The Hidden Singer
The gods are less for their love of praise.
Above and below them all is a spirit that needs nothing
but its own wholeness, its health and ours.
It has made all things by dividing itself.
It will be whole again.
To its joy we come together --
the seer and the seen, the eater and the eaten,
the lover and the loved.
In our joining it knows itself. It is with us then,
not as the gods whose names crest in unearthly fire,
but as a little bird hidden in the leaves
who sings quietly and waits, and sings.
poem by Wendell Berry
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My Heart Sings
My heart sings.
My heart sings the songs of happiness.
My heart sings the songs of joy.
My heart sings the songs of peace.
My heart sings the songs of the Blues.
My heart sings the songs of the Gospel.
My heart sings the songs of good news.
My heart cries a melody for all to hear.
My heart sings the harmonies of love.
My heart sings a song of beauty
that comes from the Thorne Birds
just before they die.
My heart sings songs to keep me alive.
My heart sings songs for as long as it beats.
My heart sings forever.
My heart sings haluwasa.
My heart sings.
poem by Jennifer Burns
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Gods
Gods of the white man,
Gods of the black man,
Gods of the almond shade
all of these Gods
have done one thing,
made the people afraid.
Gods of the red man,
Gods of the brown man
Gods of the yellow hue,
all of these Gods
have done the same
divided them into
Separate people
who've been led to believe
their God is the holy one
to save their souls
and pardon them
and deliver them
from earthly sin.
How can there be
so many Gods?
Isn't there only one?
One for every single soul
born unto this earth.
He's every color that there is
since the world's begun.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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The Wood-Nymph
-After a picture by Burne Jones-
The green leaves, ah, the green leaves cover me:
Would I might lose this unloved human life
And share the happy being of the leaves!
For lo, they live and grow and drink the sun
And sip the nectar of the heavenly showers
And have no sorrow with it; but they grow
Happily, and Pan at even blesses them.
While I, alas me hapless, I am joined
Part to their life, and all in longing to them;
Part to the gods, the bright gods whom I see
Flash through the woods at even or morn, and make
The beautiful familiar trees seem strange;
And part to mortals and their little life.
Green leaves that cover me, to you I mourn,
My sisters, my more happy sisters, ye
Rustle, rustle in the summer air,
With happy cries of birds among your boughs:
Be happy, though I am not happy. Nay,
I am not all unhappy, evermore.
One while a bird sings on the topmost bough
And my heart sings, forgetting life and death
And sorrow: so forgetting I were blest,
And bliss the gods deny me. When they walk
The forest before sundawn--Artemis,
Girt for the chase and followed by her hounds,
Queen Herê or another, ere the dawn,
Or Aphrodite with the rosy dawn--
I may not speak my longings, but they pass,
Pass unregardful to their happy heaven.
They see me not--not me, akin to Gods!
These tears are vain.--When mortals pass at eve,
Treading a delicate path between the trees,
Pale mortal men and women, with their loves--
It pains me that I see them, for I know
I am not as they are, and cannot share
The little love that fills their little life--
Vain, vain; and they too pass and see me not.
Ah me, dear leaves, forsaken of gods and men,
And sad because I cannot live their life,
Will you not love me whom none others love?
Will you not teach me how to live your life,
My sisters, my more happy sisters?--live
In peace and quietness and still content,
And freshen and fade and freshen and have no care
And have no longing, full of peace to live,
Forgetting thus for ever life and death
And Gods and men and sorrow and delight.
poem by Arthur Symons
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When Smokey Sings
Debonair lullabies in melodies revealed
In deep despair on lonely nights
He knows just how you feel
The slyest rhymes - the sharpest suits
In miracles made real
Like a bird in flight on a hot sweet night
You know youre right just to hold her tight
He soothes it right - makes it outtasite
And everythings good in the world tonight!
When smokey sings - I hear violins
When smokey sings - I forget everything
As shes packing her things
As shes spreading her wings
The front door might slam
But the back door it rings
And smokey sings...he sings
Elegance in eloquence - for sale or rent or hire
Should I say - yes I match his best
Then I would be a liar
Symphonies that soothe the rage
When lovers hearts catch fire
Like a bird in flight on a hot sweet night
You know youre right just to hold her tight
He soothes it right - makes it outtasite
And everythings good in the world tonight!
