Piccaninny and her ramshackle pianoforte
Her consumptive father is a shoeshine in the particular railway station
And her infidel mother goes out late in the evening,
Dilly-dally in the dim-light streets.
The child prodigy who plays her shaky piano, Mom has picked from a junk yard on a full moon day.
You could hear faintly in the twilight when sun hides,
The sad theme in low pitch of the bursting ghetto.
The darkness, hunger, poverty, penny-pinching, malnutrition, malpractices, hooliganism and et cetera.
Her transparent soul plays well as a maestro.
It's not a miracle if a kind-hearted drunkard politician peeps to the scenario who loves the classical music.
*Dedication to the Brazilian authoress Caroline Maria de Jesus who wrote 'The child of darkness'.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Related quotes
The Boy who Sees His Dark Face After a Long Time
A market place where nearby
The old Railway station
Under the hot Sun,
The shoeshine boy
Not yet ten
With his holey satchel
Who shines the old retired
Bachelor Station Master's shoes
And he sees on the toe his dark face
After a long time since the day
Broke the mirror
And kicked his Mom away
By the drunkard father!
(To the Brazilian authoress Carolina Maria de Jesus
for her diary 'Child of Darkness'.)
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The stamp Black Heritage of Anna Julia Cooper
I received a letter from my Attorney saying the case is now scheduled for merits hearing next year,
I relaxed totally but the stamp on the envelope pushed me into some kind of research?
I love History though I am not a Historian.
She must be a prominent figure of the land of opportunity.
I know nothing except the Sun rises in the West and sets in East?
Anyway I hope my spiritual Teacher Sandra Fowler would supply me some ingredients into this void.
I have an old poem here 'The color of my dream' which I dedicated to Maria de Jesus the Brazilian authoress for her 'Child of darkness'.
And I decided to add there Julia's name too.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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I Was The Child of The Night
I was the child of the night
Dark is my father
The moon is my mother
Star of stars was my sister
I was the child of the night
My father is a symbol of fear and helplessness
My mom is the charm
My sister is the beauty of the night
I was the child of night who afraid of the dark night
Mom, please tell to father i would not like the darkness
But my mother said, need not be afraid, my daughter, my light will always protect you from the dark night.
I always give you a glimmer of light in the darkness.
And see your sister, she was very beautiful among the dark of night.
My daughter, the darkness is tranquility.
Many people would like stay in it although it will make them are scared and helpless because
They are find peace in the darkness.
Peter Gunn's Gun
by Michael Leonard, Bobby Weinstein & Jon Stroll
Throw a penny from the window, watch an old man play a song
On a twenty-dollar violin he bought before the war,
Though he screeches and he scratches and the notes are always wrong,
But he plays like he's in concert on the street outside my door.
Tunes to suit your fancy,
Are there any requests?
I'll play them for a penny,
(Play them penny music, play them for a penny)
And not a penny less.
He's the local virtuoso, it's his only way of life,
Plays ninety-seven overtures and goes home to his wife,
In the quiet of the evening while his frozen fingers bleed,
He counts pennies on a blanket to supply his meager need.
Tunes to suit your fancy,
Are there any requests?
I'll play them for a penny,
(Play them penny music, play them for a penny)
And not a penny less.
When there's frost upon the pumpkin in the weakness of the sun,
People stand there in the cold until his symphony is done,
In the early gray of morning, he's sure to come around,
You can hear him through the window when the pennies hit the ground.
Tunes to suit your fancy,
Are there any requests?
I'll play them for a penny,
(Play them penny music, play them for a penny)
And not a penny less.
They're playing penny music,
Playing penny music,
They're playing penny music,
Playing penny music,
Playing penny music.
fade out...
song performed by by Monkees
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In The Ghetto
(words & music by scott davis)
As the snow flies
On a cold and gray chicago mornin
A poor little baby child is born
In the ghetto
And his mama cries
cause if theres one thing that she dont need
Its another hungry mouth to feed
In the ghetto
People, dont you understand
The child needs a helping hand
Or hell grow to be an angry young man some day
Take a look at you and me,
Are we too blind to see,
Do we simply turn our heads
And look the other way
Well the world turns
And a hungry little boy with a runny nose
Plays in the street as the cold wind blows
In the ghetto
And his hunger burns
So he starts to roam the streets at night
And he learns how to steal
And he learns how to fight
In the ghetto
Then one night in desperation
A young man breaks away
He buys a gun, steals a car,
Tries to run, but he dont get far
And his mama cries
As a crowd gathers round an angry young man
Face down on the street with a gun in his hand
In the ghetto
As her young man dies,
On a cold and gray chicago mornin,
Another little baby child is born
In the ghetto
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Authorship
You say that father write a lot of books, but what he write I don't
understand.
