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Introspection Music Poems | Introspection Poems About Music

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

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Details | Tanka | |


LOVE God is always love Forever seek the kingdom; Praise the creator Keep giving what you can give Please endure until the end ANGELS Beautiful Heavens Protecting the meek ones earth Watching over us Helping us to cope with life Comforted with hope and trust MUSIC When you find rhythm You find your hearts inner core Celebrate the times Make them better than before Reminisce and dance all night

Copyright © humble b

Details | Free verse | |

In A Meadow


I can feel the breath of violin, upon my face ~ The fluttering wings of fingers playing, 'A Lark Ascending' In sweet release, I close my eyes, and drift away to inner peace ~ All strife takes flight, the music takes me to a meadow growing…. Two clarinets, in soft duet …..are timeless, ageless, knowing I'm standing still, in waving grass, a cello plays a soft breeze blowing I weave and sway…the music plays …a french horn makes sweet love to me As if a lark, I leave the ground, upon the lilting sound, and fly away…
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Inspired by the Classical composition, "A Lark Ascending" Composed by Vaughn Williams

Copyright © Carrie Richards

Details | Free verse | |

Dear Me

Dear Me,

I need you to be stronger
I need you to never be afraid

swallow your pride,and your flight will be softer
tell her you love her,even if it hurts

Grab onto your dream and live it
Do not be afraid of the sun's divinity

Be better,love more, hold on.

Dear Me,

Enjoy every stop of the ride.
For when the train finally stops...we die

Until we witness the angels dance after final day...
Dear Me, hide your fears away

Copyright © Winter Wallace

Details | I do not know? | |

Nasty girl

   There you go again doing things that you are not suppose to be in and then you look at 
me like oh i'm so sweet if you only knew I can be a freak without showing it. Here they 
go listening to the rumors but i'm your friend so in the end I know that they are true. 
How could you do that with him and her and they were on the ground you were pretending to 
pick up gum? You need to be safe, making out with strangers girl I aint no saint but god 
what are you doing? I don't want to see you years from now telling me you got aids, I 
worry about you and I feel like your special so I even wrote about you come on look how 
much you mean to me. You like him I get it but how many other guys have you liked in the 
past. He's your only, he's a phony make sure he's not just in it for the prize because 
girl you never know some guys are. It's the truth and you need to listen, I don't mean to 
sound bossy but soon enough your name is going to be posted on all the bathrooms walls. 
Telling things that you haven't even done yet. But you will front about it, Lie again. 
Telling everyone it's happened how do we know what's real or fake. I love your 
personality I wish I could steal it, Your loud, and flirty, daring and smart girl you got 
too much heart to be showing it to everyone who wants a sip. this is for all the nasty 
girls out there who think I don't know what i'm saying just ask anyone of them who are 
dead now or are on the streets prostitiuting. Don't be afraid to be a freak it's healthy 
but sometimes it's better when it's secret closet freaks have more fun.

Copyright © Shahana Jackson

Details | Italian Sonnet | |

A Blue Rose Sings

Upon a deep blue rose, a scented song,
so delicate of harmony and sweet;
a melody, whose strains of love replete
I mused upon. To whom could it belong?
To claim such ballad ought have felt so wrong,
but I could ne’er its memory delete;
each note an echo in my own heart’s beat,
alluring me to drift and sing along.

Though how I wish I’d never found the rose
whose music stirred a restlessness in me;
where love once blossomed only sorrow grows
from searching for a love that cannot be,
and timelessly a tear-blue river flows
through heartache’s vale to discontentment’s sea.

Copyright © Sharon Tideswell

Details | Free verse | |

Old Piano Book

Now yellowed with age
a lonely music book,
hidden in every page
old musician dreams

of endless nights passed
struggling with melodies,
lovely trills and arpeggios,
etudes and symphonies;

a sentry keeping watch
over dirtied ivory keys
played and loved once
by souls of olden days;

labors of faceless men
held close to its breast,
strains still remembered
kept deep in the chest;

an old piano book stands
now sullied by the years,
within its torn pages live
dead musician tears.

