Best Musical Score Poems
I see you
I am no fool
Like ravens over prey
You are keeping your eye on me
I see
With my one good eye
Your hunger
Salivating lips
My heart may stop beating
My arm feeling the pain of your grip
I laugh at you
You forgot to keep the musical score
As I wrote my notes for the masses to pursue
Ah you let go once more
See?
You will win one day, no doubt
Darkness is our brotherly connection
Death our final compromise
Galmi
We all know you will fly again
Over death and ancient ways
Life doesn’t happen with a musical score
accompanying our most dramatic scenes;
Beauty in a person is so much more
than what adorns the covers of our magazines.
Love and hate walks a very thin line,
it isn’t always so black and white;
When things get tough you can’t shout out, “time”;
What is wrong for you – for me, might be right.
Religions have caused more harm than good;
Politically correct can be awfully wrong;
People don’t always do the things that they should,
Being meek doesn’t mean you’re not strong.
You exist alone in this crowded world;
Solitary can be a crowded place;
Trust in yourself is a thing you must build,
before challenges can be successfully faced.
The script for tomorrow has yet to be written,
improvisation is our daily routine;
Take a bite out of life before you are bitten;
Don’t leave it before you are seen.
Is this Mozart's musical score
Or sonata of sounds I abhor?
I have a good ear
But I'd rather not hear
The loud notes composed when you snore
Connor Constrictor
crept through the carpet.
Marianne Marmot
marched through the market
singing, “Hi hey hi hey hi hey ho!”
Boys and girls join in singing,
“Hi hey hi hey hi hey ho!”
Tutu Toucan
turned to and fro
while Wally Walrus
watched in slow mo.
Singing, “Hi hey hi hey hi hey ho!”
Boys and girls join in singing,
“Hi hey hi hey hi hey ho!”
Kami Chameleon
chewed a crumpet
and Tommy Tortoise
tuned up his trumpet
playing, “Hi hey hi hey hi hey ho!”
Boys and girls join in singing,
“Hi hey hi hey hi hey ho!”
All the animals
clamored for more,
more of the funny
musical score
singing, “Hi hey hi hey hi hey ho!”
Boys and girls join in singing,
“Hi hey hi hey hi hey ho!”
I have a strong need to elucidate my unfathomable love for
You,
named JAZZ
The improvisational sound of ragtime and jive.
Bop to the bebop of your rhythmic stride.
O what you do.
You,
named JAZZ
As I rouse everyday to harmonious sounds.
Melodies of synthesizers playing, sotto voce, with Caribbean tinkling drums in the back
round.
The speech of angels they say, basks in my head,
as I take in the symphonic aftermath of every lyrical word you've ever said.
Its all about you baby,
named JAZZ
A conscious need to grasp the soulful nature of your exemplary existence.
I find myself in lifes conservatory alone,
mindful of the studies orchestrated deep within.
Rhythms and beats, adagio and bold
Playing every note by ear as our souls overload.
Do you really know what you do?
Yeah you,
named JAZZ
Got me studying Musicology,
when it should be Phraseology.
Got me humming to a melody,
while paraphrasing unintelligently.
Cacology!
Thats poor pronunciation, if you don't understand.
Damn I'm still bouncing to the compositions of this mellifluent man.
I'm an astute sister, perceptive and wise.
Unmistakably creative in every word I devise.
But I lose control,
over you,
named JAZZ
Our hearts conveying beats per measure,
as they bridge between the gaps.
An opus of pure euphonic ecstasy
An arrangement of choral taps.
Can you see what I mean?
Incomprehensible I know.
But in this melodic finale.
His musical score steals the show.
A thrilling communion, with a primitive soul,
Fusion
between me
and you
named JAZZ
So now the tale has been told.
