Music Of Soul
small easily portable
dreams
accompanied me upon
strange
younger days of travel
small town youth
perception
contrasting with different
cultures
historical scenic sites
my own 'Leaves Of Grass'
to read
ponder written in living
encapsulation
of my own mind song
gives voice to thoughts
questions
generations of poets have
no choice
but to incarnate reflect upon
their voices are an essential
part of us
as they gave so we receive
we must
ever return to the source of
dreams to regenerate our souls
life keeps
singing essential elementary songs
too few
pause to listen to hear music of soul
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
My Lost Youth
Often I think of the beautiful town
That is seated by the sea;
Often in thought go up and down
The pleasant streets of that dear old town,
And my youth comes back to me.
And a verse of a Lapland song
Is haunting my memory still:
"A boy's will is the wind's will,
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts."
I can see the shadowy lines of its trees,
And catch, in sudden gleams,
The sheen of the far-surrounding seas,
And islands that were the Hesperides
Of all my boyish dreams.
And the burden of that old song,
It murmurs and whispers still:
"A boy's will is the wind's will,
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts."
I remember the black wharves and the ships,
And the sea-tides tossing free;
And Spanish sailors with bearded lips,
And the beauty and mystery of the ships,
And the magic of the sea.
And the voice of that wayward song
Is singing and saying still:
"A boy's will is the wind's will,
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts."
I remember the bulwarks by the shore,
And the fort upon the hill;
The sunrise gun, with its hollow roar,
The drum-beat repeated o'er and o'er,
And the bugle wild and shrill.
And the music of that old song
Throbs in my memory still:
"A boy's will is the wind's will,
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts."
I remember the sea-fight far away,
How it thundered o'er the tide!
And the dead captains, as they lay
In their graves, o'erlooking the tranquil bay
Where they in battle died.
And the sound of that mournful song
Goes through me with a thrill:
"A boy's will is the wind's will,
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts."
I can see the breezy dome of groves,
The shadows of Deering's Woods;
And the friendships old and the early loves
Come back with a Sabbath sound, as of doves
In quiet neighborhoods.
And the verse of that sweet old song,
It flutters and murmurs still:
"A boy's will is the wind's will,
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts."
I remember the gleams and glooms that dart
Across the school-boy's brain;
The song and the silence in the heart,
That in part are prophecies, and in part
Are longings wild and vain.
And the voice of that fitful song
Sings on, and is never still:
"A boy's will is the wind's will,
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts."
There are things of which I may not speak;
There are dreams that cannot die;
There are thoughts that make the strong heart weak,
And bring a pallor into the cheek,
And a mist before the eye.
And the words of that fatal song
Come over me like a chill:
"A boy's will is the wind's will,
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts."
Strange to me now are the forms I meet
When I visit the dear old town;
But the native air is pure and sweet,
And the trees that o'ershadow each well-known street,
As they balance up and down,
Are singing the beautiful song,
Are sighing and whispering still:
"A boy's will is the wind's will,
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts."
And Deering's Woods are fresh and fair,
And with joy that is almost pain
My heart goes back to wander there,
And among the dreams of the days that were,
I find my lost youth again.
And the strange and beautiful song,
The groves are repeating it still:
"A boy's will is the wind's will,
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts."
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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There Is A Voice...by jojobean & David Harris
There Is A Voice
Written by JoJo Bean and David Harris
There is a voice in every form
A song in every breeze
Just listen to the thunderous storm
The wind that whistles in the trees
Or have you heard the oceans cry
And the hush of a bird on wing
Happiness in the morning dawn
And sadness that the end of day brings
Listen with your senses
At the voices all around
And hear about our world
Through the voices of its song
Learn to listen
With your mind’s eye
Whenever you watch a small bird
Wing its way across the sky
16-17 January 2008
Small Town Girl
(arnold goland / aaron. h. schroeder)
Am I just a small town girl
With big town dreams
That wont come true?
Thinking everything that means anything to me
Means something to you, too?
Am I just a small town girl?
