Best Musicsong Poems
A best-selling song was recorded by Mark Dinning.
In a string of sad songs, this was just the beginning.
In 1960, the lyrics conveyed teary eyes.
“Teen Angel” was a big hit, and it was no surprise.
Many sad songs followed this one up the Billboard charts.
Their lyrics described death and tragedy, breaking hearts.
“Tell Laura I Love Her” was sung by Ray Peterson.
Another great song was “Last Kiss” by J. Frank Wilson.
We have to include “Big John” produced by Jimmy Dean.
Some more great tragic songs made their presence on the scene.
“Ringo” was recorded by Bonanza’s own Lorne Greene.
“Dead Man’s Curve” earned a gold record for both Jan and Dean.
The Shangri-La’s song “Leader of the Pack” joined others.
There was “Ebony Eyes” by the Everly Brothers.
Two tragic melodies delivered by Dickey Lee
were the gold recordings titled “Patches” and “Laurie”.
That was not the end, for in ‘68 came “Honey”.
This was a number one hit so many got to know.
It became the best effort by Bobby Goldsboro.
However, during this time, not all songs sounded sad.
A few melodies came around that were not that bad.
Among the tragic ballads that were a plethora
was the novel song, Allan Sherman’s “Camp Granada”.
My favorite non-tragic melody one would sing
was the late Bob Luman’s hit “Let’s Think About Living”.
I really believe everything would have been so nice
if only more people heeded Bob Luman’s advice!
Hello Darkness, my old friend
My arms out stretched
I'm here again
Inside my dream I walked alone
Inside the night I roamed.
Reaching out to all who hear
Reaching out through silent tears
But no one hears and no one came
My dream repeats this silent song
A song my voice longs to share
A song of flight I sang, I dared
A song of light in colored sight
Reaching out to all those Here
Singing out through silent tears
But no one hears and no one came
My dream repeats this silent song
Through my eyes, my heart, my tears
I sing a song that Darkness fears.
But no one hears...
A song my voice longs to share
This song I sing, a vision dared
Hello Darkness my old friend
Your story told in this dream again
And in the piercing light I saw
Your eyes on me...
and your eyes are raw
Your time has passed
Your shadow dim
Here we stand, at the gates again.
Voices silent in a time called When
A bend this day...
Through spiraling winds.
And in this piercing light I saw
Your eyes on me
and your eyes are raw...
Hello Darkness my old friend
My arms out stretched,
I'm here again...
Your eyes,
My hand,
Your mind,
My pen
Our voices silent
In a time called When
My dream repeats this song again.
Radha’s Song- A folk Song of India 2/2
Prelude
This folk song is based on the childhood incidents
of naughty 8-10 years old Krishna, who use to
please everyone of Gukul village, Gokul is the
place where the divine Krishna was brought up
by his foster mother Yashoda.
O, Please tell me, what should I do,
Speak a word, to extinguish my worries,
I cannot live, without seeing,
The alluring face of our naughty Krishna.
O, please tell my friend, how should I manage it,
What plea and excuse dear, I can tell in my home,
How to go back to home, without Gagariya and Chunri,
Even without water, which would create only difficulties for me.
Stunned and mesmerized, by the magic of our Krishna,
I stand here only, in a state of being sweetly robbed,
Instead of searching my Chunri and Gagariya, O Sakhi,
I am trying to touch his alluring image only, in the water.
Ravindra
Kanpur India 26 10 2010
(Protected under copyright provisions of Poetry Soup)
Clarifications:
*Radha. Radha was the childhood friend and was one of the most beloved Gopi of Lord
Krishna. She was the beauty, power and aura create the ethics of love. None of the
scriptures consists of the power to verbalize her beauty, for it is clear enough that when
beauty of Sri Krishna makes several hearts leave their boundaries, her beauty is so
mesmerizing that it makes Him loose consciousness.
