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Rhyme Music Poems | Rhyme Poems About Music

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

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India

I hear much joy in the music,
View elation in the dance
Feel happiness in the laughter,
Soulful spirit in poetic romance.

I feel love in the language
Swelling in my heart.
Reverence for God and Goddess
In beloved families far apart.

I love the customs and the people
As they celebrate each day
Living life to the fullest
In their honor I wish to pray

That I may learn to be as humble
As loving and as kind,
To be blessed by elder wisdom
In every senior that I find.

This is a gift to give my children
To open their sleepy little eyes.
To see the value in rejoicing,
To reach for stars up in the skies.

When they learn this knowledge 
To listen well to the sages,
They will know of sacred secrets
Handed down through the ages.

© 2014 Connie Marcum Wong

Copyright © Connie Marcum Wong

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Voices in my head

I see things in my dreams
Aliens then screams
Government, terrorists, spies
Ghosts, ghouls, monsters, lies
They are coming in my sleep
I can’t scream, not a peep
Fireants in my brain
My voices make it plain
Life isn’t as it seems

I ain’t gonna lie
I got problems
Don’t deny
Should be locked up
Outta my mind
I know I’m crazy
But maybe that’s just me
Don’t judge me by the outside
See inside I’m terrified

Locked my heart threw away the key
Locked it up so they can’t see
Its breaking loose
Can’t set it free
Can’t keep it close
Can’t let it be
I try to find my sanity
But somehow that’s just not me
My brain thinks differently

I ain’t gonna lie
I got problems
Don’t deny
Should be locked up
Outta my mind
I know I’m crazy
But maybe that’s just me
Don’t judge me by the outside
See inside I’m terrified

Others see a different world
Without the fear of dreams unfurled
Broken hearts, shattered screams
My insanity becomes a reality
That only I can see
My reality is the insanity
Deep inside of me
Until I set it free
I will never see with clarity

I ain’t gonna lie
I got problems
Don’t deny
Should be locked up
Outta my mind
I know I’m crazy
But maybe that’s just me
Don’t judge me by the outside
See inside I’m terrified

I just gotta set it free
I just gotta be me
The world wants me to hide
They just gotta realize
That I am truly crazy
And really that’s just me
I am finally set free
To find my sanity
In insanity

I ain’t gonna lie
I got problems
Don’t deny
Should be locked up
Outta my mind
I know I’m crazy
And I know that’s just me
Don’t judge me by the outside
See inside I’m finally alive

Copyright © Heather Secrest

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Popcorn Music

Pop (corn) Music


Introduction

It’s time to dance, time to tango
There’s a Canadian on the banjo
When he sees the guitar strings
Jack’s mirth grows soaring wings;
As he scans the rhapsody drums
While busy the Banjo he strums!


He strums with finger
Voice doesn’t malinger!
He strums with thumb
He’s loud, he’s not dumb!

There’s Pop Music in Poetry House
Fasten belt, tighten that blouse
Third Party Insurance will not help
Scorched, when you start to yelp!
While Archaic blows a brass horn
I’m squatted munching popcorn!

He blows the mad horn
That the Devil can dehorn
Bravura of Poetic sound
Tremulous on the ground!


Background 

Fantastic footwork by Andersen Anne Lise
Compared with my hodgepodge tango style
Her voluble Poetic twirls and untimely release
Sent me across the floor to hurtle and fly!
Supine and writhing with shyness’ disease
Miss Wattle spruced my green-horned tie!

As if mêlée was all but an esteemed order
Sis Yvette, on her protuberant poetic drum
Synchronised with Archaic’s across the Border
Non-stop, the frenzied guy continues to strum
Poetry flowing from the mental cam coder
Raving Banjo on the mercy of Jack’s thumb!

Poetry Soup is irrefutably a busy Pop House-
As Cherie Thomas beats with Conductors’ stick,
Wider goes Delysia Hendricks’ split blouse
Furiously harping with gusto and a rare trick!
To rupture of ecstasy and uproarious applause:
“This kinda stuff makes this cheeky Gal tick!”


