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Narrative Song Poems | Narrative Poems About Song

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

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BEN HUR ARKANSAS

I've  been a lot of  places in this land, 
From sea to shining sea. 
There's a  place in the hills of Arkansas
That means more than them all to me,
A little wildwood church where people meet 
To praise the Lord above. 
They don't have a lot of money,
But they're rich in a thing called love

You'll  see a friendly smile upon each face   
The moment you walk  in. 
They'll make you feel so loved and right at home,
That you'll want to go  back again. 
They will pour you out a cup of kindness
And hospitality; 
Then they'll take you home and feed you,
And they'll treat you like family.

You're always more than welcome; 
There's no lock upon the door. 
There's preaching and singing and praising the Lord, 
And they know what the altar's for. 
Don't look for a grand cathedral, 
Standing proud and tall; 
It’s a humble little church, beside the road, 
At Ben Hur Arkansas.


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Shut Your Dirty Mouth

Tonight I thought I shook off a roach. Swore I felt it approach. Imagined it crawling down
my throat. My Dad came out from the den and asked What’s Wrong? I said, Nothing, I’m fine
when I still felt bits of dead roach nesting in my spine. That’s Divine.

I feel the Holy Spirit in me tonight. Jesus Christ! I must have done right! Don’t come
near me, I’m contaminated, clearly. Oh, God, need me! So that the sky doesn’t turn black
every time I look up to seek your advice. My chips are stacked, I’ve got them wracked.
Roll the dice six six six every time. On my Dime. I think I may have crossed the line.
Maybe I’m sick. Maybe I’m not hip to this.

Maybe I just need to settle down. Take a breath. Take a pill. Sit real still. Stare until
I become comatose blare my music so loud that my eyes become brazen and I can’t hear what
you’re saying.

Do roaches bite? I wonder at night. As I hide beneath the covers that used to shield us
from one another. Protect us from the evils in this world, bring no harm to little girls.
Now they just cover up old condoms and dirty food crumbs.

Numb. Numb. Numb. Can’t move. Limbs feel numb, limbs feel wrung, limbs feel slung,
stammering and slurring like grandma after her stroke.

This is a joke. The world’s a joke. We’re a joke.

Then why aren’t we laughing? Why aren’t we guffawing until our paws fall off, our mittens
become smitten and we cough up our dirty lungs with joy.

Oh boy, here I go again. If this is a joke why aren’t we laughing? Why aren’t we guffawing
until our paws fall off, our mittens become smitten and we cough up our dirty lungs with joy.


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Prophecy

The times of which the prophets wrote is taking shape at last. It won't be long till 
that fateful day we hear the trumpets blast.
The bright blue heavens will disappear, as the stars drop out of sight, the 
stillness in our hearts as each day turns to night.

The times of which the prophets wrote we won't have long to wait.
As this was written long ago our destiny our fate.
We've walked not a straight and narrow path now it's time to pay our dues.
It seems the fate of all mankind is in the hands of fools.

This Prophecy is not hard to see it's the coming of the end.
On that day we're all forgiven and free to start again.
The nightmare that we all will share we don't have long to wait.
Yes it was written long ago, our Destiny, our Fate


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Not So Perfect

Here she comes, walking with pride.
Her face is so vibrant, she looks so alive.
Nothing can stop her, no one dares to try.
Her entire life is corroded with deals, tricks, and lies. 
Her beauty is everything, her smile kills all 
It brings down the strongest men, makes the highest building fall.
But when she comes home,
The story does change.
Her life’s not so perfect,
The positions rearrange.
Her father's an alcoholic, and not very nice.
She has a brother who gave up on school, and can’t read or write 
Of all of her family, her mother is the worse. 
Sometimes she wonders if she'll survive this curse.
He mother yells,and tells her that she's no good.
She would give it all up, if only she could.
At the end of the night she goes into her room,
She begins to weep, and eventually cries herself to sleep.
She wakes up the next day,
Puts on a happy face,
And goes to school as if nothing happened the previous night,
Or that absolutely nothing is wrong with her life.
So now that you’ve seen what’s behind the closed door,
I hoped you’ve thought about this girl a little more.
With the utmost respect,
I present to you, the life of someone "perfect".


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PLAYING A BRIEF SONG WITH THIS GUITAR

In the warmest of seasons,
when the cheerless moon of a remote town
rises from beyond the fir and maple-covered hills,
in great suspense and silence,
a brief song is played by this guitar
with a few chords and numerous notes:
making up the merriest melody
sustained by a perfect and simple harmony...


