Songs In The Night
Like a fog horn on the Erie
And train whistles in the night,
The echoes of these lonesome sounds
Are magnified by fog's dim light.
But in the solitude I'm sitting in,
Pondering what will be my fate,
Have I the time to change some hearts,
Or has the clock found I'm too late?
I pick a single topic
And filter it in my mind.
But it gets drowned out with others,
Like an intoxicating wine.
Even in this quietness
Is the occasional sound of birds.
My thoughts have no pecking order,
And are simply jumbled words.
Then I put them on a page
Just like rolling a pair of dice.
And somehow without knowing how
The words sometimes turn out nice!
poem by Robert Edgar Burns
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Balancing On A String Of Words
Balancing...
on a string of words, cautiously tip toeing first
Not knowing behind you something is rolling forward
to knock your sticks off, so you can kick off your next verse
The next chapter to something better or worse
than your current utopia.
Than the current bubble that's your gravity,
Where the roads you walk are padded, licked clean
Your hands are held, aid in every direction, as you turn 360.
You're almost cradled, you college baby.
And the birds, they'll continue chirping the same melody
But next time you go to work, don't be late or risk losing your pension
There's nothing worst than coming home to no prospect of retirement
A life time left to pick among a forest of promotions
But out there, only your birds' melodies will sound the same
Everything changes, when you enter the real zero sum game.
Writing Frustrations I've Known
-It would seem, I've run out of words.
Nothing left to say.
I have lost my inner voice.
It's gone, completely astray.
Perhaps I should lay down pen and pad.
Never more write a rhyme.
On this poetry that I love
I shall spend no further time.
... not that I was ever truly a poet anyway
... it's just that, well, I did love it so;
... still, it feels the well is dry
... time to just let it go.
- So now, what of me shall be
Feeling empty in heart and head?
What purpose-without a word-shall be heard
With no way to express both hope and dread?
Where have the words gone
Must they ever stay away?
Who has taken my spirit's song
Why has the music of my soul nothing more to say?
... I try... seems of no use...
My mind torn asunder, literary abuse.
(this next part wrote a couple months later)
Listen, what do I hear?
Something is knocking at my gate!
A few months later now
But, not altogether too late.
A lonesome thought comes strolling in
From whence I cannot declare,
Just that it has arrived
With this simple message to share:
' What's a dime
To a lover of verse and rhyme,
And what's to fear
Of criticism drawing near?
For to write only for income
Would soon turn quite burdensome,
As surely as to not write for fear of ridicule
Would be to deny the voice within you.
The words may never turn a single head
But, don't dare believe they'll ever be dead!
God gives meaning to what he wants
Whether anyone else listens or not.
The way it is all spoke
By darling bards, or simple country folk,
Is well worth hearing
And so oft more than a bit endearing.
Don't worry about the rhyme
The perfect place or time,
Just give your soul in words as best you can
And those who should, will understand.
Those who don't
Just won't,
And that's o.k.
God speaks to them in other ways.
Trust his Spirit in all you do
Yes, this includes writing too,
Remember he promised he'd never leave you alone
Even in the simple words of your poems. '
-Pondering it over
I suppose this I've known all along,
Though thoughts may wander
True words are never gone.
Well, ya know what:
I believe I just might pick up paper and pen,
Good or bad, right or wrong...
Give it a go, once again!
poem by Smoky Hoss
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Im So Lonesome I Could Cry
(words & music by williams)
Hear that lonesome winter bird
He sounds too blue to fly
The midnight train is whining low
Im so lonesome I could cry
Did you ever see a robin weep
When leaves began to die
That means hes lost the will to live
Im so lonesome I could cry
The silence of a falling star
Lights up a purple sky
And as I wonder where you are
Im so lonesome I could cry
Im so lonesome I could cry
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Its Too Late To Change The Time
[intro]
Too late
Too late
Too late
[verse 1]
In this automatic age
We shop through the yellow page
Gone is the corner store
There is a supermarket there for you
People give way to change
But feelings remain the same
[chorus]
And its too late, too late to change the time
Well its too late, too late to change the time
And its too late, too late to change the time
But its not too late (too late) to change your mind
[verse 2]
Its a new day, a new age
A photograph just taken, is ready one minute later
Cars are bigger and better
But the manufacturers sastified never
In a world full of crime
I cant let you think thats right
[chorus]
And its too late, too late to change the time
And its too late, too late to change the time
And its too late, too late to change the time
But its not too late (too late) to change your mind
No, no
[bridge 1]
So you wanna be a star (so you wanna be a star)
You are who you think you are (ah think you are)
You dont have to go further
Than my loving arms
[chorus half]
And its too late, too late to change the time
But its not too late (too late) to change your mind
[bridge 2]
Are you sure you wanna go to new york city (new york city)
Where girls make it big if theyre pretty (if they pretty)
Let say you get that penthouse view
But whos gonna love you the way I do (just the way I do)
[chorus]
Its too late, too late to change the time
And its too late, too late to change the time, no
Too late, too late to change the time
But its not too late (too late) to change your mind
Yeah, yeah, yeah
[chorus]
Its too late, too late to change the time
Its too late, too late to change the time
Ooh, too late, too late to change the time
But its not too late (too late) to change your mind
Yeah, yeah, yeah
song performed by by Michael Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You And Your Words
the words that you say
do not anymore waves of the sea
because you never mean them
and they who hear them
cannot even think of birds winging
on the park
pecking on some grains thrown
by well meaning citizens
of this country
the words that you flaunt
have become black and white peacocks
and the frogs who live on the fog
stopped croaking
confused about an evolutionary change
that they do not expect
coming
simply put
because you never mean what you say
you have also become nothing to them
you are mean and
so
you mean nothing at all
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Jump And Run!
