The Real Game
Uninvited frequent gluttonous guest,
Visited and picked up one by one,
The elder and younger of the family,
Making each time the house desolate.
When I was hardly three years old,
And nothing about painful death was told,
Played carefree with half dressed friends,
And ran around the big tree of acacia,
Staining with dust, mud and water dirty,
Made filthy my legs and arms, feet and face,
My grandmother would then give me a bath,
And I did weep, cryingly protested against,
The act of washing, making me neat.
She then mopped my body, wiped my eyes,
Doting upon me, she caressed my cheeks,
Embracing me she would often warm,
Titillate with the fingers frail and old,
Made me laugh to forget the cold,
She hid behind the door, under the cots,
Played hide and seek to make me please.
Ah! One morning she lay stiff, could not rise,
Then was dressed with the suit of cotton white,
As she would go on the journey long,
Gathered men, women, young and old,
Some wailed, some sniffed, some silent sat.
But played I with the friends of my age,
And ate yellow rice with the belly fill.
In the evening they shouldered the cot,
The procession advanced leaving me depressed,
Turned the corner, with the sacred chorus.
I stood stunned in the middle of the yard,
Staring to the street, questioning the walls,
“Why had they not taken me along? ”
At night I cried aloud when I found,
An empty bed laid in the deserted corner,
I sought under the cots, behind the doors,
Where she did hide, but could not find.
A pair of shoes, the clothes on cord,
Consoled me well, told me the truth,
Ah! The real game at last she had played.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Poem Of Child 2
I played with dogs and cats at home,
cows and buffalo in the shed,
But strange was when
I played with my friends,
Animals played with me for play's sake,
Enjoying game well,
But when my friends played,
Each game ended in arguments,
This made me to think,
How sincere are animals,
Adjustable and loving they are,
Never care for little pain,
Unlike me and my friends,
Not playing,
only fighting to prove,
superiority on one another!
In science class when teacher told,
Men too are animals,
Stunned I went home weeping,
complaining my mother about teacher,
My mind was not ready to agree this,
But learnt a lot,
now I weep with animals
saying stories of men!
Looking at the trees and plants,
Bathing with hot water,
sleeping under blankets,
Compassionately I thought,
Next day poured hot water on plants,
Covered them with blankets at night
I was satisfied with what I did
when others laughed at me!
my childhood was so good,
Everytime I wanted to good,
But only good enough to make others laugh
listening to radio,
I wonder who sang in it,
Seeing at the light and lamp,
I imagined oil come through wires,
looking at the globe and atlas,
I asked my father,
Is world look like this,
If then,
are we in a cage of Latitudes and longitudes,
My questions were ridiculous,
but not my curiosity to learn!
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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Rushing To Enter An Empty Playground
The familiarity,
Of the same game played...
By those who do it,
With routine.
Begins to lose its appeal,
When some of the participants...
Find other interests.
To leave those aging and not gracefully,
Rushing to enter an empty playground.
And with not a clue as to why,
Those who once played hide and seek...
Have sought and found,
A maturity with them to keep.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Stage Love
WHEN the game began between them for a jest,
He played king and she played queen to match the best;
Laughter soft as tears, and tears that turned to laughter,
These were things she sought for years and sorrowed after.
Pleasure with dry lips, and pain that walks by night;
All the sting and all the stain of long delight;
These were things she knew not of, that knew not of her,
When she played at half a love with half a lover.
Time was chorus, gave them cues to laugh or cry;
They would kill, befool, amuse him, let him die;
Set him webs to weave to-day and break to-morrow,
Till he died for good in play, and rose in sorrow.
What the years mean; how time dies and is not slain;
How love grows and laughs and cries and wanes again;
These were things she came to know, and take their measure,
When the play was played out so for one man’s pleasure.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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When We Were Young
When we were young
we thought we were immortal.
We played at recess, and after
school, ran all the way home.
Barefooted, we moved over
rocks and sticks.
The only stop was at the bakery
and since we were children
we got fresh bread for less.
When we were young
there were no cell phones.
We lived in a rural district,
there were no phones at all,
except the ones we made,
out of empty milk cans
and a piece of cord.
When we were young
we made cars
out of sardine tins
and before we played house,
underneath the cellar,
we carried water in pans.