When smokey sings - I hear violins
When smokey sings - I forget everything
As shes packing her things
As shes spreading her wings
Smashing the hell
With the heaven she brings
Then smokey sings...he sings
Luther croons
Slys the original - originator
James screams
Marvin was the only innovator
But nothing can compare
Nothing can compare
When smokey sings
When smokey sings - I hear violins
When smokey sings - I forget everything
As shes packing her things
As shes spreading her wings
She threw back the ring
When smokey sings...
Smokey sings...
Smokey sings...
song performed by by Abc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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0011 For the Godless but good-natured
If mankind has dethroned the ancient gods,
then what has mankind brought upon itself?
since - no more prayer, requests – no special treats
for those who offer up humility?
no god above the lesser gods – the One
who favoured those who followed ‘our’ stern creed;
no longer faith, or hope, or charity,
no longer blest by loving-kindliness?
what shall we place upon those empty thrones
and still avoid the legion of Man’s sins?
those virtues which our forefathers saw as good –
which made the gods to smile – have they now changed
and Lying, Cheating, Killing, our new gods?
it cannot be.. so what of Reason’s rule?
and what of Love – that even the gods themselves
declared the essence, binding ‘them’ and ‘us’?
so Reason says – what godly things we sought
by some divine decree declared ‘out there’
we must now seek within ourselves; as did
the Greeks; as do the Hindus now;
and find a glorious god within, at rest
until we waken him or her, and shine
as godly good in our most inward self;
believe ourselves so wholly perfect thus,
remembering in ourselves, magnificence
which pours out glory as those gods declared..
but where to start? with gratitude; and praise;
for all those things which so enrich our days;
for thanks and praise in life stand by themself;
they call forth love, which makes all things, oneself.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Sweetheart
Sweetheart, in my hand is this bird
Of desire
It sings a song from the bottom
Of my heart
On my shoulder it hovers
On my head it flies
Round in circle inside
My mind
On my hand this bird returns
With so much kindness
And grace
This bird sings again
About the love
It knew It found
Now nestling in the warm leaves
Of your memories
Sweetheart, undress yourself
For love has so desired us.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
The free bird leaps
on the back of the wind
and floats downstream
till the current ends
and dips his wings
in the orange sun rays
and dares to claim the sky.
But a bird that stalks
down his narrow cage
can seldom see through
his bars of rage
his wings are clipped and
his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing.
The caged bird sings
with fearful trill
of the things unknown
but longed for still
and is tune is heard
on the distant hillfor the caged bird
sings of freedom
The free bird thinks of another breeze
an the trade winds soft through the sighing trees
and the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright lawn
and he names the sky his own.
But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams
his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing
The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom.
poem by Maya Angelou
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Caged Bird
The free bird leaps
on the back of the wind
and floats downstream
till the current ends
and dips his wings
in the orange sun rays
and dares to claim the sky.
But a bird that stalks
down his narrow cage
can seldom see through
his bars of rage
his wings are clipped and
his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing.
The caged bird sings
with fearful trill
of the things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom
The free bird thinks of another breeze
and the trade winds soft through the sighing trees
and the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright lawn
and he names the sky his own.
But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams
his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing
The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom.
poem by Maya Angelou (1994)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Answer To A Child's Question
Do you ask what the birds say? The sparrow, the dove,
The linnet, and thrush say, 'I love and I love!'
In the winter they're silent, the wind is so strong;
What it says I don't know, but it sings a loud song.
But green leaves and blossoms, and sunny warm weather,
And singing, and loving, all come back together.
Then the lark is so brimful of gladness and love,
The green fields below him, the blue sky above,
That he sings, and he sings, and forever sings he--
'I love my Love, and my Love loves me!'
poem by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
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Come To Me
Come to me with open arms
and I will embrace you with mine.
Never will I turn you away.
Never again will you pine.
For I have waited patiently
and the Gods have answered my plea.
They felt the sorrow that a lover feels
and pointed your arms toward me.
