The world rushes on over the strings of the lingering heart making the music of sadness.
aphorism by Rabindranath Tagore from Stray Birds (1916), translated by Rabindranath Tagore
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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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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Music is
Music is round
Music is square
Music is blue
Music is green
Music is am
Music is pm
Music is happiness
Music is sadness
Music is life
Music is death
Music is the world.
poem by Lesley Bass
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Israphel
A dreamer midst the stars doth dwell,
Known to the gods as Israphel.
His heart-strings are a lute;
And when, the magic notes outpouring,
He parts his lips, the gods, adoring,
Listen in transport mute,
Subdued and softened by the spell
Of the dreamer, Israphel!
And mortals, when they hear him, start,
And, full of wonder, call him—Art,
And, fain his gift to gain,
Essay to imitate the fashion
Of his rare song, and breathe its passion,—
But, ah, they strive in vain;
For his song is more than art,
Whose lute-strings are his heart!
And others, unto whom he wings
The sweetest melodies he sings,
In worship, name him—Love;
Yet longing the pure strain to capture,
When at the very height of rapture,
A sadness oft approve,
And fancy, strangely, that he wrings
The music from their own heart-strings!
poem by Florence Earle Coates from Poems (1898)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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My Music Is My Life
MUSIC IS MY LIFE
I am just sitting here,
Making love to my guitar
Strumming out music,
My love doesn’t stray too far.
My music is my life,
And my love is a heart filled song.
As long as I’m singing,
I know there can be no wrong.
Hugs and kisses come easy,
From the strings that I caress.
There is nothing more pretty,
Than my guitar in full dress.
My music is my life,
And my love is a heart filled song.
As long as I’m singing,
I know there can be no wrong.
I am carried into ecstasy
With each note that floats out
Feel the music within me,
It’s busting its way out.
My music is my life,
And my love is a heart filled song.
As long as I’m singing,
I know there can be no wrong.
Play the music with me,
Sing and raise your voice.
You will feel the love of Music,
Your heart will have no choice.
My music is my life,
And my love is a heart filled song.
As long as I’m singing,
I know there can be no wrong.
Life cannot deny me love,
Or the music that’s inside me
The melodies are my heart and soul,
And it will always be my decree.
REB (FEB 2012) Dedicated to Twig Sullivan, because music is her life
poem by Rik Bertrand
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Music Is My Life
I am just sitting here,
Making love to my guitar
Strumming out music,
My love doesn't stray too far.
My music is my life,
And my love is a heart filled song.
As long as I'm singing,
I know there can be no wrong.
Hugs and kisses come easy,
From the strings that I caress.
There is nothing more pretty,
Than my guitar in full dress.
My music is my life,
And my love is a heart filled song.
As long as I'm singing,
I know there can be no wrong.
I am carried into ecstasy
With each note that floats out
Feel the music within me,
It's busting its way out.
My music is my life,
And my love is a heart filled song.
As long as I'm singing,
I know there can be no wrong.
Play the music with me,
Sing and raise your voice.
You will feel the love of Music,
Your heart will have no choice.
My music is my life,
And my love is a heart filled song.
As long as I'm singing,
I know there can be no wrong.
Life cannot deny me love,
Or the music that's inside me
The melodies are my heart and soul,
And it will always be my decree.
REB (FEB 2012) Dedicated to Twig Sullivan, because music is her life
poem by Rik Bertrand
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Transcendence....
in that pit of sorrow
shall one descend
until his head is seen
no more
what is seen is the plain
a desert if you know
the sun is cruel
as seen on the skulls of goats
and men
but one cannot just descend
forever into the
grief that is so overwhelming
that is not the end
of this matter for soon one who is scarred & scared
with so much sadness
learns so carefully and the heart
that is broken soon shall
heal the strings that snapped
from its guitar body
and one's trembling fingers can still
figure music what just two strings
or even one
down to that grave of darkness
where shadows speak
one day an eye looks for a leak
of light
and finding an opening
wings its way
to the world of light where it
once lived
for it shall remember and rise
once again
as spirit as scent of calmness
and gentleness
the scars listen and the broken limbs
reshape what the spirits
reinvent: you see, you must have
felt it, because
it happens and we are still here
all willing
to speak and listen.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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You And Me Making Music Together
i am a violin
play me with the gentleness
of your
disposition
you must hear
the sadness of my music
you are my guitar
i will strum your strings
it will not be sad
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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We Drank The Sadness
Come! !