Copyright © Wilfredo Derequito

Details | Acrostic | |

Kiss Me in the Shadows

Keep well away from dark, forbidding dreams --
Instead, stay near the hearth and play your lyre;
Sleep even so will wait on wooden beams,
Seducing you beside your cozy fire.
Meticulous and careful you may be,
Evicting darting shadows with the blaze --
Inside your quiet cottage, patiently,
Night's emissary holds you in her gaze.
The cuckoo calls as midnight church-bells chime;
His warning message echoes from the walls --
Enchanted ears have lost all track of time,
So far from whispered fears as silence falls.
Her chilling hands then rip away your voice,
And images assail your inner eyes --
Denying you the act of conscious choice,
On captive lips she mixes truth and lies.
When sunlight climbs the sky and breaks her spell,
She blows a darkened kiss, and bids farewell.

Copyright © M. Teresa Blaylock

Details | I do not know? | |

Blood upon Pages

As I place the pen
on paper
my soul beings
to bleed
upon the pages
my secret longings
hopes and dreams
of which I hope to be,
how I want to reflect me
transpire into the universe
within my poetic lyricism
the warm sweet smoke
of my vega blunt
swirls about me, flickers
in and out of motion
as the vanilla candle nearby
fights the shadows in my room
the cool summer breeze
from my window
carries dancing sinsemilla 
fog around me, allowing
my mind
to adventure elsewhere
into the nights abyss
of minutes, turned to hours
I write
pages, of words
scribbling my life, struggles
and fears
Bob Marley and Lauryn Hills
“turn your lights down low”
beat inspirational peacefulness
on my eardrums
my small hands delicately pluck
my imaginary guitar strings
as I join her in a solo, Miss Hill's
magical voice cracks
with emotion, and my soul
tingles with excitement
For creativity flows
within my veins
I breath real music, such as
she, as soon as daylight opens
thine dark brown eyes to see
The poetic flowetry, carries me
and speaks to me
the notes capture my inner 
disturbance and desires
until the soundtrack of my day
takes me into Summers night
thoughts of my dreams 
of being a published poet
clearly float
into my sight
Then, I sit
as I place my pen
upon the paper
black and white turn to one
and my soul bleeds
onto pages
into an early sun

Copyright © Heather Hill

Details | Free verse | |

Insight out

Inner sanctuary
envision harmony and mental clarity
focus on a journey of possibility
Meditate on transformation and 
awareness of inner state
peace and healing

Constructive thought
instruct your mind
to redirect the lost and struggling inner voice
Where you can’t see the wood for the trees 
under your nose is the path of freedom 

Put aside perceived struggles
revitalize, relax, respond
to body, mind, heart and spirit
Intuition, introspection and spiritual renewal
bring about personal healing and
conscious awakening

Stillness of mind – concentration
Thoughts of the subconcious and subliminal
beyond all negativity 
away from all interuption
To allow time for self communication and
expression of inner self

Senses – awareness of scent, sight, sound, taste and touch
Healing hands of the medical profession or alternative therapy
ambiance, temperature, oils, music, sounds and 
sights of nature or universe
realisation comes in various form and shape 
causing us to feel life in fullest expression

Connecting – whispers of wind 
radiating everpresent warmth of sun
a blanket of love and light comforts consoles over and through the cosmos
rippling infinately through infinity outwards, onwards
connecting right back into where we are at right now 
unmoved unchanged and as we were

Wise – responsible courageous allowed to let go of need to be judgemental or 
be judged 
let go of controlling enable trust wisdom and humility
intelligence of knowing others
wisdom of knowing self
strength in mastering others
power to master oneself

Energy -breath, force, spirit, soul, God, universe – 
whatever – doesn’t matter how you refer to it on personal level 
energy, balance, light, sound, vibration, peace 
centered self – stillness – silent – eternal – 
to have enough is a richness in itself
accept appreciate and acknowledge oneself