He was reading to you all the evening, but could you really
make out what he meant?
What nice stores, mother, you can tell us! Why can't father
write like that, I wonder?
Did he never hear from his own mother stories of giants and
fairies and princesses?
Has he forgotten them all?
Often when he gets late for his bath you have to and call him
an hundred times.
You wait and keep his dishes warm for him, but he goes on
writing and forgets.
Father always plays at making books.
If ever I go to play in father's room, you come and call me,
"What a naughty child!"
If I make the slightest noise you say, "Don't you see that
father's at his work?"
What's the fun of always writing and writing?
When I take up father's pen or pencil and write upon his book
just as he does,-a,b,c,d,e,f,g,h,i,-why do you get cross with me
then, mother?
You never say a word when father writes.
When my father wastes such heaps of paper, mother, you don't
seem to mind at all.
But if I take only one sheet to take a boat with, you say,
"Child, how troublesome you are!"
What do you think of father's spoiling sheets and sheets of
paper with black marks all over both sides?
poem by Rabindranath Tagore
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Lonely Dancefloor
The Pangs of death
Shroud me in mystery
I am so lonely
Left to dance alone
as always as myself
And that's dangerous
Seeing the fangs
of loneliness To me
It's too much, So
I am ding inside
In my brain
and in my soul
it is like you see me
On A Lonely dancefloor
dancing to the maestro
of the sad Lonely music
that rings to blacken me
within my heart
the bells of loneliness toll
I am losing the will to live
I still dance alone, on the
Maestro's Lonely Dancefloor
at Least untill you save my
Lonely, heart and soul
A Sad sour Violin plays
with sour and sadding piano
song, The lonely Waltz is
Playing, until you save me
Get me out this lonely place
Or the Lonely sour Flute will play
I cry the moment this
sad symphony plays
The sad violins, Piano,
Flutes and Piccolos
Play the sting of lonely
defeat, I want you, Near me, when it does.
Get me out this music hall of sadness
And into the cheerful Lad of the living
Spare from the death of it all
My Heart and soul, forever more
I only want your friendship
So I may happily dance again/
poem by Ashleigh Leona Mellon
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Poverty-I
Lot of hunger and having no food is poverty,
Not having spare cloth to take bath is poverty,
Needing a shelter but not having one is poverty,
Child's sick but can not buy treatment, is poverty,
Fainting child dreaming a mouthful of rice is poverty
Searching warmth in cold flesh in winter nights, is poverty,
Sitting with umbrella on wetting bed in showering night, is poverty,
Thoughtful mother, two mouthful of rice and three children, is poverty,
An ill, deserted mother selling her child wishing it will survive, is poverty.
A defeated and desponded mother poisoning and killing her child is poverty,
.
.
posted on 31-07-2008
Copyright ©®2008, Palas Kumar Ray. All rights reserved.
poem by Palas kumar Ray
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In The Ghetto
As the snow flies
On a cold and gray chicago mornin
A poor little baby child is born
In the ghetto
And his mama cries
cause if theres one thing that she dont need
Its another hungry mouth to feed
In the ghetto
People, dont you understand
The child needs a helping hand
Or hell grow to be an angry young man some day
Take a look at you and me
Are we too blind to see
Do we simply turn our heads
And look the other way
Well the world turns
And a hungry little boy with a runny nose
Plays in the street as the cold wind blows
In the ghetto
And his hunger burns
So he starts to roam the streets at night
And he learns how to steal
And he learns how to fight
In the ghetto
Then one night in desperation
A young man breaks away
He buys a gun, steals a car
Tries to run, but he dont get far
And his mama cries
As a crowd gathers round an angry young man
Face down on the street with a gun in his hand
In the ghetto
As her young man dies
On a cold and gray chicago mornin
Another little baby child is born
In the ghetto
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Grandma's Old Piano Was Sold
grandma's piano is old.
she died ten years ago
being the second wife of grandpa.
my mother is her second child
that she sent to piano school
but father found her and married
her when she was still 18.
and i was born as their fourth
child. Mother knows how to play
the moonlight sonata which father
loves to listen at night when
i learn how to smile and laugh.
One day Papa found another woman
whom he said made him new again
and he left Mama.