When we were young
nothing scared us,
besides the reflections
on the banana trees,
on the way to the out-house,
on a dim-lit night.
poem by Buxton Shippy
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Coast 2 Coast
I met a girl named hip hop in seventy eight
Hollis Queens New York gave us our first date
man she broke me off proper yo the girl was fast
and everybody kept telling me it would not last
cause ain't no women in the world supposed to be that sweet
and ya just can't trust a hot chick from the street
I could tell she had been through lots of struggle and strife
but yet in still she'd been with me over half of my life
born key Jeff Taylor took me into his home
and intrduced me to some tables and a microphone
hip hop talked to me told me take your time
at the age of eleven I bust my first rhyme
block partys in the day house partys at night
just about one year before Rapper's Delight
everybody in the crew called to make a request
cause rap's on the radio and hip-hop was blessed
didn't go to many clubs I wasn't old enough
And if it try to sneak it out my folks is scolding up
but I still do anything to get on stage
and once I got a club gig I lied about my age
just a couple blocks away was the Hollis crew
Run and them used to rock at one ninety two
up the street was a crew called Solo Sounds
where Davey D and Mex used to throw it down
man I wouldn't trade rap for anything in the world
hip hop meant more to me than diamonds and pearls
and I still reminicse to this very day
and I remember those words hip hop would say
(Do you have love for the east coast?)
yes I do
(the hip hop on the east coast?)
yeah that's true
from the 'yes yes y'all' to 'and you don't stop'
east coast played a role in making a hip hop
(Do you have love for the east coast?)
yeah that's right
(the hip hop on the east coast?)
yeah that's tight
from the 'yes yes y'all' to 'and you don't stop'
east coast played a role in making a hip hop
now I gotta get busy time to make that move
high school over with gotta sho' improve
got college on the coast and I'm makin' plans
so hip hip went and told me go west young man
it was a different kind of style but I liked the sound
everybody in the house gauranteed to get down
I did the casa skateland word on wheels
and the crazy crazy world of the record deal
K-day was the station that played my song
I got love from the people it's a shame they gone
Julio and Tony G yo was keeping it real
and Baker Boys doin' they own up in Bakersville
I remember other brothers putting out the gin
like six in the morning and the battle ran
there were boys in the hood and little Nenah Cherry
and oh I can't forget about ooh Rock Berry
before the madness when I made my fame
alot of people on the west coast knew my name
before the big magizines even wanted to meet me
I checked the back pages of the L.A. weekly
to see if they would write and recognize the sound
cause in those days Young MC was underground
lot of times I would rhyme and I'd get no pay
but I remember those words hip hop would say
(Do you have love for the west coast?)
yes I do
(the hip hop on the west coast?)
yeah that's true
from the 'yes yes y'all' to 'and you don't stop'
west coast played a role in making a hip hop
(Do you have love for the west coast?)
yeah that's right
(the hip hop on the west coast?)
yeah that's tight
from the 'yes yes y'all' to 'and you don't stop'
west coast played a role in making a hip hop
talk of an east coast west coast beef makes me panic
I love both sides so I'm straight skitzafrenic
got my skills in the east got my deal in the west
so I just can't say what side is the best
now you love where you live that's true indeed
cause your family and friends give you what you need
stand up for yo' hood and you do it with pride
but the media tells you hate the other side
now it's hard to hate a man that I have not met
or hate a whole damn coast like a ????
cause hip hop is wit ya no matter where you stay
so remember these words hip hop would say
(Do you have love for the east coast?)
yes I do
(the hip hop on the east coast?)
yeah that's true
from the 'yes yes y'all' to 'and you don't stop'
east coast played a role in making a hip hop
(Do you have love for the west coast?)
yeah that's right
(the hip hop on the west coast?)
yeah that's tight
from the 'yes yes y'all' to 'and you don't stop'
west coast played a role in making a hip hop
(do you have love for the east coast?)
yes I do
(the hip hop on the west coast?)
yeah that's true
from the 'yes yes y'all' to 'and you don't stop'
both coasts played a role in making hip hop
(do you have love for the west coast?)
yeah that's right
(the hip hop on the east coast?)
yeah that's tight
from the 'yes yes y'all' to 'and you don't stop'
both coasts played a role in making hip hop
(coast to coast)
song performed by by Young MC
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Replacement
Amid the village is a deserted house,
That gives depressing impressions to the onlookers,
The windows and doors are shabby broken
There dangle bats on the walls at nights, and crows caw
At noons in the branches where nightingales sang,
And often at nights mysterious sounds we hear.
Ah! Four decades ago it was inhibited,
Noise of the children spilled out of its walls,
They all played hide and seek with the befriended kids.