Solitude, my friend
Accompany me tonight.
come! !
sit to my side
and bring your glass and pour in it
the sadness of solitary hearts.
Take their tears, put yours and take mine.
Let´s allow them to ferment a while
until they are converted into wine,
that tonight I want to get drunk
with the wine of sadness.
Tonight, in your company, I'll not only
drink your sadness and the sadness of world
but, rather, I´ll get drunk myself with my heart´s sadness
and the solitude of my soul.
Come solitude!
Let´s leave to walk and let´s scream to the world
that tonight we drank its sadness
and the drunkenness of the sadness
in happiness it finished! !
poem by Enrique Alberto Hurtado Minotta
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Invisible Strings
(ian hunter)
One, two, three
Well I woke up this morning - theres a girl in my bed.
How did she get there? was it something I said?
I dont understand it but somehow it seems
She visits me in invisible dreams.
Over and over I try to explain
How did that girl get into my veins?
Did somebody send her - was it my velvet wings?
And how does she touch my invisible strings?
Invisible strings - invisible strings
These are a few of my favorite things
Now its all over when the fat lady sings
Ill still be playing my invisible strings
Well maybe she dont have a world of her own
Maybe shes using me just like a phone
And sometimes shes cool and sometimes she stings
And Im all tangled up in invisible strings
Invisible strings - invisible strings
These are a few of my favorite things
When youre wearing black and Im wearing wings,
Well still be playing those invisible strings
Well she never leaves - Im never alone
I aint in the book but shes still calling home
I tried to lose her - watch the tv
But that womans always picking on me
Well, theres strings round my body, strings round my heart
Id like to know where the string-pulling starts
Id give anything to meet the angel who sends
Invisible ink to my invisible pen
Invisible strings - invisible strings
These are a few of my favorite things
When youre wearing black and Im wearing wings,
Well still be playing our invisible strings
Invisible strings - invisible strings
These are a few of my favorite things
Now its all over when the fat lady sings
Well still be playing our invisible strings
Invisible strings - invisible strings
Oh yeah
song performed by by Ian Hunter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Strings in the Earth and Air
Strings in the earth and air
Make music sweet;
Strings by the river where
The willows meet.
There's music along the river
For Love wanders there,
Pale flowers on his mantle,
Dark leaves on his hair.
All softly playing,
With head to the music bent,
And fingers straying
Upon an instrument.
poem by James Joyce
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Everywhere I Am/My Sadness Comes Back To Me
Everywhere I am
My sadness comes back to me-
Sadness it seems
Is part of my essential self
I carry it with me like a signature.
One day perhaps in some perfect heaven
I will not find it within me
But now here in this world
Where even the greatest Goodness and Happiness
May know loss
It is with me always
Even if sometimes only as a possibility-
Sadness goes with me wherever I go
And I am sadness it seems in some of my essence-
Bless the light of the day and the beauty of the world
And those moments of rare exuberance
In which Sadness is not.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Beauty In Nature
Theres a poem in every flower,
a sonnet in every tree,
a tale in every lifetime
its just for you to see...
theres a lyric in every brook
as it rushes over rocks,
theres an ode in every nuance,
as loves wonder unlocks,
theres rhythm in every sound,
every beating of a heart,
theres poetry in every union
and every couple who are apart
and just as there is wonder
in every new life created
there is sadness and regret,
for the unsaid and unfeted
just listen for the music
that your ears cannot hear,
just strain yourself for the melody
thats so far and yet so near
the wonder of the creator,
the magic of the divine
is there to feel, for all of us,
to soon be yours and mine
poem by Arti Chopra
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0406 The Summer Evening Music That Never Ended
It was such a warm summer evening
that the music that was promised us
after the evening meal, called to meet
the open air. I wondered, would it work,
would the delicacy of the music’s fine woven tapestry,
the shaped fine wood of instruments,
fine sounds from strings, flute, clarinet,
find themselves, or lose themselves,
on the mown front lawn before the house,
under the heavens’ curve?