I am the author and the composer,
expressing my feelings in an unusual norm,
regardless how the critics will judge it,
for words and music should have an effective form:
free of impurity, lively and up-beat, 
something likable by every singer, 
to make such a unique composition notable,
and be remembered by every mortal... 


I play it to my oldest friend, a royal friend who listens
and seldom gets bored by the lively strokes of the strings;
melancholic moon, I like to see you smile for a change:
to be sad is evoking death itself when no bird sings,
and darkness shows its cadaverous, unmerciful face!   
When fear is very real and perceptible in each sense,
life departs from us and evil spirits frantically dance;
melancholic moon, gaze down and lighten up your rage...


I am no genius or pretend to be, 
and my humanness and wisdom are always
reflected by a justified action and a truthful word: 
to draw the attention of the stubborn;
and playing a brief song with this guitar, elates me
and dissolves my grim look of loneliness,
to  confidently get me through this lovely and eternal night,
but hesitant and murky moon, turn on that luminous light!

Copyright 2008 by Andrew Crisci


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- YELLOW BOOTS SING -




            A long time ago
            A little boy - he was only three
            Blue eyes and hair white like snow
            The sun was his playmate
            The rain was his enemy
            Drip, drip wet and cold
            He asked for YELLOW boots
            Yellow boots wondered his mom and dad
            Boys use blue or black boots
            No - YELLOW they had to be
            The boy in just three years got new YELLOW boots
            First rainy day the boy was ready
            Drip, drip wet and cold
            YELLOW boots are singing - they will sing the sun back
            Under his big black umbrella
            the boy goes with his singing YELLOW boots
            This little boy was my brother





            * " - A true YELLOW song - "




Sponsor: Monterey Sirak
Contest Name:THE SOUND OF COLOR 
Deadline	12/15/2013 12:00:00 AM



20.11.2013
A-L Andresen :)


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A Land Bearing Green White Green

Which way leads to the 
land of green white 
green?
Which way are we 
heading?
   A country the wicked 
bears the rulership, and 
the people sighing 
continuously.
   A terrible thing sprouts 
beneath the sun: a 
pregnant woman 
delivering not.
Imps come to lime-light 
by snuffing air from the 
goose that laid the 
golden eggs.
The blind guiding the un
blind.
The weak suppressing 
the strong-a terrible 
thing.
Like the overthrow of the 
gods at Mt. Olympus by 
the Titans.
A country where also 
thieves appear as men of 
integrity.
Land of green white 
green,which way?
A land where the 
enlightened ones are 
overshadowed and 
peanuts given to them.
The masses are dogs that 
eat the crumbs.
 Which way to go you 
Land?
Iliterates stand on 
podium of power 
bellowing orders as milk 
of sorrow known as 
dividends of democracy 
is passed around.
The machine of progress 
manned by the 
unproductive.
"There is better 
tomorrow" we hear.
Land of green white 
green,my country 
where rule of law walk 
beside anarchy.
The proles are sentenced 
to adversity,and there 
endured death-like trials.
Chai! Aru! People 
dancing on thorns 
whimpering as they 
throng 
along.
  I see a new sun rising 
from the horizon,hope is 
rekindled as its rays 
grace on hopeless bodies.
 Look!! there soon be 
change!



Note: 
This 
is 
poem 
full 
of 
Nigeria 
political
 angst.


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Upon The Wind

It was a still October night when I was cold and all alone
as through the forest of my mind in thought I wandered on my own
The moon lay hidden by the clouds that rested heavy on my eyes
and as I stumbled through the dark I felt the wind begin to rise
I heard my name upon the wind as he was flying through the night
he called to me to come to him so he could take me on his flight
In soothing tones he spoke to me, his voice sang gentle through my mind
and in a flowing melody he spoke of wonders I would find

The wind sang out to me that night and with his song I was entranced
and it was windward  my thoughts turned as in my heart his tempest danced
But still my feet stayed on the ground for I was too afraid to fly
and as the wind washed over me in mournful howls I heard him cry
As indecision split my mind my eyes were stinging with my tears
and tenderly with his caress he tried to ease me from my fears 
Across my face his gentle breath had blown the clouds out of my eyes
and then he summoned to the moon who came to light my darkened skies

And when the moon had risen high his servants came into my sight
these waiting visions that I saw were whispers in the silver light
They came to carry me to him who now is waiting there for me
they said they'd help me find my way into his arms where I'd  fly free
They said they wouldn't let me fall, they told me that they understand
and so I let them lead the way as I had given them my hand
Then I was lifted off the ground and we were soaring through the sky
and as I came into his arms he took away my fear to fly

Above the earth he carried me and as I watched it spin around
from in the heavens I could see all of the wonders to be found
I'll fly forever in his arms, among the stars where I will play
across the never ending sky, the spinning world so far away
Upon the wind you'll hear my song as we are sailing through the sky
and joyous is the song I sing as we are scaling ever high
I am alive upon the wind,  I'm flying in his arms tonight
and like an echo I will fade as we are blowing out of sight......