I too played believing in the innocent notion
That time and tide could not part us asunder,
Whether rains rain and clouds thunder,
But my self-assumed belief proved fragile,
Then the shocking moments approached,
And occupants departed to a better dwelling abroad.
I often recall the moment when they departed,
The whole village gathered, men, women and children wept,
Their eyes were red as if blood would dropp soon;
They were kissing, embracing the departing fellows,
I wept too stealthily, and felt as if my soul was being torn apart.
Now after many years their descendents come and go,
Nobody receives or bids them farewell, nor do they bother anyone,
And each time they visit, they replace on the gate,
The rusty lock with the new one.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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The Summer I was Four
Dedicated to Tabitha Marie Utzig, Age 4
I slept with my favorite toys
Went swinging in the park
Sang in a microphone
And played on my guitar
The summer I was four
I helped a magician with his tricks
Tried dunking in a pool
Made playdough food and animals
And licked mom’s mixing spoons
The summer I was four
Played mini golf with my dad
Hot tubbed it with my mom
Dressed up as a Hogwarts witch
And made a magic wand
The summer I was four
I slid down a giant slide
Climbed my first rock wall
Played with my Barbie dolls
And danced like at a ball
The summer I was four
Made mud pies with my new best friends
Built cities in the sand
Cuddled up for movie night
And held my sister’s hand
The summer I was four
Ran through sprinklers, ate ice cream
Explored a mountain cave
Tossed a ball with brothers four
And then learned how to bake
The summer I was four
On the computer games I played
With Dora and Mickey Mouse
Rode my bike with training wheels
Around and around the house
The summer I was four
Visited family far away
Canoed a river there
Colored, painted, glittered, glued
My art I loved to share
The summer I was four
Went fishing with my family
Caught more than my dad
Butt sliding down the living room stairs
Oh what fun I had
The summer I was four
My family loves me this I know
My life is pleasure filled
Though years may pass cause time goes on
Memories have been built
The summer I was four
poem by Jacquie StewartHeimann
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Ghost Of A Chance
Words by neil peart, music by geddy lee and alex lifeson
Like a million little doorways
All the choices we made
All the stages we passed through
All the roles we played
For so many different directions
Our separate paths might have turned
With every door that we opened
Every bridge that we burned
Somehow we find each other
Through all that masquerade
Somehow we found each other
Somehow we have stayed
In a state of grace
I dont believe in destiny
Or the guiding hand of fate
I dont believe in forever
Or love as a mystical state
I dont believe in the stars or the planets
Or angels watching from above
But I believe theres a ghost of a chance
We can find someone to love
And make it last
Like a million little crossroads
Through the backstreets of youth
Each time we turn a new corner
A tiny moment of truth
So many different connections
Our separate paths might have made
With every door that we opened
Every game we played
Somehow we find each other
Through all that masquerade
Somehow we found each other
Somehow we have stayed
In a state of grace
song performed by by Rush
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Affair On 8th Avenue
The perfume that she wore was from some little store
On the down side of town
But it lingered on long after shed gone
I remember it well
And our fingers entwined like ribbons of light
And we came through a doorway somewhere in the night
Her long flowing hair came softly undone
And it lay all around
And she brushed it down as I stood by her side
In the warmth of her love
And she showed me her treasures of paper and tin
And then we played a game only she could win
And she told me a riddle Ill never forget
Then left with the answer Ive never found yet
How long, said she, can a moment like this
Belong to someone
Whats wrong, what is right, when to live or to die
We must almost be born
So if you should ask me what secrets I hide
Im only your lover, dont make me decide
The perfume that she wore was from some little store
On the down side of town
But it lingered on long after shed gone
I remember it well
And she showed me her treasures of paper and tin
And then we played a game only she could win
And our fingers entwined like ribbons of light
And we came through a doorway somewhere in the night
song performed by by Gordon Lightfoot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ducking karma
The faces I see
when I close my eyes
could be in the hundreds
without lies
Im Talking about the women
I have been with
In the begining
Not looking for love
Then my actions
turned to a adiction
It was like
I was on drugs
I would do whatever
I would say whatever
And I would give whatever
Just to get in
A women's drawls
Searching for
Something physical
Finding it effortlessly
Was probably
The biggest reason
I was negelcting it
Settling for infatuation