I asked to you
you said: we have so much to burn!
so we will not regrets!
TIC! TAC!
You offered me one sweet and renewed soul
i give you only fears and cold!
TIC! TAC!
The Clock did it its sound
We cant hear anything
We did not want see nothing
Only you and me
TIC! TAC!
your words so afective!
my moods so distracted!
our hearts so connected!
TIC! TAC!
I came so close
A music on air
A movie so sad!
TIC! TAC!
The hands of the clock
Jealous of us
that sounds again
TIC! TAC!
the time reigns
claim for our hearts
insidious night!
TIC! TAC!
So, go Jump togheter
Go run togheter
Time now is mute and happy!
poem by Mirna Morgan
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Day After Day
Day after day
Miles and miles of railroad track
Night after night
Hummin of the wheels
Their hummin seems to say
Hell follow you someday
But someday seems a million miles away
Wish I could turn around
And run back home again
Ive had no mercy
Since the blues got on this train
Day after day
Make a dollar, need it twice
Night after night
Lie awake and dream
Of days of auld lang syne
Moonlight through the pine
And linen table cloths all stained with wine
Wish I could turn around
And run back home again
Ive been so empty
Since I caught that eastbound train
Day after day
Watch the hands move round the clock
Night after night
Searching for my soul
So this must be my fate
To sit and weep and wait
And pray my darlin comes before too late
Wish I could turn around
And run back home again
Ive been so lonely
Since I caught that eastbound train
song performed by by Joni Mitchell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To One In Paradise
If I could see the sky above
And my mind could be set free
As wild white horses reached the shore
I'd stand alone and oversee
And if the bush before me burns
Should I turn my eyes away
And still the voices I can hear
As clear to me as light of day
I believed in my dreams
Nothing could change my mind
(Nothing could change my mind)
Now I know what they mean
How could I be so blind?
Cold sands of time
(Winds that blow cold as ice
Sounds that come in the night)
Shall hide what is left of me
(Come from Paradise)
I've been though times when no one cared
(Words that were mine)
I've seen clouds in empty skies
When one kind word meant more to me
(Shall last as a memory)
Than all the love in Paradise
I believed in my dreams
Nothing could change my mind
(Nothing can save me now)
'Til I found what they mean
Nothing can save me now
song performed by by Alan Parsons Project
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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High Lonesome
High in a tree on the top of the hill
By the light of the lonesome ol moon
I hear the call of a lone whipporwill
Singing his mournful tune.
Way off in the night blows the long freight train
With a roar and a ramble of wheels
My poor heart is breaking with every refrain
Cause it sounds just like the way I feel.
And it's high lonesome
High lonesome, heartbroken and blue
High lonesome
Lil darling, I'm lonesome for you.
--- Instrumental ---
Do you ever get weary roamin around
Do you think of the sweet love we knew
Do you ever get lonesome the way I am now
Lil darling I'm lonesome for you.
And it's high lonesome
High lonesome heartbroken and blue
Its a high lonesome
Lil darling I'm lonesome for you.
It's high lonesome
Lil darling I'm lonesome for you...
song performed by by Randy Travis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Old Poets
The old poets
sit drinking and conversing.
Speaking with long words; parts
of forgotten phrases, and occasional cursing.
There was among them another day, when
they thought they knew
precisely what to say, what to do.
But time, with the help of wine
has taken up the words.
Stealing their once steady voice
no longer the stronger, nor even again to be heard.
Now, the old poets gather round early
in narrow dusty bars, looking
far off, and puffing fat cigars.
Satisfied to simply sit and sip, upon
the failing wine, and fleeting time.
Watching, as both run dangerously low, like
the finish of a long and
melancholy picture show.
Time and wine, words and birds, all
fly so quickly by.
Going south with a closed mouth
the verbs and nouns of the past fall broken, and
are no longer sacramentally spoken.