You’d say he’ll suffocate where he’s trapped
I mean Sir Lamoreaux in a spirally saxophone
Blowing, piping poetic tremolo whilst wrapped
Breathing into the constrictor’s tail a cyclone
Heaving chest, yet poetic zest is not sapped!
Alas! He’ll not till poetic tremor is fully done!

Repeatedly blowing the Lyrical saxophone
Vicky Tsiluma, intrepid Black Queen that she is,
Across Kilimanjaro, waft her poetic tone
With intonations of peace and human bliss
In this fine cognoscenti’s vitality is borne
That Lovers of Learning cannot afford to miss!

Eileen Ghali with her fine and sombre heart
Completed the missing link in the Poetic Pop
Which she could never eschew to take part
Her poetic prowess and love writ not to flop
Cheerfully sang love lines on a pedestal chart,
With dance sending Jack’s trousers to drop!


Conclusions

By sharing Poetry for free
Other’s mind we start to see	
Lost temper, back we find
In Soup we share our mind!



**Dedicated to all the Soup Community members. I could have included all of you....space could not allow. I love you all!


JM

16th Oct’ 2013 

Copyright © Joseph Matose

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Music at Midnight

His home is beneath the theater stage Disfigured, he remains within his cage Listening to melodies played onstage Fills him with loneliness, not rage Once a fine actor, the Phantom awaits midnight To sing alone, so fear he won’t incite For the “garish light of day” he finds too bright When he hears Christine sing, he bemoans his plight Hours pass until midnight when the theater’s empty And he lays his hands on each piano key Stroking them as he would her face on the marquis But only at midnight is his soul set free What would Christine think if she saw his face He senses the need his feelings to encase As much as he longs for her tender embrace He fears she would just leave him in disgrace Midnight, midnight, he awaits patiently So he can finally perform shamelessly This midnight ritual he enacts faithfully Singing to a woman he’d love undyingly He croons sadly, wishing for her ovation Absorbing the power of each note’s vibration Dreaming one day he’ll submit to temptation And reveal himself to discover her elation
* Based on the Broadway play “Phantom of the Opera” and its powerful song, “Music of the Night.” Most plays end just before midnight. “Garish light of day” is a line from the song. * Poem written Jun 6, 2014

Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire

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ROCK and ROLL

Inspired by Old Time Rock & Roll by Bob Seger & The Silver Bullet Band 1978 album Stranger In Town
It gets the heart pumping Like a drum, a tap tap is thumping Innocent days we were young, heart were pure and pure was sung. Records spin, sweet smelling vinyl. I won't change, and that's final. The scratch of the needle hums, With every word, peace comes. I may be old fashioned, I know, But words do soothe the soul. The body moves in its own beat, Rhythm tap taps my feet. Rock and roll will always be heard, For it was a vision that'll never get blurred. For Contest: Rock N' Roll Date: 11-21-2014

Copyright © Casarah Nance

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Cover Band

I've heard all these great songs before
Always getting me out on the dance floor
The rhyme and rhythm is so out of sight
Making me want to take you home tonight

All are well written, and sing to the ear
Every note perfect, polished and clear
We sing along, for we all know the tune
Still getting all the young ladies to swoon

Play something fresh, not scratched and old
Make it original, dynamic and bold
Make it a favorite, the new song that I love
Write me a winner one you are proud of

Boy, I really dig the way that you sing
But I'd much rather, hear the real thing

Copyright © Tim Smith

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Wanderlust-Minstrel Of Midnight

My existence strives with my persistence to acclimate.
This life was my choice, my superior voice fetched my fate.

In self promotion, harvesting devotion, I strummed this guitar.
Walking with bare feet, cemented street, a Hollywood star.

Acoustically serenading, never fading, macabre personification.
Indulging the classes, entertaining the masses, justification.

Wickedly showing where ever I am going, righteous wanderlust.
Talented troubadour, seeking more, satisfaction is a must.

Significant each strum, audiences comes, a park bench is the stage.
With words I capture sensational rapture, mysterious sage.

Singing poetry out loud, exceptionally proud, a vagrant.
Presences that lingers in the air when I'm no longer there, fragrant.

Theatrical ceremony, only a memory come the birth of the morning.
Minstrel of midnight, when timing is right, I leave with no warning.




