until the end
When your heart is weary
When you want a love with no strings
I will be here waiting. Ill be waiting
Waiting in the wings
Ill be waiting
Ill be waiting
When your heart is weary
When you want a love with no strings
I will be here waiting
Waiting in the wings
When your heart is weary
When you want a love with no strings
I will be here waiting
Waiting in the wings
When your heart is weary
When you want a love with no strings
I will be here waiting
Waiting in the wings
song performed by by Diana Ross
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Today to me, tomorrow to you [Azi mie, mâine ţie]
In me
And in you,
And in him
The heart sings the same
And weeps and it's grim.
It sings and it cries
Stuck deep in our chest.
It sings in the moment we open our eyes
And cries when our soul goes to rest.
When it sings and wind raves
We shut our sad graves.
When sings full of gloom
We shut our small room.
There is just one whim
In me
And in you
And in him.
poem by Ion Minulescu, translated by Octavian Cocoş
Submitted by anonym
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Long Enough
My heart is like a bird that sings
and soars with outspread wings.
My heart is like a flute that plays
a lilting song that sings.
It knows no sorrow when you're near.
It only knows my dear
that however long you are with me
It will never be
long enough.
My heart is like a rose in bloom
whose scent fills every room.
My heart is like a chandelier
with crystals oh so clear.
It knows no pain on any day.
It only knows the way
you make me feel when you're with me,
and it will never be
long enough.
Then what is long enough you ask?
Long enough to bask
in the warmth of all my love for you,
long enough for two
to never question or wonder why
my heart is yours then sigh.
'Forever, forever
That's long enough.'
I cry.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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The Newborn Angel's Lullaby
Angel-born smile slipped away
To forever-sleep in grace,
Left behind a name to love
But what's in a name?
When farewell is too much to say
Through the tears fallen from the faces
Of those left to carry with only the memories…
Please sleep in peace
As your dream-bound voice still sings its melody
Unfit for tears, not for love, not for me...
Sweeter the dreams, bitter the sorrows,
At the dawn, awaken forlorn…
All the tears shed at the breaking of the dawn
Each for the memory of the loved ones now gone
They come to comfort me through the lonesome of the night
Until the day I join them beyond the light…
Please sleep in peace
As your dream-bound voice still sings its melody
Unfit for tears, not for love, not for me…
Sweeter the dreams, bitter the sorrow
At the dawn, awaken forlorn…
I still feel your love over the distance of our hearts
Let no ocean keep us apart
Let our love carry us together
Once upon a time, you were my world, my friend
Today, ever after, you're the stars in my sky
My angel…
My everything…
poem by Paul James
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We Sing History
History sings, sings what?
Violence? Peace? No.
History sings of truth…
History sings of facts,
which becomes music to our ears.
Like birds chirping
early in the morning.
We learn it. We treasure it.
We sing it… we sing it.
We became part of it.
It was always burning
since the world’s been turning…
History is an endless song.
Distressing, cheerful.
So many cries, so many deaths.
They fought for freedom,
we fight for peace.
Have we won?
Haven’t they heard we won the war
what do they keep on fighting for?
History sings of truth…
History sings of facts,
which becomes music to our ears?
Like stars gleaming
in the dark naked sky.
It’s always there.
So why sing it? Why hear it?
Why learn it? Why treasure it?
Because…
we’re part of it….
poem by Fritzner Erauda
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When Smokey Sings
Debonair lullabies in melodies revealed
In deep despair on lonely nights
He knows just how you feel
The slyest rhymes - the sharpest suits
In miracles made real
Like a bird in flight on a hot sweet night
You know youre right just to hold her tight
He soothes it right - makes it outtasite
And everythings good in the world tonight!
When smokey sings - I hear violins
When smokey sings - I forget everything
As shes packing her things
As shes spreading her wings
The front door might slam
But the back door it rings
And smokey sings...he sings
Elegance in eloquence - for sale or rent or hire
Should I say - yes I match his best
Then I would be a liar
Symphonies that soothe the rage
When lovers hearts catch fire
Like a bird in flight on a hot sweet night
You know youre right just to hold her tight
He soothes it right - makes it outtasite
And everythings good in the world tonight!