Inspired by Elaine Georges' Tell Me A Story contest


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The Final Confessions II

These were my confessions
(A message to God)
The light begins to fade
(It’s time to go)
Back into the shadows
(That hard black fog)
Where darkness has its way
(God rest your soul)

Nothing left to tell you
(It’s all been said)
No more songs to write
(This silent Fall)
Nothing left to offer 
(The well’s been bled)
From a shadow’s waning life
(Who lost it all)

Take my words and hold them
(Don’t be afraid)
Place them near your heart
(And heal your pain)
Shadow words will kiss you
(And heal your pain)
When your world turns dark
(Don’t’ be afraid)

And I kiss you
Kiss you
I kiss you in the dark……..


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Swan song

The passionate young man on his way to his love
Walked by a lake carrying a snow-white dove
Inside his shirt he held it close to his heart
When he heard a song - an enchanting work of art

The melody was captivating, full of sorrow -
The cries of a soul for whom there’s no tomorrow
An unknown fear gripped the young man’s heart 
Dark crevasses of life to him were an unknown part

So full of life and hope, inevitability he never had to face
The source of the irresistible sound he wished to trace
He looked behind the dense brushes hiding the water
On seeing a wondrous swan his agitated mind grew calmer

He stood there mesmerized, the scene not comprehending
And a chill he felt from the bottom of his spine ascending
Why does something as beautiful as this must end?
Against a dark premonition himself he could not defend

The song told him everything that was, and ever will be
As he stood there listening, in his mind’s eye he could see
The birth of dreams and hopes, the path and the finish,
The igniting spark, the flame and the death of every wish

The swan sang his last and was swallowed by the lake
Slowly the young man from his vision did wake
He felt the dove in his shirt frantically flutter
He gently held it high and let it go, not a word did he utter


Innocence cannot build his nest in a bosom laden 
And burdened with knowledge so dark and craven
The young man continued his journey to meet his darling
A long shadow followed him in his footsteps crawling

Across the lake on yonder side, hidden by the morning fog
An old man, frail and haggard, sat quietly on a bone-white log
He heard the swan too, and watched it get swallowed by the deep
But at this lonely funeral his half closed eyes did not weep

He felt it in his bones, and knew the end was near 
So the swan song filled his feeble mind with fear
Since he was a young man he searched for the answer
The question being: What comes when to death we do surrender?	

He looked to the sky but in vain, he begged but to no avail
The heavens did not open; his body and spirit were broken
When with the last notes of the swan song resounding
Asking for a sign, he saw a dove above the clouds climbing

On his crooked legs he stood as straight as he could
Raising his hands he pleaded, “Take me, if you would”
The solemn swan song became a victorious celebration,
A joyous symphony of the never ending glory of creation

The frail old body fell back onto the bone-white log
Never again to emerge from that otherworldly fog
But a peaceful smile on the old man’s face remained
Having his long-lost innocence of youth finally regained


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The Final Confessions I

These are my confessions
Secrets of my mind
Everything that mattered
Truth I can not hide

Nothing but a shadow
Distant memory
What I was, What I am
What I’m supposed to be

Forgive me, God, forgive me
For being so unkind
Impatient…ungrateful
Cynical and blind

To those who thought they knew me
And those who never did
To those who hear my songs 
In the places where they live

I offer my confessions
Honest to the core
Offer my confessions
There won’t be anymore

No more…


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morning shower

Morning Shower

This morning I have carefully slumbered into the bathroom to start the shower
Groggy and tired I turn the control counterclockwise to a satisfying temperature
I step inside the cubical and shiver with the initial shock of water pouring on me
My body starts to melt as the warmth covers me like a warm blanket

Worries and agendas come seeping through the shower tiles like unavoidable green monsters
Clouds of steam give a ferocious roar and the mischievous scoundrels scamper off into hiding,
Knowing that they will return once again