Copyright © Anna-Marie Docherty

Details | Free verse | |

The Story of Joshua Bell

They don't speak
those walls
only absorb
scraps of life
the stench of urine
lucky pennies
desperate art
and a ringing clamber of voices
that move with every rush of air
down winding subway tunnels
here life collides 
in status
and in thunders
those walls
bear witness 
to many miseries
and many wonders 
on this day
the subway walls
mesmerised by a sight
never seen before
the death of beauty
as it passed thousands
and ignored
skirts, pants, collars, cologne
fingers, slender, darting in a blur
minds, tempers, hellos and goodbyes
music, echoing, not a soul does it stir
man to the intricate beauty of pattern
eyes of passerbys to the empty roundabouts of life
strings snapping with the stress of exertion
ambition, love, expectation and strife
they were all mixed together
in a bowl of concrete walls
they whirled
six of Bach's greatest works
a handcrafted violin
from 1713
played by one of the greatest
in the world
he played incognito
only six people stopped
20 gave him money
and then continued 
to walk
a three year old boy
was drawn 
to the sound
his mother let him 
his eyes wide
and astound
but watches soon tick
and they tick too loud
and they drive 
the crowd forward
as if stopping
is not allowed
Joshua Bell
let his bow fall limp
as the last of his music
was swallowed 
by the whitenoise
of life
and screeching 
metro trains
the only sound 
of applaud
soon stolen
by a new rush of air 
the subway walls
people would find peace
in the thick of life
if only
they would

Copyright © Krystal Cochrane

Details | Free verse | |

Poucha Dass Meditation

I close my eyes 
locked in a millisecond
the moment before the bow 
touches the strings 
where silence has a tremor
and wraps me in darkness 
until I hear its particles 
vibrating against me
the bow wrenches
from the depth of the bass 
a groan from the earth
as if waking a millennia of slumber
the first note
long, rich and haunting
now coming to life 
now ready to speak 
legs crossed and hands limp
pay attention 
to the sources of discomfort
tension in the neck, anxiety in the chest
fatigue in the limbs
heaviness in the core
let this weight sink
pull down through me 
melt through me
let it drag and seep 
through my bones
until it submerges 
into the ground below
transform to roots 
connect me
grow deep into the soil
until the energy is revitalized 
until I am reminded
we grow from this intricate system
no different from the forest and gardens
spreading, connecting, entwining
the earth is booming 
the bass its voice
chanting, singing, commanding 
a mantra in a language I don't understand
but with a pulse
I can feel
and it is telling me
I have all I need
visualize one by one 
sources of emotional exhaustion
with each dredge up the full power 
of all feelings
feelings long suppressed, feelings of fear
allow body and mind to swim 
one last time 
before I breathe in and blow them away
my body is lighter, sitting straighter
a tall blade of grass 
swaying as one
looking across the field 
up to the cliff's edge
and over the sunlit ocean 
taste sweet scent
of wind
stretch to feel 
soft earth
open eyes 
to unending sky
on what it means to be alive. 

Copyright © Krystal Cochrane

Details | Verse | |

May 1 1971- Mayday

Spring in Washington DC, a season of renewal, rebirth,
a time of civil unrest, antiwar protest ruled the nations capital.
The afternoon was clear and electric in each breath drawn,
thunder rolled filling the air this day, a rumble of peoples dissent.

Two hundred thousand spoke as one against the Vietnam War,
prominent speakers on capital steps, banners and signs waved.
National Guard troops and police made arrests, tension reigned,
as the sun set demonstrators dispersed to various event venues.

Veterans gathered in the knolls of the Washington monument,
a concert by popular antiwar bands poured their message forth.
Lying on the cool night grass the music rolled on in a dream-scape,
vendors walked the crowd hawking pot, LSD and speed unchecked.

The pungent scent of burning pot overpowered the cool night air,  
joints moved randomly through the crowd, passed hand to hand.
Music’s defiant rhythm blended with sounds of thousands gathered,
brothers and sisters united, but for a single night, in common cause.

These were the veterans returned, rallied again in the need for peace,
the bands cried on throughout the night, the gathered slept in place.
Suns rise to police batons, arresting and driving the gathered off,
this the last major antiwar rally faded, but the message lived on.


