Song Places Poems

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

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Details | Quatrain |
A melody from yesteryear 
Plays softly on the wind--
A mix of myrrh and honey,
A wistful sweet and bitter blend.

Fond memories of bygone days,
Of long departed friends.
Of hollyhocks and lilacs,
A reverie that never ends.

A vision of a one-room school
Set in a woodland glade--
Of children playing joyfully
There in a spreading oak tree's shade.

A farmer toiling in his field
Behind a horse and plow.
No air conditioned tractors
As modern farmers do it now.

A rustic, weathered, country church,
A Sunday morning bright
Glows fondly now in memory,
Bathed in nostalgia's hallowed light.

A barefoot boy with fishing pole
Beside a lazy stream.
A song in perfect harmony 
Played in that golden summer dream.

Oh memories, sweet memories
Locked in my soul to stay.
Oh melody, sweet melody,
A haunting song of yesterday. 

Copyright © William Robinson | Year Posted 2006




Details | Rhyme |
So much I wanted to say. So much I wanted to shout.
It was like being trapped behind bars without a way
to get out.
My mind going wild with all these questions of why.
The only way to escape was to fall asleep or to cry.
What did I do so bad that made me have to pay?
My friends, my dreams, and my life was swepped away.
I know I can do it! I try and I try.
Nothing seems to get better. I sometimes wish
I would Die.
Starved for attention. I wanna talk to the world.
I just miss being loved. Miss the warmth of a girl.
Snickers and stairs is what my life has become.
I'm treated like I'm a kid, like I'm sick, or I'm dumb.
One day to the next. Life becomes work just to be alive.
I thank god for my blessings. I thank god I survived.
I finally see some improvement. More hope tickles
my brain.
It was worth all the time, all the tears, all the pain.
I awake with a smile and new hope to move on.
I did it! I did it! All those hard times are gone!

Copyright © Travis Flasnick | Year Posted 2009

Details | Ballad |
I've got a tropical obsession
I think I'm losing my mind
I want to see my work day done
Go out and have some fun
And leave the city life behind.

I love the roar of the ocean
The smell of tanning lotion
A secluded beach somewhere
There are coconuts in the trees
With a warm and gentle breeze
And a flower in your hair.

I've got a tropical obsession
It's driving me up a wall
I want the palm trees and the shore
Blue skies and so much more
Oh God! I want it all

There's an island in the sea
I can hear it calling me
Saying come on home today
I'll bring my old beach chair
Plant it in the sand somewhere
And that's where I'm going to stay

I've got a tropical obsession
And I just can't set it free
On an island remote
In a little fishing boat
Is where I want to be.

Copyright © Vince Suzadail Jr. | Year Posted 2006




Details | I do not know? |
The power lines stretch across the sky
moonlight makes a shadowed place uninviting
as a blinking street light
has trouble making up it's mind
what's a daydream called if it's late at night
apart but we're currently immersed in
the atmosphere of a city breathing it's vibe
I'll meet you there 
if you'll remember the same place the same time
and looking above us
the power lines
stretch across the sky

Copyright © kristopher kern | Year Posted 2006

Details | Free verse |
Adorably cute
in my hand-tailored suit...
searching for my Cinderella missing her shoe;
among the prettiest faces, someone will stand out
with eyes that are somewhat blue...
and running into a handsomer guy,
it won't discourage her from finding her delight...
hiding behind others without the perfect alibi! 


Come out of the loud crowd,
beautiful one...show every apparent charm:
the delicacy of your womanly gesture;
and I'll reach out in kindness,
to subdue the fears of your first encounter!
Come out of the dim shadows,
incredible one, and accept my dance...
a request from my eager lips;
think of where we'd be tomorrow indeed,
when everyone has left and we ecstatically breath!


All the glamorous girls on the dance floor,
drinking heavily and laughing hysterically,
can't be compared to you; and what I'm looking for
is not just another amazing beauty,
but that certain winkle of shyness and more ingenuity!
Be that Cinderella missing her shoe, looking straight at me;
letting me gently slip it on,
so that this tender moment can become reality...
before our memorable, romantic night is gone,
and we'll remember nothing more than fantasy!


Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2009

Details | Free verse |
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 | Year Posted 2012

Details | Couplet |
A different time, a different place
A different life and different face

Different wants and different needs
Different values and different creeds

Different Pomp and Circumstance
Different songs and different dance

Different likes and different hate
Different foods on different plate

A different boat on a different sea
A different you and a different me

Copyright © James Burns | Year Posted 2010

Details | Lyric |
Well, I moved into town to live like a city slicker,
Loaded my truck, found a place, and here I am,
Though a country boy has a head a bit thicker,
City life is not so hard to understand,

And I've been learnin' how to use a computor,
How to do some picture takin' with a cell phone,
How to get insurance for my truck and motor scooter,
But city life is nothing like back home,

Because where I come from, they call it the boonies,
Dirt roads, back woods, life as country as can be,
Though now I'm mixed in with all the town loonies,
They'll never take the country out of me,

Yea, I can still plant me a nice little garden,
Though not nearly as big as it use to be,
And still listen to country music, Dolly Parton,
She's on my coffee mug for all to see,

And I still get to do some dear huntin'
For those split tails runnin' 'round here,
And I make sure to keep my truck tuned and runnin'
By way of Auto Zone, or I'd run out of beer,

Yea, I livin' in the hood, straight from the boonies,
It's great be an American and free,
Though I'm mixed in good with all the town loonies,
They'll never take the country out of me,

Yea, I moved into town to live like a city slicker,
And I'm doin' the best that I can...
I can drive by Churchill Downs and hear the horses nicker,
I'm just a country boy with a city slicker plan,
I can drive by Churchill Downs and hear the horses nicker,
I'm still a country boy, yea, that's who I am,
Though a country boy has a head a bit thicker,
City life is not so hard to understand.

Copyright © Lawrence Ingle | Year Posted 2008

Details | Rhyme |
Underground French café
Sun has gone astray,
Gone home for the night,
I sit in dim half-light
Seated alone in my booth
Feel calm, distant, aloof
Cool breeze coming from
The creaky door at the front
Live jazz, delicately playing 
In the background, I’m swaying
Laid back, to the beat
The hi-hat moves my feet
The snare and the kick
Compel my fingers to click
Index digit taps on my table
Only here is where I’m stable
Amongst all the others
Alone, like me, not bothered 
Atmospheric transition,
Here I am free, before in work-prison
Stuck in the daily grind
Working the dreaded nine to five
It tries to steal my mind
Sucks away my precious Jazz time
Misty room; smoky and sensual
My time, Jazz is my cherished jewel
Oozing class, style and flair; 
Sophisticated; naturally debonair
That cannot be imitated 
Its natural, not replicated
It’s Jazz, ‘Hmmmm’, I relax
I sit back,
“Chillax”
Waitress strolls by, I sip my drink, 
Feet up, no one cares, at least I think 
Sultry singer takes to the stage
I smile and lean back, an audience awaits
Blissful sounds escape her lips
I hear the purest Jazz you could ever wish
I close my eyes, and think of the notes 
Hear the song this singer conceived and wrote
The Jazz dream; she unmistakably has captured it, 
The song she sings, 
Well, you’ve just read it….
The Jazz Dream….

Copyright © Samantha HAYNES | Year Posted 2006

Details | Cowboy |
Silhouettes and cowboy hats...stake their claim in time..
with cowboy boots and western suits...we also find...
those leather chaps, western tools, and those rodeos...
where cowboys ride those crazy bulls that go bucking to and fro...

Where wild bull heads are dropped and swaying...
as spurs rake bounding hides...
While the fans in the stands are saying...
"Ride'em cowboy ride!"...

Where cowboys are the shining stars in country western design...
as wild bulls and broncos full of spirit are the bucking ones of time...
Where spurs are often used on wild natures kind...
Yea, those wild rodeos are like a TV in the mind....