Form:
Every senario
Every page in the historical record
Every musical score in Hollywood
Every newscast
Every front page
Every new tax
Every new price increase
Every new terrorist
Every new war
Every financial market crash
Every newly prescribed drug
Every football match
Every new beat on religious fervour
Every political answer
All the problems
And their solutions
Every new contribution
Every president, prime minister, head of state and dictator
Every starving mouth
Every new weapon
Every new massacre and atrocity
Every new oppression
Every new fashion
Every new soap opera
Every new advert
Every new theme in film
Every documentary
Every Christmas and birthday
Every car, building, chair and home
Every child and adult
Every television, computer and music centre
Every job
Every wage packet
Every debt
Every day and every night
Every class
Every school
Every new false flag operation
Every new organisation
Every new threat
Every new technological advancement
Every new pop idol
Every new Oscar
Every new symbol
Every new convenience
Explained away by expedience
Every new momentary thrill
Every minute and hour
Every second
Every twist and turn
Suckled on the teat of indoctrination
Every generation
Repeats Performance
Same flag, same nation, same opinion
Same regurgitation
Same crap
Different century
I’ll dance to your tune
Letting your rhythm flow through me
I’ll let your hand guide me
Your heart setting the beat
I will dance to your tune
Sometimes a slow dance
To fit your flirtatious mood
Sometimes a quickened pace
When your heart is racing
To capture the days
You were the King of the dance floor
And were adored
Recapturing the splendor
You show me off
As I twirl
Your girl
On this dance floor
Sometimes I'm held tightly
Sometimes at arm’s length
I’ll dance your dance
To the tune of your needs
Knowing you set the scene
According to your schemes
To fit your desires and dreams
I’ll dance to your tune
I will let you take the lead
Though my heart is encaged
And longing to break free
To dance to it’s own tune
To its own passionate beat
A wild musical score
That sets fire to feet
On a dance floor of desire and heat
A rhythm thunderous with longing
Booming in loudness that defies
Every other thought except...
this dance...this moment...this chance
A dance demanding fusion of bodies
Faces a mere breath away
Hearts taking turns at will
In one liquid movement of burning heat
A rapturous oneness
Rythmic frenzy
That makes everything else
In this dance hall fall away
They all stop and stare
As our dancing souls we bare
I accepted YOUR invitation to dance
YOU lead me to this dance floor
YOU held onto my hand
I will not stop dancing till you do
I will confine myself
My arms and legs obeying
My heart slowing its pace
To fit the steady beat of your own
Against my chest
My whole body in surrender
To your rhythm and pace
But oh…oh how I wish
My rhythm could light up your face
How I wish.....
I could teach you to dance...
To my tune!!!
Eileen Manassian Ghali
“What is there to say? They are my friends. I would do it again, over and over — for I hate cruelty and intolerance.” Oskar Schlinder
LOST IN A SEA OF WAR
daringly intrepid,
dazzlingly, dizzily
protecting the poor,
the unarmed, the kids,
those lost in a sea
of war — Schindler
and his musical score,
outscoring the hate
that seemingly won’t abate
but for God steps into
the shoes of man
Kim Rodrigues © 2019
An Afternoon Interlude.
It is a quiet afternoon, with the quiet burr of a furiously rotating overhead fan...
This office is empty, fellow workers are all off their posts for their lunch...
There is a bright glare from the sunlight outside, and oppresive heat threatens...
It is another very hot day, the scorching sun heating up every air atom..
To dull the monotony of the office atmosphere whilst in this overbearing heat...
I quickly snatch a quick browse through this poetry site, there is much to read..
Energised and rightly inspired , I hasten to draft some timely lines of prose..
For spontaneity is cause for haste, lest creative lines are withered like a rose...
In the quiet of this deserted office, my little taps on the keyboard is loud indeed...
The endless whir of the overhead fan is a musical score to the words I seek...
My time is short, it does not bode well if I am caught dealing in some banalities..
After all, this is an office, not some cozy private cubicle to do as I please...
