Submit Your Poems
Get Your Premium Membership


Narrative Music Poems | Narrative Poems About Music

These Narrative Music poems are examples of Narrative poems about Music. These are the best examples of Narrative Music poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

If you don't find the poem you want here, try our incredible, super duper, all-knowing, advanced poem search engine.

Details | Narrative | |

John Lennon


On the day  that John Lennon died,  people were just going  about their business  as they did every day.  Mark David Chapman  was reading  Catcher In The Rye  void of his holy self.  He would have had to  Imagine there’s no heaven.  John took the elevator  down from his room  at peace with his belief  that there was  no hell below us.  He stepped out  on that fateful day  over him,  over everyone,  above us only sky. On the day that  John Lennon died,  people where just going  about their business  as they did every day.  Imagine, all the people  living for today.  Chapman talked to Lennon. Just before he killed him. He was singing "imagine  there’s no countries  because it isn’t hard to do." Chapman shot his  hollow point bullets,  without cause,  there was nothing  to kill or die for  and no religion too.  What a senseless killing,  how senseless killing is.  I imagine all the people  living life in peace. John fell to the ground,  a pool of blood beneath him.  A preacher on a soap box  unaware of the horrific act  that had taken place  was spewing words   that never belonged  to his soul but filled  the tin cup he was holding.  He yelled loudly,  ‘you may say that I'm a dreamer  but I'm not the only one’   a woman in the crowd hummed  ‘I hope someday you'll join us.’  A teenage couple under  their breath followed with  ‘and the world will be as one.’  Amen! They say when the police arrived  Chapman was reading his book.  Imagine no possessions,  I wonder if you can. The Detectives did not wait  for an ambulance. They rushed John Lennon  to the hospital. They weren't looking for credit;  they had no need for greed.  The preacher had left  with his tin cup full,  no need for more or hunger. At the hospital the air was  like most emergency departments,  people comforting people  who themselves needed comforting.  A brotherhood of man. In a hospital with its tragedies  life is more than real  you don’t need to imagine  all the people sharing all the world.  It just is. You can hear  their hearts  beating in tune,  singing  ‘You may say that I'm a dreamer  But I'm not the only one  I hope someday you'll join us  And the world will live as one.’ 07~11~2014 Maurice Yvonne Sponsor: Kelly Deschler Contest Name: I Love Rock n Roll


Details | Narrative | |

You've got the rhythm in you

She once met a man called Noel,
He was a musician of rock and roll,
They sang and played music into the night,
When she is with him she doesn’t get a fright.

Then He turned to her and said...

You’ve got the rhythm in you,
You’ve got it in your shoes,
You’ve got it in your bones,
You’ve got it in your toes,
You’ve got it in your hair,
You’ve got it everywhere,
You’ve had it from the start,
You’ve got it in your heart.

Through the wind they whispered singing softly,
Into the crack of dawn, morning light...

At 6am she fell asleep,
Subconsciously she heard a creep...

She woke up and he wasn’t there,
She called for his name,
It was like he didn’t care,
She was going insane!

She still hears those words at night,
Though unable to see Him through sight.

You’ve got the rhythm in you,
You’ve got it in your shoes,
You’ve got it in your bones,
You’ve got it in your toes,
You’ve got it in your hair,
You’ve got it everywhere,
You’ve had it from the start,
You’ve got it in your heart.

By: Ava Douglass   Age: 12


Details | Narrative | |

I Want to Sing Too

I can’t sing
I mean I can’t sing
I’ll leave the singing to Walt.
But I assume, as he assumes, as you assume, as all assume,
I love like you, love like him, love like the Lord above,
What is there? Singing? Why can’t I sing too?

Every cell and feeling that exudes from me,
Leaves an impression that I’m proud for all to see.
Every smile and gesture makes me a man,
It doesn’t always fit into my plan,
But I think the trepidation is waning,
The insecurity finally is straining.
All this time I’ve wanted to sing,
But it’s always been my failing.

I can’t sing
I mean I can’t sing
No that’s not true.
Something is different.
I no longer assume, I assure.
I don’t wander, I wonder.
I can’t fear, I fight.
I don’t love, I love YOU.

I haven’t sung because of others.
But these others are sisters and brothers.
Sometimes my voice might crack,
The beauty I may lack.
But YOU have opened my mind,
All this time I’ve been behind.
YOU have opened my eyes.
I’ve seen the pretty skies.
YOU have opened my heart,
And I’m ready to start.
YOU have opened my lung,
And I’ll be heard, and sung.


Details | Narrative | |

Celebration

In the year 2003,
both Southern University
and Louisiana State University
won national football championships
A monster celebration followed
in downtown Baton Rouge
It was broadcast live on local TV
There were speeches by the coaches,
alumni and players from both teams
and the presidents of both schools

But oh, the ceremony finale
Yes the finale was sight to behold

Both bands, in full costume dress
stood side-by-side together
and played a slow, majestic version
of our National Anthem...
Oh-say-does-that-star-spangled
banner-yet WAAAAVE!!...
A two second pause
(which seemed like an eternity)
O'er-the-land-of-the-FREEEE!!
(Cameras scanning the audience
People shedding tears
Overcome with emotion and pride)
And-the-home-of-the----BRAAAAVE!!