Chairs, music stands, cello’s spike
were settled in the grassy earth; skirts arranged;
stillness as the group began to hear
each other’s silence and the music
not yet played; not far away; but almost here.
Something complete, it seemed,
was in the air.
Music began; acquired attitudes of listening
settled on the audience; and then, unannounced,
magic descended. Someone
who knew life so intimately, so completely,
who had passed through it even while
they lived it, was telling me in my inner ear
what life was, is, all about; in detail –
it’s like this; and this; this sweetness,
that sweetness; this sadness, that sadness;
sweetness that’s sad, sadness that is sweet;
all held like a gentle fountain - bubbling continuous,
yet gloriously and joyously, ever fresh;
to be welcomed, not to be judged or resisted,
(the hearing of it was way beyond such things)
for it held - listening to it now afresh, it holds -
all that may be known, that may be lived; this is life itself;
this, this is simply, how it is...
The sound is with me now; music told me;
this is how it is.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Lapsing into bliss
He gently picks her out
Fondly holding
Making her comfortable on his lap
With his arms around her
His fingers gently work up a rhythm
And he knows which strings to touch
Creating a world of magic with a guitar
While moving to the beat of his music,
I watched, lapsing into bliss!
poem by Anita Atina
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Harbour (feat. Sinad O'Connor)
the street bears no relief
when everybody's fighting
the street bears no relief
with light so hot and binding
i run the stairs away
and walk into the nighttime
the sadness flows like water
and washes down the heartache
and washes down the heartache
my heart is full
my heart is wide
the saddest song to play
on the strings of my heart
the heat is on its own
the roof seems so inviting
a vantage point is gained
to watch the children fighting
so lead me to the harbour
and float me on the waves
sink me in the ocean
to sleep in a sailor's grave
to sleep in a sailor's grave
my heart is full
my heart is wide
the saddest song to play
on the strings of my heart
my heart is full
my heart is wide, so wide
the saddest song to play
on the strings of my heart
song performed by by Moby
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Coffee And Music And Rain
as you play the piano
the rain outside has not ceased
the notes fall like rain
music is a crying
song
the cries become music
to my ears
there is no sadness that
is sadness per se
because sadness has meaning
it has a purpose
just like every note that
must have a place in this afternoon
sonata
to create that blend of
sweetness and bitterness over a cup
of brewed coffee
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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But Not For Long
You stepped into my
life,
A foolish reminder.
But not for long.
You stepped into my
heart,
Making bold advances.
But not for long.
You forced the door
open,
With many promises,
But not for long.
You played on my heart
strings,
Without my permission,
But not for long.
Strings can be easily
broken,
Sometimes hard to repair,
But not for long.
poem by Heather Burns
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Butterflies
You stepped into my
life,
A foolish reminder.
But not for long.
You stepped into my
heart,
Making bold advances.
But not for long.
You forced the door
open,
With many promises,
But not for long.
You played on my heart
strings,
Without my permission,
But not for long.
Strings can be easily
broken,
Sometimes hard to repair,
But not for long.
poem by Heather Burns
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How Sad This World Of Beauty Might Have Been
How sad this world of beauty might have been
How sad the leaves that do not know the beauty of their own green names
How sad the sound of sadness in its sinking down
How sad when no real sadness makes sadness so real
How sad and less than glad are we all
Savoring our own sadness-
Let it go away
Let it play elsewhere
Let joy and laughter make sadness a forgotten moment
Let joy and laughter even be our song to ourselves
Let's try
A new world is waiting for those capable of writing and listening to a poem
That has not a single note of sadness left in it.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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The Sadness Of Loneliness
THE SADNESS OF LONELINESS
The sadness of loneliness-
I had forgotten it-
I have been away for a long time
But now in the late afternoon
In the quiet and emptiness
Of the usually bustling streets
It comes back to me quietly-
The sadness of loneliness
That we are alone in the world
Each one of us alone
And that sometimes no matter
Where we are
We remember it-
The sadness of loneliness
A Quiet sadness
A sad sadness
A lonely sadness
Alone.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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