Best Music Hall Poems
Downtown Nashville is a place I’d love to call my home,
With fine country singers dancing on the Grand Ole Opry-
With Dolly Parton and Kenny Rogers singing on the stage,
Sitting in the front row would be no one else but me!
The Country Music Hall of Fame full of platinum records,
In nineteen-eighty the awesome Johnny Cash was inducted-
The Judds and Hank Williams a part of history in the making,
Oh, what an amazing atmosphere Nashville has conducted.
Famous pulled pork dinners with enough sides for a hundred,
A full plate of Apple Crisp from downtown “Ravie’s Diner”,
Walking the streets with such ease with no worries of safety,
Right now, I live near Detroit and I’ve become quite the whiner.
Nashville carries a special place in my longing heart,
See, at Temple Church is where I found the Lord as my Savior-
The preacher was pouring wisdom as I sat in tears,
That precious hot day in July I shall always savor.
The biggest reason I’d love it there, it’s where my sister lives,
My number one best friend would live right next door-
My dogs would run free all day without worrying of strangers,
Because living in the open country you need a fence no more.
Downtown Nashville is a place I’d love to call my home-
With cherished music and my sister, I’d never again be alone.
November 8, 2016
You're Beautiful, oh Yes You Are
(to be sung to the tune of "I'm Henery the Eighth, I Am" -a 1910 British music hall song by Fred Murray and R. P. Weston and Signature song of the music hall star Harry Champion which was made famous by Herman's Hermits in 1965)
You're beautiful, oh yes you are. Beautiful beautiful, yes you are!
All the makeup that you're wearing right now -
You don't even need it anyhow!
And all your actions are beautiful.
You shine with goodness like the brightest star.
Don't you say that you're not beautiful.
Beautiful is what you are!
You're so sweet that I repeat:
You're beautiful, oh yes you are. Beautiful beautiful, yes you are!
Eyes that smile at everybody you see.
More than beautiful you are to me.
And all your actions are beautiful.
You shine with goodness like the brightest star.
Don't you say that you're not beautiful.
Beautiful is what you are
Beautiful, Beautiful, Beautiful is what you are! You are!
10/10/2021
for Natasha L. Scragg's Change The Record Poetry Contest
(I tried to put the video of Herman's Hermits singing the original song, but I couldn't get it to go. Anyway, the tune was one of my favorites as a ten year old!)
The man in Berlin loves to dance
By the mist of the soft evening moon;
He takes his time to step on the rhyme
But he never found the tune.
There's a street where nobody goes
Where sad echoes bounce off the walls;
Where shadows march to the drum of woes
And crawl fast down the lonely halls.
You know dear I want you, I do
I need to lie down with you soon;
When the leaves on the tree are just a few
Come to me when love howls a tune.
There's a slice torn out of the sky
Day is scented with lilies of snow;
And weary birds find it hard to fly
They are scattered with no where to go.
There's a music hall in Berlin
Where the notes play loud to reviews;
There's a bar where no one is talking
They're condemned to death by the blues.
When will they look at your picture
And see the lost lonely years?
Come hold me my darling and dance
To the music of fantastic tears.
I'll dance with you in Berlin
I'll be dressed in laughter’s disguise;
With red roses between my breasts
And my hand caressing your thighs.
I'll yield to your aura of beauty
And see what you've got chained to tomorrow;
It will never be just a duty
To love you without all my sorrow.
This needs a bit of explanation; it has to do with
the second world war, the echoes are the haunting
past that brought the war about, and the shadows
are soldiers involved in the war. The rest is about
the elusive happiness that could not be found.
For Chris Aechtner's contest
A country music fan is not
A title I would claim
And yet today I visited
Its well-known Hall of Fame.
For here I am in Nashville,
In the south and far from home,
But I believe in following
That adage, "When in Rome..."
Surprisingly, I much enjoyed
The various displays.
The folks that made it happen sure
Deserve a lot of praise.
Though lots of boots, guitars and hats
Belonged to I don't know,
Still, I loved this fine museum
And think everyone should go!
In Dickensian time
Upon sunset hour
Overshadowing Thames
Is London Tower
Blackened cobble streets
Shimmer in the rain
Big Ben at Westminster
Chimes an eight bells refrain
At Euston Station
A passenger alights
On Platform 3
And enters the caff
for a nice cup of tea
At the local tavern
Behind steamy windows
The opportunists sit
Gleaning local gossip
Ever watchful to ensnare
Any hapless stranger
come wandering there
Covent Garden
still well lit
As lamplighters
carry out their remit
Striding with ladders
about old London town
With a cheery wave
and a purposeful frown
Patrolling policemen
in forbidding places
Echoing footfalls
as boots make paces
A courting couple shelters
under the arches
Oblivious to passerby's
and dray cart horses
A hackney driver cracks his whip
As high stepping hooves
on cobbles clip
From Westminster
stove pipe hatted M.P.s from
parliament sitting
enter a members club
to continue their
political discourses
unremitting
Mudlark urchins ankle deep
in moonshine glow
watch chugging steam boats
along the Thames flow
Billingsgate Market's
straw boated and
stripe aproned men
are found sluicing
with brooms in hand
the blood drenched ground
Along the West End thoroughfares
Come wealthy patrons
in open carriages with lantern flares
wearing evening attire
Bejewelled ladies in fanciful frocks
And around bare shoulders
Stoles of mink and silver fox
They ascend the red carpeted stairs
And look towards the royal box
A pretty young street seller
of violets and roses
with straw basket on hip
proffers up the scented poses
A peasouper fog blankets from
Thames to chimney tops
As a trader hooks his shutters down
Outside his haberdashery shop
Across London Bridge the East End rabble
Trail homeward to Hackney, Bethnal Green
and Whitechapel
From an open pub door
streams a music hall tune
played on an accordion
in a crowded tap room
Wending amongst the walkers
in the Strand
run beggarly children
with outstretched hand.