The cheers and applause
shook the whole town...

***Southern University won the Black College Football National Championship that year. Their band is well-known and considered to be one of the best in the country, having played at The White House and several Super Bowls...


Details | Narrative | |

Dance with A Stranger

There I stood in this massive hall, decorated with sophisticated settings, 
White flowing drapes hung freely from an invisible ceiling
Twinkling stars, sparkled against the midnight blue sky
Though I could not see it, an orchestra played a lovely, unfamiliar tune 
Well-dressed, others sat leisurely at circular tables covered in white draping linen
Adorned with colorful centerpieces and white candles in delicate crystal holders

Quite puzzled, I made my way toward the center of the room
I searched for familiar faces in the crowd to no avail
My dress, simple, yet elegant was of the brightest blue 
Then out of nowhere this handsome, young man appeared and took my hand in his
As if on queue, the music stopped. Strangely the color of his suit matched mine 
Unafraid, I stared into the stranger’s face, as the most beautiful melody played

As we danced, we seemed to be floating before the crowd of smiling faces 
The music played on endlessly, as I danced in the stranger’s arms
His leading was perfect, not a word passed between us, but gentle smiles expressed the joy
Lost in wonder, feeling incredibly elated, I wished we would dance forever 
 In an instant I felt a light touch on my face, and I turned away to see
And to my surprise, there stood my little girl, saying, “Mommy, wake up, I’ll be late for 
school!


Note:  True story- A dream I had some years ago and which I will never forget!!   I have no 
idea what that meant,..but who cares. It was one of the best dreams I ever had! One of 
those dreams you hate to be awaken from.  .


Details | Narrative | |

Musical Epiphany

The sound rushing into my ears,
Flowing into my every vein,
Feel every cell vibrating,
In unison.
That feeling of ecstasy,
The rush, catches my breath,
Musical melody.
As I close my eyes,
And let it wash over me,
It cleanses, purifies,
All the anger, hurt
That lay buried deep inside.
The tunes reverberate,
Through my very soul.
It's hard to imagine,
So much joy,
From a few notes on a page.
But it makes me dance,
To tunes that only..
I hear.


Details | Narrative | |

BEFORE SPRING CAME

Before spring came, in late February
to the blooming and jolly hills 
I ran, breathing heavily and frantically,
touching the perfumed blossoms 
of a solitary, old cherry tree;
and underneath it I sat writing poetry
that hadn't a perfect rhyme and beat! 
Weren't my skills marred by imperfections?    



Canaries and red-breasted robins
flew down and rested on my outstretched legs;
perusing my lines to spot their names,
and when they did, they flapped their wings in gladness!
I could have imagined their joyful words,.
if only they had acquired the gift of speech,
and deeper in their thoughts I would have reached:
to dispel the myth that they had no feelings...



After my short poem was completed,
I reached for my harmonica to play my favorite classic tune;
and being surprised by the paleness of the fading moon,
I dedicated that happy melody to her not to let her despair:
by waving my hand to make her farewell less sad, while I whispered,
" Silent moon, eternal companion of every poet,
what's beyond the realm of this universe?...
Tell us more of those invisible suns and planets! "
 


Before spring came to the dormant valley,
the mountains' peaks allowed the sun to melt their snows,
to create gushing torrents to feed its water to the dry and cracked soil,
which needed rain instead of harmful frost;
and I drank the freshest water and washed my sweaty face,
while fighting off the bees' stubborn rivalry!
That spring has come again to dress herself with incredible splendor,
and this discontent and wishful heart desires nothing more than being there!  


My theme is: Happiness In Childhood


Details | Narrative | |

GREET THE LITTLE KING

Greet the little King,
who has been born in a cold manger
on the holiest of nights;
and by the glitter of a descending star,
He will spread peace in the land...
follow the shepherds and find that sight! 


My gift to Him is my joyful song,
and with this clarinet I will usher in His coming...
walk side by side with the pretty angels and rejoice;
bring Him your gift, and surround Him with joy!
See the three Magi arriving on jewel-draped camels,
holding in their laps the gifts of His destiny.  


A winter's night has always been completely bright,
every hill is hidden by darkness, but an heavenly light 
appears across the frosty sky of Bethlehem, while divine
voices announce Emmanuel's glorious birth,
everyone wakes up and sees that star and follows it;
and where it stops, they find a baby without a crown.   


Greet the Son of the Highest, the Wonderful Redeemer, 
whom the Virgin Mary has borne in the humblest of places...
in the small town without a temple, or a palace for the Emperor,
where Mary and Joseph will train their child in Godly ways;
greet the little king, He will smile and invite you in,
and His smile will spread peace beyond the star-lit hill. 
 

Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci


Details | Narrative | |

Sometimes

Sometimes a song can take me back
Make my memories come alive
To a time when love was a way of life
And families struggled to survive
Sometimes I get a little mellow
When I listen to an old love tune	
And dream of days long gone 
How they passed by too soon
Sneaking my first cigarette
I don’t think that I was ten
And listening to the AM radio
While the Kalin Twins sang “When”
We grew up with real music
That helped us bear our heavy load
When Gogi sang “The Wayward Wind”
And Mitchum told us about “Thunder Road”
Sometimes when I’m down, I think about the past
And a different way of life
I’ll listen to Lloyd sing about “Stagger Lee”
Or Bobby relate the tale of “Mack The Knife”
There were a lot of question and a lot of answers
Some were wrong and some were right
Like “Does Your Chewing Gum Lose it’s Flavor
On the Bed Post Over Night”
Sometimes those songs bring a tear or two
But they always bring me joy
While Jimmy crooned “Just A Dream”
And the Shirelles loved their “Soldier Boy”
When Jim Ed Brown sang of “Scarlet Ribbons”
And Perry said, “Catch a Falling Star”
Dee Clark was calling “Hey Little Girl”
Johnny was thinking “Chances Are”
Sometimes I wish I could return 
To the days of my childhood
Just to hear Johnny Ray sing “Cry”
Or Chuck wail “Johnny B. Goode”
Jimmie sang about a “Honeycomb”
And “Kisses Sweeter Than Wine”
The Orlons were meeting on “South Street”
The Chiffons said “He’s So Fine.”
Skeeter thought it was “the End of The World”
Because she lost her one and only
The Beach Boys said “Don’t Worry Baby”
Roy Sang for “Only The Lonely”

Sometimes.


Details | Narrative | |

Little Moments

Do you ever have these thoughts?
These scenarios that play on in your mind?
They haven’t exactly happened yet but in your heart you wish they would
Could just be a simple conversation back and forth
A glance across the table when our eyes seem to meet
The way you gently place your hand on the small of my back as we enter the restaurant 
Driving down a road with no destination with music up high 
The windows down low
When I'm in the middle of saying something and you stop me in my tracks and  kiss me
It’s always these little movie clips
These small moments that may be simple gestures but seem to leave the most impact and make you feel weightless
Then reality hits and I find that a smile of pure joy has appeared on my face


Details | Narrative | |

Glen Campbell -- A Special Person

Glen Campbell – A Special Person
      It was September 4th, 1968 and I threw an empty suitcase into the trunk of my car, telling Joan, my daughter, that I might not be home to celebrate her birthday. She would turn 13 the following day and Wanda, my wife, had planned something special. As I dropped her off at school she had no clue as to what was in store.
      Joan had become an ardent fan of a young Glen Campbell and he was due to be in town that very night for a concert.  We led Joan to believe we had given up all hopes of taking her to see him since my travel plans would probably keep me out of town that night. Joan reconciled herself to the distinct possibility she would not be in attendance at his concert. She was a very understanding young lady.
      When I returned home that evening, Joan was advised we would celebrate her upcoming birthday with a simple dinner out and maybe a movie. As we drove, Joan was very animated and proceeded to tell us of all the activity of the day. She didn’t pay much attention to where we were headed. Her chatter told us she wasn’t on to our plan.
      Well, when we approached the Music Hall in Houston, TX Joan realized where we were and became so excited I thought she was going to faint. She shrieked with joy and showed the textbook signs of one about to see their idol.  I don’t believe we had ever seen her so excited.
      Wanda had managed to reserve some wonderful seats, center stage 3 rows back. We took our seats and soon were enjoying watching our daughter watch this young performer transform the audience, mostly young people, into an almost hypnotic state.  We had joined Joan as fans of this young man from Arkansas. He was really putting on a great show. But something special was about to happen. 
      He finished the first half of his show and we sat there and listened to Joan excitedly chatter about what was taking place. 
      About halfway through the 2nd half Glenn pulled up a stool, sat down and asked, “Is there a Miss Joan Posey in the audience?” Joan was literally dumbfounded. We acknowledged to Glen that indeed she was here. Glen looked at here and said, “Well, tomorrow you’ll become a teenybopper. This one is for you.” He proceeded to sing “Hey, Little One” and there were probably as many tears in Dad’s eyes as in Joan’s. Her insistent question was, “How did he know?” repeated time after time.
      Wanda, in her fantastic way of pulling off the impossible, had written to Glen Campbell, in care of the Music Hall, and told him of Joan’s upcoming birthday. It would mean a lot to her if he could only wish her a happy birthday.  It was a long shot and he only received the letter some 2 hours before show time. Someone on his staff picked up on it and took it from there. He finished and instantly became a very special person to two proud parents. Joan became an instant VIP since almost half her class had been in attendance. It was a most memorable time and Glen Campbell will always have a special spot in our hearts…. Jake


Details | Narrative | |

Straight to Hell - A Short Story

I was a seventeen year old senior in a coed, catholic high school.  Our gym classes however were still all boys and all girls.  My senior year we had gym every other day and music every other day in the same time slot.  The music classes, therefore, were also all boys or all girls.

