Glenroy Station Pastoral
This pastoral symphony
played out
from the station speakers
leaves the masses unmoved
gesturing wildly with one hand
the other
welding their cell phone
to the ear
but the crows seem inspired
to swirls and swoops
back and forth
from the nearby tower
as the music
rises and falls
the black birds
almost poetic
in their freedom
compared to the ant like activity
below.
poem by Vince Gullaci
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Cell Phone Mania
Cell phones to the right,
Cell phones to the left,
Cell phones, cell phones,
everywhere I look.
Red alert, stop! Listen,
shut up and drive,
shut up and read,
Cell phones, why so many.
Everyone talking,
cell phones in cars,
cell phones in bars,
eating places, cell phones.
There you can't escape
from them, you say
to yourself, the restroom,
no one would dare
use cell phone in there,
oh no, I hear someone,
talking to me, I answer them,
oh, sorry sir, did not know you
were on cell phone.
Oh, so many,
shut up, and walk.
Do away with cell phones,
and it would be like,
the crash of '29'.
People need cell phones,
sometimes their nice,
to have, but so many,
cell phones, might
as well join them
if you can't lick 'em,
join them.
Cell phone, cell phone
now how do I use this
thing, oh cell phone, cell phone,
Hello, Hello, oh that's
you mert.
wrote 1-19-07
The Symphony Of Music
music has away of projecting
your every-emotion that you
have to give, the art of music
lives inside every-one that wants
to follow it.
the sorrow that it has
gives a symphony of words,
to express the inner-emotions
that music has to expose to
us as we listen to it.
the symphony of music
impacts us as we listen
and compassionately take
it to heart, as we start
becoming involved with
the symphony of music that
is being produced to us.
some-how the art of
music takes us by the
hand and moves us in so
many different ways that we
can't even explain to any-one
that is around us.
we take the symphony of
music as it moves through
us, as we listen with an open
heart and an open mind, and find
the boundaries that combines our
very emotions, thoughts, and feelings,
with the symphony of music that reveals
to us a whole new world of music to
us and being the people of the world.
but what people don't
understand and realise is
that the symphony of music,
goes deeper than what they
had imagined it to go, and
some-how not to show this
bittersweet side of me and
what the symphony of music
does to me and my feelings.
and to have it some-how
over-flowing inside my
veins is some-thing that
i will never-ever talk about
with any-one who knows and
loves me.
poem by Erie Diane
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Renda Writer - The Other Line
I saw a man
Fishing
Off the side of the pier
Fishing for a fish
And then...
His cell phone rang
He picked it up
And began talking
Cell phone in one hand
Fishing pole in the other
And then...
The tip of his pole
Started bending
He got a bite
And then...
He said
To the person on the phone
'Let me call you back,
I've got someone on the other line'
poem by Renda Writer
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Blackberries
Blackberry big bulky
sophisticated prestigious high tech
hi-tech cell phone hand phone
cellular phone mobile phone
not being a businessman
many extras are surplus to me
systems unlearned are surplus to me
integrated circuits excite not surplus to me
chains of locations busted
ease of instant access
is sufficient service unto me
in times of intense
sun spot activity
all systems fail
poem by Terence George Craddock
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A Freedom By Poetry!
Poetic freedom is the real freedom for human race;
The freedom they enjoy nobody enjoys in the world!
Free birds are the poets leading the world to freedom;
Nothing can stop the poetic spirit of human beings here!
Human life is incomplete without poetry in the world;
Poetry expresses the dreams, visions and imagination
Not only of the poets but also of the whole of mankind!
Poetry is also the criticism of human life in the world.
Poetry talks about the past, present and future for all;
Tells about love, life, Nature and beauty, a full knowledge!
Otherwise not anyone can gain that by any way in the world
And the place of poetry nothing can capture or replace ever!
Humankind is inspired by poetry for freedom to achieve freedom
And education for freedom can be imparted only by poetry ever!
poem by Ramesh T A
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Electro child
Cry cry
Cry...
The cell phone
On my hand
With my lovengely child...
Yes...
Todays electro child is
Cell phone...
Cry with
Male+ female
Married+ un married
All hands cry cry
The cell phone child
Today....?
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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The Common Crow
The Common Crow, "Caw-Caw"—with its familiar sound
Is a harmless bird very adaptable on land
Almost all over the world it is invariably found
Except in South America, Antarctica and New Zealand.
It is of average size—in color—grey and black
And abounds, teems and thrives in many numbers
Where other birds' survival is considerably slack
As it is the most intelligent of its bird family members.
The Ravens, Magpies, Rooks, the Black-birds
And the Jays—all belong to the family of the crow
They are all hunting migratory birds
Who forage together like the crow.