For Contest: Wanderlust
Host: Nette Onclaud
Name: Casarah Nance
Date: 08-11-2014

Copyright © Casarah Nance

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In the magical forest

For Rogers contest, magical forest

In the magical forest

It was on a lovely, mystic night
Full moon was shining big and bright
The trees they glistened neath the moon
I strode there whistling a happy tune
There was so much beauty in this place
This magical forest filled with grace
As the stars they twinkled in the sky
This night it raised my spirits high

I heard the sound of a mystic flute
A lovely sound I’ll not refute
As I came across this clearing where
I had no choice but to stand and stare
There were elves and fairies, Goblins too 
And they could dance, I’m telling you
As the forest folk all gathered round
And from this scene such joy they found

The bears were there, the foxes too
They formed a band with a kangaroo
A couple of Dingo’s, and a mouse
It was like a kind of open house
Everyone did sing a song
As the mike it went around the throng
Then I awoke, it was a dream!
But oh, it was a lovely theme.

11 March 2014 @ 0500hrs.














Copyright © Peter Duggan

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A New Day


Her grateful kiss moistens the dawn, raised arms embrace the sun. A light like fire burns for all time, a new day has begun. When Sunday morning’s church bell chimed, brisk steps tapped with the song. Gray walls of stone held prayers within, stained glass cast shadows long. She stood hunched low prisoned by sin, carved statues froze her feet. A face of slate hid darkest fears, her path walked in defeat. A voice of hope from prayer spoke clear, love shined from grace unbound. With arms held high and knees bent low, soul praised without a sound. On high, she saw gold haloes glow and wings spanning blue sky. This Sunday morn behind church doors, to hate she said goodbye. With love, each new day to explore becomes a welcomed gift. The world around her is her church, God’s beauty does uplift! Heavenly song floats from high perch, the birds know all too well God’s love brought forth a melody from Sunday’s old church bell. Then when the bells toll solemnly, she’ll rise to a new song; bell’s chime will call to other souls as new days come along. for Isaiah's Interlocking Rhyme Contest, 1/24/15

Copyright © Rhonda Johnson-Saunders

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Flower Song


Oh, where do tender flowers sing?
When do we hear flushed petals strum?
Soft on the breeze, blooms sweetly hum.
Their melodies begin in spring.

I walk through meadows delicate.
The flowers’ song a symphony;
no sound of death’s cacophony.  
In beauty, earth and sky beget.   

The season’s sounds, a pleasure heard,
each flight of buzzing bumble bee,
each butterfly fluttering free,
Spring’s lyrics sung without a word.

With every flower blooming wild,
lovers dance silently beguiled.


*For Rick's Flower Song Contest, 2/15/15
Form - enclosed rhyme, ending in a couplet




Copyright © Rhonda Johnson-Saunders

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TUNES OF WAVES


In waters’ calm leisure, mellow tides drift Along back strides that always find their sway, The lighter blues, the deeper jades, that sift Glimmers of mollusks that twinkle and play. From the swoon of bay when dusk slowly cranes Pewter the wavelets, darker steel the shore; Above, one bold and yellow stripe explores To jiggle in a curdled breeze and spills A frothy crest with waltzes soon to fade Before moon comes in her gathering wade. Notes I hold, on the ocean waves’ last set A gurgling never the same every time That I might grow thirsty and soon forget Salty ripples forming different chirps Never out of waves' hums in dancing flips. Sheri Fresonke Harper's Out Of Water Contest

Copyright © nette onclaud

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One With Her Music

Young lady, dark eyes smiling, gazes soft upon her dreams. She holds violin, her companion, near as Chopin’s notes surround her, resonating in her soul, splendor’s refrain. As music comes alive, nimble fingers wake, restless to float in passionate motion on waiting bow, no worry or thought to precision or mechanics. She, spirited girl, creates in light of love, lifting her gift from God, which cannot be bought; she understands - blood and breath flow, her energy elates, great to enlightened ears and hearts of all who listen...admire, flawless to those who know the meaning of extraordinary - a priceless gift shared, passion spreading like a burning fire. Young lady, virtuoso, dark eyes smiling brighter each day, lives her dreams. She and music are one joyous heart beating.