Hey, big town boy
Dont let me down
You know I got it real bad
I gotta make good somehow
cause thats all theyre saying now
(shes a small town girl with big town dreams)
(big town dreams that never will come true)
Yeah, Im just a small town girl with big town dreams
But, just you wait
Ill make em all come true, yes I will
Oh, take this little small town girl, yeah
In your arms and hold her tight
Make her life start tonight, yeah, yeah, yeah
Come on and take this little small town girl
With big town dreams that wont come true
Come on and make her dreams
cause she loves you
Come on now, big town boy
Come on, dont let her down
You gotta fill my heart
You gotta
song performed by by Dusty Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Here She Comes
Here she comes
Breathing life in to my thoughts
There she goes
Leaves a portrait in my soul
Rolling in madness
She does everything to me
Wherever she goes you know the devil dances
And the gods lay down in defeat
Am I living
Crazy woman cant you see
That Im giving
Giving to you can you dig
Me
I wanna live
To learn the truth before my door
Dont you know
Im a simple man for all I know
This might be the hard way
But its easier for me
To take all the changes that are always amazin
But to never let em fence me in
Am I living
Crazy woman cant you see
That Im giving
Giving to you can you dig
Me
Me Im only searchin for the things I really need
I cant rely on anyone to sow and grow my seeds
I started out on empty promise I was living on my dreams
I was a runaway son and now Im up out of the water
And I can barely barely breathe
Rolling down the road
Rolling down the road
Rolling down the road
Rolling down the road
Rolling down the road
Listen listen
Hear the music play
Listen listen
Hear the music play yeah
Listen listen
Hear the music play
Listen listen
Hear the music play
Am I living
Crazy woman cant you see
That Im giving
Giving to you can you dig
Me
song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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American English
Songs when the truth,
Are all dedicated to you,
In this invisible world I choose to live in,
And if u believe that,
That now i understand,
Why words mean so much to you,
They'll never be about you.
Maybe your young without youth,
Or maybe your old without knowing anythings true,
I think your young without youth.
Then you contract the American dream,
You'll never look up once,
You've contracted American dreams,
I'd aqquire you to stop and look up.
Sing a song about myself,
Keep singing a song about myself,
Not some invisible world.
Constantly searching to find something new,
But what will you find when you think that nothings true,
Maybe it's that nothing is new,
So you let me hear songs that were written all about you,
The good songs weren't written for you,
They'll never be about you.
Then you contract the American dream,
You'll never look up once,
You've contracted American dreams,
You'll never look up once,
Don't look up.
Sing a song about myself,
Keep singing a song about myself,
Not some invisible world. [Repeat x2]
And i won't tell you what this means,
'Cos you already know,
And i won't tell you what this means,
'Cos you already know.
So, sing a song about myself,
Keep singing a song about myself,
Not some invisible world. [Repeat x3]
You'll find what you find,
When you find there's nothing. [Repeat x2]
song performed by by Idlewild
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Small Town
Well I was born in a small town
And I live in a small town
Probly die in a small town
Oh, those small communities
All my friends are so small town
My parents live in the same small town
My job is so small town
Provides little opportunity
Educated in a small town
Taught the fear of jesus in a small town
Used to daydream in that small town
Another boring romantic thats me
But Ive seen it all in a small town
Had myself a ball in a small town
Married an l.a. doll and brought her to this small town
Now shes small town just like me
No I cannot forget where it is that I come from
I cannot forget the people who love me
Yeah, I can be myself here in this small town
And people let me be just what I want to be
Got nothing against a big town
Still hayseed enough to say
Look whos in the big town
But my bed is in a small town
Oh, and thats good enough for me
Well I was born in a small town
And I can breathe in a small town
Gonna die in this small town
And thats probly where theyll bury me
song performed by by John Mellencamp
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Our questions and answers are in part determined by the historical tradition in which we find ourselves. We apprehend truth from our own source within the historical tradition. The content of our truth depends upon our appropriating the historical foundation. Our own power of generation lies in the rebirth of what has been handed down to us. If we do not wish to slip back, nothing must be forgotten; but if
philosophising is to be genuine our thoughts must arise from our own source. Hence all appropriation of tradition proceeds from the intentness of our own life. The more determinedly I exist, as myself, within the conditions of the time, the more clearly I shall hear the language of the past, the nearer I shall feel the glow of its life.
quote by Karl Jaspers
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Melancholy Song
-believing that humans are made in the image of God
has its implications;
living life here, while looking There
brings about the most precarious, melancholy situations-
There's a sad song singing
In the soul of the wind,
And yet a joyful wind blowing
Through every soul's song.
It never stays
And it never goes,
Calling our hearts onward
To wherever it flows.
It's a song of sadness
And of good cheer,
A song of great warmth
And no small fear.
The song of the masses
And the song of one,
The sound of breaking darkness in the night
And the music of the rising sun.
It's the melancholy in me
And great joy,
It's the deep desire to stay
And yet homeward go.
I know this song
And the tears it brings,
I hear this song
Within my heart, where it sings.