Where bronco heads are dropped and swaying...
as spurs rake bounding hides...
While the fans in the stands are saying...
"Ride'em cowboy ride!"...

Silhouettes and cowboy hats...stake their claim in time...
Cowboy boots and western roots...everywhere we find...
that cowboys are the shining stars in country western design...
and those great wild rodeos are like a TV in the mind...

Where wild bull heads are dropped and swaying...
as spurs rake bounding hides...
Where the fans in the stands are saying...
"Ride'em cowboy ride!"...

Where bronco heads are dropped and swaying...
as spurs rake bounding hides...
Where the fans in the stands are saying....
"Ride'em cowboy ride!"....

Yea, cowboys are the shining stars riding wild natures kind...
And those great wild rodeos are like a TV in the mind.

Copyright © Lawrence Ingle | Year Posted 2008

Details | Lyric |
Awa' oan the Firth of Forth, 
high oan the famous brig', 
a laboring lad toils tirelessly 
in the cauld and bitter wind.

Awa' aff the river shore, 
a braw lassie waits for him, 
scourin' and roastin' tatties 
in a bonny wee but and ben.

The carls would hae him drinkin',
The cummers would pay him 'ahind the door,
but he oany has wan thing oan his mind
and she's awa' aff the river shore.



*Translation*

Away on the Firth of Forth,
high on the famous bridge,
a laboring lad toils tirelessly
in the cold and bitter wind.

Away off the river shore,
a braw lassie waits for him,
scouring and roasting tatties
in a bonny wee but and ben.

The carls would have him drinking,
the cummers would pay him behind the door,
but he only has one thing on his mind
and she's away off the river shore.


Glossary of terms:

* the Firth of Forth is the estuary of the River Forth in Scotland
   braw means fine looking
   tatties are potatoes
   bonny means pretty or handsome
   a but and ben is a modest two room cottage consisting of a kitchen and a main room
   a carl is a laboring man
   a cummer is a woman of questionable moral character
   to pay behind the door is to engage in sexual activity as a form of 'payment' for favors, services, or goods.

Copyright © Thvia Shetley | Year Posted 2010

Details | Free verse |
It's gonna be a simple southern Christmas here.
All I want from Santa is some egg nog, bourbon and beer.
I'm gonna wait on Santa Christmas Eve night,
and when he's not lookin' I just might,
steal his reindeer.
It's gonna be a simple southern Christmas here.
I'm sending out my Christmas cheer.
I'm gonna sit on my front porch swing and sing.
It will be a good thing to hear those jingle bells ring.
I thought I seen Santa on the backwoods bayou road,
but instead it was a big fat toad.
It'a a wonderful simple southern Christmas here.
Santa just brought me some egg nog, bourbon, and beer.
When he wasn't lookin' I stole his reindeer.
So now I can deliver my Christmas cheer.
But hurry, hurry, I'm in a rush,
got to give that reindeer a little push.
Got to go, got to go,
got to get home to fix my gumbo.
It is Christmas day,
and I'm in  a rush I must say.
It's gonna be a simple southern Christmas here.
Just add egg nog, bourbon and beer.
Mix it up with some Christmas cheer.
I'm ready for Christmas every year.

Copyright © shannon farlouis | Year Posted 2010

Details | Rhyme |
The streets of the Irish north
Separated by faith
Different religions
In our human race

During the troubles
Through the bullets and bombs
Sectarian violence
Engulfed in their wrongs

Soldiers and factions
In wanton maim
Left this proud country
In blood red stain

Years have passed
As the peace accord lives
No more slaughter
Where life was once sieved

Tomorrow, there after
No more feuding campaigns
For the
Belfast Child, sings again

 

 

Inspired by the Simple Minds track " Belfast Child " by an excellent Scottish Rock Group

                              http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oFIMJxV2tjI



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

Copyright © James Fraser | Year Posted 2009

Details | Lyric |
Hey, Ho! A pub’ng we go… And I’ll bring along, those Zany Trolls.
What’s better, than to drink, with friends, my Dear… as merrily, off we go!