Copyright © Robert Stoner Jr

Details | Free verse | |

What's That I Hear

What's That I Hear?

The bells are ringing,
     listen, listen.
The angels are singing,
     do you hear?
They are telling the story
          once again.

The Son is exalted, exalted.

Handel's Messiah is heard
     in heaven, as always.
What a gift God gave us
     through one man,
          willing to listen.

Listen closely,
     listen with your heart,
          what do you hear?



Copyright © Cona Adams

Details | Lyric | |

Breezy Jane

The breeze…the breeze…the breeze
It blows her pain away
The breeze…the breeze…the breeze
It makes everything okay
For all that seems it brings…
A happy breezy Jane~

Wondrous windy days ….can take that empty shame
Lifting all the sorrow…..and blowing away the blame
The breeze shall seize her fears…..taking them away
If fallen leaves could speak…. wonder what they’d say 
Before they leave the trees…. to convey a changing way
For all that seems it brings…
A happy breezy Jane~

I wonder if the breeze…. could remove strife that way
Making every thing better ….and mixing it with rain
The wind against your skin ….doesn’t seem like much to say
A mighty thought inside…. Procures hope finds its way
Lft your head up to the sky…let wind blow where it may
For all that seems it brings…
A happy breezy Jane

Copyright © Jane Bowen

Details | Free verse | |


I have just scratched the surface of my latent hatred
Of my blind, awe-inspiring, narcissistic, misanthropic, vehement self
In Flames draws it
As, I believe, Nightwish will
There is so much power here, my heart is stone.
But inside, oh how is it acerbic!
Corrosive, burning
It burns! I feel… the burn

It yearns to burst out 
To… to kill
Do I mean that?
No, just thoughts.
Twisted, darkened thought.
Define me?
No, they do not.
The moment I turn this music off
I am out.
I am me.
But, right now, I am king.
A god, DO AS I SAY!
…and leave me be.
Desolate, forgotten.
Anything else is unsatisfactory

So get away.
Get away!
Humans make me weak.
I acknowledge no pain,
only that which you give me

So leave! 
Go, go now! 
...and live.
It is all your fault,
it is all your fault!
My twisted, wretched existence
Bound by darkness,
Bound by rusted iron chains,
to this never-ending life
of pain, of misery, of anguish!
Escape? There is none.
Certainly not by your hand
You are foolish, you are human, and you are nothing.

How could you think us equals? 
Don’t you see me? 
Don’t you see my power?

Copyright © Quincy Bee

Details | Lyric | |

Writing Me Softly With His Rhyme

I heard he wrote a good line
That he had flair and style
And as I read his work
That captured me for a while
And there he was, this gray beard
A stranger to my heart

Strumming my soul with his keyboard
Writing my emotions with his heart
Caressing me softly with his rhyme
Caressing me softly with his rhyme
Caressing me softly with his love

I felt all elevated my
Emotions all on fire
I felt that he knew me
Read my thoughts outloud
I prayed he won't leave me
Just keep on caressing me awhile for he was

Strumming my soul with his keyboard
Writing my emotions with his heart
Caressing me softly with his rhyme
Caressing me softly with his rhyme
Caresssing me softly with his love

He wrote poems as if he knew me
In my darkest days
Then he read right through me
Oh! How much I really craved
For he was 

Strumming my soul with his keyboard
Writing my emotions with his heart
Caressing me softly with his rhyme
Caressing me softly with his rhyme
Caressing me softly with his love
Caressing me softly with his l--o--v-e

(This is a take off on the song "Killing Me Softly With His Song". I heard it as an instrumental 
and this just hit me.  It applies to all soupers whose poetry has touched my heart as well as 
some of my well know poets and poetessess.)
Written by: Sara Kendrick

Copyright © Sara Kendrick

Details | Rhyme | |

The BIble Is The Inspired Word Of God

The Bible Is The Inspired Word of God!

I heard someone say “the Bible was written by man.”
But there’s a truth I don’t think he understands.

God used man to simply be an “inspired instrument.”
This was more than some type of “experiment.”

God used many different people from various places.
He used them from both the Jewish and Gentile races!