*Krishna. Krishna is often depicted as an infant or young boy playing a flute as in the
Bhagavata Purana or as a youthful prince giving direction and guidance as in the Bhagavad
Gita. The stories of Krishna appear across a broad spectrum of Hindu philosophical and
theological traditions.] They portray him in various perspectives: a god-child, a model
lover, a divine hero and the Supreme Being.
*Gagariya. The earthen pot used still in Indian villages to collect water from river, pond
or wells.
* Chunariya. A long strip of cloth to cover the beauty of a woman. It normally hangs on
the bosom to cover them.
Punghat. Is the word used for a place from where water can be collected by village women
of India.
*Sakhi. Hindi word means female friend
Sitting On The Dock Of The Bay
was a very popular song in its day,
but when it played one day as I listened
I realized that the song was a song about nothing.
He's sitting in the morning sun
and he'll be sitting when the evening comes
watching the ships roll in,
then he'll watch them roll away again.
Additional verses for Sitting On The Dock Of The Bay
might just happen to play this way;
I'm sitting in a chair over here
then I sit in a chair over there
and then when I sit myself down
I proceed to turn my head around and around.
I may as well be sitting on a dock on the bay
wasting time and do nothing all day.
In the first grey light of dawn, a young woman begins the morning song.
The simple cadences of her song are as tranquil and liquid as the monsoon rain,
Trickling down the broad leaves in her mother’s garden.
The steady drumming on the veranda roof echoes her rhythms.
She sings of joys, of sorrows, and of love … always of love …
This morning song is as familiar and comforting as a lullaby.
Her mother brought it with her from the South,
And sang it every morning for her father.
Now, she sings for them both, as they begin the day.
Today will be special for her.
She is to meet her future husband for the first time.
She has never seen him, but she trusts her parents’ judgement …
After all, they love her, don’t they?
She hopes he will be kind, and maybe a little bit handsome …
Like the boy she’s seen in town.
But she must try to forget him …
On another veranda, a young man sits silent, listening.
He sits here at every dawn to hear the morning raga,
Entranced by the voice of a girl he cannot see.
He, too, is to meet his betrothed today.
He wishes she might be a singer, or at least enjoy the morning song,
When she comes to live at his mother’s house.
He remembers a lovely girl he saw … sly glances, shy smiles …
If his new wife is half as pretty, he will be well content.
Yes! He will …
He believes his secret is safe, but mothers see everything …
And his mother loves him. So she whispered to a friend,
And her friend whispered to another, and, well …
A good husband is not hard to persuade …
The sun has risen above the clouds.
There is much to do today – and if the young people agree,
There will be a lucky Monsoon wedding to arrange.
But first, the song.
Entered in Elaine's "Tell me a story" contest
Off in the distance-
A song can be heard, silence!
The song is over now...
A lyric drawn of passion’s longing, lit,
shall flow in spirit to thy avid mind;
faint apparitions swirl and bait thy wit
with drifting light, a joint rapport to find.
Soft silky ribbons braid a chiffon song,
of gloss and gold as bright as twilight star,
that soars on high on winds that sail along,
to carry forth a wish to lands afar.
Anticipation rising with dawn’s glow,
as wait, for now, is all that I can do.
Oh can, of windblown song, a kinship grow?
and can that song of one now sing for two?
Of windblown song across a world so vast
I bid it sing an aria to last.
Originally for Nikko Palmario's 'Without U and ME' but since edited & now has just one little 'm' ;)
Mary was the poetess
who loved handsome Franco,
the tall Neapolitan orchestra leader;
and in Naples they met:
at The Galleria Umberto,
under the surveillance of my father...
Mary was barely eigtheen,
and writing was her only passion;
even her big, hazel eyes were
as light as the Tyrannean Sea in summer,
somehow too melanchonic as a fading moon,
which longed more for a friend than a lover!
Her first song was recorded in Milan, with a brilliant
production of composer Angelo Camis;
that song became quite popular in Capo D'Istria,
and in all the booth-shaped Italian Peninsula!
Ermanna Melli from the city of Forli was the artist
with that mellow, sensual and expressive voice!