Come to me and stay by my side
and I'll welcome you with a kiss.
Never will you feel unloved,
never again will you miss
love and devotion that's mine to give.
For the Gods of love have let me live.
They knew that love might pass me by
so they let me love you until I die.
Come to me with an open heart
and I'll keep it warm for you.
Never will I let it grow cold,
never will it beat untrue.
For I have loved you in all my dreams,
loved you from afar.
The Gods were kind and offered me
everything that you are.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Dregs
The fire is out, and spent the warmth thereof,
(This is the end of every song man sings!)
The golden wine is drunk, the dregs remain,
Bitter as wormwood and as salt as pain;
And health and hope have gone the way of love
Into the drear oblivion of lost things.
Ghosts go along with us until the end;
This was a mistress, this, perhaps, a friend.
With pale, indifferent eyes, we sit and wait
For the dropped curtain and the closing gate:
This is the end of all the songs man sings.
poem by Ernest Christopher Dowson
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Gods of animals
If asses made gods
Gods would be in the form an ass.
Animals have no reverence to human gods,
But man has made animal gods.
16.03.2005
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The Hamadryad.
Last night I was like one who prayed
Beneath a mystic tree
Whose windless leaves a murmur made,
As if it there might be
A spirit in the sap that laid
Its spell on them and me.
A creature who, invisible,
In sorrow and in mirth,
Through summer's heat or when the chill
Is on the dreaming Earth,
Sings as in sleep divinely still
The secret of its birth.
(And as it sings, possessed, apart
From all things far and near,
The music of its own strange heart
Is all it seems to hear,
As if its ardour made an art
Of its own atmosphere.
Still none who come there hear the song
Until their souls are bowed
Beneath the mystic boughs, among
Whose living leaves a crowd
Of spirit voices, weak and strong,
Sing all that God allowed).
Oh! wondrous was that faery strain,
Too holy to be heard
But by the soul with no profane
Imagination stirr'd —
Like a seer when his heart and brain
Are in the coming word,
And he bows low before the breath
Of that which, as a flame,
All that he is illumineth
And calls him as by name,
When one to him are Life and Death,
One honour and one shame.
Ah! so possessed I heard them sing,
The many voices who
Were the sense of a secret thing
That with the tree-life grew,
As it did from the same seed spring
And a dream-breath from it drew —
The mystic life which God had shut
Within the dark seed's core,
Diverse from all that He had put
In others evermore —
No hint of death behind it, but
Of life that is before!
The tree-life in more lives than this —
Of that it sings for aye —
And as I listened the world's hiss
In silence died away,
And the perfect life for all that is
Like a dream on me lay.
poem by Robert Crawford
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Poetry Sings
When poetry is anger
It sings to me furiously
Like thunder clashing into the Earth
With vigorous authority
When poetry is comfort
It sings to me gently
Like a mother's touch
Soothing her child from an afflicting pain
When poetry is bitterness
It sings to me harshly
Like back stabbers leaving another
In the cold, because they can't handle the situation
When poetry is driven
It sings to me energetically
Like an underdog, whom start to finish
Strives itself to victory
When poetry is hate
It sings to me vengefully
Coming towards you like a nuclear missle
Intended to dispose of your existence
When poetry is love
It sings to me tenderly
As if an angel are tranqualizing my ears
With their divine voices
When poetry is vulgar
It sings to me villianously
As if I'm it's prize
For the obscene thoughts it deviously conjers up
When poetry is sultry
It sings to me passionately
Like an enticing hot and moist body
Engulfed with lust, provocatively captivating me
When poetry is fear
It sings to me timidly
Like an individual with anxiety towards a phobia
Prefering gone from their conscious
When poetry is courage
It sings to me bravely
Like a patriot who defends its rights
Against the tyrants of his/her nation
When poetry is frustration
It sings to me dissatisfied
Like someone continues to achive
While loved ones never pleased, believing they're inadequate
When poetry is awed
It sings to me speechlessly
Can't believe one's eyes, can't believe one's ears
Don't know what to concieve
When poetry is sadness
It sings to me tearfully
Like a lonesome soul alone with oneself
With no companionship found
When poetry is ecstastic
It sings to me enthusiatically
With overpowering joy and intense eagerness
That one gets when lively
When poetry is hidden
It sings to me quietly
Like governments top secrets
A plan to screw its nation for its own advantage
When poetry is openess
It sings to me loudly
Making public its soul
With intense noise revealing its dark mysteries
When poetry is offensive
It sings to me hideously
Listening to horrible sounds
Like fingernails slowly scrapping on a chalkboard
When poetry is knowledge
It sings to me wisely
Like information at your fingertips
Lodged in your photographic memory
poem by R.K. Cowles
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Today... 'God of gods
All other gods are created by men
confined to the earth and not of heaven.