She was a twenty-eight year old nun in her first teaching assignment.  She was in way over her head.  She was about five-foot-four and weighed practically nothing.  The nuns in our school no longer wore habits and I remember thinking it was a good thing because she would probably fly away like Sally Fields.  If you don’t know what I mean by that then you are too young to be reading my story.

The music class was a mad house.  She could not control a room of twenty some boys bound and determined to make her life hell.  I mean, music class?  Really?

We never did the homework assigned; never answered her questions seriously; never believed her threats at discipline; wouldn’t accept the demerits she tried to hand out; and basically goofed off for the hour that was supposed to be dedicated to learning about music.

For some reason, she seemed too proud or too green or too determined to go to the principal or another teacher for help; and, sensing that, we knew we could get away with our childish behavior and so we did.

One day, a handful of us “got in trouble” and she said she wanted to talk to us after class.  I was the only one that actually stayed.  She tried to lecture me on my bad behavior but I guess my smirk was evidence it was not sinking in.  Then, she started to cry, and for the first time I saw her as a person.

“What am I doing,” she cried.  "I can’t do this.  I am trying; I am really trying, but I am not cut out for this.  Why are you boys so mean and hateful?”

I stood up in front of her not knowing what to do or what to say.  I felt like a real jerk.  I was a real jerk.

Tears poured down her face, which I finally recognized as being a pretty face.  She bowed her head and just sobbed.  In my awkward seventeen year old manner, I slowly opened my arms and allowed her to lean into me.  And I hugged her while she wept.
   
At seventeen, I was no ladies’ man, and this crying nun was the first woman I had ever held so close to me.  I could feel her breasts pressed against me; the heat emitting from her body; and, the delicate nature of her womanly form in my arms.  I knew then that I was destined to go straight to hell for the thoughts that were going through my head and the feelings I felt between my legs.

She pulled away and whispered, “I am so sorry, I should not have done that.  You may go.”

I simply said, “You know, you are doing fine, you just have a class of a bunch of butt holes”, and walked out of the room.  It was that night that she started coming to see me in my dreams.  To hell I go, for sure.

I wish I could tell you I had the moxie and the influence to whip that class into shape, but I did not.  The mad house continued with one less student joining in the fun.  I tried my best to behave, answer her questions, pay attention and feign interest in the topic of the day – but I was just one in a sea of monsters.  I stayed after class and after school a few times to talk with her, ask her how she was doing, and see if I could help in any way.  She was actually starting to get the hang of things and was able to focus on the few classes that were willing to learn.

At the end of the school year, I was one of the few students who had not enrolled in a college for the coming year.  Because I was one of the better students, it caused a little bit of a fuss and a number of teachers talked to me about the huge mistake I was making taking some time off before going to college.  It seems they were all convinced that if I did not start into college in the fall, I was doomed to never go to college.  I challenged them by saying what they were really worried about was their statistics of percentage of students who went on to further their education.

During the last day of classes, the music teacher asked me to stay after class.  It appears, it was her turn to try to talk some sense into me.

“So, I hear you are not going to college,” she said.

“No, I’m going to college … some day, just not this fall.”

“So what are you going to do?”

“I don’t know yet.  Take some time off.  Work.  Nothing.  I don’t know.  Why is it so important to everyone?  When the time is right, I’ll go to college.”

“They just care about you.”

“Bull loney,” I said, only it was another word.

She smiled at me.  I had been dreaming about her now for six months.  I changed the topic.

“Have you ever kissed a boy?”

She laughed, “You know, I grew up the same as every girl in this high school.  I did have boyfriends.”

“Yeah, but have you ever kissed a boy,” I challenged.

“No.  Not the way you mean.”

“Do you ever wonder what it would be like?”

“No.  Never,” she lied.

“If I told you I will register for college if you kiss me, will you?”

“No.  I believe you when you say you just need some time off.  I think that is a good idea.”

Then she walked up close to me and stopped a heartbeat away.  Suddenly, she reached down between my legs, grabbed the crouch of my pants and said, “Just don’t let this thing get you in trouble.”

She abruptly turned and walked out of the classroom while I tried to catch my breath.

During the graduation ceremony I saw her sitting with the other teachers and shared a private smile with her while walking back to my seat after being handed my diploma.  I would never see her again … outside of my dreams.

I often think about my high school music teacher and my ticket straight to hell.  Unfortunately, I never heeded her advice.  That body part of mine she grabbed ahold of for a fleeting second those many years ago, has gotten me in trouble time and time again.


