A song but no lyrics
He's a ramshackle piano and his partner's cheesy finger tips
touch the wobble reeds.
The intonation of music comes out with his cries and her tears
like a salty wind from a consonant Ocean.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Related quotes
For All Pianos All Around The World
pi
piano
piano use
piano key
piano roll
piano wire
piano note
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piano store
piano pedal
piano bench
piano effect
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piano string
piano mover
piano maker
piano music
piano action
piano player
piano lesson
piano design
piano course
piano soloist
piano tuning
piano recital
piano replica
piano sonata
piano rhythm
piano sample
piano teacher
piano program
piano concerto
piano repertoire
piano brand name
anno piano twenty twelve
poem by Nicolas Grenier
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My old satchel
Still I carry your heavy fragrance in the old satchel over my slanted shoulder.
Life flies away from me day by day.
And our golden school stands still with new students.
In that narrow flowery path they walk to our nostalgic school
And we are too old to stand at the gate.
I imagine the music teacher's sensitive finger tips touch the reeds
And gives the melancholy song of life again.
Dedication to one of the prominent poetesses in the site Sandra Fowler
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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As Baile
Intonation
The title "As Baile" can be translated as "away from home".
The song itself is all intonation, although you might say the intonation is "based" in Irish Gaelic. Enya sings "or, horo, mo-ray he u way, he u way" and so on. The word "or" is an interjection that could be translated as "oh!" or "oho!", but the rest of the song is intonation.
Information from Louise N Fharrachair and Daniel Quinlan
song performed by by Enya
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In the Hopes
The ocean waves dash toward the shore -
Oh the tears the ocean holds.
Cries of yesterday's sorrow of loves lost..
The way of the ocean, how it dances to and fro,
as it lightly touches the shore.
Oh mans cries, he hopes for tears
no more!
poem by Linda Lane
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The Sea is a Salty Road
Come with me to Calico Beach
Where Peppy Creek runs down to the sea,
Where squawking flocking seagulls screech
And powerful pompous pelicans preach:
For the sea is a salty road, oh yes!
The sea is a salty road.
There's a tangerine sun over Calico Beach
Where walloping waves strike snaggletoothed cliffs,
Where gadabout gulls get about all day
And tangled spangled seaweed drifts,
And the sea is a salty road, oh yes!
The sea is a salty road.
We shall roost on a rock that the tides cannot reach
While a prominent porpoise delivers a speech
About chasing the tuna and hunting the squid
Whose inky secretions keep her well hid.
We shall squawk at the gulls and bark at the sea lions
Who waddle about on the calico sands,
For they tell tall tales to the penguins and puffins
While chasing the ocean away from the land,
And the sea is a salty road, oh yes!
The sea is a salty road!
Oh we shall have an entertollicking time
By the hooligan cliffs on Calico Beach
After the plump sun plops in the bay
And the marigold moon pops up to play.
The ocean fandagoes, the starfish cavort!
With vociferous vigor, we’ll wobble and snort,
Hopping and clapping by the zestful sea,
Sipping our frisky phenomenal tea,
For the sea is a salty road, oh yes!
The sea is a salty road.
Next day we'll embark in our Bumblebee boat.
On the merry melodious sea we'll float,
Where breakers loom and surf-flowers bloom
And whales and seals and dolphins zoom.
Up and down and around and around
Where mountains and fountains of waters abound,
Swigging our bubbly broth as we brave
The tempusterous blusterous flusterous waves,
How gleeful and freeful and wild will be we,
Riding the turbulent tides of the sea
For the sea is a salty road, oh yes!
The sea is a salty road.
poem by Norm Milstein
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Ramshackle Man
My clothes dont fit and I have no point of view
I got a bad reputation but I dont believe its true
I had something going but I blew it down the can
Not exactly what I planned
Im a ramshackle man
Thats what I am
I look like a joker but I feel like a one eyed jack
Shuffling around never get to the top of the park
I said to the dealer put the ace in my hand
But he couldnt give a damn
Im a ramshackle man
Thats what I am
I sit down thinking bout the things I have to do
I start out fine then I pick up something new
Stumbled through the door thats how it all began
Now its buried in the sand
Im a ramshackle man
Thats what I am
The stars shine bright when the boys come out to play
Never feeling more than Im feeling right here today
I used to be fresh but now Im second hand
I do what I can
Im a ramshackle man
Thats what I am
song performed by by Deep Purple
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cheesy Moon (Ghazal)
Look up and gaze at craters on the cheesy moon.
A cow, a spoon jumping over the cheesy moon.
Opening the refrigerator, what cheese now?
How about more of tasty, crusty, cheesy moon?
Dare I taste the zesty tang of pepper-jack cheese,
Mix and dance with the tango of a cheesy moon?
My office cloudy, loveless, lifeless gray
Could use some life-giving zest of a cheesy moon.
Brie and Camenbert, Ben loves soft and crusty cheese,
Swiss and Gruyère with wide eyes opened, cheesy moon.