We’ll leave the frats, in the dust, and bring The Bun, merrily, along.
He had a great run, at Easter time, now he can let, the good times roll.
Who knows best, than a nest of Trolls, how to have, a really great time!
A Biker Bar should fill our sails, as we go, courting the best… of it all.

Hey, Ho! A pub’ng we go… And I’ll bring along, those Zany Trolls.
What’s better, than to drink, with friends, my Dear…as merrily, off we go!

The beers great, the girls’ first rate, I’ll ride a full-blown Harley Hog.
To ride them down, across the town, my hair, flowing behind, in the air.
But first we’ll make a new drinking song, betting on, who’s best, by far.
Biker Dudes, Trolls enthused, raise their mugs in unity, again, once more!

Hey, Ho! A pub’ng we go… And I’ll bring along, those Zany Trolls.
What’s better, than to drink, with friends, my Dear… as merrily, off we go!

It’s all fun, as with pool cues in hand, we try to, learn to play Eight Ball.
We’ll dance on the floor, and some on the bar, as rowdier we become.
But we’re the best, with glass in fist, as we sing our new… drinking song.
So don’t be glum! Here, come along, to laughter amid, such joyful fun.
 
Hey, Ho! A pub’ng we go… And I’ll bring along, those Zany Trolls.
What’s better, than to drink, with friends, my Dear… as merrily, off we go!

We’ll have fun, then move along, as our song wins, and the tab is yours.
You can join, as comes, the next bar, and we’ll, start all over, once more!
It’s party time, until dawn, for Trolls can hold, great quantities of rum.
As drinking games come, we win every time, as the losers pay the bill.

Hey, Ho! A pub’ng we go… And I’ll bring along, those, Zany Trolls.
What’s better, than to drink, with friends, my Dear…as merrily, off we go!

(A drinking song for the pure fun it: sung like a pirate song clinking mugs.)

Copyright © Carol Eastman | Year Posted 2013

Details | Limerick |
Africa 
I hear your song, 
I feel your beat, 
Ngiyakuthanda Africa 
And you take me home… 

Your wide open spaces, 
Tseno metala legodimo, 
Your rivers run strong 
Your mountains stand proud. 

Africa 
I hear your song 
I feel your beat 
Ngiyakuthanda Africa 
And you take me home… 

The sun shines brightly on your copper field, 
Your endless horizons set me free… 
Your winds guide me to where the rain falls down 
On the earth where you grow wild and unruly 

Africa 
I hear your song 
I feel your beat 
Ngiyakuthanda Africa 
And you take me home… 

In jou het ek n tuiste... Africa

Copyright © Jvonne Botha | Year Posted 2012

Details | I do not know? |
Any teardrops that I can borrow?
In those Spanish eyes of yours
In those big brown Spanish eyes
of yours
 
 
Senorita Sorrow
Can you run away with me tomorrow?
We can chase our dreams around
And make love
And start wars
In those Spanish eyes of yours
In those big brown Spanish eyes
of yours
 
You have never lived
It's very hard to explain
I got lost in Senorita Sorrow
somewhere in San Sebastian, Spain
somewhere in her Spanish eyes
somewhere in the Spanish rain
 
We had the time of our lives
But she cried there on the train
She couldn't hold back the pain
She knew there was no tomorrow
My Sweet Senorita Sorrow
As she stepped out into the 
Mid-September Spanish Rain




Copyright © ron ryan | Year Posted 2008

Details | Limerick |
We'll dance across the floor.
We'll dance across the sky.
I'll never wonder why? 
We dance across the sky.
Because in Anaheim.
We'll have a real good time.
The sun will shine.
In Anaheim..

Then we'll take the car.
We'll drive across the town.
We'll drive our car.
Until the sun goes down.
Because in Anaheim.
We'll have a real good time.
A real good time.
In Anaheim.

Now the stars are out.
We'll see the milky way.
The moon shines bright.
Every single day.
Because in Anaheim.
We'll have a real good time.
What's on my mind.
Is a real good time.
In Anaheim..