Details | Narrative | |

The Singer (Narrative Dialogue)

The singer looks at the now empty stage
His voice guarded deep in his warm throat
Shielded by a high neck shirt he wore
Singing with passion from down within
Rehearsing day and night until it’s right
Blended rhythms and notes run the scales
Clinging in smoky night clubs like a shadow
Getting your pay with crumbled dollar bills
Go from gig to gig if it makes you whole
Your songs will make them dance and spin
Like a magic spell being cast far and wide
Allow your words to heal wounds and scars
And when you have earned your keep
Collect the spoils from your conquest sweet
Gobbled champagne and fancy caviars
And your heart beats crashed musical chart
Find the singer who was once loved
The brilliant heart that once lived in joy
Consider yourself a singer without a heart
Who has traded his soul from the start
As it ends the conquest will lose its spark
Come to your senses and stop this slide
You may be witted and sharp as a tack
Don’t get eluded and slip—stay on track


Comments:  This is a narrative dialogue poem.  It sets the stage one may 
probably find in a conflicting situation. It develops into a complication, reaches a 
crisis then falls into a resolution.  It displays connections, alienation, 
disconnections, and a turning point where a change takes place between a 
protagonist and antagonist. The ending brings about a resolution after a 
dramatic point has been reached.  Give it a try one day, and I will give it a review 
for you.  It must be very interesting and relates to real life.







Details | Narrative | |

B52's and Dire Straits

 June 1987. All is well as we sit celebrating 
 my 30th birthday in the best little bar and 
 Dance club in our quiet little town. Empty 
 B52 shot glasses line the table and the 
 mood was PARTY. We all sat laughing and 
 enjoying the evening but then I hear
 a birthday shout out with a dedication
 for my favourite song.
 Dee de, da da Dee de de daa da
 Dada Dee de dada de de de daa da
 Hu hu
 Now I’ll never be able to tell you in which
 order these take place because in my opinion 
 it all happens at once. Your blood pressure 
 rises to 200 over 140, my eyes were popping 
 out of their sockets and I was stumbling 
 to the dance floor with all my friends. We 
 weren’t about to miss one second more then 
 we had too of dancing to our favourite song. 
 With our legs already to go it starts
“Here comes Johnny singing oldies, goodies
 Be-bop-a-Lula Baby what I say.”
 Out on the dance floor that night
 we danced our hearts out and still to 
 this day, when I hear that electric organ
 Playing Dee de, da da Dee de de daa da
 my blood pressure rises my eyes open 
 widely and I start rocking from deep inside
 As I sing. 

 The Walk of Life by
 Dire Straits
 11.25.2014
 Contest 
 I Love Rock N Roll
5th


Details | Narrative | |

The Woman In White

It was a cold and rainy night.
The stars were shining bright.
It seemed as if the world was at a pause and not a person was in sight.
I sat quietly in my car, 
the sound of music I heard blasting from a far.
I opened my door,
stepped out slowly and looked around.
Now suddenly the music stopped,
not a word is heard, not even a sound.
I turned my head, looked over my shoulder,
I saw a woman running.
She was wearing a white gown.
I couldn't help but wonder why this woman running
flaunted such a frown.
I followed her footsteps,
I listened for the sound.
Running through the darkness,
one question came to mind,
Who would leave this woman?
Who would be so heartless?
How can someone leave her when she is so obviously distraught?
Abruptly a sound was heard.
I came to a stop.
I listened closely.
It was a gunshot.
Now fearful I stood.
I began to run as fast as I could.
I ran so fast, I could hear my heart beating.
I came upon my car and noticed a woman bleeding.
She was gasping for air.
Someone had shot her and left her to die there.
It was as if they didn't even care.
She reached for my hand,
whispered softly to me
"never trust a man"
At that moment her hand dropped.
I knew her heart had stopped.
I looked at her white gown now dripping red.
I I cried to myself and pondered what she had said.
This could be me.
I could be lying here dead.
I will remember her words always.
They will haunt me for the rest of my days.
This moment I will never forget.
No man should ever be such a threat.

This was the day my life would change.
From this day on I would never be the same.
The lesson I learned here,
never have such fear.
Fear that will keep me from being free.
I learned that I can be happy just being me.


Details | Narrative | |

One Day I'll go Home

One Day I’ll go Home.
Home is where I could do anything. I would listen to my music and clean as often as 
I liked. There was no right or wrong as time belonged to me. When I listened to my 
music nothing else mattered I was just happy. Happy was a simple thing with only 
music and cleaning for my home was a happy place for me!
Music brought an upbeat rhythm to lift my spirit at all times. I felt the beat as I 
moved about doing all things in time with the songs. I enjoyed cleaning my home 
with joy as things shined so for my pleasure. A combination of music and cleaning 
nothing could beat. I wanted and needed to feel so complete.
Now a new house and life with music I still have. Now the music is less and the 
cleaning so rare. The joy of the shine is far from my home and the call of pleasure 
and being complete I’ve left behind. The feeling’s once felt while my music played 
and I scrubbed things down has been handed over to another. 
My purpose has changed to be that of another. I fill this house with things from life 
with part time music and rarely clean as someone other does this. I have a purpose 
in this house and although kept secret my spirit knows things come to pass. The 
rhythm of my music and the spirit of the song will ensure happiness come along!
Now as I grow old my mind turns inward to find my home. I am there at last the 
place where my music plays and I find rhythm. I see myself start to clean and the 
shine appears. What welcomed relief to hear and see these things that made me so 
complete. Once again I am just that for joy fills my heart and I know I am home 
again.
                                                                                                    Debbie Knapp.