I’m taken to some place new
A beach with sand white as snow and the sun’s rays kissing every inch of my skin;
With the sounds of a soothing melody and a reggae beat off in the distance
I don’t recall the song but find myself knowing every word and sing along,
As my mood is calmed and contented 


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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


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My Song of Painful Plea

Suddenly,wild flames thud out
Of our little kerosene lamp
Mocking flames danced on me
With expertise. their hungry mouths
Ate my perfumed flesh in glee
My manful cries went heaven high
That aunt Priscilla came running wild 
That Wednesday night of 10 November
Began my song of painful plea

Goat burnt skin as soft plum peeled
Sneering scissors thrust stubborn gauze and 
Red rain rush quickly out, then
When on it iodine oil is released 
Tormenting pains my body feel it's when
I begin, my songs of painful plea

My mouth tore in anguished laughter
Myself been prisoner of frustrating pains
When my eyes beheld my white hands
And my skin embellished with ugly scars
My soul  could not but raise that song
My song of painful plea

My song of painful plea
Echoes loud across the sky
For my heart made fragments
Of peaceful past, and a 
Library of scars in each tiny half
My heart will take no more
For I've done no wrong
Let happiness be a distant dream
To them who adulterated our kerosene.
My song of painful plea.


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ECLECTIC ELECTRIC

 Fender strung upside down
 big hands pressing strings to frets.
 Woodstocks’ last scheduled act, Jimi 
 exercized his “Right to Free Speech.”
The world heard an eclectic electric version
of  “Star Spangled Banner.” Those notes still
reverberate “All Along the Watchtower.”

“Hey Joe,” “Are You Experienced?”

 “WELL, I AM !”



*To honor Jimi Hendrix in Raul Moreno's contest.


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If, for instance


If, for instance.......you might imagine it all...
Do try,... if you can.......

Pretending, perhaps, that it was long ago....
And let's say,...that you were on the brink of discovery, 
      16 years old, and thinking the world lay at your feet.
      It is the last week of your sophomore year,
      and we would find you at a graduation party, 
      mingling with friends, in the dwindling twilight 

Let us make it a sparkling, warm evening in June.

Try to imagine, if you can, that over the yard and trees
     are strings of little lights, criss-crossed streams of light-beams
         twinkling like fireflies, over the patio, over the yard
             just as the swarm of summer stars 
             are waiting to complete the scene...
      
Someone may have even set up an old phonograph, so there could be dancing....
             
Say, for instance,..Johnny Mathis was singing "Chances Are"..
And you are entranced, listening,...sipping a coke or something..

Now, imagine this great looking senior boy,...
         (whom you had seen around school, but had never met)
                        ..walks over to stand by you..,.... can you picture it...?
And let's just say, your heart is pounding nervously,
   and just when you thought you might faint... he asks you to dance!
                          Of course you'll say yes!!,....Just imagine!!....
Imagine then, you are tongue tied....can hardly catch your breath!
And when the song ends,...he doesn't let go of your hand?!

And just about then, .more music fills the air...
        something rare, something beautiful... 
        Something makes you swoon, it's "Moonglow"...just think about it!  
        And the rhythm fits the mood..and your feet seem to move on air

And let's say he begins humming softly, and his breath ruffles your hair.... 
and you close your eyes, he pulls you close, with your head resting with a sigh.....

Then another song, another dance, the phonograph plays on.. 
And the music blends, and the night is long, and you hope the moment never ends

And let's just say, it is very late 
    and your parents will be waiting,....

So he asks to walk you home...and you say, ...well..of course you'll say yes!.... 

And finally....we might have to say..
       ......well,.......what if..., what if from then on...
           he has been the only one who ever,......ever again, walked you home?

               We might just say that,......if only,.... if only you can imagine......




_________________________________________________________
True story :)


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ROCKnROLL OLDIES NARRATIVE

July 4, 1961

           Well HELLO MARY LOU, 

You won’t believe this but I just HEARD IT THROUGH THE GRAPEVINE that someone else was 
getting a DOUBLE SHOT OF MY BABYS’ LOVE. Right now TIME WON’T LET ME alone ever 
since I heard GLORIA saying please, BE MY BABY. I was just WALKIN’ THE DOG when I SAW 
HER STANDING THERE. She came right out and told me she would GIVE ME SOME LOVIN in 
the MIDNIGHT HOUR. She guaranteed we would feel JUST LIKE ROMEO AND JULIET; all I 
had to do was HOLD ON TIGHT. But I CAN SEE CLEARLY NOW, thanks to the warm 
CALIFORNIA SUN.

