Bard Manqué
Where are you, bard manqué?
My eager ears still believe
And perceive the vestiges of your song
And the plucking of the caustic strings
Of your old sangfroid guitar
And I had besought and sought for you
In the undergrowth of the mantling fog
Of impasse in the gulfing city streets
In every cul-de-sac and even libraries
For every interpolation reckons
The cessation of a soigné epistle
And the drifting ebbs of clouds
Unfurl the elapsed chronicles
But still genuflects and beckon
That your shadows still resonate
In spite of the brusque rapine of melody
Now scant in a senile memory
I yearn for you, in the callous blares
Of the city's ravenous amusement
And in the abundance of silence;
Of absence in the plenitude of solitariness
I desire to have you back
In the scarce crevasse of my bed
And the inscriptions of wisdom
In the palms of your euphonious voice;
Receiving and accepting all the same
The endless beatings until you are numb
And I do not pity you even for an ounce
For the throbbing sores in your silky songs
Are the grazing consoles of a lullaby
Of my wakeful and weary lamentations.
Where have you vanished?
And when, from my sweaty clutch?
That implored for your token
In patience, as I rupture my wrists
In gripping the absent maladroit hands
From the hill where you stood me,
The horizon was crimson with the sun
And it could have urged you
To write another salient song.
I need a hero now, amidst these endless
Sailings in the great wide sea
Of vulnerable cringing nights
Sing once again, over the frothing tides
To save me from this oppression
For in this time of the month
I am distraught by the sun
Imprudently lifting its nose and brows
Scrutinizing the misery that the trashing
Of the superfluity of his swords
Had brought upon the hollow
Space beside my emaciated shadow
Whilst he heave a colossal grin
To all the other souls.
Who took the lyrical riddle
And left a reckless abandonment
Dangling with the wind chimes?
Why do you have to hide
Your songs, yourself, and your scars
Beneath a macadamized veneer
Far from the city's conception?
Manqué bard, banished to
The suspended refrain of a song
Emerge again with your buoyancy
As the crickets and cicadas
And the rustling leaves of December
Crafts an orchestra in lieu
Of the remedy in a forgotten song
Of a perplex labyrinth of notes
And of the dexterous bard that was lost
In the corruption of abeyance
And the burglary of voice
From his sole listener: his muted self.
poem by Norman Santos
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Hapless Bard, I Hear You
These hours of the night beckons
A solemn caveat to remember
How to unfold an empty leaf
And hold the old quill pen
And scribe the cranial iron fence
To unleash the tattered bard
Glacial like his antediluvian harmonica
A partner starving for heat
Amongst the ears of the arsonists
Inside the impending eaves of the dome
Of a frozen and infertile brook
Ensconced upon a motel room
With walls void of sympathy
And latticing chandelier-like cobwebs
Tinkered by the ominous wintry wind
As an old song played in his mazy head
Which it isn't too pleasant
Especially when the windows
Opens into the sea of concretes;
The devouring sea he averts
For it had once took his life away
Under the streetlights,
It flushed like granite tombs
Swathing the corpses of his ventures
Whilst the mountain passes of the hostelries
Carouse unknowingly
Of a bard cutting his ashen lips
To give his harmonica a sloppy kiss
Betrothed to his music
That the wolves love to gyrate with
Whilst making love in the shadows
That beleaguered his end of the string
And nobody heeds
About his end of the string
For even the elegiac cacophony
Is a euphonious display
Behind the motel room's persiennes.
His song about the soldier's wife
Was reduced into a travesty,
His songs about love and despair
Was seduced into the sea
Where it sank with the shipwreck;
He was a victim of the sirens.
