SHadowings
The marble walls held the dim sky sHadows
That were strangly woven in grays
Silhouette set the scepters roveing
Into the half mediums of real
'Lumination, music set qualities
Above sentiment. the dreamer called
The orient from illusions feignly proof
Form but dimly prominento colour
The night lamps fought the powerful sHade
Mythology helped the modern life upbraid
O sunset o golden, thou who tends
The farthest heavenly width to rest
From observation, the elegy's lore
Hath set memory, o'er unmersion's quest,
poem by Samuel Greenberg
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Related quotes
Music
Music is an art
Music is presided over by the Muses
Music combines sounds in a pleasing way
Music has common elements.
Music has pitch and melody
Music has harmony and rhythm
Music has tempo and meter
Music has sonic qualities of timbre.
Music is euphony or sweet sound
Music has harmonious qualities
Music is inspirational
Music opens the soul.
Music is energizing
Music is enriching
Music makes one happy
Music is relaxing.
Music is soothing
Music is entertainment
Music is lovable
Music is stirring.
Music moves one to tears
Music gives a spark
Music tunes a special memory
Music is a form of therapy.
Music fills with spiritual attunement
Music is a personal experience
Music takes us along the road of life
Music is the corner stone of every society.
poem by Chandra Thiagarajan
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Oh, How I Love Late Summer Eve
Oh, how I love late summer eve
When rays of light rush pouring from the gore golden West
And the balmy night wind comes tranquil into rest
The silver cloud in the moon sheen has been long on its way to leave
All mal thoughts and fears take a sweet pause and calm retrieve
No more little gnawing cares, but find with easy quest
The night music, the fragrant bush, the silhouette of flowers with Nature's beauty dressed
And there comes delight my innocent craving a miracle soul to deceive
That is the time when my heart is warm in ecstatic lore
Musing about the beauty of the haze under summer night
Oh, adventurous creatures of the night rise to take your dinted shields
And I see the beauty of the glory the wild summer night yields
Dream always
It is nice to dream always
When nothing can be found on the way
Last hope is also about recede
Defeat certain and gain to accede
It is good to be like birds
Possible in fairies tales and often heard
We have powerful wings in the form wish
That can fulfill the dream or finish
You ask any ugly human beings
They will want to be powerful kings
As wish has got fancy and wings
Sweet music in ears always rings
Though diamond is very rough
It has got value more and enough
I would love to be called “forever”
As it has come to stay here
Who would not want to be a cuckoo?
Early music to be heard and pass through
Why I be not become early riser?
To show the world about being very wiser
All qualities I have but feet not firmly placed
Ground is shaky and can not be replaced
I have to be here for rest of period
Unnecessary dreams to be kept away must avoid
Love to live with reality
Dream and think as per your ability
Only wishes can not make life beautiful
Life is meant for and to be useful
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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The Glorious Sun Has Set
Master Designer prepares his canvas once more
The glorious sun again reaching new shores.
An alluring aura, motion slowing down. .
Restless surroundings have calmed now.
In oranges I bathe and roushe rays I soak.
Blushing pinks basking, swirling in purple
Skies spinning a whirling spoke
O’er the horizon quite peaceful.
Amazement beyond words able to explain
Sentiment conveying the message in vain.
Desperate to remember,
Ink willed to stain paper.
Facing certain failure.
All these words no more than vapor.
Zealously writing to create a silhouette
Of this spectacular event, the sunset.
Splashes of color, strikingly they glow.
Bare asphalt transformed a lush meadow.
Glamorous luster, the graceful sunset poses.
Oncoming twilight, the blanket of stars encloses.
The perfect view of color in every hue.
The unfathomable- inexplicable sight, on this very night.
Thin clouds of white are across the sky woven.
Magenta sprawled throughout the misty heavens.
Golden yellows amongst the multitudes
In a symphony of pulchritude.
Violet, a majestic king, and ocean blue,
The silent dreamer setting the mood.
This mesh of color keeps the dusky skyline
Deemed a most elegant art.
Wild colors fulfilling their part.
All proudly displaying their heart
Amid the glorious sunset.
The glorious sun has set.
poem by David Knox
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Hey! I am so restless - Original by Rabindranath Tagore
Hey! I am so restless
I long for the Farthest!
Days go by one by one
I look through the window
To see if He has come –
I want His touch so very much!
