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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Related quotes
bloodline ***** LYRIC TO MY BRO AND HIS GUITAR
Strum ….
Strum the strings
Of your brown guitar
Brings with me
To the music star
Lively as you are
Far in the awful nights
In the hour of silence
Plays me a song
With ease and delight
Plays no more
A sad song
Let the people hear
A refrain
Of imperial tune
Strum….
Strum the strings
Of your brown guitar
Brings the world
To the music star
Lively as you are
poem by Rommel Mark Dominguez Marchan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Solace From Strings
Tune up your strings.
Keep them tight.
Strum me a song
on this painful night.
Play, play
take my pain away.
Tune up your strings.
Let your fingers slide.
Help me forget
how I have cried.
Play, play
take my pain away.
The sound of your strings
make me weep
and as you strum
I can fall asleep.
Play, play
take my pain away.
poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Lyric to My Son and His Guitar
A Lyric To My Son and His Guitar
strum...
Strum the strings of your brown guitar;
Brings me to the music star lively as you are.
Far in the awful nights in an hour of silence
Plays me a song with ease and delight.
Plays no more a sad song,
Let the people hear only a refrain;
Of the imperial tune.
Strum...
Strum the strings of your brown guitar
Brings the world to the music star lively as you are...
poem by Elvira Marchan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Guitarist
Strum the strings
From room to room
The sound will ring
Sealed in its case
Taking up space
I use a pick to play
The guitar, everyday
Playing a chord
Only when I'm bored
Strum the strings
From room to room
The sound will ring
Its base is wood
Its strings are not
When you cannot play
There is nothing to flaunt
Before you play
Tune the sound
Strum on and on
Until a rhythm is found
Strum the strings
From room to room
The sound will ring
I
I have nothing to say
No light to use
No music to play
I'm idle
For I have
No guitar to play
poem by Pete Rivera
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Weeping Guitar
Well I've got this guitar, that usually sings
A couple pills, and some scars
And I gently pluck all the strings
While gazing at the stars
My guitar begins to weep
Each strum echoes my pain
The sharp chords cut so deep
Bitter loneliness is driving me insane
So I strum to free my soul
But not a tune is heard
Unable to fill my empty hole
But I don't say a word
Each strum seems to kill
And I'm living each day with lies
There are too many holes to fill
All I want to do is forever close my eyes.
poem by Chelsea Wallace
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Strum, Strum Gently and My Heartstrings Sing
Strum, strum gently and my heartstrings sing
A song that comes from deep within
Words that coin their own phrases
And that is how I begin
A terrible ballad of love
I can speak of emotional hiatus
Begin at the beginning and then
Let this song sing about us
Strum gently and let the world fade away
The time I have with you will soon end;
There is a meaning to this interlude,
I have a liftime this heart to mend.
Strum, strum gently, do not pause when
The words do not come;
Thus my heart will continue to beat
And I to this love will succumb.
poem by Rani Turton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Monotones
Because there is but one truth;
Because there is but one banner;
Because there is but one light;
Because we have with us our youth
Once, and one chance and one manner
Of service, and then the night;
Because we have found not yet
Any way for the world to follow
Save only that ancient way;
Whosoever forsake or forget,
Whose faith soever be hollow,
Whose hope soever grow grey;
Because of the watchwords of kings
That are many and strange and unwritten,
Diverse, and our watchword is one;
Therefore, though seven be the strings,
One string, if the harp be smitten,
Sole sounds, till the tune be done;
Sounds without cadence or change
In a weary monotonous burden,
Be the keynote of mourning or mirth;
Free, but free not to range;
Taking for crown and for guerdon
No man's praise upon earth;
Saying one sole word evermore,
In the ears of the charmed world saying,
Charmed by spells to its death;
One that chanted of yore
To a tune of the sword-sweep's playing
In the lips of the dead blew breath;
Therefore I set not mine hand
To the shifting of changed modulations,
To the smiting of manifold strings;
While the thrones of the throned men stand,
One song for the morning of nations,
One for the twilight of kings.
One chord, one word, and one way,
One hope as our law, one heaven,
Till slain be the great one wrong;
Till the people it could not slay,
Risen up, have for one star seven,
For a single, a sevenfold song.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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Sing a song to the poor people about the fading Heaven
Strum your old rusty strings
And open your hidden voice
Black & White of the truth
Where it stands,
Let them know how far to go?