Details | Narrative | |

My magic Flute

My magic Flute


My first and only instrument I received as a little girl was
a Flute.

My mom’s old boyfriend had gotten me a Flute and after they broke up I don’t recall what happened to my magic Flute.

A few years later I had music class my Freshman year in high school and we all got black plastic Flutes and we were supposed to learn how to play the Flute.

As an adult and a lover of good music I wish I had learned to play the Flute. I’d play on the sidewalks of city streets collecting money to pay for my children’s education and to pay the bills.


Details | Narrative | |

Heaven's Doorway

A light - beyond bright -
beckons me warmly
from a place beyond which I cannot yet see.
As I approach a stairway which glistens like gold,
all my former burdens and apprehensions melt away.
Body aches have vanished and I feel that I am floating toward the steps,
melting from a warmth,the intensity of which
can only be matched by the radiance of the not so distant light.
A tenderness I now can easily recognize 
emanates from that glorious light.

Nearing the stairway, I can hear sweet strains
of a music whose instruments I can't define.
I cannot see, and yet I strangely know, beyond any doubt,
that upon reaching the top of those golden stairs,
something splendid awaits me beyond the doorway.

Something forgotten is tugging at my brain,
an awareness of having been here before.
Am I simply returning to a place from whence I came
before my sojourn on the earth -
that place where loving spirits dwell in perfect peace?
On reaching the door, I do not even have to knock.
My mere desire to enter has been heard
and my unspoken questions have been answered, 
for the door slowly swings open.

I cross the threshold and enter not into a building,
but rather into another realm.
Vivid colors dance before my eyes in the guise
of flowered meadows, hills and rills, birds and butterflies.
This landscape of indescribable beauty seem to go on forever.
A deluge of memories comes flooding my mind.

Suddenly, a snow white dog comes bounding toward me.
It's my precious Ollyver, who died so many years ago, the first to greet me.
He leaps into my arms just as he used to do 
every night when I reached the doorway of my earthly home.
Flocking toward me are others. 
I become dizzy with happiness and the thrill of it all. . . 

And then appears my stepfather, no longer afflicted with dementia, 
along with my dear brother Dale, who left our earthly home
sadly when he was still in his prime and full of dreams!
Next come those beloved friends of my family, 
people whom I saw each Sunday at church and who later passed away,
people whose lives touched mine all those years ago of my childhood.
Others that arrive I recognize instantly as ancestors of mine,
 even though many of them  I'd never even met while on earth!
They come to embrace me, one after another in the beautiful meadow,
and the music I had been hearing swells to the joyous sound
of an angel's choir.

For Gail Doyle's Heaven's Doorway Poetry Contest


Details | Narrative | |

The Five String Banjo Man



When I sit alone with my memories My mind drifts back to the early 60s When folk music was all the rage The New Christy Minstrels, Peter Paul and Mary The Brothers Four, The Limelighters, The Kingston Trio The Canadiana Folksingers... who????? A six member group called The Canadiana Folksingers Included myself and my first wife Linda Along with two guitar players and and a one-string bass And I played the five-string banjo Did we have a blast? Oh yah! Made an album called “This Land Is Your Land” And a 45 rpm single called, “Hi Jolly!” Along with appearances on both Of the only two Canadian TV Networks at the time My memories of those days long ago fill me with pride and tears We can't go back but we can dream About when we were young And the world was ours to explore! © Jack Ellison 2014


Details | Narrative | |

Forgive

I saw you the other day we didnt speak
Thinking to myself how did we become this way
And remembered the times we had 
Our first kiss I remember
I was drunk but I sobered up
Realizing I was feeling outta place
I looked at you 
Though it took me a minute to see
Your the only one I want
I only wanna make it good
For both me and you
So please forgive 
If I pull away from you 
It's a defense mechanism 
I know not of what I do
Please forgive me if I want you like I do


Details | Narrative | |

What Would You Take Contest Entry

If deserted, was I, on an island, and was allowed only three integral items to take with me, what would they be?

If we are speaking of material things, I suppose I would take my favorite book in the whole world, "Ask Dr. Mueller" by Cookie Mueller. It is a book I cherish, and can read perpetually because it's just that good.

If, by some strange coincidence, there happened to electricity on the island, and an old, abandoned, yet functional CD player just so happened to be found, then I would want my favorite album in the world with me: "Live Through This" by Hole. I worship Courtney Love and her music. She is a grunge Goddess to me. I love every song on that album.

If pen and paper could magically count as just one item, then I would take mountains of paper and a plethora of pens so I could record everything and continue writing poetry while hoping to be rescued.

My acoustic Gibson Epiphone means the world to me; I cannot imagine not having it with me. I know how to play all the songs off "Live Through This", so perhaps I would choose my guitar instead; that way I can still enjoy those songs as I still compose more of my own; that makes sense, right?

