Best Dulcet Tones Poems
Stay a little longer
come closer to my heart
Breathe dew breeze on my neck's nape
do not yet depart
Play for me bagpipe music
Blindfold all my starving fears
Let the dulcet tones of your voice
give us back those harvest years
Make of the citrus moon a ballroom
Hold me firmly from both hands
Lift me high to touch the star-sky
Show me how young peasants dance
Let my soothing fingers trail
across your caloused sun -soaked skin
In purple fields Come chase me
in that place our souls have been
Take me away with you
where this world is out of sight
Where unspoken thoughts and heartbeats
are enough to blaze the night.
"Ang hindi lumingon sa pinanggalingan,
hindi makakarating sa paroroonan".
(A person who does not remember where he came from
will never reach his destination).
Filipino proverb.
Gift me wings so I can fly to a blessed land
of emerald isles with an eclectic ecosystem,
admiring an affluence of biodiversity
of tropical exotic fauna and flora,
where turquoise waves wander onto
golden shores of alluring Binitinan,
exploring the coral reefs of Boracay.
A place where childhood dreams fill the air,
where innocence once built sandcastles,
but now all that is left is forgotten footprints -
from ghosts of ancestors.
Let me soar with the Pithecophaga Jefferyi eagle,
through rainforests and Kawasan falls,
where souls are free to roam the motherland's
seven thousand spine-tingling islands,
from Maya bay to Palawan's underground rivers
of enigmatic Puerta Princesa,
until we greet the palm trees of Camiguin -
the valley of volcanoes and the sunken cemetery.
Viewing the Colours of StoBoSa to the
pretty patterns of Ifugao rice terraces,
until we reach the marvels of Luzon,
silently perching upon the zenith of
Mount Pulag's peaks, transcending spiritual
echoes towards Mindanao's Mount Apo,
whispering secretive Tagalog tongues,
in one hundred diasporic dialects,
as iris and marmalade skies welcome sunset,
we'll bathe in the sapphire ripples of Bohol sea.
Then we'll follow radiant night lights,
reaching the bustling streets of Manila,
losing ourselves in the succulent scents
of balut, kwek kwek, taho, halo halo,
as we devour juicy lanzones,
refreshed by a cool breeze,
The pearl of the Orient,
home of Balagtas' Florante at Laura,
dulcet tones of Santiago's Anak Dalita,
where heartfelt hospitality
with rich cultural heritage,
soothe tired eyes gazing at
natural wonders of ancient views,
where vibrant hues leave you breathless.
Blessed in abundance that manifests in our
stressed daily interaction with our fellow man, and the sincerest
form of our inner wellbeing is the outpour of laughter.
Dormant in the face of adversity, while we empathise with
modern populace at large and try to bring some
modicum of humanity and relief of the pain.
We’d all experience this from time to time and this is
seed of essence in our reality that is forever fraught.
Felled by ulterior motives – punished like Sisyphus by our
fellow peers – as the dulcet tones of compliments, the sweetest
wrung encouragement that soothed our souls like songs
sung at our cradle; the melodies now forgotten. They are
symbols indelibly edged into our subconscious and those
cymbals that tend to want to drown us out so that
we spin in the vortex, but vector us towards the stories to tell.
Be it to explain the tumultuous emotions raging beneath the surface of
our designer exterior – this is by far the saddest
hour and we, eventually, rather opt for the dilatory thought.
Our sincerest laughter
With some pain is fraught;
Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought.
Percy Bysshe Shelly – To a Skylark
Each Friday recedes in burgundy
Bathed ardently in Luna’s kiss
But, Sunday will dawn cerulean
With dulcet tones of lovers’ bliss
Bearing flavors wantonly consumed
I greet each hue voraciously
I taste the spectrum more than I see
My senses piqued peculiarly
As kaleidoscopic concertos
Obscure my sight in grand array
Each blending shade completes the phrasing;
Brilliantly, prism love songs play
*For Brian Strand's "Intervals" contest.
Note: The concept for this piece was inspired by those who experience a phenomenon called
Synesthesia.
Nondescript brown bird of renown,
nightly you serenade me.
Golden dulcet tones flood the woods
and I am wafted far away,
off into a wondrous dream world
full of mystical creatures.
written 01/13/2015
Contest: Night Creatures
by Shadow950
5: Nightingale
All curled up beneath my blanket
dreaming of tomorrows
Young enough and innocent
and free from fear or sorrows
Being in my little bed
when childhood was mine
the kitchen night light softly
broke the darkness with its shine
And adding to that coziness
that was embracing me
were the distant dulcet tones
of the living room t.v.
