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People Lyric Poems | Lyric Poems About People

These People Lyric poems are examples of Lyric poems about People. These are the best examples of People Lyric poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Ballad |

HARD HAT HEROES

There's a breed of Aussie hero who has served this nation well 
and they don a yellow uniform to face the fires of hell. 
When day temperatures are soaring and the high winds blow a gust, 
and our bushland is ignited it's in them we place our trust.   
Yes, you're all somebody's daughter and you're all somebody's son; 
you are mothers and you’re fathers.  Hard hat heroes everyone. 
 
When their mates are in the hot seat and they need a helping hand, 
they will volunteer their services from stations 'cross this land. 
Whether country towns or cities or a bush fire brigade; 
they will gladly throw their hats in and will offer their mates aide. 
Yes, you're all somebody's daughter and you're all somebody's son; 
you are mothers and you’re fathers.  Hard hat heroes everyone. 
 
Do you owe your home or property, your very lives perhaps,     
to the selfless, sincere efforts of these bold fire-fighting chaps?  
Or still sadly you lost everything, but proudly can attest 
to their fierce determination as each brave soul did their best.    
Yes, you're all somebody's daughter and you're all somebody's son; 
you are mothers and you’re fathers.  Hard hat heroes everyone. 
 
So I ask you all to join me as we stand and raise a glass 
to the courage and the spirit of this fire fighting, class; 
and I'm sure you'd love to join me as this message we impart,  
"You're such true blue hard hat heroes and we thank you from the heart." 
Yes, you're all somebody's daughter and you're all somebody's son; 
you are mothers and you’re fathers.  Hard hat heroes everyone. 


Details | Lyric |

Apple Pickin' Time

Come an' pick yerself an apple,

Come an' pick a heapin' load;

Come an' pick a bloomin' bushel

An' a couple fer the road.


There's a dozen different sizes,

Pink an' yella, red 'r lime,

Shades that match the pale sunrises

Of the apple pickin' time.


Go an' make an apple pie,

Make it thirty miles high,

Then you'll be in apple heaven

Till the day you up an' die.


Come an' pick yerself an apple,

Come an' pick a heapin' load;

Come an' pick a bloomin' bushel

An' a couple fer the road;


Some for Gran and Uncle Pete,

An' a few fer fighting crime;

'Cause the fella down the street

Knows it's apple pickin' time.


Details | Lyric |

Black People

Thugs in the street with their pants hung low
White T's and Tims with two golds in the front row
Philly fades or braids, du-rags, and fitted hats
Sweat towls around the neck 
Baseball caps turned to the back

See some people would call them hoodrats 
because of where they live at
Not knowing the situation 
Seeing the problem 
Or trying to give back
Instead they just judge the book by it's cover
Instead of calling the book your brother

See if we don't stick together 
And if we don't love each other
And stop calling us women B's and Hoes
for we all know that's not the way love goes

So black people lets take a stand 
Reach out and touch your brothers hand
Lets make this world an equal place
Because we've proved that we can


Details | Lyric |

My Singing Hairdresser Friend


I have a singing friend
he is my hairdresser
He lives a simple life
Wondering if tomorrow
will bring the sorrows and worries
A small place to stay, together
with his old and sick mother 
Food on the table to day
but what about tomorrow


I have a singing friend
he is my hairdresser
He think a lot and he
worries about the future
The sun is shining but he do
not know what tomorrow will bring


I have a singing friend
he is my hairdresser
He sing in a language
I do not understand
He sings about love,
passion and romance
Eyes smiling as he sings,
but the face is still not happy


I have a singing friend
he is my hairdresser
He is amazing with his
scissors and comb
He makes me feel so beautiful
Smiles at me in the mirror
and sing a little bit more
Happiness is now
but what will the future brings
my singing hairdresser friend







to - Diyarli Cuu
Written in Turkey
17.July.2012
A-L Andresen


Details | Lyric |

The Old Homestead

Orphaned footsteps round the old place.
Pitch black soil, packed deep with bartered
coin and Indian heads – wood and otherwise,

coat her worn leather shoes, Hutterite chic. 
The long land screams within its own silence.
Prairie sage burns somewhere, a ghostly smudge

for the undulating grass and, those it serves.
Its alive scent makes the dead turn towards 
its head - and the barely living turn to listen. 

