These Little Songs
These little Songs,
Found here and there,
Floating in air
By forest and lea,
Or hill-side heather,
In houses and throngs,
Or down by the sea -
Have come together,
How, I can't tell:
But I know full well
No witty goose-wing
On an inkstand begot 'em;
Remember each place
And moment of grace,
In summer or spring,
Winter or autumn
By sun, moon, stars,
Or a coal in the bars,
In market or church,
Graveyard or dance,
When they came without search,
Were found as by chance.
A word, a line,
You may say are mine;
But the best in the songs,
Whatever it be,
To you, and to me,
And to no one belongs.
poem by William Allingham
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Trail
The trail in the Winter is lonely
The loneliest place I know
But the trail is the place that I go to
When my troubles I can't let go
The howl of the wind keeps me company
And it's stiff cold slap on my face
Awakens me to the moment
A moment that is filled with God's grace
I remember the sweet smell of Summer
The colors still fresh on my brain
But the odors and colors of Summer
Are replaced by the dampness and rain
Yet the pull of the trail is a strong one
And nothing could keep me away
Not ten pots of gold and a promise
That it all could be mine someday
'Cause the trail is my church and my temple
And no greater peace can be found
Than the peace and the glory around me
That in the forest abounds
Written by Sara Fielder © 1997
poem by Sara Fielder
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Life Is Lovely All the Year
When the buds are blossoming,
Smiling welcome to the spring,
Lovers choose a wedding day -
Life is love in merry May!
Spring is green - Fal lal la!
Summer's rose - Fal lal la!
It is sad when Summer goes,
Fal la!
Autumn's gold - Fal lal la!
Winter's grey - Fal lal la!
Winter still is far away -
Fal la!
Leaves in Autumn fade and fall;
Winter is the end of all.
Spring and summer teem with glee:
Spring and summer, then, for me!
Fal la!
In the Spring-time seed is sown:
In the Summer grass is mown:
In the Autumn you may reap:
Winter is the time for sleep.
Spring is hope - Fal lal la!
Summer's joy - Fal lal la!
Spring and Summer never cloy,
Fal la!
Autumn, toil - Fal lal la!
Winter, rest - Fal lal la!
Winter, after all, is best -
Fal la!
Spring and summer pleasure you,
Autumn, ay, and winter, too -
Every season has its cheer;
Life is lovely all the year!
Fal la!
poem by William Schwenck Gilbert
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Nature's Season's
Season's come and season's go,
There are four in each year,
Of our time keeping.
Spring,
Summer,
Autumn,
Winter,
In other parts of the world,
Their season's are called something else,
Each Season is,
Of different type,
Yet,
Two and Two,
To begin and become,
Spring shows the begining,
Of growth and new season,
So for plants,
Vegetation,
Spring Chickens,
Spring Lambs,
The Calflings,
The Fouls,
All come in the Spring,
And flourish in the Summer,
Summer shows bloom,
From the plants to the Fouls,
And all are seen in full bloom,
Even the birds and the bees,
Sing the songs,
Of spring and summer,
With the Sun's rays,
That shows nature,
In full bloom,
By the time,
All is in full bloom,
And what shows and blooms,
Blossoms all summer,
And just when we are relaxed,
And see no clouds in the sky,
The seson changes,
Beginning with,
The fall,
Autumn's,
Season,
Commences to begin,
Where,
All in bloom,
Falls away and decays,
While the rest,
Fly away,
And,
Migrate,
Or,
Hibernate,
And just when,
We have seen it all disappear,
The frost and snow,
Covers all over,
And chills the air,
Where the chilling effect,
Kills off all decay,
And the blue ice time period,
Takes over for a time,
Chilling,
Freeezing,
Keeping everything beneath the earth,
As winter sets itself right in,
And far beneath the froasted earth,
Is all in nature,
Rekindling itself,
To regrowth itself,
And then spring growth,
Again,
Next season,
That starts the circle of life,
2 x 2 = 4,
The four seasons,
Of,
Our circle of life,
Spring,
Summer,
Autumn,
Winter,
The four seasons,
Of ours,
That is 2 x 2,
Spring and Summer,
Then,
Autumn and Winter,
That makes it known,
As 4 seasons,
To us all.
poem by Ellen Ni Bheachain
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The Nicest Season For One To Die
The nicest Season for one to die must surely be the Spring
When the Parklands wear their Wildflowers and song birds pipe and sing
And young birds are chirping in their nests and the sparrows all the day
Are busy under the house eaves weaving their nests of hay.