If, by Divine Intervention, there was an abandoned, yet functional TV and DVD player, I would have to consider taking all seven seasons of "The Golden Girls"; I don't think I could survive without the Golden Girls; it's my favorite show ever. And also all of the "Star Wars" movies; those I cherish, too.

And also, since I am an addict/alcoholic, I would want to take tons of pills, whisky and Cola with me; I'm sure I could not survive without those.

I understand that perhaps people or pets may not be considered as "items", but if I could choose among them, well, I would have to take my loving partner, my best friend of twenty years and my two dogs, Sammy and Bilbo, and my three kitties: Marley, Archie and Punky (of course I count them all as one because I like to break the rules).

Since there are so many things I do not think I can live without, it's an impossible decision. But these are my considerations, nonetheless.

*What Would You Take Contest Entry
10-11-13


Details | Narrative | |

a vignette-JIMI H

Made my name in Monterey
BB,Muddy ,the key to how I play;
Bell bottom fashion was my thing,
Little Richard was my king
like his voice,my guitar sings.


Inspired by Raul's latest photo


Details | Narrative | |

LISA'S IVORY MUSIC BOX

Many Christmas stories are told every year,
and many songs are sung with pure cheer;
do I have a good story, at least one, I can tell,
or a simple song I can hum and spread good will?


When Lisa's grandmother passed away unexpectedly...
by her dying bed she kept an ivory music box,
and to her lovely granddaughter she gave it
to saying," Take care of it, and smile when you think of me!"


The day after granny died, she went down the dark cellar
to hide the ivory music box in an old dresser's drawer,
and once in a while she would open it and play it and listen to it sadly;
the pretty angel swirled...and Silent Night played as Lisa touched it tenderly.


It was almost Christmas Day and the pine tree wasn't decorated yet,
she rushed outside carrying a red basket with ornaments in it;
how could she had forgotten to adorn it with bulbs and garlands?
" Oh gosh, I feel like the Grinch!"  she displeasingly uttered to herself. 


There was no snow predicted for that evening and the illuminated town
was lacking Nature's magical snowflakes to make it festive and vibrant;
five minutes to midnight the choir from the nearest church gathered outside,
and waited for a miracle...silence...tranquility...every heart felt so alone.


But Lisa with an indomitable spirit ordered them to sing, 
and they began singing looking up the clearest, starriest sky;
everyone seemed sad and some of them wanted to cry,
but before sadness set in...snowflakes began falling.


Lisa knew that it was the miracle she had been waiting for,
but something was missing from the snowy scenery...
she remembered her ivory music box she had put away,
and running, with awe in her bright eyes, she opened the cellar's door...


Clutched in her caring, careful hands, she carried the ivory music box,
laid it gently underneath the twinkling, scented Christmas Tree;
Lisa kissed it tenderly...until the golden angel started to swirl at midnight,
as that divine music filled the nippy air...making all cheeks so peachy.        


Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci


Details | Narrative | |

The Heat of the 70s

The house is empty, my husband is at work, I am sitting with my dog just relaxing when PBS television broadcasts a music special. Oh all those Motown tunes from the 1970s, Now that’s hotter than hot, I feel the heat rise. The Commadores, Stylistics and Patti LaBelle, I am singing, She’s a brick house and feeling hot, Moving my hips and swaying to the great music, Still remembering all the words and those feelings. The memories it evokes is only of pure passion, The whole decade provided a serenade of love. You could fall in love so fast with the right song, Every song I hear elicits a treasured memory. The Discos were the highlight of the weekend, Spending the nights dancing, driving the men wild. The bump and grind was probably the best dance, Although a good jive would always make your night. Earth, Wind and Fire can really bring on a burn, Al Greene just makes me want to cuddle by a fire, Wow its getting warm in here, see what I mean. I think I’ll tape this show and put it on tomorrow night, So I can take my husband back and feel the heat.
Written July 29, 2012 For Debbie Guzzi’s contest “HEAT” Placed 6th


Details | Narrative | |

Faked

I stumble upon a river
the way it flows and feels
I take my shoes off and run threw it
laughing looking up towards the sun
I wake up and it was all just a dream
my sister runs up the stairs
she slams her door
i asked her what was wrong
she looked at me 
She says "mom told me you were adopted"
at first i laughed as i thought it was a joke
I run downstairs to see my mom and dad sitting on the couch
"mom?" i say
she replies "its true we adopted you!" 
she got up and walked into the kitchen
"after all this time i thought i was yours" i say
My father gets up and walks out the door
My mom lays her hand on her forhead
Just dont worry about it  everything will be okay
"No it wont i say"
i felt fake like i wasnt who i was suppose to be
i just sat on my bed thinking about the whole thing
my whole life and who i should have been
I packed my bags that light and i ran away
leaving the less important things behind
i set out on a journey to find my real parents
I had my sister get there info. from my dads office
I took a bus to indiana and looked up there address
As soon as i found it i knocked on the door
A man opened the door
he said "who are you?"
i say "apparently i am your son?!"
"you put me up for adoption?" i repeat