They have no power and are impotent.
But Jehovah God is omnipotent
He's the God of gods and the Lord of kings
and of His great glory all heaven sings.
(see also the additional information in the Poet's notes box below)
Brahma
If the red slayer think he slays,
Or if the slain think he is slain,
They know not well the subtle ways
I keep, and pass, and turn again.
Far or forgot to me is near;
Shadow and sunlight are the same;
The vanished gods to me appear;
And one to me are shame and fame.
They reckon ill who leave me out;
When me they fly, I am the wings;
I am the doubter and the doubt,
And I the hymn the Brahmin sings.
The strong gods pine for my abode,
And pine in vain the sacred Seven;
But thou, meek lover of the good!
Find me, and turn thy back on heaven.
poem by Ralph Waldo Emerson
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Brahma
If the red slayer think he slays,
Or if the slain think he is slain,
They know not well the subtle ways
I keep, and pass, and turn again.
Far or forgot to me is near;
Shadow and sunlight are the same;
The vanished gods to me appear;
And one to me are shame and fame.
They reckon ill who leave me out;
When me they fly, I am the wings;
I am the doubter and the doubt,
And I the hymn the Brahmin sings.
The strong gods pine for my abode,
And pine in vain the sacred Seven;
But thou, meek lover of the good!
Find me, and turn thy back on heaven.
poem by Ralph Waldo Emerson
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The Gods Made Heavy Metal
In the beginning there was silence and darkness
All across the earth
Then came the wind and a hole in the sky
Thunder and lightning came crashing down
Hit the earth and split the ground
Fire burned high in the sky
From down below fire melted the stone
The ground shook and started to pound
The gods made heavy metal and they saw that is was good
They said to play it louder than Hell
We promised that we would
When losers say it's over with you know that it's a lie
The gods made heavy metal and it's never gonna die
We are the true believers
It's our turn to show the world
In the fire of heavy metal we were burned
It's more than our religion it's the only way to live
But the enemies of metal we can't forgive
Cause we believe in the power and the might
And the gods who made metal are with us tonight
The gods made heavy metal and they saw that is was good
They said to play it louder than Hell
We promised that we would
When losers say it's over with you know that it's a lie
The gods made heavy metal and it's never gonna die
We believe in the power and the might
And the gods who made metal are with us tonight
We're here tonight for heavy metal are you ready in the hall
They have chosen us and we have heard the call
Gonna tear the roof off with our sound
Crack the walls and shake the ground
Fight tonight for metal one and all
Cause we believe in the power and the might
And the gods who made metal are with us tonight
The gods made heavy metal and they saw that is was good
They said to play it louder than Hell
We promised that we would
When losers say it's over with you know that it's a lie
The gods made heavy metal and it's never gonna die
song performed by by Manowar from Louder Than Hell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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There Is This Voice That Always Speaks
inside me there is always this little voice
that always speaks
everyday
it simply sings
a song
that i barely know
like a little bird
inside my chest
every
morning when i just wake up
it sings of freedom
and love
it sings of being
true
it hints
about love
and
happiness
everyday
like the air i breathe
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Dangerous Ape
Gods have calibre, and the monkey is banished
Due to poor health and no showmanship.
Gods shall keep the poor apes, the poor monkeys
That spell for their names, hunting fruit like apes
That are friendly to the godly men and humans.
Each god shall praise the highest men
Who parade the bigger kind of human,
But apish behaviour is against the role to play,
Danger is the fantastic goal, one of great apes.
The great ape is not human or humane.
poem by Naveed Akram
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