So I have to be brief, I cannot be too picky with words to post this short interlude..
After all, as I have set my mind to it, it is best I do what I had set out to do..
So thank you and sincere gratitude to all readers, and fans if there are any...
This is merely a short office interlude, a writing to maintain my productivity...
Her mind wanders back to happier times
Far beyond this day at the keyboard
And the verses she had written in loneliness
Will he ever hear her song
Is it worth the effort
Surely, he must know how much he’s missed
Memories of lost love capture her attention
Lyrics came easily
But melody still eludes
She recalls joyful days they shared
Wondering why they had to end
Leaving her to dream of what might have been
She dwells on how her heart was stolen
Even her own words cannot describe the pain
As melancholy's oboe begins to play in her head
Time will heal her wounds
But she must release heartache
Through her gifts of music and poetry
These gifts she still longs to share with him
Her suffering spirit is challenged
To resurrect tender moments of time
For a brief period she knew true love
Did he ever feel the same
Did he mean to cause her pain
Daydream ends with a musical score
Reflecting the sorrow she has endured
Notes of grief she sends to the world outside her daydream
*Written April 30, 2014
Let’s sail away to Acapella,
A celebrity haunt owned by Penn and Teller.
I shall act as your prince, you’ll be Cinderella
When we’re sat on a beach in Acapella.
It’s not as sexy as Cannes or as dowdy as Rhyl
But their choirs and ensembles will give you a thrill,
Acapella compares well to old Casablanca,
As you will observe once we have dropped anchor.
Their libraries don’t hold any musical score,
Acoustic folk singers are considered a bore,
All keyboards and trombones were sold overseas
And whistles restricted to football referees.
So you won’t hear the bagpipes of Kenneth McKellar
Or repetitive bass notes plucked by Paul Weller.
Your voice will entrance all the ladies and fellas
Once we’ve moored in the harbour of Acapella’s.
There fishermen bring ashore haddock and bream
Having sung shanties as a well-rehearsed team,
The salty sea breeze gives their voices a rasp
And the youngest amongst them let out a gasp!
Melodic and manly, the crews ride the waves,
Proud of their seamanship, masters not slaves,
They heed the advice of their mothers and aunties
But rarely acknowledge the source of their shanties.
Once a solitary busker was found in a yacht
And by all accounts he deserved what he got,
He was forced down the plank at the tip of a sword
Then his vintage viola was flung overboard!
On the pier you’ll find orators and callers at bingo,
But no jukebox is pumping out John, Paul or Ringo.
Pop or rock music gives locals the creeps,
It’s no wonder that George’s guitar gently weeps.
So, if Customs Control takes your squeezebox or trumpet
Don’t seek compensation, you’ll just have to lump it;
Those instruments go to a processing plant
Because singers are welcome but musicians aren’t.
We shall seek out the nightlife in numerous bars
Where the locals all sing without playing guitars,
Dodge the Lambrettas in quaint cobbled alleys,
Then stride across hills and along peaceful valleys.
So, if you’re tired of concertos or singles by Queen
Book a cruise to a place where they’re considered obscene,
It’s a magical island owned by Penn and by Teller -
The remote principality of Acapella.
So let us sail forth across the briny
In a luxury yacht - well furnished and shiny
To where your vocal range will be valued quite highly,
And you won’t have to sit through Baba O’Riley.
I’m confined
Weighted
By this body of clay
I cannot soar
On the wings of my dreams
Or from lofty heights
Swoop down
To dip my hands in ocean streams
And then claim again
My place in the sky
Confined
Weighted
By the cares of this world
By my tears
By a world bound in fears
Confined
But then a song
Floats on the breeze
And fills my waiting ears
With the melody of hope
Serenity
Beauty
Liltingly sweet
The musical score, my wings
The notes, my sturdy features
The voice, the wind that will carry me
My soul, the spirit of flight
The music carries me away
I take over the skies
Winging my way to places
That entice and beguile
The hidden corners of my wind
Unexplored…undefined
Virgin territory
Where beauty resides
Unmolested and pristine
Soaring and gliding
As the music plays on
I live my fantasy
I unfurl my dreams
The wind flowing above and beneath
Carrying me...