It has shining black feathers, is clever and curious
It is omnivorous and the diet is very diverse
It eats grains, rodents, insects and is mischievous
And swoops down to grasp things from man's source.
It roosts in large trees high up
Each mating pair has its own nest
Which usually takes one to two weeks to build up
Gathering leaves, feathers, sticks and twigs best.
Baby crows stay in the nest
For up to two months before leaving
The mother crow guards them with zest
And the father crow feeds the family striving.
The young are flesh-colored and born blind
Their eyes open for the first time after five days
The young ones- the family together mind
The elder fledglings tend to help in their own ways.
In Hinduism it is customary to offer food
To the crow before taking the meal
And it is supposed during ‘Shraddha ‘expired ones would
Take food and offerings through the crow's feel.
The crow often lives together in large families
An assembly of crows called a ‘flock of murder'
Forge together and defend their territories
Even high up in the air and down under.
It caws and calls the other crows to its station
To take part of the food that is found
It shows signs of planning communication
Which man must consider and himself bound.
The bird's propensity to raid crops of grain bead
And storing tidbits in trees and crevices in bark
Is the reason ‘Scare crows' are put up to mislead
The crows flock of flights on the crops to embark.
Many crows are surprisingly monogamous
They mate for life and are throughout a pair
The crow belongs to the species Corvus
And up to twenty years it may live with care.
poem by Chandra Thiagarajan
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A Music Eternal Is Divine!
Trumpet and drum music denote military band;
Guitar and piano music denote melodious score;
Clarinet and flute music denote pastoral melody;
Violin and all organ music denote symphony fine;
Jazz, maestro and symphony musics make all high!
Music acts as background for joy, sorrow and war;
Music makes all moods for man to move on in life;
Music creates a world of love, dream and fantasy;
Music as love has no beginning and end in influence;
Music whether East or West is divine as Nature is!
Confluence of Nature, music and dance is divine beauty
That elevates human spirit to divine spirit eternally!
poem by Ramesh T A
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Sky's Bird
Do you still remember the color of the night,
How endless it seemed to go out to,
So stunning, yet frightnening its beauty was
Like a sky calling the birds, you can't resist its cry.
Another morning rises up,
As another dream falls down,
And even though I know its going to disappear,
I don't want to let go.
It's like the sun and moon,
Always going around and around,
Never meeting up with one another.
The shadow of reality,
Cast this illusion onto my life,
So I don't what's real and what isn't,
Holding on tight, I never plan to let go of my beliefs!
I believe in a night that draws you in,
No matter how hard you fight back,
Even though it may grow tiring,
You'll always run back like the birds do to the sky.
Escaping its grasp is inevitable,
If you resist too much, you might lose yourself,
But even though it was once your home,
You'll always have a place to fly back to like the birds to the sky,
Like the birds, like the birds, do to the sky,
Like the birds like the birds, do to the sky.
poem by Alex McCullough
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Until It Finds A Tree
A bird flies round until it finds a tree;
its spirit doesn’t tell it one is better,
and even when it lands it feels it’s free
to try another, avian jet-setter.
Inspired by Ricardo Muti who told Daniel J. Wakin (“And the Brass Ring Goes to the Chicago Symphony: Riccardo Muti Says Yes, ” NYT, May 6,2008) :
Mr. Muti called the Chicago Symphony “a perfect machine, ” with the versatility to play huge works like Prokofiev’s Symphony No.3 and Scriabin’s “Poem of Ecstasy” or to display the refined delicacy needed for small-scale Schubert.He remained steadfastly unattached after resigning as music director of the Teatro Alla Scala in Milan in 2005 in an operatic kerfuffle. Orchestra musicians and other workers at the theater had turned against him in an internal political wrangle. “I thought it was time for me to be absolutely free, like the birds in the air, ” he said. “Birds go around and they enjoy their happiness, their freedom. But sometimes it can happen they find a tree, and they like to stop on a tree, and they didn’t know about the tree before. It doesn’t mean one tree is better than another tree. It just happens at the right moment in life.”
5/6/08
poem by Gershon Hepner
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Young Face Single Work Girl Trending
work work for next purchase
life is a new cell phone purchased
blackberry symbolism played
new hand phone pretty in pink casing
young face single girl work trending
for a dream prince charming still waiting
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Strange Fruit
Lewis allen, sonny white
Seven trees
Bearin strange fruit
Blood on the leaves
And blood at the roots
Black bodies
Swinging in the southern breeze
Strange fruit hangin
From the poplar trees
Pastoral scene
Of the gallant south
Them big bulging eyes
And the twisted mouth
Scent of magnolia
Clean and fresh
Then the sudden smell
Of burnin flesh
Here is a fruit
For the crows to pluck
For the rain to gather
For the wind to suck
For the sun to rot
For the leaves to drop
Here is
Strange and bitter crop
As singed by billie holiday
Southern trees bear strange fruit,
Blood on the leaves and blood at the root,
Black bodies swinging in the southern breeze,
Strange fruit hanging from the poplar trees.