One day Mama died and Papa married
that woman.
One day i left home.
One day the piano was sold
One day the piano was taken to another
town so far away from us.
One day, all these things, the piano, Papa
and my step mother are forgotten.
But then the Moonlight Sonata comes again
One night
From another piano nearby.
The keys are no longer made
From elephant tusks like grandma's old piano.
Not the off white of ivory.
So white and smooth like a well brushed teeth
of a very young boy.
I like to hear it when he learns
how to gnash.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Hunger in Botany Bay
Hunger lurks down the streets of Botany Bay;
The lonely child famished and peckish cries for food
None notices the child, for they’re preoccupied with the travesty of justice in Botany Bay
An observant vagabond pays heed to the child, and shares the lone piece of bread
The child ecstatic with what’s it got, runs to its hovel
The hovel where it was raised, is full of abjection and misery
The child runs to its mother, gives the lone piece of bread
The mother in tears, tears up the piece of bread
Gives a piece to the child to satiate its hunger
Keeps the other piece for the other slumbering child
For such is the love of the mother, careless about her own hunger
Gets lost in the agony of doubt, of how she will raise her children
In this world full of misery and pain.
poem by Deepak Hiremath
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Let The Music Heal Your Soul
Oh when someone writes a song
With a simple line
Just a song
Where the seasons show
And if someone feels the same
About the simple song
Oh sometimes
You just cant hear them say
Music gives you happiness or sadness
But it also, it also heals your soul
Chorus
Let the music heal your soul
Let the music take control
Let the music give you
The power to move any mountain
Or if someone plays piano
With some simple chords
So melodic
And endearing too
Oh if someone plays guitar
With the old piano
Then maybe
You can hear them sing
Music gives you happiness or sadness
But it also, it also heals your soul
Chorus
Let the music heal your soul
Let the music take control
Let the music give you
The power to move any mountain
Oh yes
Let the music heal your soul
Let the music take control
Let the music heal your soul
Oh, oh yes
Let the music heal your soul
Let the music take control (take control)
Let the music heal your soul (heal your soul)
Let the music take control (let the music take control)
Let the music heal your soul
Let the music take control (oh yes)
Let the music heal your soul (everybody make
Let the music take control (let the music take control)
Let the music heal your soul (let it heal your soul)
Let the music take control (oh, oh)
Let the music heal your soul
Let the music take control
song performed by by Backstreet Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Light.
Light me a light any kind of light,
Just shine its beam into my darkest night,
For like a child I stay up in fright,
So light me a light any light tonight.
Candlelight, moonlight any light is just right,
For in that light I might find my might!
Don’t sing me a song, don’t hold me tight,
Just light me a light, any light tonight.
Light me a light to assist my sight,
Just my naked eye darkness cannot fight,
So before darkness gets a chance to bite,
Light me a light any kind of light.
Flickering, glaring or outright bright,
I don’t care what kind just light me a light,
All I need is darkness away tonight,
So light me a light any kind of light.
poem by Barak Al'Mondia
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Just Another Black Child In The Ghetto
Cerdic a 7 year old boy got killed last night
but no one seems to care he is just another black child in the ghetto.
Janet 6 she got raped by one of the men her mom had her call uncle
but once again nobody cares just another black child in the ghetto.
Ahmid, can barely read and write and he's 13
but you know who cares he's just another black child in the ghetto.
Cyndi about to be a mother and she just a child of 15 herself
but she'll blend in with the others just another black child in the ghetto.
It is time for us to pay attention to the Cedric's, Janet's, Ahmid's and Cyndi’s so the children know of the ghetto that they are more than just another black child in the ghetto.
I Would Do For You
The Mother looks into the eyes of her child,
With the love that is so deep and true
Then she hugs her child and loves her child,
And says, “ there is nothing that I would not do for you”.
She loves her child more than she does herself
She’ll places her child above all others
For the child she would die, And not even ask why,
As the child is hers, and she is the mother.
She knows she’ll will always be there for her child
No matter the pain or a reason why,
Just to see it smile or hear it laugh
It is the greatest joy that a mother wont hide.
She will follow her child throughout her life
That being the reason why she says she lives
The love is so great for a mother and her child,
That there is nothing that she would not do or give.
She thinks of her child constantly when she is alone
She knows no pain or discomfort when the child is near,
She is only here to make her child happy and wise
While hoping never to bring her child a tear.
