Culture is beautiful when expressed in the right light
It is the drum we walk to, dance to
Everyday down city corner streets
It is the obstacles we walk through, run through
Everyday common as the passing faces we see
It is the temptation we indulge in, survive in
Everyday it rises
like the sun
and sets over horizons
It is the songs we hum to, succumb to
Everyday on the mornin' radio
constantly setting the mood
givin' that vision to our way of life
Beautiful culture yields to beautiful life
Tears In The Wind
Left hand deftly fingering strings on frets,
While my right hand is picking or strumming.
Composing a sad song about regrets
And searching a melody by humming.
I easily find a chord progression,
Played in a melancholy minor key,
Then add some dynamics for expression--
Reaching a fugue-like state releases me
Fleeting perfection is my endeavor.
Like tears in the wind, now lost forever.
I have been one acquainted with sunrise,
I have bathed in first light – then back in shadow,
I have felt tentative warm on closed eyes.
I have gazed over pink-tinged meadows,
I have passed by the swift and early bird,
And reached a hand to touch a half-lit rose.
I have stood still without a single word
When far away a tree frog croaked his song;
Across the meadow waking creatures stirred.
But not to stop the sun from glowing strong,
And further still to greet the red-gold skies;
On gently sunlit tree, birds linger long.
Daylight sheds night’s shadowy disguise.
I have been one acquainted with sunrise.
Dear baby, Daddy's boat is on its way.
There blinks and whirls inside the starry sky
a lighthouse sending us a gleaming ray.
For you, my precious, is this lullaby.
Your daddy rides tonight upon the sea.
He's following the gulls that homeward fly,
but soon you'll sit upon your Daddy's knee.
I sing for you this seaside lullaby.
The beacon's beam we see is light that guides,
so close your eyes, sweet baby; sleep is nigh.
As soothing as the rhythmic ocean's tides
for you, my precious, is this lullaby.
Dear baby, close your eyes and do not cry.
I sing for you the seaside lullaby.
For the Poetry Contest of Tracie ~*~Indigo Dreamweaver: "Lullabies"
Come, sit here beside me – it’s where you belong.
Hand me my guitar – I’ll sing you a song
About roads I have travelled and bridges I’ve crossed
On destiny’s journey from where I was lost.
I can tell you of victories in faraway lands
Fighting for reasons no one understands.
I’ve written of dangers that no man should face –
I have written of things that time can’t erase
Wanderlust drove me, for so many years,
Through miles of wasteland and rivers of tears.
I’ve been there and done that in so many things -
I’ve written the songs that Destiny sings.
My last song will be about that shining star
That led me to Paradise – here, where you are.
Written by John Posey
It's a ripe hour under shield
And tranquil carefree splendid of the day
Quoting the splendour combination of beauty
It's the time on the lovers on board.
A butterfly pretty and pigeon beauty
Both are true and are mine
When duos redeemed, I was there
A babel of noise to must bubble
Won't I be backbitten as a backbencher?
I am an ally of the lovebirds
Background temptation must let go here
I am a friend and a best man to be
So, so and so thought should excuse my tract
And let me remain a matchmaker under zephyr.
Through omens they received the sign,
defenders' skull bones did appear,
bare-white to burn upon the shrine,
death nested in their souls and fear.
Above the skulls were lit tall flames,
brigades of demons came to border,
they knew that Hell's dark legions' fame,
precedes the advent of manslaughter.
Thus brave the knights defend the castle,
behind the lines lords' horses snort,
the steel blades blood-clot in battle,
while women and children depart.
Membranophones of death hassle,
The demons' force invades the castle.
© G. V. 12-15-2012, All Rights Reserved
I ****ing hate myself and want to die.
In Utero, I deem inspiration,
but not sarcasm or imitation.
My anguish is authentic and a cry
for help, but why would people waste their time?
Not like their so-called justification
for concern is any indication
that they care enough to bawl, weep and cry.
Nobody will even care when I’m gone,
much less the violated deity.
For that, I am ungrateful and alone.
I scorned her body with a written piece.
A conclusion which should have been forgone.
Forgone like death, which should put me at ease.
See! Air is spotless. I give you its blood!
I impose Poetry´s Knife where you post
You who slept to kiss all and any Tod
A Prince for your home as a foolish host!
You had nerve to pull Arms against my Man
This Viking Armada waits your shoreline
It´s you who tried my song to scan
Go song! To Athen, London, back to Rhine
And when I wrote your Name in chilly air
I called you things you never really heard
Yet my melody hurts down to a hair
I´m no longer my tribe´s and line´s nerd
Sweden was a powerful Viking land
I take a blood-stained shield at my last stand
The love that kisses with a tasteless tear
A pain that can’t be painted on the soul
A longing for a place without a fear
Longing for a feeling that makes me whole
Beloved, words can’t heal my tattered heart.
As thorns pass me by the pain cant compare
That of the pain of being torn apart
Even the wind howls about it I swear
Tell me was falling in love my mistake
I chose my own fate and decided to stay
I will not let this love become forsaken
Love can’t just get up and spirit away
Love is worth overcoming a mountain
My love for you flows like a vast fountain