Though the words spanned a long period of time…
They were written with all of us in mind!

It was as if God himself had taken the pen.
He spoke directly through different men.

All of the books are together with a common goal.
To bring the words of God to the common soul.

I would encourage to read the Bible for your direction.
Allow God’s words to daily be your inspiration!

Won’t you read from Genesis through Revelation?
You can learn about God’s gift of salvation!

The Bible speaks of God’s love and holiness too!
And speaks to the heart of how much HE LOVES YOU!

You can also learn about eternity in a heavenly mansion!
Your life can receive a blessed “abundant life expansion!”

Through the words of Christ, you’ll be blessed!
As you find in him a comfort and a haven of rest!

I invite you to read and apply God’s truth today!
And be transformed by what he really has to say!

By applying Biblical principles in how you’re living!
You’ll be blessed by the awesome words God is giving!

By Jim Pemberton  

Copyright © Jim Pemberton

Details | Free verse | |

Night Poem

It waits...
A prickle about to lodge
In the heart of a Mighty Light

Above the low-dipped setting sun
The Knightly Night prepares to come

To lift me like a rising fog
Up to greet the countless stars -
That twinkle at a Sun's descent.

The horizon painted with lullaby
Of colours and their somber tune
Day's bed is laid behind blue mountains
And quietly it goes to sleep.

Inside the womb of a Sleeping Day
Begins a fierce protest 
of dreaming thoughts
Now stirred awake.

Then out of the thick and cluster
And whatever dangers of flight await
Newborn wings of thought emerge
And rise and rise and rise
Captured by the winds of Night -

To wander heights
To kiss the skies
To dance to the gentle humming
Of spirit drums -
Wings beating
A duet with the breeze.

So when day comes breaking through
Dawn is greeted by what was writ
At the festival of it's eve.

With merriment's ink: 
A Kiss; 
A dance; 
A song etched deep: 
Art carved out of sky.

Title: Night Poem

Copyright © Camille Casserly

Details | Lanterne | |


in my mind-
Satie's silence

Inspired by Satie's evocative piano piece-Gymnopedies

Copyright © Brian Strand

Details | Free verse | |

Dancing with Despair

I have danced while music played,
and smiled, although despairingly,
through tears at smiles not meant for me.
My soft eyes, though brown and drab,
have strived to glitter, with scant success,
as others shone bright, reflecting light
beneath their lashes, lush and long.
While I lurched in crazy drunken spirals,
others, precise, performed their pirouettes
and slid across the polished floor
and smiled and laughed and more:
completely at their ease.
What terminal disease decrees
despair my partner in this dance?
Is there no chance to sit the music out,
a listener, discrete, devout?
While others whirl and dip, I slide and slip.
Must I be a half-a-pair with stumbling feet,
inept novice, graceless lout who, led about,
never has an easy air dancing with despair?

Copyright © Leo Larry Amadore

Details | Free verse | |

The Purest Music

    One fine day as I was traversing the green,
in the last throes of Autumns'  twilight.
I sat upon a flat stone,
overlooking a trilling brook,
to ponder the meaning of life.
As I sat ,and thought,
the soft chimes of music,
from the water spirits,
lulled me into a dream state.
Some where in  that liquid crystal,
stubborn stones are worn smooth,
by the passage of time.
Elsewhere the fluidous mercury,
rushes toward a cleft ,
a water fall.
Bringing forth melodies,
never to be reproduced ,
by mere human hands.
As my lids grow heavy,
I'm awakened by the flash of silver,
denizens ,  
silhouetted by the last rays of the setting sun..
With regret its time to leave,
as I turn to go ,
a misty rainbow is captured ,
by the fading beams of light.
I smile, at peace,
the promise ,
the sun will once again ,
eclipse the horizon.

Copyright © Jim Skinner

Details | Rhyme | |

Thoose Nights

Short skirts and worn out lines.
Playing music for a living.
How I'll always miss thoose times.

Bodies so close the dance floor forever bleeds.
Painted faces they never met the person I am 
but they met my needs.  