Tatterdemalion bard,
You may hide from the city
In an unnumbered hostel room
But your melody would scamper the city streets
Like a mad woman who lost her son
It will run and hunt
And knock on a boudoir
In spite of everything, still be welcomed in
For someone in the city's parks or alleys
Another soul live in your melody
Though some were masticated by ignorance
They can never find the ghosts
That died inside the euphonious opus
And they will never have you
So you never have to hide
Hapless Bard,
Whisper in the undergrowth once again
For the hungry heart of the city
Needs to sleep in your emaciated hymn.
poem by Norman Santos
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Night Song
Listen
The city is singin' its night song
A city of shadows and fading starlight
Mixed with bar light
Listen
The empty streets echo the right song
A melody I used to think was only for the
Lonely
Night song
I hear you
Now as the night disappears
But this time
Your blues
Is music to my ears
The rumble of the train
The rustle of the wind
The rhythm of the footsteps
The blarin' of a horn
The murmur of a voice
The echo of a siren
Night song!
You used to find me cryin' in my beer
Now you remind me tomorrow she'll be here
She'll be here!
Oh, night song
You sing of a train from New Orleans
And deep in the music I hear her hummin'
Now she's coming home!
The city is singin' its night song
Listen
song performed by by Barry Manilow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The City Sings the Song of Death
The City sings the song of Death
Death that roams in the streets
Fearless and merciless, its hands smeared with blood
Its clothes drenched, its desire insatiable
It yearns for more bodies, for more and more
And yet more
The City sings the song of Death
A song whose tragic pitch would scare of birds
Were they to listen to its harrowing cadence
A song that makes babies cry and disturbs the old
A song that is sung by every one who lives in the city of Death
In fear, in pain, in terror
For Death itself has come to life
For Death itself, unchained and unchecked, roams around freely
Who shall now question Death?
The City sings the song of Death
My City sings the song of Death
I too sing the song of Death
And so do the millions that live with me
In the City of Death
poem by Abdul Samad
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Life Songs
When a child is born into this world,
what kind of song will his or her life be?
A song of joy?
A song of hope?
A beautiful rhapsody?
One of sadness, or of grief?
A song of misery?
When a newborn cries and opens its eyes,
what will its song be?
A song of greatness, a song of wealth,
or one of poverty?
When trouble comes, and surely it will,
what will that child's song be?
When we are born our song begins
and we enjoy its pleasant tune.
We sing its melody in the innocence
that leaves us all too soon.
As we grow we hear the songs of
people in various places.
Songs of pride, songs of hatred
and of conflict among the races.
The songs of children playing together
are very pleasing to hear.
Regardless of race, status or color,
their sweet songs don't cause fear.
The Master told us that with childlike qualities
we'll see God's heavenly city.
To miss such a goal because of hearts so cold
would be a tragic pity.
We hear life songs every day and
like smoke they fade away.
But lives that are sung with childlike meekness
will 'inherit the earth' someday.
To sing a song of wonder and worth
is how this life should really be-
with all the innocents throughout the earth
and with love as our constant key.
When a child is born into this world,
what kind of song will his or her life be?
A song of joy?
A song of hope?
A beautiful rhapsody?
****************
Matthew 18: 3
****************
poem by C.F. Wilkins
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Song without a voice
A saddest song within me idly pursed
Is lodged in lyrical melancholy.
A muted voice attempts to sing a verse
But only soundless words escape from me.
Its somber composition might as well
Be blank without a pleasing melody.
The lyrics are lost as sinners in Hell.
The couplet verses filled with self-pity.
An aria within my doleful soul;
A piece that never will be heard by ears.
A single opus creation, surreal
And limited, saddening with no tears.
A song without a voice to sing its sad
Refrain, enough to drive me raving mad.