I remember when I was playing the field; all I ever thought was WHY DO FOOLS FALL IN 
LOVE?  I’d give anything to get back to someone like sweet little SHEILA. You remember her 
don’t you?  OH DONNA, if your sister lets you read THE LETTER I wrote from SAN 
FRANSCICO, you know I’d be taking ROUTE 66 back to see that little BROWN EYED GIRL. 
Then maybe CUPID          can draw back his bow because until now this TRAVELING MAN 
has just been SINGIN’ THE BLUES.
 
I’ve got to find some kind of LOCOMOTION because WE GOTTA GET OUT OF THIS PLACE! 
Maybe I could hitch a ride with MUSTANG SALLY; you know I was BORN TO BE WILD if I’m 
thinking of asking her for a ride. Remember when you and I used to cruise down to 
PALISADES PARK just to KEEP ON DANCIN’ to ROCK AND ROLL MUSIC on a BEAUTIFUL 
SUNDAY afternoon. If it rained we kept time with the wipers and the RHYTHM OF THE RAIN. 
By the way, did you hear that BONEY MARONEY really did DO RON-RON after she drank that 
bottle of LOVE POTION # 9? I guess it is just another example of we really have to LOVE 
ONE ANOTHER because a little SUGARTIME  will go a long way towards making it a 
WONDERFUL WORLD.
 
Poor LOUIE LOUIE  told everyone that I FOUGHT THE LAW after spending a few hours 
drinking down at MARGARITAVILLE, don’t believe him.  There are always two sides to every 
story and BLACK IS BLACK because THAT’LL BE THE DAY I’d be handcuffed by that CHAIN 
OF FOOLS.

IT’S MY PARTY next weekend but it will be just ANOTHER SATURDAY NIGHT unless I can find 
a little RUNAWAY to be my DREAM LOVER. After all, what would a WORLD WITHOUT LOVE be 
like?   If I can’t hook up with her, DO YOU WANNA DANCE the LA BAMBA, or maybe LET’S 
TWIST AGAIN? We can do anything that you wanna do but LET’S DANCE to that hot little 
oldies band called THE RUNAWAYS.

            All my Loving,
             John 

*Written as a tribute to a local 50’s/60’s cover band called the “RUNAWAY’S” using their play 
list.


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Summer Waterfall

Deep in the woods I hear an angel's lyrical call.
Tranquil and serene, a majestic summer waterfall.
Where the oaks and wildflowers shade the creek,
reflections fall to earth from rays of destiny,
refreshing my soul and setting my spirit free.
I smell the aroma of rain mixed with the paradise breeze.
Tranquil and serene, a natural wonder and rainbow of peace.
A cascading sparkling jewel,
above a wave rippling whirlpool.
Upon the wind rides the angel's lyrical call.
Tranquil and serene, a majestic summer waterfall.


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Reaching You

From the moment I saw you,
I'd never stop on dreaming about you.
Every night I watch the skies,
Wishing there I'll see your smile.

And when I reach the stars up high,
I suddenly realized..
Oh, they were so bright
As bright as your eyes

But, I know I'll never be with you
So tonight I'd rather sing this poem for you

Like the stars in the sky
You're so hard to reach
And I don't know why
You're like the stars in the sky
Feels so near but seems too high
Like the stars in the sky
Yea, you've made me smile
Even for a while
But I don't know why
And I have to face the truth
You'll never be mine
Like the stars in the sky
That will never be mine


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The Song Of David

Enlighten days have past
He comes excel in all, so he thinks
"I am greater than man,
I know what ignorant man does not.
Come to me for knowledge unsurpassed!".
He points to the blue heaven,
"Where is thy wisdom? For I know all.
Where is thy command? That makes the ground shake
And brings forth water that lives?"

At the great gatherings,
He flocks the shepherds, blind, mute and deaf  
He answers to the multitude of questions
He asked the shepherds, "but what are thy questions?",
“I know not what do ask a man of your wisdom, but what  is a dream?
What is life?” asked the young herdsman.
"I know not what you speak of", said the Man.
"I only know what i can feel, touch and see"

"A dream is dream that passes us by, like gentle breeze of fresh spring.
Life holds all things mystery and doubts.
Shepherd knows to flock, not life or dreams".
"The shepherds are those who are humble, noble one", said the herdsman
"The blind cannot see, the mute cannot speak and the deaf cannot hear".
"Who are you preaching to? Silent and amaze, the man looks on.  