O the Farthest, the huge Farthest
Your flute’s music makes me impressed
So I forget I have no wing
And this small earth is my address!
I am absent-minded!
O the huge Farthest
I am indifferent as if I am dead!
In the sunny idle day
Trees make sound and shadows play!
The sky seems like your blue eyes!
If you could come here to stay!
O the Farthest, the huge Farthest
Your flute’s music makes me impressed
So I forget my room is locked
It’s of no use to try my best!
poem by Asif Andalib
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I gave my soul to you
I gave my soul to you
And a man from a boy thou made
A cold heart into a warm heart
And thou gave it back, and with it thou stayed
Real artists create real life
Thou painted my soul's flesh with such a delicate stroke
And sowed the beauty thy hand doth pick
And love in us both thou awoke
A million miles away, thou art still in me
Thy echoes I hear, thy silhouette I see
In every wind blow in front of every sunset
Loving thee I'll never regret
My sweet love, my lady coquette
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
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Villanelle:
WOULDST thou not be content to die
When low-hung fruit is hardly clinging,
And golden Autumn passes by?
Beneath this delicate rose-gray sky,
While sunset bells are faintly ringing,
Wouldst thou not be content to die?
For wintry webs of mist on high
Out of the muffled earth are springing,
And golden Autumn passes by.
O now when pleasures fade and fly,
And Hope her southward flight is winging,
Wouldst thou not be content to die?
Lest Winter come, with wailing cry
His cruel icy bondage bringing,
When golden Autumn hath passed by.
And thou, with many a tear and sigh,
While life her wasted hands is wringing,
Shalt pray in vain for leave to die
When golden Autumn hath passed by.
poem by Edmund William Gosse
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A Sweet Pastoral
Good Muse, rock me asleep
With some sweet harmony:
The weary eye is not to keep
Thy wary company.
Sweet Love, begone awhile,
Thou knowest my heaviness:
Beauty is born but to beguile
My heart of happiness.
See how my little flock,
That loved to feed on high,
Do headlong tumble down the rock,
And in the valley die.
The bushes and the trees
That were so fresh and green,
Do all their dainty colour leese,
And not a leaf is seen.
The blackbird and the thrush,
That made the woods to ring,
With all the rest, are now at hush,
And not a note they sing.
Sweet Philomel, the bird
That hath the heavenly throat,
Doth now alas! not once afford
Recording of a note.
The flowers have had a frost,
Each herb hath lost her savour;
And Phyllida the fair hath lost
The comfort of her favour.
Now all these careful sights
So kill me in conceit,
That how to hope upon delights
It is but mere deceit.
And therefore, my sweet Muse,
Thou know'st what help is best;
Do now thy heavenly cunning use
To set my heart at rest;
And in a dream bewray
What fate shall be my friend;
Whether my life shall still decay,
Or when my sorrow end.
poem by Nicholas Breton
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The Lust We Fought For
The lust we fought for in now just a pile of ash.
The lust we fought for was a lie to it's very last.
The lust we fought for burns in my memory every night.
The kust we fought for wasn't worth it's own right.
The lust we fought for seemed so out of control.
The lust we fought for only needed us to grab ahold.
So the lust we fought for wasn't lust at all.
Indeed it was love that made our great fall.
The lust we fought for keeps me crying at night.
The lust we fought for has me praying to turn it right.
The lust we fought for makes me miss you more.
The lust we fought for broke my heart to it's core.
The lust we fought for brings out a million tears.
The lust we fought for challenged all of my fears.
So the lust we fought for was the pain i deserved to face.
Indeed it was love from that magically beautiful place.
The lust we fought for is now gone up in flames...
Because I now know that the lust we fought for was real all the same.
poem by Erin Grantham
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Music - Part 2
Music
is a jaguar on a rock,
stars spangled in the night,
flowers in a field,
a girl with ruffled hair,
a sign of ecstasy.
Music
is the organ and the choir,
angels exquisite in praise,
glory,
and the rainbow colours
in the clouds.
Music
is the violin, gliding fantasies
of sculpture in marble,
coral in the sea.
Music
is a man defying all,
a trance with glazed eyes,
ice melting in a bowl;
trumpets, bugles - gold,
silver shimmering on the waves.
Music
is the lamps lighted up in streets
of empty dark,
a fire in the heart,
a beauty in the shade with raven hair,
an eagle in the sky, alone
and flights of swallows
flying home.