He yells "ANNA!?, Some kid is here for you!"
i repeat the story to her as she denied it
She looked bruised and beaten up
I wanted to help her but the man hut the door on my face

I had no where to go now
So i started on a journey back home
But i never made it there 
I found that old river i use to go too
i stayed there for a few weeks until
i remembered the way back.
I found myself that day
I realized that i was fake but now im not because i know that i am just me not any of them





Details | Narrative | |

Silly Old Love Songs



Those silly old love songs from decades past Still meander through in my mind Those love songs that speak softly of the thrill Of a blossoming new romance That promise “I Will Always Love You” by Whitney The definition of what true love is “Love Is A Many Splendored Thing” And Perry's, “Can't Help Falling In Love” Am I dating myself... perhaps But these oldies tell of love in much simpler terms Even though the world was still in turmoil These songs promised hope Of finding that very special person To spend eternity with! To love and to cherish! To grow old and grey with! Those were very special times back then! Ah! Memories!!! © Jack Ellison 2014


Details | Narrative | |

Learning The Night Club Two Step

It feels so good To get the chance Of finally learning A beautiful dance Steps seem to be On a cloud of air Floating gracefully Is how it appears Seeing the dance It would seem Like something From in a dream The dance steps Take time to learn Yes, a lot of practice As elegance is earned A partner reflects back With each step taken Sharing joyful smiles In the pattern making The individual style Develops in the man As he creates the lead The best way he can Different partners Step differently Sometimes we find One to step perfectly Either way, once there The non-stop beam of gleam Comes bursting from deep inside As you realize you’re dancing the dream Florence McMillian (Flo)


Details | Narrative | |

The Christmas Box

I want to tell you a story,
about one Christmas morning.
The snow was falling,
and the wind was roaring.
Holly and Christmas ferns decorated the door.
Gifts piled high around the tree on the floor.
Home baked goods from the kitchen filled the air.
The children opened their gifts with great care.
Time stood still for a moment when,
I reached for the box to open.
The box was white like snow.
Delicately tied in a big red bow.
Inside the box was a gift for me.
A tiny silver bell laid silently.
I picked it up and it begin to ring.
The music of Christmas, so charming.
My little girl said, "I hope you like your present too."
"Every time you ring the bell, a note of love from me to you."
A silent tear fell from my eye.
What a beautiful gift, and such a surprise.
I placed the bell on the mantle with care.
Even today it still sits there.
This happened many years ago.
The Christmas box with the big red bow.
A tiny silver bell plays a precious tune.
A note of Christmas joy from me to you.


Details | Narrative | |

Stage Fright or Stage Might

Sitting on stage
The glare of the audience immobilizes my every move
Is there a way this paralysis will soothe?
The lights suddenly blare
Like a deer bathed in headlights
How can I escape from this radiant bear?

The conductor baton rises into the soundless air
Sweating, stammering, shivering
Will this be my final prayer?

The sound of an A fires from a clarinet
Bow on string, I imitate the shrill
This magical note seems to be my fever pill

A-D, D-G, A-E
Instrument seems in tune
But will this miniscule fact solve my problem soon?

As the chief baton swings side to side
Flickering images in my mind crash like a tsunami tide
Joy, Love, Hardship, and Harmony
Music conducted the opening to my passion ceremony

Fire ignites my being
Like bungee-jumping off a bridge
The words “Anything is possible!” now beaming

Like poetry, music is an art
Raw emotion strangles uniformity
Expression bears no limit
Creativity beats as our vital body part

*This poem is dedicated to a cure for stage fright (bless those poor souls)
-M&M


Details | Narrative | |

Discarded and Broken

No love in existence, I am nothing,
living in a broken down shack in a shanty town,
I stumbled upon some junk someone had discarded.

I rummaged through and a broken violin I found,
I grappled with the strings and twisted them around,
I repaired this musical instrument with my bare hands.

I played this violin with the thought one day I could be great,
a wonderful musician upon a world stage,
people would come from all over the world,
to listen to the music of a lowly little girl.

I dream't I’d be rich with lots of money 
and I could buy a new home,
where I could bring friends, I’d never be alone,
somewhere to play and dance to the music.

I sat on the corner with a box in front of me,
then played with all my heart and soul, 
my fingers were bleeding, people stopped and smiled, 
a couple of coins in the box, then just walked away. 

I looked up to see a shadow that was cast over me,
a beautiful lady had stopped to hear me play,
she listened till I finished then spoke ever so kindly,
she took me by the hand and I left the streets behind.

Upon the world stage is where I am now,
with lots of money and famous people around,
I live in a big house with this woman I met,
I will never forget the day she took my hand.

I now have a love filled and happy life
with my new mother, the lady that once took my hand, 
the music plays on in the violin that I found, 
it now hangs on a wall and is the pride of my town. 




Vicki Darcy
23/12/2014.
for "Let the Music Play On " contest
Sponsor - Mystic Rose