And......
Charles Dickens
walks the streets
at night
taking note
of every sight.
Pop Idol
Milk the applause, savour the day;
You only have thirty seconds left,
Of your fifteen minutes of fame.
Another band falls off the conveyor belt;
It’s time for you to be replaced, by another covers band.
Another wanna-bee, another piece of human trash;
Who simply follows the money.
In search of their star, in the music hall of fame.
Do you seriously think, you can last the pace?
And make another album that sells like your first?
You naïve fool, that’s what they call consumerism
And you’re definitely not, a new sensation.
You’re just another advertisement;
For their hit T.V. show, with the losers and the freaks.
Don’t you realize you’re only a star of car crash T.V.?
(C)2013 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Parisians were enjoy a lovely evening
and their Joie De Vivre was radiating
form every eye in the Music Hall and cafes;
The Eiffel Tower and
We received our invitation
To an old time music hall.
Where gentlemen wore Sunday's best
And ladies; to the nines.
Relaxing in the saloon bar,
Exchanging pleasantries.
Pre theatre drinks of cocktails,
With beers and fine French wines.
Then ushers wearing waistcoats,
Flat caps and polished boots
Announced in fifteen minutes,,
It would be showtime soon.
With bright lamplights, slowly fading low,
A wedding march played, then on with the show,
For our granddaughter, to be married on stage.
After all the photographs, and brushing tears away,
Waiting in the wings, until the fat lady sings,
Was a vintage charabanc, made in the good old days
Transporting us in time, with an ageless grace
To a wonderful feast, where we did celebrate.
It did not seem to be, that so long ago,
A pretty little girl, was sitting on our knee.
Nostalgic moments, for us to recall.
Safely locked inside, our abiding memory.
Water Everywhere
A dam burst in Iraq and that`s how it began it rained for months
and no one had thought of building a Noah’s ark fill it with pigs
to feast on when Christmas came around but there would be
too many objections from practising Jews, vegans, not forgetting
Muslims and the two Semitic people`s family would squabble as
they have done for centuries and the vegan`s would eat seagrass.
When Himalaya was a reef sailors on ships had eaten each other
sardines, a metre and twenty long, danced in The Radio Music Hall
a shimmering synchronised display entertaining dolphins; and
the Wall Street was a hangout for hammer- head sharks as were
the way of the pre-flooding days. Finally, the water ebbed enough
for the only man left to go ashore on the reef and dry his feet,
burning his raft, smoke a cigarette and wondering, what happened
to the blue whales.
Parisians were enjoy a lovely evening
and their Joie De Vivre was radiating
form every eye in the Music Hall and cafes;
The Eiffel Tower and
Walter Richard Sickert
on the edge of Impressionism did skirt
He loved the intimacy of the music hall
always his first port of call
When the old fellow died,
the cage opened wide,
and a very rich chick
Madov mighty quick.
Moral strictures aren't always a guide.
I
'She's only a bird in a gilded cage,'
so a well-known song has once told.
She married a man well advanced in years
for the sake of his riches and gold.
II
The gentleman died, the cage opened wide,
the following verse is untold,
and a very rich chick was off mighty quick
before her dear husband was cold.
I love you when your quiet
I love you like this
Chilled and laid back
Peace at long last
I love you when your playing
I love you wrestling too
Pulling on a sock
A tug of war is cool
Archies giggling and the snorting
You'd think he was a horse
Snorting and sniffing at the cat
Upon the wall
Barking Mad
She swaggers her tail
walking tall
Archies just a young lad after all
Uncle rocco takes it all in his stride
His coat of black and white
A look of peace and pride
Bounding like a big puppy through the music hall ...
Here comes Rocco
For some Rock and Roll ....
An old friend died today.
I lift my head and look back,
Down the long fabric of my past.
I remember us at a party –
We partied a lot in those
“Salad days” of our youth!
At one another’s homes
Babies, bolstered with pillows,
Slept on upstairs beds.
Good-natured competitions
Produced late night buffets.
The 20-40 Club – surely we’d
Never be more than 40!
What skits we put on!
The picnics and treasure hunts,
Singing in Musical Arts
Concerts at Troy Music Hall,
New Year’s Eve – a dinner-dance,
Then on ‘til dawn and
Bacon and eggs
At the all night diner.
In later years we kept in touch –
Calls, Christmas cards, rare visits -
Time always dropped away,
And we were back there yet!
Even now I only see Leona young -
Smiling that wonderful smile
That would light a room –
And singing, always singing!