I gave them a relief from lifes stress.
Taken in plessure sweet are the memories.
Empty bottles clutter the sink.
Apon the chair sits your newest dress.

The stage makes a man more than he does seem.
Sweat of passion.
That razor although deadly still holds a
beautiful gleam.

Thoose nights  call to my heart to this
very day.
To live as pirates.
And love like liars whos words  only

And to thoose whom i've shared.
shattred dreams and stolen reflections.
Please understand  no response  wasnt a message
of how I never cared.

Smoke filled crowded  rooms and watred down
Thoose nights were gold.
No matter how any outsider thinks.

And so your face did illuminate along with that voice.
Thoose nights stayed etched  in my soul.
for to that memorie   I am a prisoner by choice.

Copyright © John Patrick Robbins AKA Gonzo

Details | Dramatic monologue | |

the music of ice-bergs

ellipses tremble
trace in waters
a deeper kiss than this
though deeper still
revelling in waves
sunken, slips
heavy under
starry-starry lights

i feel tall
those empty hollow places
that leave me under your skin
all deeper to the sound of standing-still
deep ocher core

Copyright © Jerry Whalley

Details | Rhyme | |


SPACE MUSIC amidst clusters of galaxies 250 million miles away a giant black hole hums space music in B flat to burning suns with golden beams and silver moons with softer gleams now pull yourself together upon your feet stand tall please answer... MY questions from behind your wall where were you when I created earth who decided on its vast blueprint and size while morning stars sang and angels praised the skies? who took charge of oceans gushing from worlds womb wrapped in soft lofty clouds tucked it in when dark then gently woke new dawn in colours shapes and sizes with sweet refrain of lark? do you know where light is made or of the sins that darkness cost can you take them by the hand and lead them home when lost? can you dance to rainbows grace In My Creations music space © Kim van Breda—9 July 2015

Copyright © Kim van Breda

Details | Free verse | |

Behind these eyes

    You see my face and you see my expression but you don't know the real me that i'm 
     You don't know that behind these eyes that a little girl cries every night, you 
don't know the half so why are you desperately trying to label me with some brand that I 
would never wear.

    If you'd look a little deeper into these pearly browns you know that I am not just a 
cover you have to take time to read the book to really know me. 

     You can't just skim the back or listen to what other people say because yeah I might 
be talked about but unless you dip into the pudding you will never truly know why.

    Maybe if you looked a little deeper you'd see someone trying to keep up in a endless 

   I keep on moving but it's never any good I guess I underestimate myself or maybe I 
just need someone to give me courage.

     I see the surprised look on your face and all I can do is laugh, I bet you didn't 
think that I had so much depth, I better you never realized. 

      So even if it's not me your interested in, please let me teach you one lesson. You 
can see some much more behind the eyes of a girl than the cloud of makeup hiding her 

In a girls eyes you can see her insides, her deepest fears, her insecurities. 

Behind these eyes is the magical side, and if you can look into them first then I know 
that your confident and well worth the struggle.

Copyright © Shahana Jackson

Details | Free verse | |

Rusted Horn

He assembled in darkness the corroded horn
by familiarity and sense of touch.
Then cast as thunder into the empty night
long tones void of musical melody.
Sustained tones, fierce and woeful
in succession paraded the street.
Each note precisely chosen, unfurled
and carried aloft in chilly air.
The flickering street lamp understood
as long shadows on a cobbled walk
slow danced in the warming glow.
But the music was not for them tonight.

The musician’s voice transformed
and angry staccato flares broke.
Chop, chop and chop on the mighty tree!
He watched it fall dead against unfeeling brick.
Snapping of limbs and morality
but the tree was just a thug anyway.
Indignant “Quiet downs!” 
rained from high-rise windows
mingling in the blood of the fallen;
and tears…so few tears.
But the music wasn’t for them tonight.