I laid there and I listened
and could hear my parents talking
I knew as long as they were there
no boogeyman was stalking
My bedroom door was open
just a wee bit every night
I could see the flashing glow
of the television's light
Bedtime was the time
where my imagination soared
Too busy slaying giants
you would never find me bored
And it was such a comfort
with my parents down the hall
They were always right there for me
if I felt a need to call
In all my life I never
felt so loved and so secure
as when I heard those family sounds
come through my bedroom door
So precious to my mom and dad
just as they were to me
Through all these years since they've been gone
they live inside of me
All curled up beneath my blanket
dreading my tomorrows
much older from world-weariness
and full of fear and sorrows
Now I lie in bed at night
alone and insecure
and listen to the silence
coming through my bedroom door
The leaves of the fern
Begin the rhythm of the forest.
The music of the woodland floor
Pulsates to the rise of the sun.
The morning...mists dissipate in silent beats
Playing to every lead from the composer above.
Dapples of light pierce the canopy
Dancing atop the undergrowth’s skin.
Reflective light serenades...the complimentary
Colors of nature...as the day begins.
The cantata of Spring’s movement reverberates
The forest walls with echoes of wildlife sounds.
Nature’s mellifluous voice...graces the day.
Melodic tones of the chanting thicket,
Boundless in splendor...in harmonious hums.
Soft chirps...in a soothing ambience.
Elegant masses of birds lilt the air.
Amongst the sun and shadow,
An array of serenity dazzles the calm,
Displaying the beauty of nature.
The woven...movement shifts,
To the euphonious of a gentle rain,
As the acoustic waves chase the sun,
Dulcet tones begin to wind down,
As the fern plays its’ sonata of praise.
In its’ natural role in the forest.
The lush...fern bows with its coppery...red leaves,
As the curtain of night begins to close.
A standing ovation emerges at dusk
From the chattering...crickets...chirping applause.
I serenade my wife each night
With songs both old and new
To show how much I love her
It just seems the thing to do
But she is not enamoured
To hear my dulcet tones
She says it's just annoying
And it grates upon her bones
She says “just you keep quiet,
And I'll tell you this for free
If you don't stop your racket
You'll get nothing for your tea”
Translation of Cuppiramania Bharathiyar’s poem: Kannamma, My Love! (Kannamma En Kaathali) by T. Wignesan
Yet another poem by the most famous modern Tamil poet, written a century ago – despite the commonplace imagery – follows in the original very complex classical Tamil prosodic rules in the execution of initial and end-rhymes, alliteration in each line and in the immediate and successive lines as a whole, the inner rhymes of assonance and consonance notwithstanding. The non-Tamil can best savour these poetic and/or musical qualities by listening to the version of the poem set to music, and here sung by Mahathi:
YouTubeFR: Aasai Mugam Jukebox – Songs of Bharathiyar – Tamil Patriotic Songs (It’s the 4th song down on the left column)
Does not the endearing warmth of our mutual gaze – Kannamma
Reflect the light of the sun and moon alike?
Does not the precious circular eye – Kannamma
Dispel the darkness of the skies?
Dressed in deep blue-black silk – the sari
Inlaid with choice diamonds
While in the core of pitch darkness – glitter
The scintillating stars – Dear-Girlie!
Does not the blossoming grove fade – lit by your
Illuminating smile?
Even as blue-tinted sea waves –your
Breast heaves in unison – Girlie-Dear!
Just as the enticing cuckoo call – your
Sweet dulcet tones invade, My Dear!
O! You unspoilt young maiden! – Kannamma!
The bridal feast* has yoked my heart, alas!
You speak of comparing birth-charts* - Kannamma
What avails such astrological omens?
For those who can hardly repress yearning – Kannamma
Might the stars forebode greater bliss?
If our elders will bestow approval – nuptial
Arrangements we will later formalize
Will I be waiting for you, My Dear – to seal
Our vows – plant I this kiss on your cheek!
Notes
• According to Hindu custom, the brides’s family has to offer a sumptuous dinner to the formally-invited bride-groom.
• Hindu marriages are often contracted after verification of
birth-charts, drawn up by astrologers, to ascertain the compatibility of the bride to the bride-groom.
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2015
What nasty grip and vicious hold
A voice that cuts and scars my soul
Ever constant, reproach and scold
Death of confidence is its goal.