"If the blind could see you, 
They would say, 'look here is the man who tried to humble the blind
For they can see what others cannot,
If the mute could speak, they would humble you!
And if the deaf could hear they would shamed your wisdom".
"Was I a fool?" said the Man "or are you not that young herdsman?
Who knows nothing of life and passes his days tending the sheep's?
What could you learn from such simpleton life?"

"Life I live is simple indeed, 
No one knows that the shepherds are those who protects the weak"
"Nature is a friend of the shepherd; we sing the song of David
And rubs the olive oil to our young sheep, to keep away the flies".
Insulted, the man's fury turns over to the young herdsman
"Nature? Protect the weak? The song of David? Flies?
How can nature befriend a lonely shepherd? Protect who?
Song of David the Shepherd who became the king? 
What flies would harm the young flocks?"

The young herdsman smiled at the frown face of the man,
Left without a word
The blind, the mute and deaf ignored the man.
An unyielding shame kept the man humbled
He wonders why the young herdsman smiled about.
He came about a bridge and crossed the rocky roads
On the hill top he stood 
And saw the young herdsman singing the Song of David.


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Morning Raga - "Tell Me A Story!"

In the first grey light of dawn, a young woman begins the morning song.
The simple cadences of her song are as tranquil and liquid as the monsoon rain, 
Trickling down the broad leaves in her mother’s garden.
The steady drumming on the veranda roof echoes her rhythms. 

She sings of joys, of sorrows, and of love … always of love … 

This morning song is as familiar and comforting as a lullaby.
Her mother brought it with her from the South, 
And sang it every morning for her father.
Now, she sings for them both, as they begin the day.

Today will be special for her.
She is to meet her future husband for the first time.
She has never seen him, but she trusts her parents’ judgement … 
After all, they love her, don’t they?

She hopes he will be kind, and maybe a little bit handsome … 
Like the boy she’s seen in town.
But she must try to forget him … 

On another veranda, a young man sits silent, listening.
He sits here at every dawn to hear the morning raga, 
Entranced by the voice of a girl he cannot see.

He, too, is to meet his betrothed today.
He wishes she might be a singer, or at least enjoy the morning song,
When she comes to live at his mother’s house.

He remembers a lovely girl he saw … sly glances, shy smiles … 
If his new wife is half as pretty, he will be well content.
Yes! He will … 

He believes his secret is safe, but mothers see everything … 
And his mother loves him. So she whispered to a friend,
And her friend whispered to another, and, well … 
A good husband is not hard to persuade … 

The sun has risen above the clouds.
There is much to do today – and if the young people agree,
There will be a lucky Monsoon wedding to arrange.

But first, the song.



Entered in Elaine's "Tell me a story" contest


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All About Her

I dont know much about her
but I heard she wasnt that talkative
She didnt like being alive
She was numb to all the pain she had to go through

I heard she didnt like anything that was green
She ate roman noodles everynight for supper
She always wore flannels and bellbottoms
Sometimes i seen her wear dresses and fancy tops
But lately shes been wearing band shirts

She wears converse shoes and uses an army bag for school
I know that she dosent like to communicate through talking... only through her peoms
or sometimes even her songs.

I see her drawing and painting all the time
She draws famous people
She would like to be famous and not so unknown
When she tries to speak to anyone they always walk away and leave her alone

When she gets home she goes upstairs to play her bass guitar
She hates chocolate cake but loves chocolate
Her family left her behind because she cant forget her past

Sometimes when shes alone she contemplates the meaning behind her life
Her favorite color is gray because her life is black and white
Everything she says is false according to the world

She is not so innocent
I understand that she dreams about the perfect life
When she opens her eyes they are pitch black

She is someone that is fake
She acts nothing like she should
She is very grungy and unclean

She knows of no safety
and of no time
Her life is smashed into pieces by the giant sun

She will always be a ghost
She knows of no god
She crawls around in the world of death
She remains forgotten


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The Guitarist's Passion

With every note there comes a motion 

With every motion another note 

Simultaneous facial expressions form 

From harmonious melodies the guitarist wrote 

He unselfishly shares his immensely sharp talent 

With patrons he lovingly calls friends 

Grateful friends that listen in true adoration 

Hoping and praying his performance does not end 

They cannot help but twist and shout or simply tap their feet 

To the tireless momentum of lightning fast fingers 

Evoking emotions that mesh with the beat 

Bringing feelings of thrills that forever linger 

The crowd cheers on as the guitarist performs 

Casting expressions through sounds being born 

From his guitar that exudes a true love of life 

Exalting to feverous peaks of delight 

The guitarist will be the first to tell you 

That his out of this world talent is not of his own 

In humble hesitation that exists in his voice, slightly trembling 

Spills out confessions for God’s Love, all powerful, never ending 

 