Anaheim Song Poem by Kim Robin Edwards
Copyright 2006,2014..All Rights Reserved.

Copyright © Kim Robin Edwards | Year Posted 2014

Details | Rhyme |
She sat on the bus,

with a pencil in hand,

and watched the young 

couple,

who decided to stand.

The bus was quite crowded,

and, in front of her,

was the woman rider,

with the bow in her hair.

 

A guitar man,

sat sideways on,

and talked to the woman,

who was very young.

His face looked so wild

his wide eyes, gray-blue,

he was one of life’s wanderers,

like me, and you.

 

She was going places,

that you’ve never been,

on a coastal highway,

near the ocean’s dream,

where sailors come in,

and stay, for a while,

then it's back to the sea,

and a wandering life.

 

“Where are you goin?”

the man said to her,

and she turned to him, smiling,

and touching her hair.

She seemed quite unsure

of how far it would be,

to get to the town, 

on the edge of the sea.

 

“It's not far,” he told her,

"as the albatross flies."

and she noticed the mirror

she saw in his eyes,

for they were both searchin’

for somewhere to be,

and they thought

they might find 

life’s sweet mystery.

 

She was going places,

that you’ve never been,

on a coastal highway,

near the ocean’s dream,

where sailors come in,

and stay for a while,

then it's back to the sea

and a wandering life.

 

The bus kept on goin’

through the mountain pass,

and the girl slept so soundly

she never noticed,

that the man with the guitar

was playing a song,

and the passengers sang it,

as they went along. 

 

“Where are you going,

you sweet gypsy girl,

mahogany skin,

and hair full of curls,

do you search for a lost love

over the sea

or will you keep running

from love’s mystery?”

 

She was going places,

that you’ve never been,

on a coastal highway,

near the ocean’s dream,

where sailors come in,

and stay for a while,

then it's back to the sea,

and a wandering life.

 

She started to wake,

to find people round her,

and the man with the guitar,

he was a stranger.

But the song he was humming

caused her heart to stir,

for it mirrored

the lines she had written,

before.

 

They’d been going places,

in far- flung lands,

cross deserts, and mountains,

and shimmering sands,

to all the world’s wonders,

and places of note,

and they sang to their song,

and the lines,

that they wrote.

 

“We are going places,

as if in a dream,

and the mystery takes us

where you’ve never been,

if you want to be there,

then, why don’t you come,

on a voyage you’ll find

in this travelers’ song”

 

Copyright Suzy Davies. 08/02/2016. All Rights Reserved.

Copyright © Suzy Davies | Year Posted 2016

Details | Rhyme |
patches of green, shades of blue,
cotton clouds floating down below,
soaring like angels dressed in white,
silently drifting from such a height.

looking-glass mirror of the blue sea
to where someday I'm longing to be;
lonely mountains like giants they are,
rising and trying to reach a distant star.

where am I heading, where am I going?
when will a restless soul stop roaming?
ask the cold wind or ask the trees,
ask the birds that sing, ask the bees.

the lazy river flows along the way,
a twisting snake like a long highway,
never tired in its journey to the sea,
to the home where it dreams to be.

my home is your soft arms, my love,
your tender lips are all I want to have;
a lake of joy, like a rainbow you are,
I am the earth and you are the star.


Copyright © Wilfredo Derequito | Year Posted 2007

Details | Couplet |
In relation to deliberation on this poetry nation
A writer is he as clever as can be, lures you to he

With stories of writers he fashions with words
Encrypted solutions to be read to be heard

This newbie of writers who has arrived on our shores
Gathers driftwood for his writing hoard

In clever approach in his delightful encroach
He mixes in the mix, for its against him to poach

His verse is so free it gains respect of the wind
It resonates desires to be read and unwound

His name deciphered, the destroyer of poetry
This writer so cute, knows who he wants to be

This mask he has chosen is entirely his voice
To remove and become, is basically, simply his choice