Really there is
No justification
For pointless fornacation
Now with closed eyes
Im facing
hundreds of women
Who's hearts
Which i played
Feeling myself
Thinking Im god's gift
To women
Aimlessly pleasing
Uneducated not worried
About diseases
Not knowing I was
Playing right into
The Devil's hand
Hours of sexual bliss
Bringing some women
A life time of pain
Thinking now
About back then
How I use to smile
But really I should
Have been ashamed
Now mature
Thinking about the games
I have played
Has me nervously
Ducking behind
A wall
I have made
Truth be told
I deserve
Any type of
Fall I will take
Just for making these
Selfish mistakes
Im deserving to any of
These women who
Want to hate me
Or play me
That would would
Be the least
Of my worries
Because karma
Will never forget me
poem by Jaycee Wilkerson
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Fridays Angels
Your heroes stare with glossy smiles - fridays angels
They always had that special style - fridays angels
Standing naked dressings at trial - fridays angels
Youd give anything to be there for a while -
Fridays angels
Youre made up - played up and feeling great
Made up - played up and feeling great
Made up - played up and feeling great
But the mirror knows - youre a proper state
You paint a face thats toppled kings - fridays angels
Dressed in the drag of a killer thing - fridays angels
Loaded - tough to prove youre alive - fridays angels
Its a hard hard world but youll survive -
Fridays angels
Youre made up - played up and feeling great
Made up - played up and feeling great
Made up - played up and feeling great
But the mirror knows
The mirror knows - youre a proper state
Mum and dad think youre a maniac
To walk the streets dressed up like that
When you go out you wont be back
Youll risk the vampires on a friday night
And you dont care you know youre right
And you dont care you know youre right
And you dont care you know youre right
And you dont care you know youre right
song performed by by Billy Idol
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cool
He really liked flanel with red over-alls
if you look in his closet it was all that you saw
He dressed up on Sunday and thought he look neat
in a green leasure suit with wing tips on his feet
And i was 15 and real hip with long hair
and i asked momma why is daddy so square
and i couldn't belive all that he didn't know
i guess it's hard to be kool when your 40 years old
The night i turned 20 she came with the news
scared half to death and didn't know what to do
I told her i'm sorry but it's not to late there's a docter
i heard of that fixes mastakes
I though he was workin' and i was alone
but he was stang behind me when i hug up the phone
he said son there's a few thing you don't know about
if you listen real close we can figure this out
cus i was 18 and as wild as it came when one night
a young girl told me the samethingand you wouldn't be here
if she haden't said no you see it's hard to be cool when you'r 20 years old
These day's i like flanel and old leive jeans
and i look at my young boy who just turned 15 and i know what he's thinking
but's it ok to know because it's hard to be cool
when your 15 years old
song performed by by John Michael Montgomery
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Silent Sonnet on a Mid Day Afternoon by Silent fingers
With the sun dancing in her heart-colored hair, a dream flowing in her honey-tinted eyes and a turquoise-hued gem prostrating her ears – she sits in her garden with sleeping white angels and smiling wise gnomes, a calm and numinous place where every bird has a song to sing, where every flower has a life to live, and every wall a story to tell.
Oh, I have never felt a feeling more blessed than her mystical presence.
For a while my breath stood still, and with me, the breeze too. Yes, we stood face to face, while time played a silent sonnet on a mid day afternoon.
With a sugary spell she had cast over her light-filled shadow, she lets her henna-dyed feet float among perfumed pink ‘kaneerumaa’ praising the round yellow one, among marred pieces of colored glass resurrected as bright jovial mirrors, among dangling little dream catchers humming sweet soft lullabies and painted vivid hand-prints gently pressing onto white rugged walls.
Oh, I have never heard a poem more eloquent than her whimsical world.
For a while I stood still, and with me, the world too. Yes, there I stood, face to face with her, while fate played a silent sonnet on a mid day afternoon.
With the marriage of a fiyaathoshi wall to a nookula door, she paints her castle yellow, sometimes violet, and sometimes white. With a flucid stroke of her magic-bound hand she creates cyan-colored beings and olive-colored poetry. Words fly out of her mouth like freed birds, while she swings her soul to-and-fro, and commands the sunny-rays-gone-astray to obey and kneel at her feet, to kiss her hands, caress her cheeks and rest in her eyes.
Oh, I have never seen a queen more refined in her placid manners.
For a while my heart stood still, and with it, my life too. Yes, There I stood face to face with her, while life played a silent sonnet on a mid day afternoon.