poem by Albert Ahearn
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My Song
I have no song
But still I sing
I let my voice
Fly on wing
For even though
My heart is bare
I have a song
Yet to spare
The song I sing
It has not one word
But far and wide
It's ever heard
My song is
Universal see
Song of wild
Always free
Sung by many
Sung by one
Sung beneath
A dying sun
Song of joy
Yet song of pain
Song of long nights
In the rain
Song of battles
Song of strife
Song of death
But also life
I'll sing untill
I have no breath
And then I'll sing
My song in death
poem by Anonymous Ghurl
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Song of Wrongs
Some songs are trapped, while other songs are free
Some songs can linger, while others need a key
Some songs look Heavenward to find a place to be
While most songs have homes, some songs aren't so lucky
Which song would you rather hear
The song of hope, or the song of fear
The song that has everything, or the song that needs care
The song you care nothing for, or the song you revere
I'd like to listen to all of those forgotten songs
Not the song of rights, I want the song of wrongs
I want the song of solitude hiding in the throngs
I want the song that has no place to which it belongs
poem by Bianca Free
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A City Laid Waste
Beyond the horizon
A wasteland I see
All grey and barren
A shadow of what it was once to be
What a strange sight i see
Beyond these dunes of grey
A girl ever so young in ragged clothes fade to grey
A whisper in the breeze was all that was left
Of a beggar's silent dream
Is that a city i see
Beyond the horizon
Or a shadow of what it was once to be
A minstrel's song lingers on
To tell of a city it had once been
Greed
Anger
Lust
The ruins of a city ruined by sins
Insidious as it is
It is all it can ever be
By the hands of man a city built
By the same hands the city lay waste
In all its glory
Amidst it dust is where it lies
poem by Iskandar Zulqarnain Muhamad
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Shadows Of Light
Somewhere in shadow hides my fate, I am at ease to live and wait.
For all the years I've lived thus long, are merely first chords of a song.
The song of standing on my own, just me to face the great unknown.
The song of having to ignite, the flame that makes my future bright.
The song of success sings at last, my future path set hard and fast.
Marching at my own pace seems, the only way to realise dreams.
Schooling years just begun; those teenage years one more re-run.
The song of study as I yearn to know those things still yet to learn.
College, Uni, all so new, reviewing actions, see things through.
Equipped at last for the big OE, decision time; where shall it be?
The song of bustle, in some city, toil is tough; now that's a pity.
The song of outdoors hot and dry, always free beneath blue sky.
Songs from memory call me home, call for me no more to roam.
Home once more among the fold, dormant thoughts yet to unfold.
Meet the one with whom to share, secret moments all too rare.
The song of partner, my own family, contented days and years to be.
The song of children's cries of glee, excitement building joy the key.
The song within of being free, found at last what's meant too be.
poem by Rod Morris
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Sing Me A Song
Sing me a song,
A song you and I know,
A song that will put me to sleep,
This song that I always listen to makes me cry,
Missing you with every inch on my heart,
Knowing that you will not return,
Sing me a song,
A song that will help me forget about you,
A song that will heal my heart,
A song of forgiveness,
Just sing a song,
A song that can not be forgotten,
A song so memorable,
Only a memory,
Sing me song,
A song that we will love,
A song we can not live with out,
Just sing me a song,
A song that only you and I know.
poem by Jennifer Rondeau
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I'm Searching My Heart......
I sing a song in tears,
And the song to reach hers,
And get back my heart.
I'm searching my heart
That I lost when I was with her:
She came unto me;
Still I remember her steps.
I sing a song in tears,
And the song to reach hers,
And get back my heart.
She sat beside me;
Still I feel her presence,
She spoke with me;
Still I remember her words.
I sing a song in tears,
And the song to reach hers,
And get back my heart.
She wept for me;
Still I don't know why,
She lulled me to sleep,
Still I am in her lullaby.
I sing a song in tears,
And the song to reach hers,
And get back my heart.
I hear the notes of songsters,
And the babble of streams;
But not the pulse of my heart,
I weep unto the clouds,
I cry unto the zephyr;
But they all left me at sea.
I swim into the sea fast
Hoping to find my heart.
I sing a song in tears,
And the song to reach hers,
And get back my heart.
poem by MBJ Pancras
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A Song About You
If I could write a song
I’d write a song about you
I would write about how
You’re all I can every think about
How you flood my dreams each night
How thinking of you takes my breath away
When I look up to the satellites
If I could write a song
I’d write a song about you
I would write about how
The long lost butterflies returned
How I hope my number you’ll dial
And how your memory smothers me with smiles
If I could write a song
I’d write a song about you
I would write about how
You were the only one
Who had enough of me to break my heart
And when love took over my heart
You tore it all apart.