Copyright © Rhonda Johnson-Saunders

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I Hear Guitars a' Calling

I hear guitars a’ calling in the gloaming’s final fling When sinking suns relay their flames to fairies on the wing Igniting one by one the jewels of midnight’s diamond blaze As day becomes a yawning ash beneath a starry gaze. I hear guitars a’ calling from the clouds within the skies, With tunes which flow as purple drops from sad and weepy eyes Of silent speaking troubled souls who stand alone in grief, But hold the vastness of the stars within a trembling leaf. I hear guitars a’ calling from the beat beneath her breast, The murmur throbs of passion and a sensuous unrest That rumbles deep in silent woods before the raging storm And splits the air in morning meadows bursting green with corn. I hear guitars a’ calling in the gentle splashing rain, Which summons with a soothing purr upon my window pane And conjures up a childhood dream within a vagrant breeze Entwining me in cryptic webs of misty vortices. I hear guitars a’ calling from the waves on distant shores; They’re crashing out their monody upon the mystic oars Of phantom ships within the dawn and midnight caravels, A’ sail on seas of raven wings to moonlit citadels. I hear guitars a’ calling in the morning’s reveilles; They’re pouring fires in the skies and burning up the seas, While waking flowers in the fields and setting trees ablaze, And closing one by one the eyes of midnight’s starry gaze. I hear guitars a’ calling from the deserts of my mind; They’re howling of a hollow land adrift on empty time Where pathless sands are blazing hot, the sun is standing high, A thirsting dog is barking faint’ with tongue that’s long and dry.

Copyright © Terry O'Leary

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night music

*
                     

                       the evening stars

                             that prick the darkening

                                 aftermath of sun...

                                    will sing once more,

                                        in ancient tongues,
                                
                                            quixotic songs

                                                 as if they've not 
                                                    
                                                          been heard before

                                                

Copyright © Carrie Richards

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The Man in the Wilderness

Feeling like a lodger
In my own home
Thankful for my music
And my new found roam

Families and communities
They are just so hard to find
But in April 2009
I found the most precious kind

I found the name amusing
So the button i clicked on to see
The layout was very inviting
Like an open door should be

For in a matter of minutes
On first uploading a poem
This Highlander was content
He had found a welcome home

So many lovely writers
Poets who share their bless
No longer this Scotsman is
The Man in the Wilderness



http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/me.php

Copyright © James Fraser

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Flowers of the Curious Mind

Flowers of the Curious Mind



Sent were flowers of the curious mind
 following echoes of Cantu's muse
No curses , words grossly unkind
 insults hidden deeply in clever ruse

Dare not stab sweet music of mortal man
 with deeds sordidly played tho' sweet
Transgress not Nature's surviving plan
 with arrogant contempt born of defeat

Embrace life's melody as a lost friend
 dancing within it's tune so fine
Live, live gloriously until life's end
 drink, drink richly of it's finest wine!

05-24-2014

Copyright © Robert Lindley

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Old Faithful

No, not a geyser,
Not a woman,
Old faithful sits
Patiently in my kitchen,
Awaiting my need for her

Old faithful is an organ,
Rich velvety tones
Growls when I ask her
Or spits, or even moans...

What a companion
She does make
No need for deception,
No room for fake...

She's gotten me through,
Many a rough time
She asks no questions
She's guilty of no crime

Her teeth, bared...
Ready to rock
She needs no food,
She reads no clock

She takes me away
On many a mystic trip
As we soar together
Joined at the hip

So keep your guitars,
Your trumpets, your bass
This girl is mine,
Smiling toothy face.

Copyright © tom bell

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The Songs & The Makers

My soul understood Lynyrd Skynyrd
Like Ronnie I had monkeys to
Just simple boys chasing life’s joys
With our needles playing our blues

My soul understood Pink Floyd
For I have lived inside the wall
Comfortably numb and ignorantly dumb
Living my life forever tasting the call

My soul understood Nirvana  
The White Horse has lived in my stall
I’ve tasted death at the edge of my breath
As my soul just nodded through it all

Like Creed I am my own Prison
No appeal on the docket today
What I learned from John Lennon
We all need to learn how to pray

Morrison took me to the roadhouse
Like Merle they locked me away
And I guess just like Creedence
I’ve seen rain on the sunny day