- April 8,2008
This was published online by The Ghazal Page in July of 2008.
See:
http: //www.ghazalpage.net/2008/moon_challenge/2008_moo n_radif.html
poem by Ben Gieske
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Sweetest Sin
Can you imagine us,
Making love..
The way you would feel the first time that we touched,
Can you think of it..
The way I dream of it,
I want you to see like im seeing you..
It's a picture of perfection,
The vision of you and me..
Your lips upon my lips,
Can you just picture this..
Your finger tips on my finger tips,
Your skin upon my skin..
Would be the Sweetest Sin,
Would be the Sweetest Sin..
All night I lie awake,
Cause it's to much to take..
Dreamin' about the love that we could make..All day,
I think of scenes..
To get you next to me,
I want you so bad that I can barely breathe..
It's a sign of my obsession,
That I can't stop thinkin bout'
Your lips upon my lips,
Can you invision this..
Temptation that I could never resist,
Your skin upon my skin..
Would be the Sweetest Sin,
That would be the Sweetest Sin..
It would feel so good,
To be so bad..
You don't know how bad.. I want that,
I would do anything to feel your love..
Your lips upon my lips,
Can you just picture this..
Your finger tips on my finger tips,
Your skin upon my skin..
Would be the Sweetest Sin,
That Would be the Sweetest Sin..
Your lips upon my lips,
Can you invision this..
Temptation that I could never resist,
Your skin upon my skin..
Would be the Sweetest Sin,
Would be the Sweetest Sin..
Your lips upon my lips.. would be the Sweetest Sin
song performed by by Jessica Simpson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Beautiful phrases
Beautiful phrases
Emerald green, misty dells
Soft alabaster faces
Cold, briney ocean swells
Finely woven, antique laces
Sun-kissed cheeks
Rose petal lips
Long summer weeks
Braised roast beef tips
Cerulean skies
Elfin ears
Ebony eyes
Quicksilver tears
Raven haired lasses
Eagle-eyed lad
Fog shrouded passes
Wind moaning sad
Candle’s faint flicker
Pink tinged sky
Wild pony’s whicker
Soft, sibilant sigh
Trees tremulously swaying
Wind shivered reeds
Hair, silver graying
Man’s unfilled needs
These phrases have no scheme
And no reason that they should
Have only one redeeming theme
Be beautiful and…
Sound good.
poem by David Whalen
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Amadeus Mozart, con.k-365
What they adore
Is his genius
His music
Soaring to the heavens
Without so much
Effort
Effortlessly magnificent
Amadeus Mozart
And his music
Tossing me
From sea cap to sea cap
In my sea dreams
Piano notes ruffling
Like the windy beach
Waffling to the shore
Piano notes
Trickling
On my window pane
Like a soft rain
Playful
To the vines
On my window pane
What they adore
Is his genius
Soaring to the heavens
I envy him
Amadeus Mozart
His music grows like a river forever flowing
I do not mind if in there I drown
And die with a single note
He died in the sea drinking all the salty notes
Of Amadeus Mozart
Dehydration in the most musical fashion.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The tale of the sparkling white river
At the sparkling white river
that cuts its way through the earth,
some green reeds grew in bushes into the water.
Tranquillity and the magic
of water, sun and wind
was the spirit that dwelt in the reeds.
a Really ugly god appeared and started to cry,
as no beautiful nymph
would set an eye on him.
He washed his face in the water
to try and transfix some of its healing magic
to himself and washed his face again,
but the image reflected upon the gentle pool
remained the same
and deeper into the water he went.
Half blind by his crying,
he stumbled into the reeds
and walk still deeper in,
to hide away from the creatures
that lived upon the water
and dwelt in the sparkling stream.
There was power in his tears
and where they fell upon the reeds,
they were cut from the stems.
To Pan on that day,
the river and the reeds
came as a blessing.
With reeds in his hands
he walked to the shore
and the setting and sounds did something to him.
He cut the reeds into pipes
of different lengths
with notches and holes
and blew life in to them
and to this very day,
that instrument bears his name.
poem by Gert Strydom
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The Key-Board
Five-and-thirty black slaves,
Half-a-hundred white,
All their duty but to sing
For their Queen's delight,
Now with throats of thunder,
Now with dulcet lips,
While she rules them royally
With her finger-tips!
When she quits her palace,
All the slaves are dumb-
Dumb with dolour till the Queen
Back to Court is come:
Dumb the throats of thunder,
Dumb the dulcet lips,
Lacking all the sovereignty
Of her finger-tips.
Dusky slaves and pallid,
Ebon slaves and white,
When the Queen was on her throne
How you sang to-night!
Ah, the throats of thunder!
Ah, the dulcet lips!
Ah, the gracious tyrannies
Of her finger-tips!
Silent, silent, silent,
All your voices now;
Was it then her life alone
Did your life endow?
Waken, throats of thunder!
Waken, dulcet lips!