"Note your life is remote and dull
Failures pursue the likes of you
Your place in life shall equal null
You’ll only reap, what you are due."
Each word that’s spoke does enter deep
For it discerns me like myself
Negative airs it piles in heaps
Yet companions can’t see its stealth
Be gone that voice that lives on fear
Black echoes have endured their time
Encourage, nurture, push and steer
Create ladders, not slides to climb.
Our world has those that cast their stones
Permit this man his peace of mind
Embolden trust in dulcet tones
Critics and prey live intertwined.
Spirits float and glide
on the notes of the Native flute
echoing off the canyon walls
resounding through the pine scented forests
cascading over crystal falls
dulcet tones soft as a lovers caress
the melodic winds drift and sigh
as rivers flow through pristine mountains
coaxing the morning star over the horizon.
Vignette on the theme of a piece of music
inspired by: Song for the Morning Star
By: R. Carlos Nakai - Native American Flute Music
from the: Canyon Trilogy CD
I hear sweet gentle voices calling
Sweet melody barely reaches my ear
I see their piteous teardrops falling
when they draw closer, ever near.
Soft dulcet tones are being sung
In blending harmony of a choir.
From each delicate velvet tongue
I feel my soul warming with fire.
The voice of my grandchildren sings.
He squeezes my cold wrinkled hands.
What comfort and love to me he brings,
"Loved one, please try to understand...
I would never leave you if I had my say.
Although my mind is still crystal clear,
My body is telling me it dare not stay.
Goodbye to you, my love, my little dear."
I need to heed death's fervent call.
My time with you is running short.
As one last teardrop threatens to fall
Fare thee well, my weakening heart.
No more pleasant voices will I hear.
I'll be at peace in darkness sleeping.
There'll be nothing more for me to fear
I'll soon be cradled in His safe keeping.
To dance in the moonlight
Silhouettes holding tight
Soft steps across the floor
Dulcet tones of sweet amour
Beating hearts in tandem sound
Passing words as heavens found
Cheek to cheek in utter bliss
Both succumb in the perfect kiss
In the air are rhapsodies of love
As diamonds light the sky above
The moonbeams glow will guide
As silhouettes on stardust glide
And in the open fragrant air
Silhouettes a dance did share
Their stars and love be found
To dance in life tightly bound
Plummeting void of primitive desire
All is passion and idolism
An existential angst, consuming your thoughts
What meaning is there behind "the one"?
You're a caveman deep down
Starved for attention
Feeling nothing
And everything
---
Note: this poem is the combined result of two "five-minute-write" challenges (below).
[Write about an emotion: Neutral]
Infinitely white, plummeting void of hypnotic, dulcet tones.
All is monotonal and subdued on the face, but vibrantly conflicting within.
An endless battle with melancholic thoughts.
Existential angst getting you down about the meaning behind your existence.
No expression. Uneasy, and evidently rigid.
Face twitching as a tiny amount of black ink seeps through the stainless blast doors.
Feeling nothing, and everything at the same time.
[Write about something else: Infatuation]
Primative desire, burning sweltering passion and idolism.
Hot, fiery romance and a lovingly fierce flame that ignites within.
Burnt fingers when the flame gets too hot; world consumed by thoughts of "the one"
Overwhelming and unfaltering flares to morph, snap, shape, and join your hearts.
That's the meaningful bit.
But the caveman still lies within. Starved for attention.
Across the tossing tumult of reality
my brain gasps for truth, for freedom.
This inconvenient leprosy of mind,
whose scarred visage must be quelled.
My own reflection has no scars,
yet, all about are those that insist that ...
AH! What a perfect sunrise!
no soylent concoction, no peering prying eyes
-hidden yawns or dulcet tones or pseudo smiles,
suggesting - DEMANDING I ...no, this day
I will go to where only God knows where I am.
I will dance with the forgotten frantic weeds
- spayed and sprayed, dandelions of disdain
live here unfettered
This house, neglected, forgotten in
a field of imperfection to those
who can not see what is perfect, is Heaven to me!
Apples with scarred blemished skins
beg to be loved - excused for
their imperfections shall
be my nourishment.
The passing of each day -
my romantic vision transformed,
my own pace, my own space, where
freedom hugs me, warms me, feeds me
and loves me
-sleep dear child, you are free.
I am found, but then, God always knew
...where I was.
(True story, please google "god knows where I am" - it will haunt you)