You know I do love Hank Jr.
Especially when he sings the blues
It seems so many of us just hop on the bus
Forever lost in the Addictions we choose

Sometimes I feel just like Kid Rock
I’m just sitting here in search of myself
I have great respect for Garth Brooks
For his family he put his career on the shelf

Johnny Cash sang of San Quentin
I heard the song in one of its cells
Locked up inside of that medieval prison 
You feel like you have made it to hell

Like Jerry Garcia I fried in Berkley
Like Hendrix I dropped acid in my eyes
To this day when I hear Janice Joplin
 I just want to break down and cry

The Eagles played the Hotel California 
I have led the dance on that Prison yard
Guns & Roses sang of the Jungle
Prison is a world very cold and hard

These are a few of the songs and the makers
Ones that have shared my story and plight
When I die just play dust in the wind
As I ride the stairway to heaven that night

If my song is granted one purpose
And the music I’m allowed to choose
Let it be said that the song in my head
Was country rock with a touch of the blues

And let that song forever tell a story
A horrible story that ended so bright
For when Jesus Christ grants his mercy
Even the most blind can be led to the light

So Lord let my life be your lighthouse
Lord please guide my story as it’s told
And whatever you do Lord I beg of you
Help me stay worthy of the heart that I hold

Copyright © Michael Jordan

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Miss Rock 'N Roll

I saw you by the record machine
An angel, a beautiful being
On a whim I took a chance
Slid over and said:
Let me hold you while we dance.
I was stunned for a while
As you gave a gentle smile
I proceeded to ask for your name
You told me you’d be impossible to tame.

Those weren’t my intentions
I was hoping you’d slip, fall and spill your affections
In my direction.
Miss Rock ‘N Roll
I’m under your control
So what do you say
We head home to be alone
Linkin Park in the dark
And wake up to a Green Day?

I went in for a kiss
She went in for a whisper
Softly said:
Mister, if you love Rock ‘N Roll
Better put a Nickel-back in that jukebox, baby
If you love Rock ‘N Roll
Take your time and dance with me.

* I Love Rock ‘N Roll
Joan Jett and The Blackhearts

Copyright © Ismail Mokoena

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B Flat Scale

Secretly;
Not seen or felt.
A soft melody.

Gently;
picking up pace.
It sings to me.

Amazingly;
tells a tale.
Calm and sweetly.

Tenderly;
notes drift in and out.
Feelings emotionally.

Quietly;
It fades slowly away.
The final note ring.

Copyright © emily humphreys

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Lyre, Lyre

For The contest 
"Fill Up A Scroll "


With hand upon the golden lyre
Her fingers intertwined the wire
With her hair, like burning fire
Rest upon her breast

The music that she plays, it tells
Of love that's lost, and broken spells
Tolling like cathedral bells
Down deep inside her chest

From the scroll, she frees each note
With her heart, they rise then float
Beyond the castle walls and moat
Truly she is aptly blessed

Gently now, she reaches too
Another scroll She'll play for you
And taming that unruly shrew 
Freeing you to lie and rest
   

Copyright © Jerry T Curtis

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When Shadows Fall

Summer is on the turn, into Autumn we now head So close this day approaches, inside many heads now dread We now view through our eyes, our windows of life What do we see now, do we absorb our awaiting strife Be like me and others and listen to peripheral sounds It's what we have come to know, it's us all around Day by day we view, the turning of life's greenery But what are we going to see after, on this future days scenery Is it intrepid anticipation, human wondering entering it's abyss We're the blind leading our blind, just what do we make of this *~* The eve of this reckoning day, in hourly wait we await Autumn has taken it's turn, are us humans in use by date This morning we have awaited, curtains drawn I view There's something different about the sunrise, sees me a through From my balcony I witness, now seeing from where I am Shape shifting no longer applies, I just don't understand In sorrow fill hungered loss, I lose life's lust for thrall From my balcony I now witness, I view when shadows fall *~* Inspired by "Touchstone's" <> "When Shadows Fall" from their album "The City Sleeps"

Copyright © James Fraser

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Golden Harps

                                 A choir of Angels in heaven plays
                    Angelic pastorale music with golden harps and amaze
                                   With musical note that sings  
                                        On vibrating strings 
            Every string tenderly, caress, and plucked deepen and overwhelm
            Its echoes, relished, and hearken  throughout the heavenly realm 