Still they could not escape the song, 
that guileless voice in the darkness, 
which once again transformed.
Weeping heaves bellowed through aged-brass
amplifying every tremble of the lip.
Pitiful notes, harsh on either end
and broken by uneven vibrato, 
yet piercing in their raw honesty, 
turned away the wrathful storm.
Tremulous begging it seemed,
accompanied a hopeful plea for dawn,
which lulled to sleep the very stars above.
The moon halted to listen as well,
while the pitiful busker concluded his song
of remorse for unlived dreams
and unspoken things
before tucking itself in, cathartic.
But the music wasn't for them tonight.


Copyright © The Grahamburglar

Details | Free verse | |


Beethoven wrote his version
in sonata-form. But tonight
the Flower Moon throws white petals
all over the hillside, making
silent music, a silver 
chord. Can I, in my reflected
moon-life, hear it full
and whole?

Copyright © Taylor Graham

Details | Free verse | |

Generic Minds

generic minds listen to generic music
have generic thoughts that are unknowingly abusive
watch generic things talk about generic things
gee this generic *****is spreading like a disease
better get your flu shot 
thats what they said to me
a suicidal vaccine 
a subliminal killing spree
its contagious and the outrageous
thing about it is that the people are blind in an eye
that they didn't even know they had
it's sickening to watch these clueless civilians 
inside the looking glass
with nightmares of being free
without a key to their mind
for it is trapped in the frequency
in the illusion of time
bathed in our universe
killing all that refuse to see
those that admit to hypocracy
or see the message in hip hop
how cant you see
the message in the lyrics that
bring adolescents to their knees
from bullet wounds conflicting their flesh
contradicting that they're the best
but the songs keep telling them that they dont need no rest
that they dont wanna go home
that they should ride alone
with the gat as their only companion
and so the only path they choose is the one that they're told
until they grow old and hope turns to a window pane
inside a window pane, until all they feel is pain
they realize that the music itself is ashamed
so whats to look up to
when you cant even speak when you cant even walk because you look so bleak
your eyes are sunken from the tv you're infested with the dee zees
now its too late to turn around and live for your conscious
so when youre screaming oh please
close your eyes and bring your mind to life
open your eyes for the first time
and never wonder why
since the answer this entire time
has been inside
and you better find it before you die
you dont want your soul to be in a pool with all the others
a buncha brothers missing their mothers
but only seeing strangers
only feeling the haters
wishing they would have used their minds when they had them
and now its too late,
now it's time for another new born fate to grab them

Copyright © Green Trees

Details | Free verse | |

Music and Meditation are Stairways

It' so easy to imagine that a creator would impart To all his creations a bit of himself in each heart When my soul cries out, yearning for connection to the light When words and no earthly love prove enough to console the blight Music and meditation are blessed stairways which lift me upon wings Transporting to a sacred place of worship beyond the worldly strings Where no religion, or walls of stone would affect Subliminal commune of light with light in a deeper respect ~*~
By Annalise Brigham For: Dr. Ram's "Music and Meditation" Contest

Copyright © Annalise a.k.a. Audrey Haick

Details | Free verse | |

Gene, Gene, the Singing Machine

(in memoriam, Eugene Lawler, d. January 29, 2012, aged 83 years)

--- Note:  "The singing machine" is a not so tongue-in-cheek reference to Gene and his penchant for singing whenever and wherever he wished, as well as to his karaoke
equipment and his nickname at bars that featured karaoke nights. ---

You fancied yourself a singer,
and indeed you were.
What songs we heard from you
you had made your own,
and you gave them freely
to all who would listen
(though we were just a few
who were, at times, inattentive.)
Time and remembrance may color
the images you left behind,
and the sentimental songs
you sang (and scribed on silver disks 
for us to hear when, and if, we will)
may prod us to recall
your willful, dour demeanor
which could bloom into benevolence
or darken further in stormy sneers
at tardiness, or at perceived
maltreatment of any sort.
You were your own arbiter of behavior
who kept before you expectations
of what was appropriate, for yourself
and for us, the others of your kind.
We were few (still fewer now),
who flocked together on occasion
to celebrate, in quiet fashion,
whatever anniversary we chose --
perhaps your passing date
will become another to be marked.
And your voice, reproduced mechanically,
amplified, may remind us of our loss,
and of yours.  

Copyright © Leo Larry Amadore