It leaves me lonely
But, never alone,
For it's ever with me
Singing of a place, called Home.
poem by Smoky Hoss
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Small World
Children seem to have no choice
The children have got no voice
Theyre merely living to grow old
Letting their days unfold
And its time that you and i
Realised that by and by
These children grow up into men
It is clear what we must do
What the lord has told us to
Give our brothers a chance
To be born again
Its a small world, a small world
When you see it through
A pair of haitian eyes
Its a small world, a small world
When the dreams you dream
Melt into haitian skies
Its just not good enough to say
That the troubles too far away
Cos the little that you need to give
Could help a little child to live
Help them live a little longer
Help them grow a little stronger
So why not play a part
If youre ever gonna do
What the lord has told us to
Its got to begin within your heart
Its a small world, a small world
When you reach out and touch
A stranger
From where you stand
Its a small world, a small world
When you can forge another link
In a far off land
Repeat last two lines
Its a small world, a small world
When you can forge another link
In a far off land
song performed by by Cliff Richard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Days
- Album: Reality
- Lyrics and music by David Bowie
Hold me tight
Keep me cool
Going mad
Don't know what to do
Do I need a friend?
Well I need one now
All the days of my life
All the days of my life
All the days I owe you
All I've done
I've done for me
All you gave
You gave for free
I gave nothing in return
And theres little left of me
All the days of my life
All the days of my life
All the days I owe you
With redeyed pain I'm knocking on your door again
My crazy brain in tangles pleading for your gentle voice
Those storms keep pounding through my faded heart
I'll play your sooth my sorry soul
All the days of my life
(All the days of my life)
All the days of my life
(All the days of my life)
All the days I owe you
All the days of my life
(All the days of my life)
All the days of my life
(All the days of my life)
All the days I owe you
All the days of my life
(All the days of my life)
All the days of my life
(All the days of my life)
All the days I owe you
All the days of my life
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To Not Write An Essential Part Of Ourselves
dissatisfaction with how little one has achieved
may produce sharp urges to produce achieve
minds insight driven by internal expression need
to not write an essential part of ourselves
is to fail an essential need in our life purpose
to fail to express line sweet unique thought
individualistic within our strung souls
which should thus be sung upon the winds
of time in poems, essays, short stories,
novels, which are born upon swift rivers
of time to echo intriguing questions
into the soul of demanding curiosities
need and knowledge's required
instinctive understanding impels
tuned souls to reflect rhythms
spirit of age lived in a momentous
revelation insight in grains of sand
released through fingers onto winds
blowing echo chime thoughts
into receptive porous melting minds
awaiting candle lit illuminations
such minds will mute die of non-expressions
a new diagnosis in ancient self discoveries
timeless echoes forth ageless dawn ceremonies
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Small Victories!
small minds, small dreams,
small prayers, small God.
small thoughts, small answers,
to questions not small!
playing the race game,
the salvation game,
the mine and yours game,
the right and wrong game.
like cattle herded
unknowingly to slaughter.
every body a ticket,
to pay the fare.
bigger picture, bigger concepts,
bigger than i and me!
bigger risk, bigger world,
bigger choices, small victories.
poem by Eric Cockrell
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I Have A Voice Of My Own
I HAVE A VOICE OF MY OWN
I have a voice of my own
It is a small quiet voice
It does not know violent metaphor
And it cannot surprise very much
It is a small quiet voice
And a quite simple one
It loves to think it tells the truth of my soul
But no doubt it has its own forms of ironies and deceptions-
There are other voices much greater than it
Stronger voices and more poetic voices
And voices which rightfully more appeal to others
But my voice is my voice
And it is the one
I am trying to
speak to you with now.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Just A Bit Like Me
It's six o'clock in the morning
The sun was ready to rise
And as she closes his lunchbox
She spies the sun in his eyes
She stays at home with the baby
She's got a dream in her heart
Somewhere her sister is singing
A night is ready to start
One's choosin', one's cruisin'
Down the highway of their dreams
While songs are sung her dream's begun
And she thinks of what it means
To live through her voice, she made a choice
But neither one is free
Am I a lot like her or is she just a bit like me?
It's three o'clock in the morning
I got an ache in my head
I throw my clothes in the corner
Then sleep alone in my bed
Tomorrow, we'll go to Texas
I hear it's sunny back home
There ain't no use in pretending
I know that I gotta roam
One's choosin', one's cruisin'
Down the highway of their dreams
While songs are sung her dream's begun
And she thinks of what it means
To live through her voice, she made a choice
But neither one is free
Am I a lot like her or is she just a bit like me?
She puts her cans in the pantry
I read my name in the news
She spends her days sewing curtains
I feel there's no time to lose
Well it's a long way to Nashville
But then the garden is dry
If we could do it all over
Would we still be satisfied?