By: Eve Roper
2/25/2015

Copyright © Eve Roper

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A Heaven For Musicians

There has to be a heaven for musicians
A place for old singers to go
Their music still touches our lives
As they did years ago
Ray Charles transcended music type
From country to rock to blues
Ritchie Valens was only seventeen
When his death hit the morning news
Jim Croce sang about Leroy Brown
While Nillson would croon Without You
Janis Joplin would make you rock
And Stevie Ray would make you blue
I still watch old Ozzie and Harriet shows
Just to hear Ricky Nelson sing
Harry Chapin took his last Taxi ride
And Elvis is still the king
John sang of peace and love
While George's guitar would gently weep
Conway's music wasn't Make Believe
I hear their music in my sleep
John Denver's in the Rocky Mountains High
And Del Shannon seeks his Runaway
Rainy Days and Mondays made Karen sigh
While Otis sat On the Dock of the Bay
Jimi Hendrix played the meanest guitar
Roy's voice couldn't get any higher
Bobby Darin searched Beyond the Sea
And Jim Morrison said Light My Fire
There has to be a Heaven for musicians
For all those who have paid their dues
Where the music will live forever
From rock n' roll to rhythm and blues.

Copyright © Vince Suzadail Jr.

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A Harvest of Music

A Harvest of Music

The orchestra gathered under the dome
Audience  awaiting the pure joy to come. 
Descending silence alerting the senses. 
Arrive the maestro, and magic commences. 

Trombone and trumpet burst forth with feeling. 
Explosion of sound, set senses reeling. 
Tuba and French horn now adding their voice, 
Uniting as one to delight and rejoice. 

Soft music flowing, a leaf in a stream, 
Catching the ear in a heavenly dream, 
Rising and soaring, empowered of wings, 
A dream maker's touch and violin sings. 

With long curving bow caressing the strings,
Hair hiding her face, an angel, she brings 
The music of angels, rafters invading 
Haunting blue notes from cello cascading. 

Clarinet cadenza, clear fluid tones 
Tugging the heartstrings, embracing the bones. 
Filling the dome, ethereal splendour 
Fading away, celestial wonder. 

Percussion take hold, no longer hidden 
Cymbals and side drum do as they're bidden, 
Crashing and booming, sound finding its berth 
Pulling the listener back down to the earth. 

Thunderous applause with standing ovation. 
The crowd full of rapture capture elation, 
A feast for the soul, a prayer with no word
A harvest of music, to honour the Lord.

Copyright © Margaret Foster

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The 70's

Back in those heavy times when everything was so far out Our words were but a whisper, the mans were but a shout Flower power was spreading, and everything was out of sight Preaching peace through out the days, and gettin our groove on into the night But we were always gettin hassled, by the fuzz, the man, the pigs They didn't want us smokin doobies, and flashin peace signs, can ya dig? Then peace and love had flourished, we needed to get funky and do our thing We needed a place to get our groove on, so the discos were the scene The threads we wore back then were styling, some were off the hook! It's hard to believe with the slim bread we made, we could carry that funky look? Bellbottoms, platform shoes, and jump suits people were a cravin Boogieing away the nights in the discos, where the lights were just a blazin Then the foxy chicks started getting pregoed, and the discos no longer Dyno-mite! Men needed to start makin more bread, and trying to live the family life But gigs weren't easy to find, and life became somewhat of a drag Some of the dudes skipped town, leaving the foxy mamas holding the bag Well thats the skinny of the seventies, the lowdown of peoples ways So keep on truckin all you cool cats and foxy mamas And remember all those ~Freaky, ~Far Out, ~Out Of Sight days
Dan Kearley:1-21-12

Copyright © Dan Kearley

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Creating happiness

One I was in a stage of hopelessness and lived in this very miserable lodge in Fremantle. I wrote this while I was there mongst crime and misery

Creating Happiness

It’s a block of flats, five stories high
In each room there’s a story
Could be a tale of loneliness
It could be one of glory
But mostly I see poor damned souls
Who have no place to go
In many of these rooms, my friends
No happiness does glow.