What once moved so fine, within these aged poetic minds
flows now, no less, throughout each new day.
It turns old bodies weak, yet goes on bearing
the delicate souls like gold, further and further away.
poem by Smoky Hoss
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Just Wait For Life
Let time be time while time can be
For mind gives way to mind
And thoughts of will, free will, turn free
Progression says all stop, reform
Renew, rethink, redeem, renorm
And change is change while change can be
For thoughts all change the thoughts we see
And all is not what all can be
For all is what I make of me
And you, for we're all connected
Fate is false while false
Til' will is urged and redirected
Like rhymes which change
Life is broken, fixed, and broken
Renewed reawoken,
Words they change, all semantics,
They restate the love, sorrow, fear,
Strike and make you rise to your feat
All change it changes life and need
It is all it is, reform, progressive static
It's magic, music, boom bam to the beat.
(2011)
Samvel Aleksanyan © All Rights Reserved
Words of Lament
How it has become written
Sorrowfully into my thoughts
The silence of my lonesome night
The suffering of my lonely heart
I try to drown in spirits
In the hope of raising my own
I am as successful in doing this
As my unrequited love has been
Never achieving the desired answer
While often not asking the question
Time which is fleeting at best
Passes by with ever gathering pace
And I have wasted so much
In thoughts of fancy and love
Never making a decision or action
Just thinking of words and feelings
Held by a fear of what could be spoken
Without ever actually knowing
And all that’s left when the night is done
Are these thoughts, words of lament
poem by Matthew Holloway
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Souls
It all started here, she was a girl form the midwest
He was a stranger in a strange land
Same old story
He came for the glory
She came looking for a young mans hand
But they found bright lights
And endless nights
And men just used her innocent ways
He found it all so pretty, hypnotized by the city
They lost sight of the reason
They lost count of the days
And they were two souls searching for each other
One spirit looking for the other
Caught between a hard hard place and a rock
Two souls searching for heaven
Rolling the dice looking for a seven
To the tick, tick, ticking of time
Gotta beat the clock
Too many nights on the ledge
He acquired a knife-edge
Still the city didnt acquiesce to his demands
Some nights she cried for pity in the heart of the city
The city smacked her hands
He met her one endless night
Her eyes had a light
There was something familiar about the smell of her skin
He held her tighter and tighter
As he danced inside her
She knew from the moment that she let him in
Theyd been two souls searching for each other
One spirit looking for the other
Caught between a hard hard place and a rock
Two souls searching for heaven
Rolling the dice looking for a seven
To the tick, tick, ticking of time
Gotta beat the clock
Beat the clock
Beat the clock
Beat the clock
Two souls searching for each other
One spirit looking for the other
Caught between a hard hard place and a rock
Two souls searching for heaven
Rolling the dice looking for a seven
To the tick, tick, ticking of time
Gotta beat the clock
song performed by by Rick Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Im So Lonesome I Could Cry
Hank williams
Did you hear that lonesome whippoorwill?
He sounds too blue to fly
The midnight train is whining low
And Im so lonesome I could cry
Did you ever see a night so long
When time goes crawlin by?
The moon just went behind a cloud
And Im so lonesome I could cry
Did you ever see a robin weep
When leaves begin to die?
That means hes lost the will to live
And Im so lonesome I could cry
The silence of a fallin star
Lights up a purple sky
And as I wonder where you are
Im so lonesome I could cry
Yeah i-i could cry-eye-eye
I could cry-eye, eye-eye-eye, i-i could cry-eye
I could cry-eye, oh-oh-oh-oh
I-i could cry, I could cry
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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At A Loss For Words
Some time had passed since a verse had come to mind
a mental blockage I have had, nothing seemed to rhyme.
No words of creation the supply had gone
no thoughts, or imagination, nothing, not a one.
The source had stopped for some strange reason,
as though there was a break in the poetry season.
I tried and I tried, but nothing would come together,
not even with a change in the weather.
In the early hours I woke up and had to pick up a pen,
for some strange reason I began writing again.
It is quite odd and I’ll never get to know
why periods of poetry come and go.
But I’m thankful when words and lines come to me
it is as though they are sent telepathically.
It doesn’t matter if the poem is incorrect or good
or if it’s taken as silly, or is misunderstood.
As long as it relays that moment’s thought
an instinctive message that cannot be taught.
To me it doesn’t matter if its only two lines long,
or whether it has many verses, or even sounds wrong.
When thoughts of words or sentences come to mind
I have to write them down no matter the place or time.
If I don’t record the thought on paper right away
they become lost forever in the space of night and day.
poem by Orlando Belo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Solitary Man
Sometimes I feel like a solitary man.
Under the night sky writing what I can.
No one else is moving or driving cars.
The world belongs to me under the stars.
While pondering in my solitude
Without a thought or plan,
Thoughts jump into the mind
Of this solitary man.