Author: David G. Pennington 


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Suture

It’s 3 am
I’m naked & naive
Undressed by shadows
Jetsam of scuttled me
I can feel their fingers
Howling down my back
Lightning crashes
Whispers
Your window cracked

Pull me in
Cast me out
Bleed the truth
Suture my mouth
If hope is dead
Then grieve with me
Caress their silence
Now we’re free

Do you see my face
Sewn by jagged night
My burdened brow
Scorn’s lurid light
Reaching for perfection
In this world we bend
Am I really
Their means to my end

Pull me in
Cast me out
Bleed the truth
Suture my mouth
If hope is dead
Then grieve with me
Caress their silence
Now we’re free

I have no sword
But my pen is spry
Cut me down
These words will rise
Hold my heartbeat
Breathe my last breath
Are you my savior
Am I your friend

Passion and persuasion
Nothing I hate is
Life is love
Your faith my payment


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Cirque de Halloween

"In this town, everyone's waiting for the next sunrise."

Gather round children of every age, wouldn't you like to see something strange?
Come with me and you will see.
Let us set the stage, for this is Halloween.

Whispers hum in the wind. (I am the clown with the tear-away face)
HALLOWEEN! HALLOWEEN! the crowd chants.
Master scares and creeps.

This, our circus on Halloween.
Don't be late now, for after the show, everyone's waiting for the next sunrise.
This is Halloween.

"Life's no fun without a good scare" we sing.
 "I am the wind blowing through your hair; I am the hoo? when you call "who's 
there?!"

I am the one hiding under the bed, teeth grown sharp and eyes gone red." my friend 
sings as the rest of the group sings the pumpkin song. 

"La, la, la la la, la. Life's no fun without a good scare! La, la, la la la, la. THIS IS 
HALLOWEEN! THIS IS HALLOWEEN! HALLOWEEN HALLOWEEN.

As the song ends, it is replaced by the eerie tinkling of a music box; slow and scary.

But, hey. That's what we're here for; the scares.


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Love Is Most Powerful

The sun cries poorly on the bare skin of my arms
It's dreadful rays melting my eyes burning the lashes
Begging me to wake up and sing a song for it
I sing my song with a voice of a violin
Move my hands back and forth they went
This was back then

I head down stairs with a noisy thump sound of my feet
I hear mom calling up to me
Good morning I would say
Hoping it was a better day
Was I dreaming or hesitating
What it this?

Flashback it was indeed
I have mother or father either
I want them back please!
The devil took them away from me
Now it's his turn for me I defeat

I run to the graveyard realized I cut both feet
I keep going cause that's just me
Running faster and faster 
Ignoring the pain each step I take

Cover with armor rose in my hair
I represent faith and courage I yell about
You can't bring me down this time
I with angels by my side
Can defeat the true power of evil
Leave or be forced to leave!

He ignores and walks away 
In his ugly red palms lies my parents
I love them more than you can kill
LEAVE!  He runs towards me 
I see a white light and head to sleep

BOOM!

I end up in my room still singing
I think to myself and head downstairs
My parents there
What's going on?
Am I alive I say over and over in my head.......
Is this a lie?









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Night of the Ghost Knight...

Tender Rose! watch tonight
I reach thee there, in a wondrous flight
Sighs, storms not any more
as wanton winds soften the roar.
Tearing apart the paths I 'll be
trotting triumph through the untamed sea
hold unto thy dreams for a while
as riding I come charging the vile.
Queen of hearts, my charming bride!
shining I near over the tide
Danger, Death my old delight
truest promise tonight, must see the light.
Dogs, savages of the dark
Come an' they shall be ripped apart
Guides me truly...heavenly a spark
never let Fear rule thy heart.
The moment I kiss this castle enchanted
my silver armor in crimson painted
four or forty heads...I need not know
though fiery monsters shall be lying low
Moonlit sword shall drink the sun
the fire of my breast shall make them burn
Fear not faerie queen then, my faerie dove!
witnesses every move...the angel of love.
Softly like rain...fall into my arms
O' Heavens! Thy countless ethereal charms!
I shall fly thee...through kind the flashes of the moonbeams
away from tempests...to mid summer's night's dreams.!
Unpin the braid...we'll sail in the wind
hoofs won't touch the hard roads blind
into the sea of love...where no chains can bind
as mortal fear, mundane terrains...we leave behind...