The impossibly endless horizon holds its bright 
blue at bay, begging acknowledgement for 
its self-professed being and looming enormity.

She looks at the broken window glass and 
through the tattered, delicate gray lace. “Those 
were hers.” She whispers to the one who listens. 

This great-great-granddaughter sees the curtains 
as they once were – wistful in the hot Manitoba 
wind; fresh and lowing with the honest elemental 

scent of aspens, hope and bare-knuckle wash boards; 
always fresh; shifting in the cry for solace in summer 
shadows – never as still as this moments endlessness.

Blowing through the deep brown of splintered pine 
front doors; cracking the announcement of cast iron, 
rot and burnt wood comes the simple statement of – 

I lived. This mother of five young does not cry, 
just yearns to walk in the old ones footsteps;
to know them loved; hear the birdsong through

unbroken bedroom windows for a 5am waking; 
feel the resistance of dough on fingers that beg 
to be broken, and kiss the twisting undead, living. 


The burning of the noonday sun taps her whole,
marking; branding her pale Swedish skin its own.
The red sting of burnt breaks her inward silence, 

welcoming her familiar face home.




© Kristin Reynolds 3 29 2009

*Reposted for John's Summer Celebration Contest. This is a personal celebration; 
celebrating and honoring my great grandparents who settled in Manitoba after leaving 
Sweden and Denmark. This celebrates the summer of family, at least for me. We went there 
every summer until it was gone...


Details | I do not know? |

I've Scribbled This Song For You



I've Scribbled This Song For You...


I'm wasting my days,
my empty nights too,

I should have held on,
but I simply lost you,

now I stagger along,

wearing broken smiles,
in between hell and you,
there's a million miles,

yes, I should have kept,
you close to my skin,

soaking your warmth,
but you were laughing,

at my foolish grin...


now I'm all broken,
and torn apart,

but what the hell,
I was always late,
for the tolling of the bell,

and now...

now I stagger along,

wearing broken smiles,
in between hell and you,
there's a million miles,

so kiss me now like you once did,
I'm tired of being so carefully hid,


la laa laa la laa laa laa...


(repeat to fade)


:-)


Details | Lyric |

Beauty

She remains a partial gift
some have none, yet some have much
for her scales, sideways they tilt
yet we crave her soothing touch.

With jars of scents, ointments and creams
ourselves we paint seeking her face
fanciful, our grotesque masks seems
yet she stays mocking our ways.

But true beauty in these things lie;
the morning dew on thirsty leaves
the new-born sun that's up so high
even in Nature's smiles on lonesome cliffs!


Details | Lyric |

Fools and Mules

A fool was crowned
And now we`re bound
To serve and please
On hands and knees,
To hate and smile
Each day and mile,
We feel defeat
And kiss his feet.

The foolish kings
Cut off our wings.
Their poisoned knife-
Our foolish life.
And faith`s refuse
Won`t save our muse,
When banned to fly,
She`ll fall and die.

Still time will flow-
Kings come and go.
But teams of mules,
That choose the fools
To be ahead
Alive and dead,
Won`t change a bit
The fate they meet.

They`ll choke on pride,
They`ll run and hide
And in their shells
Pity themselves,
That life was cruel
To have set the rule-
“Do as you`re told,
Silence is gold.”

We pay the price
To hide our vice:
The coward `s role-
To lie and crawl.
And hope someday
Things`ll come our way,
We`ll find the might
To rise and fight.


Details | Light Poetry |

Glutton

This's the world of dreams  and 
reveries
Where I think ev'ry that reels,
After a thousands times,
would as same beliefs things 
besought me,
Is it a mere dream? 


Details | Lyric |

Rhyme XOX

I just want my summertime
To be at a stand still.
Sometimes, when women cross my mind,
I'm not sure just what to feel.

I'd like to call her friend,
And I want us to mean something.
I can find several, yet in the end,
It seems like all I have is nothing.

So where is the evidence
That says I should move forward?
Show me a sign that's heaven sent;
A point I should move toward.



©2013 Honestly JT


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