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Waiting In The Wings
(andy hill/pete sinfield)
I need you like freedom
I feel you like rain
I see you like silver rails across an endless plain
And I know there are moments
You feel as I do
Thats why Im waiting for you
This time around I wont push for an answer
Both of us need to be sure
To be strong
When the moment comes
Ill be your dancer
Ill be your singer
And your song
When your heart is weary
When you want a love with no strings
I will be here waiting
Waiting in the wings
Waiting in the wings
A natural dreamer
A maverick soul
How close can I be to you
And still not lose control?
And as close as the ocean
As near as the sky
As near as the tears I dont cry
Maybe a fool has been drowned in a vision
Hung up to dry in the teeth of the wind
Believing in the truth of your decisions
Thats all there is until the end
When your heart is weary
When you want a love with no strings
I will be here waiting. Ill be waiting
Waiting in the wings
Ill be waiting
Ill be waiting
When your heart is weary
When you want a love with no strings
I will be here waiting
Waiting in the wings
When your heart is weary
When you want a love with no strings
I will be here waiting
Waiting in the wings
When your heart is weary
When you want a love with no strings
I will be here waiting
Waiting in the wings
song performed by by Diana Ross
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Weary Blues
Droning a drowsy syncopated tune,
Rocking back and forth to a mellow croon,
I heard a Negro play.
Down on Lenox Avenue the other night
By the pale dull pallor of an old gas light
He did a lazy sway ....
He did a lazy sway ....
To the tune o' those Weary Blues.
With his ebony hands on each ivory key
He made that poor piano moan with melody.
O Blues!
Swaying to and fro on his rickety stool
He played that sad raggy tune like a musical fool.
Sweet Blues!
Coming from a black man's soul.
O Blues!
In a deep song voice with a melancholy tone
I heard that Negro sing, that old piano moan--
"Ain't got nobody in all this world,
Ain't got nobody but ma self.
I's gwine to quit ma frownin'
And put ma troubles on the shelf."
Thump, thump, thump, went his foot on the floor.
He played a few chords then he sang some more--
"I got the Weary Blues
And I can't be satisfied.
Got the Weary Blues
And can't be satisfied--
I ain't happy no mo'
And I wish that I had died."
And far into the night he crooned that tune.
The stars went out and so did the moon.
The singer stopped playing and went to bed
While the Weary Blues echoed through his head.
He slept like a rock or a man that's dead.
poem by Langston Hughes
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Come and Play Your Music Well
When the ghost of disease
cripples my fantasies,
I must strum my guitar
and sing a song of peace.
When bright days are haunted
by dark clouds of pain and fears,
I must harmonize my strings
and play the sweetest melodies.
poem by Elizabeth Padillo Olesen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In good days and bad days!
While resting in the prison of life
You strum your sensitive heart strings
That play the tune of innocence!
And you light a half burnt candle
on the altar, place a tiny fragrant flower
Kneel and pray, request benefits
A solace for the wound
That never heals?
In good times and bad times
You sing that short song
For a long life?
[Choose a job you love, and you'll never have to work a day in your life.]
-Confucius
nimal dunuhinga
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Such Delicious Wine
A melody rang out across the breeze,
and tinkled like a bell upon a sleigh.
It boosted up my soul and lit the day,
making me smile, its notes sang out to please.
The tune reverberated in my mind,
so sweet, that its refrain I wished to hum.
As if upon taut strings I’d gently strum,
fusing us both together, thus entwined.
This melody was nectar to the soul,
a pouring forth of such delicious wine,
That I was overcome with dreams divine,
a pleasure that did make my spirit whole.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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Fly My Muse Fly
Strum your kisses
tickle my lips
fly my muse fly
upon diamond daydream wings
over earth strum your airy kiss
your evergreen harp's florid garden gifts
tickle my lips with daisy petaled fingertips
and light tapping feet of dancing tulips
featherlight trance, let me slowly fade away
whisked into flight atop the warm winds
of Melisa's zephyrean blue butterfly ballet
soothing summer syrup, sun steeping all day
cradled in the hammock's gentle sea-breeze sway
fly my muse fly
upon diamond day dream wings
tickle my lips with your harp's evergreen kiss
I'll arrive, reborn, with the magnolias of spring
pink apple blossoms and laughter's golden pollen
to your bedside I'll bring
fly my muse fly
strum the soothing syrupy strings of your harp
tickle the world with the marigold manna
sung from your heavenly heart
poem by Gregory Allen Uhan
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Eternal Circle
I sang the song slowly
As she stood in the shadows
She stepped to the light
As my silver strings spun
She called with her eyes
To the tune is a-playin
But the song it was long
And Id only begun
Through a bullet of light
Her face was reflectin
The fast fading words
That rolled from my tongue
With a long-distance look
Her eyes was on fire
But the song it was long
And there was more to be sung.