Note-As the sailors enter the Thorde sea...they can hear a faint voice singing. As they 
move further deep into the waters...the wind all of a sudden hums low an' the voice grows 
distinct. A clear ringing voice...pain or ecstasy, they cannot make out. It sings of a deathly 
night...of a Knight an' his beloved...the rescue an' an almost successful escape. That 
night..as the two approach the sea...the knight finds his ship...set ablaze by some 
treacherous spirit...gone unbeaten. At this moment of great fix...ten arrows strike the knight 
from the back...poison tipped. The beloved princess is speechless in ecstasy...an' she 
knows nothing of this immediate dreadful strike. As a knight ...never falls or fails...he looks 
above, at the gleaming heaven in earnest pray...an' with his beloved holding him close; he 
storms into the sea with the horse. The waves this moonlit night...remind you the tale once 
more....as in above...


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The Bird Song

   The Bird Song   

Icy fingers from the lake
tenderly caress the dew.
Foggy digits turn to vapor 
when the sun comes into view.

Sunlight bursts into the meadow.
Birds sing the song of a new day.
A family of deer finishing up breakfast.
I watch as the fawn begin to play.

Staring at the splendor of nature I'm humbled
by the magnificent day the Lord has made.
I'm reminded of a game of hide n seek as I watch
the sun playfully find the hiding shade.

The trees changing colors tell the season.
As the warmth of summer gives in to the fall.
Time rolling on in sweet harmony.
The bird song a testimony to it all.

As a visitor to this glorious moment 
I must give the Lord praise,glory,and fame.
After a fleeting look back at the meadow
I shall go back from whence I came.


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Fill In The Blank

I looked at the room broken bottles blood fragments of clothes.
maybe a tooth from somebody not fast are to drunk to get outta the way of a conversation 
turned bad. 

The juke box had almost made it threw but it just had to
play that one song that caused it to become a target 
for a flying cue ball.

And I herd someone speaking to the toilet I thought maybe 
I wasnt that hungry after all.
As to what caused the riot slash the human tornado of fun I cannot say
But in my opinion that jukebox had it coming always playing the wrong songs at the right 
time no one likes a smartass.

And that drag queen could sure throw a mean left hook.
While looking fierce and lip sinking to madonna at the same time that my friends take true 
talent .

Seems as though the register had went on vacation but they
left the wild turkey and pretzels thank god happy hour was almost apon us.

And theres nothing worse than telling a proffesional drinker as myself 
theres no snacks it's like tellinga kid theres no santa claus. 
And that big fat guy in the red suit with his little dwarfs 
were really just some of momies friends.

I always wondred why santa was so into getting the crap beat outta him
by a woman in a latex outfit calling herself mistress Claus.

Yes coffee always made things better mixed with some of my personal corn whiskey yeah 
grandpa may went insane and herd voices from drinking the stuff but at least he always had 
someone to talk to.

As I looked at the chaos that was my headquarters memories came to me in a flood the 
booth were I met my first wife.
that same booth were i caught her with my best friend and worst enemy and santa i swear 
he gets around.

So much for online dating dam you napster.
I should just stick with street walkers and circus people.

And I think after my tweenty first DUI 
that it was good i never had a license to start with.
cause i really hate losing anything.

It's a shame about my mind.

So really other than this little get togather turned riot turned 
love in turned back to brawl turned into 
big kid slumber party.

It was after the jukebox had to put in it's two cents 
that it all turned to      .

For nothing kills the mood worse than a bad song 
at the right time.

Love always Dr Gonzo


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The Deafening Silence

There is an explosion in all of us, we try to keep hidden away
But when we decide to get even, everybody must pay
There are so many things wrong people tend to ignore
The people in and out of our lives, the screaming next door
The ones we pass by on the street
One of them becomes a victim, than on a gurney covered with a sheet
Another shot fired, it becomes acceptable violence
What becomes un easing is the deafening silence
Some people hunt for a living, others for the thrill
Humans being the worst animal, thou shall not kill
An old lady conned out of her pension
A nobody takes hostages to draw some attention
Kids bring guns to school to settle scores
Now we have metal detectors at the doors
Is there really such a thing as a safe environment
Don't be fooled by the deafening silence
I remember when Bicycles, Hotwheels and for the girls Barbies were the 
greatest thing
Now it is all about the latest cell and the bling bling
Rap Artists, Rock Stars and movie Moguls are what influence the youth of today
It seems there is always a dragon for mom or dad to slay
Kids go wild without our guidance
The answer is not the deafening silence