Beating my wings
I go faster, higher
Then…I spread them wide
Oh, to glide…to glide
On the wind’s caress
To look down and know
My spirit is free
No longer confined
The last note fades away
As my feet touch the ground
Back to life as it was
As it is
As it will be
With one little difference
I have gained the sweet knowledge
That I'm not confined
Every song
Is a promise
Of beautiful dreams in flight
An invitation
To spread my wings
and
F L Y!
Eileen Manassian Ghali
Music MOVES me! I can't explain...This poem is SO inadequate...I've just come back from a lovely flight into the clouds of my dreams having listening to this song.....
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=675rLFDc5I0
Yes, it is in FRENCH...I adore this language....An obsession of mine while living in Cyprus was to watch the EUROVISION song contest every May...I was so obsessed I'd even call in and vote! :) My daughter and I would stay up till the wee hours of morning to root for our favorite entries...This song...I've never forgotten. Also, the entry by MALTA...ANGEL...has stayed with me...What would we do without MUSIC? Sorry...got carried away...Can't blog so, put up with me! HUGS!
JOURNEY- 1995
Weren’t we hauling ass?
The sheep, the olive trees, sentinel windmills,
the woodlands and fields, the rivers, the creeks,
the undulating topography like the musical score
of a landscape melody riding on the rhythms of
a percussion ensemble of steel wheels and rails,
the white-light blue sky of Castilla-LaMancha
blowing by us like a film on fast forward
Draped over his seat, easing into sleep,
his form and demeanor were a narrative sculpture,
a cold rocky coast of beauty and grace chiseled
by storms so far out to sea that no one can see
and even at rest his body was somehow too fluid
for his clothes
Once envied and loved, he had learned hard
lessons, had crafted his life as a righteous
extension of his parents’ investment in a labor of
love, forged a hard resiliency in recurrent encounters
that had blistered his soul but melted his anger with
the purifying precision of a refiner’s fire on the
Day of the Lord
And he’d discovered a woman who wore long
loose dresses on a classical body, who painted her
toes, worked magic in the garden and rekindled his
love like renegade lightning in a drought-stricken
wood
As train moved south, the bright day receded,
and as the September moon dropped cool silver
light like a fine lace mantilla through the craggy
brown summits of the Sierra Morena,
I thought of my friend as like the big locomotive
that pulls the “Garcia Lorca” from Barcelona to
Granada: A powerful presence regardless of
conditions, quiet, electric, always at your service!
Emanuel Carter
Your breath to my heart
Life flows once more
Your words resonate
Chords in this musical score
Your soul soft and pure
Untainted by this world
Your lips forming words
So long since heard
Your dreams reveal
What I have seen
Time given freely
Fulfill my dreams
Your hand held in mine
Friend in heart and word
For you alone I write
Every thought unheard
Stoic (Stephen)
Spellbinding place where rainbow water flows
Frogspawn and tadpoles such enormous change
Arcadian forest where pixie dust blows
All creatures are welcome no one estranged.
Twilight is magical what will happen?
Atmosphere filled with dire baritone croak
Whispering rustle, low-lying bracken
Fae folk appear under red velvet cloak.
Fireflies lighting wonderful oasis
Elderly toad croaks musical score
Pompous owl tries to intimidate
Proud of position he is the law.
Beetles scurrying they are so anxious
Happy invitation it's party time
Cantankerous bees prickly as cactus
Covered in honey they buzz "all mine".
Terrapin plays music on his bassoon
Boisterous sound that creatures adore
Leprechaun baked magical mushroom
Mesmeric food eaten they all chant more!
Pixabay image by Sandra_Schoen