Music
is the harmony of chords,
culmination of life's sounds,
the universe in peace.
poem by Tan Pratonix
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For Dreams That Do Not Come True
you sit on one of the marble pavements
of the hospital in the city
looking like a hopeless boy abandoned
by his mother
and people that pass you by think that you
are one of the beggars
you wonder why dreams do not come true
no matter how you pray
you look far without having to see
anything and anybody that is real
you blame no one though
not even the gloomy day
grays clouds heavy and about to rain
air so polluted and faces of people without the smiles
buses running senselessly
indifferent hawkers and arrogant schoolchildren pulling
their bags like a dragging day
everything seems to be surreal
gossamer-like as you float in the air
feeling like one of the illusions in your mind
you accept dreams that do not come true and you think
perhaps some day
yes someday, dreams may come and be real- true
concrete and smooth and confident to the hold of your hands
and then you stand like a true man on unreal dreams
you leave the pavements of illusions
you go back to one of the rooms in the hospital
'No tears! No tears! ' you tell yourself because now
you have learned to be brave and strong and logical.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Spirit Of Sunset
There is magic at the end of everyday
You can see it on the horizon of play.
The sun slowly drops down to take a rest,
And then we lay down for the night until the morning crest.
There is beauty in every sunset, open your eyes to see perchance.
You may see the Sunset Spirit rest upon the suns departing glance
Her beauty is beyond reproach; her eyes leave a lasting impression.
And although she does not speak, her lips speak the night's confession.
The Sunset Spirit is this and more, she comes from the suns inner core.
She guides are sunsets for our pleasure, so that we are left wanting more
Her lust for attention motivates her, to show all of sunset's glory.
But, this my friends is truly only half of this beautiful story.
The Sunset Spirit has always been and she will always be,
For she has been set upon this earth at the Lord Gods decree
The Sunset Sprit is a savior to ensure the beauty that we all see,
But most of all she is the beauty in the sunset, that always comforts me.
REB (MAY 2012) I Love the sunsets, and to see the real beauty of them, you just have to open our eyes.
poem by Rik Bertrand
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Just Beyond The Sunset
Just beyond the sunset
Someone waits for me
Just beyond the sunset
Lies my destiny
Where the purple mountains
Lie in deep tranquillity
There I’ll find the treasure
Of love eternally
Just beyond the sunset
Waits someone so fair
Just beyond the sunset
All alone they wait there
Their hair is golden
The colour of the sand
Their eyes sparkle in the night
Like diamonds in your hand
Just beyond the sunset
Lies a home for me
Where the world is peaceful
Like a paradise should be
Just beyond the sunset
Someday is where you’ll find me
Written - July or Aug 1966
poem by David Harris
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Music Man
Let it rain music,
to give a lover's dream,
of a dreamer's love,
with a music man,
not only creating
melodies and sounds,
to attract searching souls,
in an un-tried aspiration,
when a dreamer's dream,
as musically inspired,
by skin-thin covers,
on self identity,
until a man's voice,
brings truth,
in a dreamer's pain in want for love,
I cry at night,
and desire soon overcomes
a man's dream,
as music becomes memory
when the thought to forget
a considered love,
unquestioned in shyness,
of my own doubt,
in the reason to search,
and since I have given up
and this music man,
walking alone,
was only wanting my word,
to make it rain.
poem by David Solomon
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Golden Silhouette
The tiger met my stare that day,
Two hunters full of life,
Two species searching for their prey,
Each seeking to survive...
And as I stared into his eyes
While he was on patrol,
I slowly came to realise
That he stared at my soul...
He knew we shared a common bond,
With courage day and night,
That fought each battle and beyond
Against all foes in sight...
Yet he and I weren't enemies,
Although we weren't close friends,
Somehow we sensed a solemn peace,
The kind that rarely ends...
While co-existence yet remains,
We knew each had a share
And to this day, he roams the plains,
As if without a care...
Each has his purpose on this Earth
And how could I forget
His strength, his grace, his noble worth,
His golden silhouette?