Well me, I’ve lived here for a while
I have my little room
It’s where I sit and write my poems
And cut through all the gloom
By banging on my old guitar
And singing out my songs
Or playing my harmonica
Sometimes the whole day long.

It seems the music calms the souls
Of all these hurting guys
Cause most of them that live in here
They never pass me by
Without a wave and a friendly smile
Maybe this be my thing
Amidst all of this misery
Some joy in here to bring.

Copyright © Peter Duggan

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Music

Music is the mood in your bones
Keep it rolling like the stones
Vibrations that direct the soul
Sensations to dictate your role
Melody to make you feel at home
Rhythm for making the mind roam
Chorus of a heart that you know
Put yourself into your own flow

Copyright © ... Gigno

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12 days of Christmas Remix

On the First day of Christmas my true love gave to me...
A starfish from the vast sea
On the Second day a Christmas my true love gave to me...
Two crabs crawling and a starfish from the vast sea
On the Third day of Christmas my true love gave to me...
Three dolphins dancing, Two crabs crawling and a starfish from the vast sea
On the Fourth day of Christmas my true love gave to me…
Four whales waving, Three dolphins dancing, Two crabs crawling and a starfish from the vast sea
On the Fifth day of Christmas my true love gave to me...
Five pearl rings,Four whales waving, Three dolphins dancing,two crabs crawling and a starfish from the vast sea
On the Sixth day of Christmas my true love gave to me...
Six silver dollars, Five pearl rings, Four whales waving, Three dolphins dancing,Two crabs crawling, and a starfish from the vast sea
On the Seventh day of Christmas my true love gave to me...
Seven seals swimming, Six silver dollars, Five pearl rings, Four whales waving,Three dolphins dancing,Two crabs crawling and a starfish from the vast sea
On the Eighth day of Christmas my true love gave to me...
Eight eerie eels, Seven seals swimming,Six silver dollars,Five pearl rings,Four whales waving,Three dolphins dancing,Two crabs crawling and a starfish from the vast sea
On the ninth day of Christmas my true love gave to me...
Nine Norway lobsters, Eight eerie eels,Seven seals swimming,six silver dollars,five pearl rings, four whales waving,three dolphins dancing, two crabs crawling and a starfish from the vast sea
On the Tenth day of Christmas my true love gave to me...
Ten tiny turtles, Nine Norway lobsters,eight eerie eels, seven seals swimming, six silver dollars, five pearl rings, four whales waving, three dolphins dancing,two crabs crawling and a starfish from the vast sea
On the eleventh day of Christmas my true love gave to me...
Eleven teeny frog eggs, Ten tiny turtles, Nine Norway lobsters, Eight errie eels, Seven seals swimming, Six silver dollars, five pearl rings, four whales waving, three dolphins dancing, two crabs crawing and a starfish from the vast sea
On the twelfth day of Christmas my true love gave to me…
An aquarium to keep them happy, Eleven teeny frog eggs, ten tiny turtles, Nine Norway lobsters, eight eerie eels , seven seals swimming, Six silver dollars, Five pearl rings, four whales waving,Three dolphins dancing,Two crabs crawling and a starfish from the vast sea.

 "remix 12 days xmas song"
BY:Sabina
12/11


Copyright © Sabina Nicole

Details | Rhyme | |

Above the Ocean Path


  " .... can you hear the bells ? ... "
             ~~~   ~~~


I trudge along the ocean path
up the hill to the promenade.
Above the crashing waves I stand,
then memories, my thoughts, invade.

Behind me, white and old, as I,
the abandoned church beckons me.
It says " do you remember when?"
"Think back ... what do you see?"

I remember lilacs blooming
and music from inside,
when this was a church full of life,
when I became a bride.

But now the lilacs fade from sight,
a deserted shell is all I see.
There is no music playing.
Sadness settles over me.

The curtains blow through broken panes.
They billow in the breeze
as if they're trying to escape
out to the beckoning seas.

Once upon a time we were
Alive ! , this church and I.
But we are old and empty now
and ready now to die.


           ~~~   ~~~
"behind the church is a promenade
     they call the Widows Walk"




   ~~~   ~~~   ~~~   ~~~   ~~~   ~~~

    23/09/2011

Copyright © Francine Roberts