My eyes danced a circle
Across her clear outline
With her head tilted sideways
She called me again
As the tune drifted out
She breathed hard through the echo
But the song it was long
And it was far to the end
I glanced at my guitar
And played it pretendin
That of all the eyes out there
I could see none
As her thoughts pounded hard
Like the pierce of an arrow
But the song it was long
And it had to get done
As the tune finally folded
I laid down the guitar
Then looked for the girl
Whod stayed for so long
But her shadow was missin
For all of my searchin
So I picked up my guitar
And began the next song
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Beloved Guitar
The long solid neck,
With flowing, refinded strings.
A base of cherry; finished wood.
Defined in figure, exquisite;
Among other things.
Shaped with a curve,
Set down in my lap.
I picked up my guitar,
And made my fingers tap.
A symphony from,
Those melodic strings.
Part of my hearts amour.
My fingers graze along,
This coppery and bronze decor.
A roughness they slide.
Along the ends;
Roughness on my fingertips.
A sliding; an arry of refreshing sounds.
One that echos into the bottem,
And emerges to astound.
My arm embraces the frame work,
A base of refined finished wood.
Tuned to a sound,
Like a guitar should.
My fingers cradle those melodic stings.
The light strum of my hand,
Makes music;
The guitar sings.
From the mouth of a speaker.
Out comes a tune.
With a cadence strum.
Fingers pressed down,
Out the music comes.
A symphony from,
This rhythmic harmony.
A tone in my soul.
A note that's always been apart of me.
A feeling I once knew.
I recall, a sound in the distance.
A beauty that plays so smooth.
Shaped with a curve,
Set down in my lap;
I picked up my guitar.
It slowly starts to come back.
That feeling, I'll never forget.
I recall, a sound not so far.
I recall, the feeling that day;
The day I picked up my beloved guitar.
poem by Jessie Jett
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Strings Once Attached
You wish to strum my strings,
To pluck my heart of its emotions.
As if to bring...
Upon my ears sentiment.
You wish to keep,
A melody repeatedly delivered.
Hoping we again would harmonize.
To erase discord...
And resentment to lament.
Hoping my happiness,
Is a charade I disguise.
But I can not forget...
It was you who found another tune to play.
And it was I who could not convince you...
That duet you proposed,
Would bring you dismay one day.
To Leave you feeling used and betrayed.
Choosing to sing you did with another.
With a beat completely out of rhythm,
And rhyme.
My time now has solo indulgences.
And I have found...
I did,
My peace of mind.
That took me long to find!
And strings once attached...
Known to be matched but severed.
Can never again,
Produce the same seduction.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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My Guitar
Oh, my guitar!
You are in a case.
It seems so far
You were not embraced.
Your strings are weak,
Your heart is sick.
But a hope remains,
You’ll overcome the pains.
A master will come,
You won’t strum.
You won’t complain
But will sound again.
©Larisa Rzhepishevska
February the 2nd,2011
poem by Larisa Rzhepishevska
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My Lonely Guitar
At a corner my guitar waves her hand
inviting me to pick her up, to strum her
strings, to find out if all her chords
blend in harmony with my fingers.
It is waving her hand before my eyes
as in those birthdays, meetings, teaching,
and parties where her strings were made
busy to play melodies to people around.
Tonight she waves her hand again
calling me to play with her our common
game of songs which others can sing along.
But I just cannot play with my guitar today.
For whatever reason let this lonely night
find out; let me sleep and let sweet melody
sleep with me in my dreams and
let my guitar help me find the right chords
for my lonely song.
poem by Elizabeth Padillo Olesen
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Strumming The Strings Of My Heart
I watch you play,
Making a beautiful tune
The strings of the guitar shaking
As you sit in the light of the moon
Your plucking the strings
With great ease
Making a flowing melody
A pretty song, just for me
I continue to watch
You playing your guitar
Making me love you
While your strumming the strings of my heart
These strings will never be touched
By anyone but you
You go where no one else can
Leaving a mark, like a tattoo,
Saying I LOVE YOU
poem by Katniss Everdeen
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