Denis Martindale, copyright, June 2012.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Golden Silhouette'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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Modern Dancing
Modern, modern, modern, modern dancing
Modern dancing, modern dancing
Modern dancing, modern
I see you acting modernly with the boys and girls
Exposure breeds discovery in the modern world
The 60's hairdos 90's eyes are just flashing lights
A touch of neon hinting class for the modern night
Modern dancing, modern dancing
Modern dancing, modern dancing
Dancing
Modern dancing, modern dancing
Modern dancing, modern
Mono vision tv face and determined eyes
The clothes are perfect the rips in place just the perfect size
Familiarity breeds contempt but it doesn't show
We've heard the music times before but it still makes you go
Modern dancing, modern dancing
Modern dancing, modern dancing
Modern dancing, dancing
....variations to fade....
song performed by by Men Without Hats
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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On the Hills
Through the pungent hours of the afternoon,
On the autumn slopes we have lightly wandered
Where the sunshine lay in a golden swoon
And the lingering year all its sweetness squandered.
Oh, it was blithesome to roam at will
Over the crest of each westering hill,
Over those dreamy, enchanted lands
Where the trees held to us their friendly hands!
Winds in the pine boughs softly crooned,
Or in the grasses complained most sweetly,
With all the music of earth attuned
In this dear ripe time that must pass so fleetly:
Golden rod as we idled by
Held its torches of flame on high,
And the asters beckoned along our way
Like fair fine ladies in silk array.
We passed by woods where the day aside
Knelt like a pensive nun and tender,
We looked on valleys of purple pride
Where she reigned a queen in her misty splendor;
But out on the hills she was wild and free,
A comrade to wander right gipsily,
Luring us on over waste and wold
With the charm of a message half sung, half told,
And now, when far in the shining west
She has dropped her flowers on the sunset meadow,
We turn away from our witching quest
To the kindly starshine and gathering shadow;
Filled to the lips of our souls are we
With the beauty given so lavishly,
And hand in hand with the night we come
Back to the light and the hearth of home.
poem by Lucy Maud Montgomery
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Play On The Music
Play on the music
Drop by drop
The strings divine
The nature at its eloquence
From heavens to earth
Stretch the string
Play on the music
Drop by drop
Beethoven’s symphony
Chopin’s piano
Santana’s guitar
Or the cuckoos song
Play on the music
Drop by drop
In the heat of the night
In cold surroundings
The story of my love
My illusions great
I construct heavens
Play on the music
Drop by drop
For the moments rare
It’s only for those
The discerning here
The enchanted being
Play on the music
Drop by drop
Don’t leave me alone
O soul you fly
The body shivers
With the thought
Of death and destruction
O soul we were friends
Thou fly to eternity
Play on the music
Drop by drop
Your place is heaven
I want to be heard
A slave to a master
So ungrateful
Your beauty in this world
I hath been
You decorated me
With ornaments rare
Play on the music
Drop by drop
For this is your fate
O carrier of soul
The life’s going by
Take your share
O body of the soul
Freedom anew
In the world here
Play on the music
Drop by drop
For I am the real
The being and the nothing
The beloved and the rival
The saki and the wine
Play on the music
Drop by drop
In the deep longing
Of the night long
The strings so stretched
From the heavens to earth
Sing songs of love, O beloved mine
Reveal thy face, in my imaginations wild
Torn is my being, between real and unreal
Play on the music
Drop by drop
In the middle of the night
The rain drops falling
From the clouds high
Is telling me this story
Khayyam’s disciple
Sings a song
Play on the music
Drop by drop
poem by Sadiqullah Khan
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I Colour My World
Within the colours of this day--
I find myself recounting the days gone by...
Cherishing every blessed memory...
While gazing at the sky upon high;
I colour myself a warm shade of pink...
As i reminisce over past glorious time...
I colour myself red-with a love memory-in my head-
All collected together and written in rhyme;
I colour myself various shades of blue...
In remembering the loss and sorrows of my past...
That took a large part-of my heart...
These memories ever-engrained to last;
I colour my memories a bright yellow...
As i bask in reminders of my days 'neath the sun...
Happiness back then-and the where and the when...
All-a multi-shade of ONE!
I colour myself a rainbow...
A full spectrum of the shades of yore...
I am embraced in their true brillance--
From this day to the days of long before! ;
June 3,2010
The Essence
poem by Theodora Onken
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Have no illusions
Have no illusions –
Life is challenging
Have no illusions –
Marriage is not easy
Have no illusions –
Sometimes you’ll question
Have no illusions –
You will find fault
Have no illusions –
This is marriage
Have no illusions –
You will work it out
Have no illusions –
Hardship brings strength
Have no illusions –
You are each other’s rock
Have no illusions –
Love will endure.
poem by Melanie James
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