Pastoral scene of the gallant south,
The bulging eyes and the twisted mouth,
Scent of magnolias, sweet and fresh,
Then the sudden smell of burning flesh.
Here is fruit for the crows to pluck,
For the rain to gather, for the wind to suck,
For the sun to rot, for the trees to drop,
Here is a strange and bitter cry.
song performed by by Nina Simone
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Of This You Can Be Sure
The summer sun rises over the hills,
With a beauty and certain grace,
But it cannot compete with the beauty of you,
Or the beauty of your face.
The falling snow in wintertime,
Makes everything look so new,
But it cannot compare with the beauty,
The beauty that is you.
The birds in springtime sing their song,
So sweetly and so pure,
But they cannot compare with your sweet words,
Of this you can be sure.
The colorful leaves on autumn trees,
All covered with morning dew,
May be glorious in their beauty,
But are nothing compared to you.
All the wonders on this fine earth,
And the glory of up above,
Are nothing compared to your sweet charms,
Or the beauty of your love.
12-18-09.
poem by Alan W. Jankowski
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Valentine Tweets
Hi, are you my valentine?
If not, why I hear this symphony of silence—
Playing secretly drums in my heart:
Playing the piano strings over my emotions?
2
Hey, are you my valentine?
If not, why am I lost in your eyes
Swimming deep into your mind lake
Searching for my lost other half?
3
Oh, are you my Valentine?
If not, why this effervescence of excitement
Lights array of lamps in our eyes
Linking us in a luminescent loop?
4
Oh, Ho, are you my valentine?
If not, why emotions liquefy into tears
Why the rays of light draw rainbows in them
Why am I humming rhyme-less rhymes?
And singing lyric-less lyrics to please you?
5
Hey, hi, are you my valentine?
If not, why am I painting this silent symphony?
Composing music for the throbbing emotions?
Why am I finding harmony in the fusion of minds?
6
Hi, hey, are you my valentine
If not, why I miss you more than my I-phone
Why missing you more than my Facebook and tweets?
7
In the fusion of music
Being played out of the cacophony of feelings
Why are we feeling the fusion of love
Why are we enjoying the symphony of love
Why are we in bliss
You must be truly my valentine!
*******
poem by Kp. Shashidharan
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Lost In Music
LOST IN MUSIC
every night she liked
to take off her clothes to
Hungarian Rhapsody
she would bathe
every second Sunday
in Mozart's Symphony No.40
curiously she
would fall asleep to
The Flight of the Bumblebee
her every activity
scored to a music
she adored
mute
she let the music
speak for her
happy
trapped inside
her world of music
sometimes I glimpsed her
staring out from behind the bars
of musical notes
poem by Dónall Dempsey
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A Lie To Lie
you whisper a lie
to a friend
and instructs him
to keep it
as a secret and
the same
procedure is repeated
from ear to
ear
from mouth to mouth
from cell phone
to cell phone
and wait
till tomorrow morning
the lie knocks
at your door and
it introduces
its name to you
and its
background
how it came into
being
you are amazed
and you shake
its hand
and hug it
and you give it
a new name
the truth
they all believe
in
without doubt
now mind you
why do you complain
that you are maligned?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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When the cell phone was born
Something happens
When the cell phone was born
Beyond sex and gender
Beyond race and religion
Beyond economic status
Each hand holds
This thing
And says
hi!
Hello, how are you doing?
To every extreme end
Of this world
From the north to the South Pole
Passing by the equator
The world now is
Too small
Too near
Your cell phone is ringing
Then,
This internet thing…..
Write it.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Black leaves.
Picking off the black leaves.
The debris i do not need
Still the daily routine,
Chastens in the eves.
Amonst the black leaves,
You never saw all i could be
Shut your eyes.
Laying down on the wild sleeve
Of my heart.
The black leaves.
Pick them off and still they fall.
Brown, gold and awful cold.
Phone another waiting soul.
Listen to the yawning hole
That you left,
Amidst the black leaves,
I was always more than
You wanted to see.
poem by Peter Vealey
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Speaking kiss
Cell phone
Call for
kiss with speaking
Lips...
Lips is kissing
The cell phone...
Are...speaking
The cell phone...?
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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I Dreamt...
i dreamt...
i was dead,
and they'd buried me
on a hill with
a small stone marker.
and i watched
as seasons passed,
one by one,
in constant rhythm...
the years went by.
and no living being
ever visited my graveside,
except for black crows...
again and again,
black crows!
the caw of the crows!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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