Copyright © James Fraser | Year Posted 2010

Details | Free verse |
The wind
howled ice-cold, clear-sky
lullabies

and awoke the moon,
who gazed, heavy-lidded,
at the stars around her

Leaves and dust
danced sambas and pirouetted
along the desert's river,

who was shivering uncontrollably
while midnight birds
struggled to fly upstream

against the manic,
stinging, musical currents
of turbulence and wonder

Copyright © Rev. Rebecca Guile Hudson | Year Posted 2008

Details | Shape |

                ___________   _________
               /ohio ohio ohio) (ohio ohio/
              !ohio ohio   ohio( ohio ohio/
             /ohio  ohio   ohio# ohio //
               !ohio ohio  ohio# ohio//
             /ohio   ohio ohio)  ohio/
            (ohio ohio  ohio ohio)   (
                    -ohio    ohio-

Copyright © Courtney Courtney | Year Posted 2012

Details | Free verse |
Led down from the tower
Head high and hands bound
Blindfold declined against the wall
Black square pinned to his heart
His eyes afire and shining
And he sang...

He sang of Caruso, Townes Van Zandt
Pavarotti, Bocelli, Mercury,
Carreras, he sang of Antoine, 
Of Sinatra, Lennon, Morrison, Redding
He sang and songbirds paused in flight
He sang like them all

He sang a song of himself
Of leaves of grass, of second comings
Of Byron, and Bharti, and Cummings
He sang of Neruda, and Plath, Tagore
Dickinson, Kamala Das and Naidu
Oh, he sang of them all

He sang of art and beauty
Of Mona Lisa and starry nights
Girls in green dresses and pearls
He sang of Van Gogh, of Picasso
Of Rembrandt, da Vinci 
He sang of Michelangelo

He sang of sadness, pain
He sang of My Lai, Sand Creek
Of Guernica and Krystallnacht
He cried and sang of Wounded Knee
Of Katyn Forest, Sabra and Shatila
Oh, he wept as he sang

He sang of history and wonders
He sang of Olduvai and pyramids
Machu Picchu, Tikal, and Angkor Wat
He sang of a great wall, the Taj Mahal 
Stonehenge, Easter Isle, Mesa Verde
His song took us to them all

He sang of courage
A song of Bunker Hill, Gettysburg
Of the Alamo, Normandy, Stalingrad
Of Lincoln, Guevara and Dr. King
He sang of Bolivar, Bhutto, Ghandi
He shamed us with their song

He sang his song...
As women sighed and peasants cried 
He  sang until the rifles fired, he died
Songbirds fell from the sky 
Soldiers broke their guns on stones
And marched into the deep blue sea.

4/12/14

Copyright © Rick Richardson | Year Posted 2014

Details | Rhyme |
"Hawaii" is a children's song, sung to the tune of "The Battle Hymn of the Republic".

Hawaii is a group of islands formed by volcanic activity.
Honolulu is Hawaii's capital city.
In 1959, Hawaii became America's 50th state.
It's tropical climate and tranquil waters make Hawaii great!

Bonus activity: Explain to children that, in spite of its beautiful beaches, Hawaii is 
home to Kilauea, the world's most active volcano. Ask children if they would enjoy 
living in Hawaii. Why or why not?

Copyright © Cherie Durbin | Year Posted 2011

Details | Narrative |
Deep in the woods I hear an angel's lyrical call.
Tranquil and serene, a majestic summer waterfall.
Where the oaks and wildflowers shade the creek,
reflections fall to earth from rays of destiny,
refreshing my soul and setting my spirit free.
I smell the aroma of rain mixed with the paradise breeze.
Tranquil and serene, a natural wonder and rainbow of peace.
A cascading sparkling jewel,
above a wave rippling whirlpool.
Upon the wind rides the angel's lyrical call.
Tranquil and serene, a majestic summer waterfall.