I now look into the eyes of my wife,
The woman who I love with a love so deep and true,
As a mother loves her child, a man he loves his wife
And with her in mind I say, “ there is nothing that I wouldn't do for you”.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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Penny Music (stereo)
Throw a penny from the window
Watch an old man play a song
On a twenty dollar violin he bought before the war
Though he screeches and he scratches
And the notes are always wrong
But he plays like hes in concert
On the street outside my door
Choose to suit your fancy
Are there any requests?
Ill play them for a pennyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy
(play them for a penny)
And not a penny less
Hes the local vertuoso
Its his only way of life
Plays 97 overtures
And goes on home to his wife
In the quiet of the evening
While his frozen fingers bleed
He counts pennies
On the blanket to supply his meeger(sp? ) needs
Choose to suit your fancy
Are there any requests?
Ill play them for a pennyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy
(play them for a penny)
And not a penny less
When theres frost upon the pumpkin
In the weakness of the sun
People stand there in the cold
Until his symphony is done
In the early gray of morning
Hes sure to come around
You can hear him thru the window
When the pennies hit the ground
Choose to suit your fancy
Are there any requests?
Ill play them for a pennyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy
(play them for a penny)
And not a penny less
Theyre playing penny music
(aaahhhhaaahhhh)
Playing penny music
(aaahhhhaaahhhh)
(last two lines repeat a few more times)
song performed by by Monkees
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Penny Music
Throw a penny from the window
Watch an old man play a song
On a twenty dollar violin he bought before the war
Though he screeches and he scratches
And the notes are always wrong
But he plays like hes in concert
On the street outside my door
Choose to suit your fancy
Are there any requests?
Ill play them for a pennyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy
(play them for a penny)
And not a penny less
Hes the local vertuoso
Its his only way of life
Plays 97 overtures
And goes on home to his wife
In the quiet of the evening
While his frozen fingers bleed
He counts pennies
On the blanket to supply his meeger(sp? ) needs
Choose to suit your fancy
Are there any requests?
Ill play them for a pennyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy
(play them for a penny)
And not a penny less
When theres frost upon the pumpkin
In the weakness of the sun
People stand there in the cold
Until his symphony is done
In the early gray of morning
Hes sure to come around
You can hear him thru the window
When the pennies hit the ground
Choose to suit your fancy
Are there any requests?
Ill play them for a pennyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy
(play them for a penny)
And not a penny less
Theyre playing penny music
(aaahhhhaaahhhh)
Playing penny music
(aaahhhhaaahhhh)
(last two lines repeat a few more times)
song performed by by Monkees
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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This Guitar
He keeps his sercrets
Under his shirt sleeve
And hides his face
In his black hair
It hangs in his eyes
And all the girls think he's so cute
Why can't they see it?
Sometimes
He hides behind the school
And plays his guitar
It's so beautiful;
The rhythm he plays
No one notices what he does when he goes home
Because his mom's always drunk
And his dad's abusing her
And the boy tries to step in
To stop his mother from getting hit anymore
But it doesn't work
His father hits him instead
And he goes to his room
And cuts with his knife
Under his shirt sleeve
So no one sees it
And he hides in his room
And plays his guitar
This guitar
He says
Is keeping me alive
If I didn't have this guitar
I would've killed myslef already
Him
And his guitar
poem by Alyssa Ray
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Darkness Of...
Darkness is not the darkness of night
it is the darkness of mind and soul.
darkness is not the darkness of night,
it is the darkness of discrimination between poor and rich.
darkness is not the darkness of night,
it is the darkness of dishonesty.
darkness is not the darkness of night,
it is the darkness of aggravate.
darkness is not the darkness of night,
it is darkness of corruption.
darkness is not the darkness of night,
it is the darkness of indiscipline.
darkness is not the darkness of night,
it is the darkness of animosity.
darkness is not the darkness of night,
it is the darkness of inveterate.
darkness is not the darkness of night,
it is the darkness of perjury.
darkness is not the darkness of night,
it is the darkness that we all brought up inside us,
so, light the lamp of light inside you...
poem by Suniya Garg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hope
an angel a bridge
of heart
Darkness Darkness Darkness Darkness Darkness Darkness Darkness Darkness Darkness Darkness Darkness Darkness Darkness Darkness
Darkness Darkness Darkness Darkness Darkness Darkness Darkness
Darkness Darkness Darkness Darkness Darkness Darkness Darkness
Darkness Darkness Darkness Darkness Darkness Darkness Darkness
Darkness Darkness Darkness Darkness Darkness Darkness Darkness
a light
of humanity tree