One's choosin', one's cruisin'
Down the highway of their dreams
While songs are sung her dream's begun
And she thinks of what it means
To live through her voice, she made a choice
But neither one is free
Am I a lot like her or is she just a bit like me
song performed by by Dixie Chicks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Look Out My Window
Look out my window
See what I see
Watching the birds fly
Believing in me,
As here comes my music
Then here comes my soul
Just like the wind is
And towards me she will blow,
For I hear the music
That's playing in my mind
And I hear the voices
Singing in rhyme
For they will sing to me
While watching the trees
Listen my music
Please listen to me.
Outside my window
I again hear your song
You sing what I wrote you
As I wrote you no wrong,
As you are the beauty
Beauty, in the air
You are my music
You’ve always been there.
Outside my window
And outside my life
That is where my music is
Outside our lives.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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The Dreams We Have
THE DREAMS WE HAVE
The dreams we have
The life we have
What does it all mean?
Each day in so many other places and thoughts
Other realities go their own way
Our small small small world
Struggles on
With its own illusions and dreams
And what it all amounts to
Silence will forever say
Because silence is all we ever are forever
Perhaps.
I
poem by Shalom Freedman
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I Can't Hear The Music
I can't hear the music
although I try each day.
You took it with you when you left me
and then went on your way.
I can't hear the music
and now I cry each day.
You used to play your songs for me
and I used to hear you say
How much you really loved me
and the promises you swore.
And now after all these years
and all my tears
I can't hear the music anymore.
I remember all the nights we spent
and all the songs you'd sing.
They kept me warm as I listened
and oh what joy they'd bring.
In each new song and each new word
I'd revel in your voice.
I never thought there'd be a time
when you would make the choice
to take your songs and leave me
so I could never hear,
never hear the music anymore.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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A Song For The Journey
A SONG FOR THE JOURNEY
Sometimes you may sing in your heart
or have song running through your head
but there’s always singing’s in your soul
and it’s on this song’s journey you’ll be led.
Towards a distant point, as yet unclear
your singing soul will lead you on
to find that place of understanding
with all your preconceptions gone.
Yet we sometimes meet more questions
Hard, hash decisions we must make
So the Soul song leads you onwards
along the pathway you must take.
The road can be both rough and smooth
its horizon hidden from your view
But the power within the singing
gives you strength to see it through.
With every step upon the road
the soul song keeps its tune and beat
and from its verses courage comes
to face the challenges you meet.
For some the song is understood
they come to recognise the voice
and in the facets of their lives
they use the song to make their choice
Some feel of the sound of singing
but don’t care, or know, where from
The song it doesn’t differentiate
into each soul it still sings on.
If we can listen to the message
and the true meaning in the song
Our footfall becomes much gentler
down the paths we walk along.
It’s the soundtrack of the life we lead
of the choices in life we make
The pragmatic or compassionate
a search for beauty, greed, or hate
Somewhere wthin the soul song
are great sacrifice and pain
and a promise ever present
of eternal peace and life again.
In the silence and the stillness
between all the bustle and the strife
listen carefully and you’ll recognise
the first and last love song of your life.
poem by Bill Mitton
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My Burning Quest
I hear your voice reverberate
Captured on crumbling acetate
The music we made in our past
We thought those times would ever last
My guitar rang, the drums did boom
I listen from this darkened room
Our music jams, our songs, our friends
Dissolve into a dream that ends
Those carefree days, our sweet escape
These dreams remain on this old tape
Our songs, we gave them our best try
But I forget, the times slipped by
The music of our hearts' delight
Is now just echoes in the night
To raise our band from its long rest
I vow to make my burning quest.
poem by Night Flyer
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In a Child's Voice
Listen to the voice of a child
You will hear the wisdom of the ages
A book ready to be written
Filled with many unwritten pages
Learn from their innocence
Honestly brutal but real
For they haven’t yet been tarnished
telling you exactly how they feel
So simple yet so wise they speak
feelings never compromised
For whatever words they speak to you
You should not be surprised
Listen to the voice of a child
You can always feel their pain
They will always bring you sunshine
When the world is filled with rain
Their laughter is the music
That comes straight from the heart
So learn to sing their praises
Rejoice in every part
Never let that child within
Escape or get away
For every child is a part of us
Each and every day
Listen to the voice of a child
Hear each and every word
For every question asked of you
From sublime to the absurd
There are many lessons to be taught
And dreams to be realized
We learn from each other every day
Yet we always act surprised
If we listen a little bit closer
You will hear that inner child
A lifetime of knowledge
Mostly tame but occasionally wild
In a world that’s constantly changing
You can always find a choice
In the wisdom of our childhood
You will truly find your voice
poem by William Lindenmuth
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