Touched to immortality
By her finger-tips.
poem by William Watson
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The Ocean
I sat on the rock
And looked longingly at the vast ocean
My eyes full of tears
Of sorrow that was undiscerned
The ocean noticed it though
It sensed my hurt and searing pain
Tears it could not hold
Were wildly splashed hard against the rocks
The ocean shares our feelings
It hears our shouts and painful cries
Waves are being used as response and
When the ocean is sad, it even sighs.
I really appreciate its presence
For it is always there for us
To let out our pent-up feelings
And there our sorrows pass.
poem by astaldo ELVEN
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late grandma's index finger
still points to my first year
that salty touch as she
explored my first tooth
embedded herself in me
tanka by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Wife is driven to wall.[India]
A woman as a wife is pathetic.
She starts her career as a sleeping partner,
Then as a yielding partner, a competing partner,
A demanding partner and a losing partner.
No time was she a choosing partner.
She winds up as a deceived partner
And a sexually deceased partner.
In days to some, she will turn
to decry wifehood and defy manhood.
27.05.2001, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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A Passing Hail
Let us rest ourselves a bit!
Worry?-- wave your hand to it --
Kiss your finger-tips and smile
It farewell a little while.
Weary of the weary way
We have come from Yesterday,
Let us fret not, instead,
Of the wary way ahead.
Let us pause and catch our breath
On the hither side of death,
While we see the tender shoots
Of the grasses -- not the roots,--
While we yet look down -- not up --
To seek out the buttercup
And the daisy where they wave
O'er the green home of the grave.
Let us launch us smoothly on
The soft billows of the lawn,
And drift out across the main
Of our childish dreams again:
Voyage off, beneath the trees,
O'er the field's enchanted seas,
Where the lilies are our sails,
And our sea-gulls, nightingales:
Where no wilder storm shall beat
Than the wind that waves the wheat,
And no tempest-burst above
The old laughs we used to love:
Lose all troubles -- gain release,
Languor, and exceeding peace,
Cruising idly o'er the vast,
Calm mid-ocean of the Past.
Let us rest ourselves a bit!
Worry? -- Wave your hand to it --
Kiss your finger-tips and smile
It fare well a little while.
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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A Touch Away
Mother natures been good to me
Thats why Im sittin in this cherry tree
But its alright, its alright
Its not so bad
Im just a touch away
The shady lady
From shady lane
Is lying in my bed again
And its alright
It feels good
Its not so bad
When shes just a touch away
Nothing much
Is all I ask
And its alright, ok yes
Light as a feather, oh yes
Like a rosebud
When the sun is high
She opens up
Before my eyes
And the light falls
On her wet skin
Its alright
Im just a touch away
Nothing much
Is all I know
And its alright, oh yes
Light as a feather,
And just a touch away
Put a finger to her lips again
She cries with pleasure
Cries wih pain
And its alright
It feels good
Its not so bad
Were just a touch away
Nothing much
Is all I know
Not too fast
Not too slow
And its alright
Soft as a feather
And just a touch away
song performed by by Deep Purple
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tears
Tears! tears! tears!
In the night, in solitude, tears;
On the white shore dripping, dripping, suck'd in by the sand;
Tears--not a star shining--all dark and desolate;
Moist tears from the eyes of a muffled head:
--O who is that ghost?--that form in the dark, with tears?
What shapeless lump is that, bent, crouch'd there on the sand?
Streaming tears--sobbing tears--throes, choked with wild cries;
O storm, embodied, rising, careering, with swift steps along the
beach;
O wild and dismal night storm, with wind! O belching and
desperate! 10
O shade, so sedate and decorous by day, with calm countenance and
regulated pace;
But away, at night, as you fly, none looking--O then the unloosen'd
ocean,
Of tears! tears! tears!
poem by Walt Whitman
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The Song
There is a song in my head.
It won't allow me to rest.
I still feel the melody playing in my breast.
The melody, the memory of your touch.
The harmony, the joy of my thighs and my lips,
As we welcomed you.
There is no music; I long for you,
Our dance and the movement of your hips.
The taste of you still lingers on the tip of my tongue.
We both sung this our beautiful song.
The senses have not forgotten you.
The song in my head, its like none I have heard.
It needs the music, that only you can play,
Gently on my back with your finger tips
Oh please give me peace.
Let us sing this song, I long for release.
There is a song in my head….
poem by Monciana Edmondson
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A Daughter Cries
when a mother cries
her tears stab at her daughter's heart
as they plummet to the floor
when a mother cries
he daughter cries too
because her heroine is wounded and she doesn't know how or why
she cries because she cannot rid her mother of the pain
she cries most of all because she loves her mother
when a daughtrr cries because her mother cries,
her mother cries more
because her weakness has hurt her child
she cries because it hurts to know she's the cause of her daughter's tears.
she cries most of all because she loves her daughter
one the tears have ceased however
love remains
the love forever shared between a mother and her daughter
poem by Portia Lane
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