If I'm not burned to ashes then why not bury me
In that old graveyard on the hill preferably by a tree
Where in Spring birds will build their nest and sing their songs above where I lay
Though what happens to your remains when you are dead doesn't matter some do say.
We all belong to Mother Nature and to her we must return sometime
The reaper takes the young and old and those in their life's
prime
And since I too must die I hope 'twill be when flowers are in full bloom
In the prime of Spring when the air scent sweetly of Nature's own perfume.
Bury me in the Graveyard on the hill where peace is to be found
Beside a tree where birds nest and sing content in their home ground
A quiet place free of man made noise when Spring is in the air
In Nature's bosom I will rest beyond any living care.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Autumn Sing
Here’s the autumn sing…
A symphony from its falling leaf…
Catching the wind from a future winter…
Rolling through a shy light…
Oh autumn shall not die in winter…
As a promise summer will surely come….
Ah autumn is a second spring…
Not all could see, all leaf is flower….
Autumn warn a terrible winter phase….
No one listen, No one will hear it…
As it is only the sound of silence….
Who can hold an indefinite sound...?
No one embrace the autumn….
As it is only a sad phase…
It gives nothing but an autumn chill….
Spring always comes with a better glory…
Oh autumn with its broken feather…
Could other season patch it up again?
No other season will devote their being….
Autumn suffers alone….
Autumns leaf keep on falling…
Spring comes cheerfully…
Summer comes strongly….
Winter always comes coldly…..
But autumn changes its face every time….
No one knows the differences….
Just the secret of the nature…
Why can’t it’d be a spring?
Why can’t it’d be summer?
Why can’t it’d be winter?
Ah autumn dance again between all the falling leaf…
It enjoys its sadness…
It embraces its pain….
As only from autumn all painter learn…
How to capture a true hidden beauty…
All speaks the same in every season….
But autumn remain different…..
For autumn is an alone singer…
Only a genuinely soul painter could witness its beauty….
That’s all the autumn need….
A silence audience....
Who can make other being see….
A glance of its beauty...
poem by Eva Clara Harahap
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The Tame Bird Was In A Cage
THE tame bird was in a cage, the free bird was in the forest.
They met when the time came, it was a decree of fate.
The free bird cries, 'O my love, let us fly to the wood.'
The cage bird whispers, 'Come hither, let us both live in the cage.'
Says the free bird, 'Among bars, where is there room to spread one's wings?'
'Alas,' cries the caged bird, 'I should not know where to sit perched in the sky.'
The free bird cries, 'My darling, sing the songs of the woodlands.'
The cage bird sings, 'Sit by my side, I'll teach you the speech of the learned.'
The forest bird cries, 'No, ah no! songs can never be taught.'
The cage bird says, 'Alas for me, I know not the songs of the woodlands.'
There love is intense with longing, but they never can fly wing to wing.
Through the bars of the cage they look, and vain is their wish to know each other.
They flutter their wings in yearning, and sing, 'Come closer, my love!'
The free bird cries, 'It cannot be, I fear the closed doors of the cage.'
The cage bird whispers, 'Alas, my wings are powerless and dead.'
poem by Rabindranath Tagore
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VI
The tame bird was in a cage, the free bird was in the forest.
They met when the time came, it was a decree of fate.
The free bird cries, "O my love, let us fly to wood."
The cage bird whispers, "Come hither, let us both live in the
cage."
Says the free bird, "Among bars, where is there room to spread
one's wings?"
"Alas," cries the cage bird, "I should not know where to sit
perched in the sky."
The free bird cries, "My darling, sing the songs of the
woodlands."
The cage bird says, "Sit by my side, I'll teach you the speech of
the learned."
The forest bird cries, "No, ah no! songs can never be taught."
The cage bird says, "Alas for me, I know not the songs of the
woodlands."
Their love is intense with longing, but they never can fly wing
to wing.
Through the bars of the cage they look, and vain is their wish to
know each other.
They flutter their wings in yearning, and sing, "Come closer, my
love!"
The free bird cries, "It cannot be, I fear the closed doors of
the cage."