I don't know where they come from.
They are just my own surprise.
Sometimes I'd swear that they have come
Through a different set of eyes.
In prison I know that solitary
Can drive a person mad.
But in those I once sent there,
For the solitude they seem glad.
The Lord needed His solitude
For at one time forty days.
And again when in the garden,
Where for the souls of men He prayed.
So in my time of solitude
I also have time to pray.
It's when I feel the closest,
To Him in my night each day!
poem by Robert Edgar Burns
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Only In My Mind
thoughts fire
mind blaze
run on wind
words sing mind melodies
words sing song new images
dance in heart veins flow
words shape shift
into new thoughts
concepts poems
several are written
in time heart beats
wonder stirs anew
but only in my mind
where the beauty sings
sung sight meditation
no words given unto paper
no words processed on light screen
no words kept mind record
dart of honeybird flight
bats fly sonar night vision
wing beats of wonder
words released born free
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Goat Paths
The crooked paths go every way
Upon the hill - they wind about
Through the heather in and out
Of the quiet sunniness.
And there the goats, day after day,
Stray in sunny quietness,
Cropping here and cropping there,
As they pause and turn and pass,
Now a bit of heather spray,
Now a mouthful of the grass.
In the deeper sunniness,
In the place where nothing stirs,
Quietly in quietness,
In the quiet of the furze,
For a time they come and lie
Staring on the roving sky.
If you approach they run away,
They leap and stare, away they bound,
With a sudden angry sound,
To the sunny quietude;
Crouching down where nothing stirs
In the silence of the furze,
Couching down again to brood
In the sunny solitude.
If I were as wise as they
I would stray apart and brood,
I would beat a hidden way
Through he quiet heather spray
To a sunny solitude;
And should you come I'd run away,
I would make an angry sound,
I would stare and turn and bound
To the deeper quietude,
To the place where nothing stirs
In the silence of the furze.
In that airy quietness
I would think as long as they;
Through the quiet sunniness
I would stray away to brood
By a hidden beaten way
In a sunny solitude.
I would think until I found
Something I can never find,
Something lying on the ground,
In the bottom of my mind.
poem by James Stephens
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Here With Me
Maybe its too late but this feelin is runnin through my soul
I think I learned what love is but Im afraid I let it go
Maybe its too late, maybe youve already changed your mind
Turned lovin into leavin and Im on the outside
You cant take these words to bed with you and hold onto them at night
They cant erase the emptiness and make everything alright
But your laughter and your tenderness will never disappear
No matter where you are tonight a part of you is here with me
Here with me, I dont know where you are, all I know is I need you to be
Here with me, I know its not to late, to turn around and get it straight
Its not fate to have you here with me
I can hear your voice promising your love will never die
I can feel your golden skin on mine beneath the desert sky
So how can it be true, how can you just turn and let me go
Let the story of your life with mine forever go untold
I cant take these words to bed with me and hold onto them at night
They cant erase the emptiness and make everything alright
Cause your laughter and your tenderness will never disappear
No matter where you are tonight a part of you is here with me
Here with me, I dont know where you are, all I know is I need you to be
Here with me, I know its not too late, to turn around and get it straight
Its not fate to have you here with me
(solo)
Here with me, I dont know where you are, all I know is I need you to be
Here with me, I know its not to late, to turn around and get it straight
Its not fate to have you here with me
(repeat)
song performed by by Reo Speedwagon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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This Is Mumbling This Is Rambling
do not care to read me carefully, just skim over
some words that may call your preferential attention.
do not mind the smaller ideas, or the images that
you find hard to imagine. They may not be images
after all but just blotches of my stains, the negligence
of my trembling fingers, the lapses of my brains,
the slip of my tongues, the cliches of humanity,
seeking meaning in the meaninglessness of words.
this is mumbling, this is plain rambling
do not ever mind what i am writing. this is not about you.
or myself, or the society that like sheep simply graze on the grass
not knowing that on the next step is the landmine that kills them,
or why look for the meaning of loneliness in words or lines or poetry.
are you going home tonight? on a train. sit there. look over the window.
see the line of trees, do they shout at you? No.
and move your eyes, as though you are scrolling for names on the
cell phone, like roving camera, you do not have to look that far on the
20th person sitting across the other side.
someone is sitting next to you. listen to his silence.
feel the vibrations of all his problems. try to unmask the cover of his face.
are there words covering his face? none.
or if words cover his face and body, try reading them all silently.
most of the truths are not said. Not even written. You always see them
next to you. Be it on the train, the bus or the plane. Or simply when you
walk along the cemented paths of the park. Here comes another
lost soul. Talk to him. Do not write poetry.
this is mumbling this is plain rumbling. Do not speak poetry.
write them and let them cover your face. That is the best way to speak.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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