… and then she asks, “Have we met before? ”
… and I thought, “Yes, perhaps eight hundred years ago! ”
poem by Silent Fingers
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Intimate Gaming
Sports we played
Music bands we made
It was all bonding
But through those schooling years
Was anything more innocent
And more intimate
Then the video games we played
Street fighter, mortal kombat
Ice hockey, soccer, shoot-em ups
They all made an appearance
As we bought new sneakers
Changed our hair
Talked
Ate
Argued
High-fived
All with a game controller in hand
A coke by our side
They were the days of less worry
Thoughts only of
Games, slurpees and new sneakers
And a new school year to dread
Of new friends and girls
Of detention and fights
That time has now gone
Though the games still remain
More advanced
The fun has gone
poem by James Dylan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Anzac Day
Patriotic men and women from sixty down to sixteen
Rode proudly on their horses in the famed Anzac green
Followed by the women of the Red Cross in their renowned white and red
On this day every April they honour the war dead.
Up to the war memorial where a large crowd stand around
And at the front of the congregation old 'Diggers' to be found
Old veterans of World war 2 they show their years in gray
Their war medals pinned to their lapels their bravery on display.
A lone bugler played the last post to honour the war dead
And an old man who was standing near i saw him bow his head
And tears were trickling down his face his thoughts were far away
Some noble men who were his friends in foreign Country lay.
We are gathered here this morning the ageing speaker said
To commemorate true heroes our great and brave war dead
They made the ultimate sacrifice and at a young age they did die
And we have them in part to thank for the freedom we enjoy
For our soldiers who died in foreign wars for their souls let us pray
It's only to remember them that we have Anzac day
Their bones may lay in foreign fields but in history they survive
And the spirit of the Anzac is still very much alive.
He thanked the old war veterans who marched in the parade
How can we thank you enough for the sacrifice you've made
You risked your lives in cause of peace 'we salute you today'
You noble men who won the war in Country far away.
He thanked the red cross women the finest in the Land
And the bugler who played 'The Last Post' and the six piece marching band
And the horse riders dressed as Anzacs in the famed faded green
And he asked the band to finish up by playing 'God save the Queen'.
And the band played 'God save the Queen' but not 'Advance Australia Fair'
And i who doesn't believe in war could only feel aware
That in Britain they don't play the Australian anthem when they honour their war dead
Was it for Britain or Australia that young Aussie blood was shed? .
The horse riders dressed as Anzacs in the famed faded green
And the bugler played the last post and the band played 'God Save The Queen'.
And a war veteran spoke of Aussie war dead their bones in Europe lay
At least they are remembered still on every Anzac Day.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Cold Feet
There was a little boy once upon a time
Who in spite of his young age and small size knew his mind
For every copper penny and clover he would find
Make a wish for better days the end of hard times
For no more cold feet
Cold cold cold cold feet
His clothes were always clean
His face was always scrubbed
There was food on the table enough to fill him up
His house was full of life - his house was full of love
But when winter days arrived
There was never money enough to shod his cold feet
Cold cold cold cold feet
He grew up to be a worker determined to succeed
He made a life for himself, free from worldly wants or needs
But with nobody to share the life hed made
No body to keep him warm at night
When hed go to sleep hed sleep alone with his cold feet
Cold cold cold cold feet
One night he walked the street looking to the heavens above
Searching for a shooting star a benevolent god
When a woman passing by brushed his arm
He turned and found love
He then wished for the courage to ask this stranger
Who she was to not have cold feet
Cold cold cold cold feet
He thought shed like the party life and want the finer things
So he promised more than he could buy
And he promised her the sun and moon to not have cold feet
Cold cold cold cold feet
He worked day and night his fingers to the bone
Hi worried mind guilty conscience drive him on
He cant give her what she needs
He wants to give her what he thinks she wants
Her sad-eyed face, his empty pockets drive him on and his cold feet
Cold cold cold cold feet
Hed struggled all his life to be an honest man
Proud that the dirt on his palms was the soil of the land
But some guys he knew from high school days
Said they had a plan to get rich quick
And they could count him in if he dont have cold feet
Cold cold cold cold feet
He thought about their offer accepted it without qualms
Dreamt about the life hed buy
The comfort that would come without cold feet
Cold cold cold cold feet
He decided to tell his wife things would soon turn around
He said the little boy is dead
A man stands with you now without cold feet
Cold cold cold cold feet
Without cold feet - cold cold cold cold feet
He thought hed set his clock right - he though hed read his watch
He left in such a hurry he didnt think to wish for luck
Makes no difference if youre early - no difference if youre late
When youre out of time - the flowers have been laid
Youre six feet underground
With cold feet
Cold cold cold cold feet
song performed by by Tracy Chapman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Eddie O Mahony
He never more will walk in the Town of Millstreet in St Mary's cemetery at peace he lay
Perhaps in his mid forties to his early fifties he did die young and it would be fair to say
Of him that he was really a nice person he made so many friends along life's way
And one day his lot it will be our lot as for each of us there is a final day.