The cage bird whispers, "Alas, my wings are powerless and dead."
poem by Rabindranath Tagore from The Gardener (1913)
Submitted by Silvia Velea
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He learned through the way that my father and I felt about his songs, his country songs, that they were great songs. And then he went out and sang them for the audiences that we found, and he found a tremendous reaction to that.
quote by Alan Lomax
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Spring And Winter
Spring is near
It is visible in the rear-
View mirror, winter is going to a far away place
From where it'll move at a very slow pace
It will encircle the Earth
And curb every birth
Spring will follow,
Fill life in the things gone hollow
Spring will make all the flowers shine
While winters make every one whine
Spring gives a pleasant touch to everything
Winter gives dullness to even bling
Spring will come and make us dance
While in winter, we don't like such a chance
Winter makes us crave for quilt and the sun
In spring, even failure seems something we won
In winter we search for everything hot
In spring, greenery spreads a lot
And makes us miss it when it is gone
Like we miss night every winter dawn
I hope spring comes soon
And be what it is supposed to be - a boon
I miss spring every single night
Come spring soon, the time has come, the time is right!
poem by Aishwarya Misra
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Soldiers
Do I hear what I think Im hearing?
Do I see the signs I think I see?
Or is this just a fantasy?
Is it true that the beast is waking
Stirring in his restless sleep tonight
In the pale moonlight
In the grip of this cold december
You and I have reason to remember
Soldiers write the songs that soldiers sing
The songs that you and I dont sing
They blow their horns and march along
They drum their drums and look so strong
Youd think that nothing in the world was wrong
Soldiers write the songs that soldiers sing
The songs that you and I wont sing
Lets not look the other way
Taking a chance
cause if the bugler starts to play
We too must dance
Whats that sound, whats that dreadful rumble?
Wont somebody tell me what I hear?
In the distance but drawing near
Is it only a storm approaching?
All that thunder and the blinding light
In the winter night
In the grip of this cold december
You and I have reason to remember
Soldiers write the songs that soldiers sing
The songs that you and I dont sing
They blow their horns and march along
They drum their drums and look so strong
Youd think that nothing in the world was wrong
Soldiers write the songs that soldiers sing
The songs that you and I wont sing
Lets not look the other way
Taking a chance
cause if the bugler starts to play
We too must dance
Soldiers write the songs that soldiers sing
The songs that you and I wont sing
Lets not look the other way
Taking a chance
cause if the bugler starts to play
We too must dance
song performed by by ABBA
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lament For Leaf Loss
Sing sad songs for the days that are gone
Now the days are growing darker and the night lasts long
But listen for the flutter of each shrivelled tear
As it drops in golden leaf-fall of the fading, dying year.
Sing sad songs for the days that are gone
Now the light is growing dimmer and the night lasts long
But listen for the echoes of the summer’s breeze
As it gossips with the branches of the leafless poplar trees.
Sing sad songs for the days that are gone
Now the frost is growing grimmer and the night lasts long
But listen for the rustle of lost autumn leaves
And the crying of the dewdrops as the barren forest grieves.
Sing sad songs for the days that are gone
Now the mood is growing glummer and the night lasts long
But listen for the whispers of the coming spring
When the buds begin their bursting and the birds begin to sing.
Sing no more for the days that are gone
For the light will soon be stronger and the night less long
And listen to the rhythm of season’s song
As spring will soon be with us while the winter won’t be long.
poem by C. Richard Miles
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Write The Songs
Ive been alive forever,
And I wrote the very first song.
I put the words and the melodies together,
I am music,
And I write the songs.
I write the songs that make the whole world sing.
I write the songs of love and special thing s.
I write the songs that make the young girls cry.
I write the songs, I write the songs.
My home lies deep within you,
And Ive got my own place in your sole.
Now, when I look out through your eyes,
Im youg again, even though Im very old.
Chorus
Oh my music makes you dance
And gives your spirit to take a chance,
And I wrote some rock n roll so you can move.
Music fills your heart,
Well, thats a real fine place to start.
Its from me its for you,
Its from you, its from me,
Its a world wide symphony.
Chorus
I am music, and I write the songs.
song performed by by Barry Manilow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Autumn Shades
All too soon autumn shades appear
As another summer’s end draws near.
Colors surrender to fall’s gold.
Smooth surfaces wither, warp and fold.
Amber amid bronze litters the sky
From leaves that dance and flutter by.
A few spots still hoard their green
Protesting the kaleidoscoping scene.
Sun’s yellow bows to a pale moon.
Dark night will rule the day so soon.
Brown splotches, then orange are found,
As sap hibernates ‘neath the ground.
The garden’s carpet is embossed
With remnants from an early frost,
Whose touch of icing in the night
Leaves a preview of winter’s white.