When smokey sings - I hear violins
When smokey sings - I forget everything
As shes packing her things
As shes spreading her wings
Smashing the hell
With the heaven she brings
Then smokey sings...he sings
Luther croons
Slys the original - originator
James screams
Marvin was the only innovator
But nothing can compare
Nothing can compare
When smokey sings
When smokey sings - I hear violins
When smokey sings - I forget everything
As shes packing her things
As shes spreading her wings
She threw back the ring
When smokey sings...
Smokey sings...
Smokey sings...
song performed by by Abc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Dragonflies That Cynthia Sings From Afar
cynthia from far sings about the flutteing wings of
some dragonflies
those that i see in my dreams:
blue elongated bodies,
red gossamer wings of dragonflies
flying on the yellow green and baby pink winds
floating sofly in my dreams
from a faraway place my dear cynthia sings
her dragonfly songs
those that ease my pains
all about love and its truth
that the hands of the past can no longer ever hold
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Song of an Angel
Be still, and listen to the wind,
As it whispers through the leaves,
For the gentle song of angels,
Is blowing in the breeze.
A song that sings of little hands,
That did so many jobs,
Hands that now are gently clasped,
Within the grasp of God.
A song that sings of a little heart,
That always poured out love,
A heart that now is full of joy,
As God holds him up above.
A song that sings of little smiles,
That brightened many days,
Smiles that now warm the hearts,
Of angels on their way.
A song that sings of a little boy,
That always was a friend,
A little boy who's shown us all,
That God's love never ends.
Be still, and listen to the wind,
As it whispers through these leaves,
For the gentle song of an angel,
Is blowing in its breeze.
-In loving memory of Charles McMichael
poem by Jean Penner
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Nightfall in Dordrecht
The mill goes toiling slowly around
With steady and solemn creak,
And my little one hears in the kindly sound
The voice of the old mill speak.
While round and round those big white wings
Grimly and ghostlike creep,
My little one hears that the old mill sings
“Sleep, little tulip, sleep!”
The sails are reefed and the nets are drawn,
And, over his pot of beer,
The fisher, against the morrow’s dawn,
Lustily maketh cheer.
He mocks at the winds that caper along
From the far-off clamorous deep,—
But we—we love their lullaby song
Of “Sleep, little tulip, sleep!”
Old dog Fritz in slumber sound
Groans of the stony mart:
To-morrow how proudly he ’ll trot you round,
Hitched to our new milk-cart!
And you shall help me blanket the kine
And fold the gentle sheep,
And set the herring a-soak in brine,—
But now, little tulip, sleep!
A Dream-One comes to button the eyes
That wearily droop and blink,
While the old mill buffets the frowning skies
And scolds at the stars that wink;
Over your face the misty wings
Of that beautiful Dream-One sweep,
And rocking your cradle she softly sings
“Sleep, little tulip, sleep!”
poem by Eugene Field
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New Love, New Life
I.
She, who so long has lain
Stone-stiff with folded wings,
Within my heart again
The brown bird wakes and sings.
Brown nightingale, whose strain
Is heard by day, by night,
She sings of joy and pain,
Of sorrow and delight.
II.
'Tis true,--in other days
Have I unbarred the door;
He knows the walks and ways--
Love has been here before.
Love blest and love accurst
Was here in days long past;
This time is not the first,
But this time is the last.
Answer To A Child's Question
Do you ask what the birds say? The sparrow, the dove,
The linnet, and thrush say, 'I love and I love!'
In the winter they're silent, the wind is so strong;
What it says I don't know, but it sings a loud song.
But green leaves and blossoms, and sunny warm weather,
And singing, and loving, all come back together.
Then the lark is so brimful of gladness and love,
The green fields below him, the blue sky above,
That he sings, and he sings, and forever sings he--
'I love my Love, and my Love loves me!'
poem by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
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The Voice that Sings
The voice that sings across the night
Of long forgotten days and things,
Is there an ear to hear aright
The voice that sings?
It is as when a curfew rings
Melodious in the dying light,
A sound that flies on pulsing wings.
And faded eyes that once were bright
Brim over, as to life it brings
The echo of a dead delight,
The voice that sings.
poem by Robert Fuller Murray
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