In his younger years Eddie O Mahony played Soccer and Gaelic Football in Brian Sullivan's Mal Paso pub he was well known
His family and his many friends will mourn him and Murphy's Terrace and Millstreet Town has lost one of it's own
He seemed so young for to go to the reaper but suppose he was not meant for to grow old
But in the Mal Paso pub his old mates will recall him when stories of the good days will be told.
A youngish man he had so much to live for he did not live for to die as an old man
The reaper takes the young and old and ageing though short in time is the longest life span
One can only hope for Eddie that his end was peaceful that at his end he did not suffer pain
He was well known and well liked around Millstreet and with those who knew him good memories of him will remain.
Pre-deceased by his beloved father Dan O, Eddie is one his friends always will recall
In his younger years as i can well remember he played Sports, Soccer and Gaelic Football
He died as a young enough man that seems so sad of years he did not even reach three score
And he will be sadly missed from the Mal Paso and may he rest in peace forever more.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Memory of June
When June comes dancing o'er the death of May,
With scarlet roses tinting her green breast,
And mating thrushes ushering in her day,
And Earth on tiptoe for her golden guest,
I always see the evening when we met--
The first of June baptized in tender rain--
And walked home through the wide streets, gleaming wet,
Arms locked, our warm flesh pulsing with love's pain.
I always see the cheerful little room,
And in the corner, fresh and white, the bed,
Sweet scented with a delicate perfume,
Wherein for one night only we were wed;
Where in the starlit stillness we lay mute,
And heard the whispering showers all night long,
And your brown burning body was a lute
Whereon my passion played his fevered song.
When June comes dancing o'er the death of May,
With scarlet roses staining her fair feet,
My soul takes leave of me to sing all day
A love so fugitive and so complete.
poem by Claude McKay
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Old Upright Piano
For as long as I remember, when friday night came round
The family would gather out at grandpas house.
With supper over and the dishes done
It was then the best time came
At an old upright piano that only grandma played.
She played beautiful dreamer, my wild irish rose;
She never played em perfect, but there was love in every note.
Grandpa sat beside her, in harmony they sang,
At the old upright piano that only grandma played.
Grandpa was a stubborn man, they said it was his style.
Grandma called him ornery, but she said it with a smile.
Even he could not disguise the love he felt so strong;
We all could see it in his eyes when she played his favorite song.
She played beautiful dreamer, my wild irish rose;
She never played em perfect, but there was love in every note.
Grandpa sat beside her, in harmony they sang,
At the old upright piano that only grandma played.
I was almost 17 when my grandma died;
I stayed all night with grandpa; the old man never cried.
He sat at her piano, there was nothing we could say
It was the first time in my life I ever heard my grandpa play.
It wasnt beautiful dreamer or my wild irish rose
It was a song he played from memory & he never missed a note
I sat right there beside him until the morning came
What a friend we have in jesus was the only song he played.
She played beautiful dreamer, my wild irish rose;
She never played em perfect, but there was love in every note.
Grandpa sat beside her, in harmony they sang,
At the old upright piano that only grandma played.
song performed by by Nitty Gritty Dirt Band
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Never Played-Symphonies
Reflecting from my death bed
I'm balancing life's riches
Against the ditches
And the flat grey years in between
All I can see are the never laid
That's the never-played
Symphonies
I can't see those who tried to love me
Of those who felt they understood me
And I can't see those who
Very patiently
Put up with me
All I can see are the never laid
Or the never-played
Symphonies
You were one
You meant to be one
And you jumped into my face
And laughed and kissed me on the cheek
And then were gone
Forever
But not quite
Black sky in the daytime
And I don't much mind dying
When there is nothing left
To care for
Anymore
Just the never laid
That's the never-played
Symphonies
You were one
You meant to be one
And you slipped right through my fingers
No, not literally
But metaphorically
And now you're all I see
As the light fades
song performed by by Morrissey
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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