Copyright © shannon farlouis | Year Posted 2010

Details | I do not know? |
No 8 second ride for these cowboys tonight
As they start in the morning, losing daylight
Their hats are now ties, tethering true
Not breathing in clean air as faces turn blue

Their motive, the green, but not of a pasture
Not men of free will, but now slaves to a master
When the bell rings, it’s chaos, not for a meal
It’s a dog eat dog city, with true faces concealed

They’re just…

Cardboard cowboys in a concrete canyon
Riding steel horses, reigning in their abandon
Letting loose bridles, for no horses they ride
Spending their days, cooped up, deep inside

It’s a sad way
And a sad day
For New York cowboys

Their fishing hole yonder’s now polluted with clutter
As their southern boy drawl’s replaced with a stutter
No chaps and no stirrups, no boots and no jeans
Their lives are now over, at the end of their means

The bull that they ride are the very stories they tell
From wall to wall bouncing, not sitting a spell
They are always in a hurry, no time for the rose
Not much of a cowboy or anything, I s’pose


They’re just…

Cardboard cowboys in a concrete canyon
Riding steel horses, reigning in their abandon
Letting loose bridles, for no horses they ride
Spending their days, cooped up, deep inside

It’s a sad way
And a sad day
For New York cowboys

Copyright © Michael Degenhardt | Year Posted 2011

Details | Free verse |
It was an old crow medicine show
At the border of Louisiana 
I was looking east toward savannah
Caught a train out of Jackson
Now I’m stranded somewhere near Atlanta 

Sing me asleep, in a midnight hour
Sing me away, like a folktale crier 
Sing me asleep, on the back of the bus
Sing me away, you’re the only one I trust

Back in Kansas City
Lost my shadow on the rails
Found myself no pity 
In the land of poverty tales
Vouching for a pass 
Last stop for the Jefferson bus line
Bed time stories 
Were nothing more than lies
Found a trail of tears
Collecting my wildflowers in spine

Sing me asleep, in a midnight hour
Sing me away, like a folktale crier 
Sing me asleep, on the back of the bus
Sing me away, you’re the only one I trust

Heard the banjo playing
Missed the band wagon
Trying to hear
What the old man was saying
Heard the last call for supper
Persimmons unripe with a pucker
Learned the art of resilience
From a west bound trucker

"Tales of a no one"

Copyright © Jerry Golden | Year Posted 2009

Details | Lanterne |
 <                                              wind
                                               howling
                                             treed forest
                                             echoes linger
                                                 songs


                                                 dance
                                               one two
                                           three and four
                                           to me it's plain
                                                square





Written By Katherine Stella 9/5/11
Entry For Nette Onclaud's
Turn On The Lanterne
G.L. All
                                      
     
 

Copyright © Katherine Stella | Year Posted 2011

Details | Lyric |
A prayer for those who are in dispair along the Gulf Coast due to the BP Deepwater Horizon 
oil rig explosion. A prayer for those who waited and their loved ones did not return, Amazing 
Grace Wash Over Thee.



Amazing grace wash over me.
My tears are a river to the sea.
Lord above, we know you know,
the oil that is washing upon our coast.
Amazing grace wash over me,
and lift my soul up to Thee.
Lord above, hear my prayer,
for those who are in dispair.
Amazing grace wash over me.
I lift my hands to God you see.
My prayer for those who were hurt,
and those who will never return to earth.
Amazing grace wash over thee,
families were left in disbelief.
Empty hands, their loved ones gone,
Lord Jesus, guide them safely Home.
Amazing grace wash over me, 
the oil is filling up the sea, 
from Louisiana to Mississippi.
Animals are dying,
and people are crying.
Amazing grace wash over me.




Copyright © shannon farlouis | Year Posted 2010

Details | Pantoum |
Music pulses through my veins
The notes play the cells of my brain
Index and pinky finger extend from the palm
The cement sways beneath my feet
The notes play the cells of my brain
Bodies clash as vocals arise
The cement sways beneath my feet
I hear the soundtrack to my life
Bodies clash as vocals arise
Index and pinky finger extend from the palm
I hear the soundtrack to my life
Music pulses through my veins

Copyright © Melissa Ross | Year Posted 2007