Autumn shades fade, but remember:
Rainbows spring forth from December.
poem by Gregory Huyette
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Houses On The Hill
Well I found a bunch of letters
That were written for the fellow who broke your mommas heart
And the envelope folds smelled of her ancient perfume
Ill bet she didnt know
How to respond before the blankets of snow
Caught him out wandering alone
With no place to go
There were stars in the sky
There were houses on the hill
And there bottles of pills that were easy to buy
To keep her warm from the oncoming storm
Well I found them in the northwest corner of the attic in a box
Labeled tinsel and lights
Didnt know what I was I looking for
Maybe just a blanket or artifacts
Eisenhower sent him to war
He kept her picture in his pocket that was closest to his heart
And when he hit shore
Must have been a target for the gunman
There were stars in the sky
There were bunkers on the hill and there were caskets to fill
Where he will lie
Shrouded in the red white and blue with the stripes
There were stars in the sky
There were houses on the hill
And there were bottles of pills that were easy to buy
To keep her warm from the oncoming storm
song performed by by Whiskeytown
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Houses On The Hill
Well I found a bunch of letters
That were written for the fellow who broke your mommas heart
And the envelope folds smelled of her ancient perfume
Ill bet she didnt know
How to respond before the blankets of snow
Caught him out wandering alone
With no place to go
There were stars in the sky
There were houses on the hill
And there bottles of pills that were easy to buy
To keep her warm from the oncoming storm
Well I found them in the northwest corner of the attic in a box
Labeled tinsel and lights
Didnt know what I was I looking for
Maybe just a blanket or artifacts
Eisenhower sent him to war
He kept her picture in his pocket that was closest to his heart
And when he hit shore
Must have been a target for the gunman
There were stars in the sky
There were bunkers on the hill and there were caskets to fill
Where he will lie
Shrouded in the red white and blue with the stripes
There were stars in the sky
There were houses on the hill
And there were bottles of pills that were easy to buy
To keep her warm from the oncoming storm
song performed by by Whiskeytown
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Autumn Thoughts
Gone hath the Spring, with all its flowers,
And gone the Summer's pomp and show,
And Autumn, in his leafless bowers,
Is waiting for the Winter's snow.
I said to Earth, so cold and gray,
'An emblem of myself thou art.'
'Not so,' the Earth did seem to say,
'For Spring shall warm my frozen heart.'
I soothe my wintry sleep with dreams
Of warmer sun and softer rain,
And wait to hear the sound of streams
And songs of merry birds again.
But thou, from whom the Spring hath gone,
For whom the flowers no longer blow,
Who standest blighted and forlorn,
Like Autumn waiting for the snow;
No hope is thine of sunnier hours,
Thy Winter shall no more depart;
No Spring revive thy wasted flowers,
Nor Summer warm thy frozen heart.
poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
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Life in Winter's Graveyard
Walking down a muddy road
In the throes of December
Heaving through the decay
Of Spring's now frozen embers
Is there life in Winter's graveyard?
Frozen trees bereft of leaves
Stand upright in frosted death
Fields once ripe and lush with fruit
Lay still without the Summer's breath
Is there life in Winter's graveyard?
Soggy soil sloshing below my feet
Autumn's leaves have been swept away
And while I march on viciously
My eyes behold only death and gray
Is there life in Winter's graveyard?
Then comes a patch of greenery
A lush, though simple, paradise
I stop to gaze at the loveliness
Beheld before beauty-starved eyes
There is life in Winter's graveyard.
A patch of three-leaved charms
Circling the base of a withered tree
I gaze at this Springtime green
Surrounded by December's villainy.
There is life in Winter's graveyard.
Though Winter's tomb encases
Our world in a carcass' masquerade
This patch of sought-for greenery
Removes the masks from Death's charade
There is life in Winter's graveyard.
poem by Josephine J.W
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Friend In You!
IN SONGS, I FOUND SOLACE WHEN I AM TROUBLED!
IN POEMS, I FOUND A SOURCE TO EXPLAIN MY TOUGHTS!
IN WRITING, I FOUND A PLACE TO TELL MY TALES!
IN YOU! MY READERS! I FOUND AN ATTENTIVE FRIEND!
poem by Overlord Don Manuel Ihcakeyno
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Autumn Passed Through Paris
Autumn sliped into Paris yesterday,
came silently down Boulevard St Michel,
In sultry heat, past boughs sullen and still,
and met me on its way.
As I walked on to where the Seine flows by,
little twig songs burned softly in my heart,
smoky, odd, sombre, purple songs. I thought
they sighed that I shall die.
Autumn drew abreast and whispered to me,
Boulevard St Michel that moment shivered.
Rustling, the dusty, playful leaves quivered,
whirled forth along the way.
One moment: summer took no heed: whereon,
laughing, autumn sped away from Paris.
That it was here, I alone bear witness,
under the trees that moan.