If I could write a song
I’d write a song about you
I would write about how
I gave you my heart
Caught up in the thought
That we were off to a great start
But how you threw a damn dart
Right into the center of my heart
If I could write a song
I’d write a song about you
About how you crushed my heart
Not bothering to look back.
If I could write a song
I’d write a song about you
poem by Jess Schwarcz
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Lay Down Your Weary Tune
Lay down your weary tune, lay down,
Lay down the song you strum,
And rest yourself neath the strength of strings
No voice can hope to hum.
Struck by the sounds before the sun,
I knew the night had gone.
The morning breeze like a bugle blew
Against the drums of dawn.
Lay down your weary tune, lay down,
Lay down the song you strum,
And rest yourself neath the strength of strings
No voice can hope to hum.
The ocean wild like an organ played,
The seaweeds wove its strands.
The crashin waves like cymbals clashed
Against the rocks and sands.
Lay down your weary tune, lay down,
Lay down the song you strum,
And rest yourself neath the strength of strings
No voice can hope to hum.
I stood unwound beneath the skies
And clouds unbound by laws.
The cryin rain like a trumpet sang
And asked for no applause.
Lay down your weary tune, lay down,
Lay down the song you strum,
And rest yourself neath the strength of strings
No voice can hope to hum.
The last of leaves fell from the trees
And clung to a new loves breast.
The branches bare like a banjo played
To the winds that listened best.
I gazed down in the rivers mirror
And watched its winding strum.
The water smooth ran like a hymn
And like a harp did hum.
Lay down your weary tune, lay down,
Lay down the song you strum,
And rest yourself neath the strength of strings
No voice can hope to hum.
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Let The Little Boy Sing
Take you back to a cotton field
In the heart of lousiana
Little boy about nine years old
Sings a song in the heat of the day
Mama cried when her little boy sang
She knew he could be someone special
Mama cried cause the way that it was
He would only be wasted away
Then his mama would pray
And every night she would say
Help my boy began
Take the lord by the hand
Let the little boy sing
Got a feeling that takes you home
Got a melody of his own
Let the little boy sing
Let the little boy try
Let the little boy buy
He can take you along
On the wings of his song
Let the little boy fly
Take you back to new orleans
Where the music wakes up with the city
To the bars by the railroad cars
On the neon side of town
Sang a song on the city streets
And people began to listen
Southern boy, sing your southern song
Take it like no one aound
Nobody walked by
Without feelin high
Never heard it before
Theyd be calling for more
Let the little boy sing
Got a melody of his own
Got a feeling that takes you home
Let the little boy sing
And let the little boy fly
Let the little boy try
He can take you along
On the wings of his song
Let the little boy fly
Let him take you away
(ladies and gentlemen
Super? ? are proud to introduce
The little boy with a soul of a star)
Let the little boy sing
Got a melody of his own
Got a feeling that takes you home
Let the little boy sing
Let the little boy try
Let the little boy buy
He can take you along
On the wings of his song
Let the little boy fly
song performed by by Neil Diamond
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Melody
Melody
By: Adam M. Snow
O' Melody, names like the angel's song;
music swaying around thine love
but of thy love my days be long;
O' my Melody, sang my song.
I long to hear thy voice, thy angelic voice
soothes away my hearts desire.
But it be that of love's choice
echoing upon thy voice.
Can thee forever love a lonely man such as I,
or do thee live on knowing not that of love,
or do thee walk passed and curse myself to die?
This feeling, this love O' Melody I cannot deny.
Let me hear thy choir of thy song;
a voice so deep calming the soul.
Let thy voice and passion be strong;
O' my Melody, sang my song.
Sing; let thy voice be heard across the Earth.
Let it pierce thy shadows.
Let the world see a new found birth
and the wonders its worth.
O' Melody, a song I longed after
to cleanse my immortal soul,
to feel the joy and laughter
and be with you hereafter.
