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Song Narrative Poems | Narrative Poems About Song

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

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Details | Narrative |

A Song of Michael's Rose

Dedicated to Deb Radke

The cottage reeks with
fluid tides of hope,
incessantly commanding.
My baby’s here.
I’ve still no word 
coming down the line from Dover.
Winter’s gone...
Spring rains have come
and with it comes the tears all over.  
I weep again, my child it seems,
will never know her father. 

Today down by the spring
I prayed the prayer so often said,
sorrow turned desperation.
I found a ring left in the cup, since
yesterday laying there, scribed “M” 
upon a jeweled stone.
My heart leaped in
expectation.

I heard his voice inside my head,
where also his face I saw. 
I turned and looked... 
no one was there...
please God give me 
this one discretion.
There must be peace somewhere to find.  
I look but must be led
by your grace and mercy.  

Again at chores, the babe 
asleep, the knock came loudly.
A letter from Michael O’brian maam, 
please sign here for delivery.
I hurriedly skimmed, 
he was dead,
two days before,
of pneumonia.  

Our little Rose, still in my care,
to receive his name 
if she so chose
and all else he owned in Dover.
A ring for me
it seems was gone, 
a large garnet with the letter M
on the stone, had disappeared
completely.  

EPILOGUE:
	A seed was planted in winter,
	planted in sweetness of youth. 
	It was a gift from Michael.
	He left me alone in the spring---yet,
	his flower grew in my garden.
	Our error was human.
	First feeling trapped, then love,
	from this Rose in my life.
	Forgiveness is divine.
	Love is eternal.
                              

11 Jan 2011  Charles Henderson


Details | Narrative |

Alone in a Hospital Room - An Alzheimer’s Song

Don’t you remember, love, how we danced that first night;
beneath the sun’s rays, toes dipping in the cooling sand, 
to the tune of our favorite song –
with me humming the best I could – 
(I sounded terrible, but you told me I sounded divine, remember?)
while falling all over myself, and your delicate feet; 
and you, trying so hard not to laugh as I made such a fool of myself!
Did you ever think we would go 
from being love-sick teenagers dancing on the beach, 
to a couple of old-timers reminiscing 
about our best years – our long ago days together? 

Honey? 
Sweetheart, please…
If there is any part of that teenage girl 
left within that beautiful head of yours…please; 
please, just look in my eyes as you once did…
look at me, sweetheart…
Don’t you remember? 

My love, do you hear? 
They’re playing our favorite song…



*Inspired by Izzy Gumbo's Solfege Contest
I really hope I did this right! :)


Details | Narrative |

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


Details | Narrative |

- 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 :)


Details | Narrative |

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


Details | Narrative |

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.


Details | Narrative |

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


Details | Narrative |

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.


Details | Narrative |

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 :)


Details | Narrative |

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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