O' Melody, names like the angel's song;
music swaying around thine love
but of thy love my days be long;
O' my Melody, sang my song.
O' Melody, play thy music for I love thee.
Thy lyrics be true thy heart,
Thy song be thy key
to set all souls free.
Let me hear thy choir of thy song;
a voice so deep calming the soul.
Let thy voice and passion be strong;
O' my Melody, sang my song.
poem by Adam M. Snow
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Love Gone Bad
Sing me a song of love...
Sing me a song so sad...
Sing me a song of remembrance...
Sing me a song of love gone bad;
Write the words and the music--
In your own flamboyant sytle-
Accent it with elaborate details--
Fill it with your obvious guile;
Give it a melody thats catchy...
You know-a phrase like refrain...
About loves greatest ecstacy...
About its agony and pain;
And then sing a song of love...
And sing a song so very sad...
Sing me a song to show that you remember...
And sing a song 'bout love gone bad;
Give it all of your verve and elan...
Spice it up with a bit of rhytym and blue...
Make it a song that everyone identifies with...
Make its words right and true;
Make it an anthem...
Or make it a ballad flowing free...
Make sure the words tell it all...
With a most haunting melody;
And then sing a song of love...
Sing me a song of so very sad...
Sing me a song of remembrance...
Sing me a song of love gone bad;
Song Lyrics
June 10,2010
poem by Theodora Onken
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Sing A Song For You My Love
SING A SONG FOR YOU MY LOVE
A lovely song a love song
Sing a song for you my love
Sung in a wonderful soothing voice
Sending a melody message by the dove
Invites you to take your choice
Catch this ultimate chance to share
Truly wherever you will be I’ll dare
Musical notes show how much I care
To loose you I wouldn’t bare
Never ever let me down again
Open up the shutters of your heart
Don’t ask for another bargain
Pull out with strength the poisoned dart
Can this time be meaning for ever
Love has got such strangely ways
No understanding even though being clever
Deep different emotions filling our days
Want to sing a song for you my love
Higher notes song in my voice
Your love places spirit high above
Counting heartbeats final choice
Sing a song for you my love
A lovely song a love song
poem by Morhardt Carmen Mencita Monoi Angel
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The Rat-Catcher
I AM the bard known far and wide,
The travell'd rat-catcher beside;
A man most needful to this town,
So glorious through its old renown.
However many rats I see,
How many weasels there may be,
I cleanse the place from ev'ry one,
All needs must helter-skelter run.
Sometimes the bard so full of cheer
As a child-catcher will appear,
Who e'en the wildest captive brings,
Whene'er his golden tales he sings.
However proud each boy in heart,
However much the maidens start,
I bid the chords sweet music make,
And all must follow in my wake.
Sometimes the skillful bard ye view
In the form of maiden-catcher too;
For he no city enters e'er,
Without effecting wonders there.
However coy may be each maid,
However the women seem afraid,
Yet all will love-sick be ere long
To sound of magic lute and song.
poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
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Song of April!
Is it that incomplete song
you sing for me April
or the soulful song of
a nightingale or a song
from the heart of Earth
A song long heard
which is lost in the waves
or one melody which melts
the rocks so hard you want
to sing for me April
A song I can sing from the
notes so perfect or the one
so loud to compete with
the wild clouds and forests
Is it that song incomplete April
you sing for me now...
April 17, 2009
poem by Rema Prasanaa
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A Song Of Joy
as a bird on the streets
i had a natural song
which came right from my heart
in my voice
which was graced by god
as a bird on the stage
in front of a gathering
a mic frightening me
i seem to have lost my voice..yet
to keep the cheer going
iam compelled to sing a song
which is not mine
i haven't gathered a crowd
who would applaud my silence even
i sing a song without joy
to keep the cheer going
i know i don't have to try too hard
to escape the situation
i still have my wings to fly
which would take me to the meadows
a song of joy i could sing there
my soul would listen
poem by Samanyan Lakshminarayanan
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