" What's this desire? " a delicate and spontaneous love song,
captured a large audience, both young and old...
it was a song telling of the emotions of a young heart too naive,
falling in love with someone much older that she was, indeed;
and it made many people cry, perhaps recalling the time
they fell for someone as special and gorgeous as Mary's dream guy!
Mary, your song still plays on the airwaves of that radio station and although
you no longer sing it in the manner of a famous virtuoso: the visions
of your past life become too real as you performed it by surprise;
it is the jewel you left on earth for us to remember you by,
and it immesely dazzles like every rainbow in the Capri's sky...
when an unknown tenor improvises his impassioned aria with an absolute sorrow!
Mary was the poetess who dedicted her time
writing about love, but never found it in reality;
she was my oldest sister inspiring me with her creativity!
Mary had the potential of becoming great and shine,
but the tides turned abruptly and fate wasn't kind:
even today, her fearless voice comes alive through her poetry!
Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci
Her nature was gentle, and as soft as the rain
A butterfly so fragile, with procelin skin
Fragrant blossom, nectar sweet
Bathed in humbled innocence...
Entrapment came regaled in white
With western charms, this wasp would sting
He picked this budding branch with false intent
His kisses spent, upon her dainty cheeks
So into bliss she flew, caught by wily arms
and promises of love, with no intent to keep
With fickle breath he stole her heart
And played the part without a thought, without a care
He was an actor upon this stage....the cage
a nuptial made as thin as air
He said farewell, with lies and smiles
To sail awhile, across the rolling seas
Leaving needles in her heart
Her frail wings pierced upon the day
And when those falsehoods sailed, her love impaled
While far away, he spent his charms in other arms
Her face would stare upon the tides
Her eyes would cry soliloquies
Her song would yearn...would he return?
Her trust swept into waves...
And then a year or more would pass,
The child she bore, stood by her side...
And still love lasts, and while she waits, the ocean breeze
would carry on, those restless seas, the haunting song ....
Would carry on and on....she calls.........she calls his name...
With futile hopes to ease her pain
Her shame to learn the truth, and then to finally learn
Another shore......another bride!!
Another shore......another bed......to learn such truth...the final dread!
She cannot lift her head...the loss....the pain.....! OH! Hide thy face!
Oh! Such disgrace...an honor black with shame
What cannot be erased.......too much is dead!
Her death will free the fragile wings
Upon her knees, the final bend
By her own hand......her father's knife
Will take the life of Butterfly. BUTTERFLY!! Butterfly! ....butterfly!....
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("Man's love of his life a thing apart............'Tis woman's whole existence")
I have a song stuck inside my head; and it won’t let anybody but me see it.
Believe me, I’ve tried and tried to make it come out.
It just says ‘No.” and crawls about.
I can’t put into words this feeling, this idea inside my mind.
When I finally gather up the bravery to try and coax it out,
it becomes a copy of another man’s genius.
I can’t force it, and neither will if flow.
It is a story I’ve tried to write over and over again,
but it gets lodged in my pen.
It clots on the paper, refusing to prove its existence.
But with that rebuttal, it also makes any creativity impossible.
It unsettles my thoughts, and mixes my dreams.
Wrinkling my mind, it creates a crack in my brain.
It is a crack that can only be filled with its music;
the music that refuses to come out.
And so I sit, writing all these complications from my mind,
hoping that maybe the song will slip out between the spaces.
My mind is too crammed with thoughts and ideas to embrace anymore lyric-less music.
Form:
Four brothers and their father came from the Philippines.
For a brief time, they were big on the music scenes.
They recorded a hit song many people would know.
So many times, listeners heard it on AM radio.
Up the Billboard charts went their recording “Killer Joe”.
It was inspired by discotheque king “Killer Joe” Piro.
Other recordings by this group would appear.
As far as success went, none of the others came near.
Even though this family group has gone away,
we can still listen to their hit song today.
Breathless and falling ... (Breathless and falling)
So lucent the vapor
The morning star's fluent light... (She's now collapsed)
Brightens the day...
Indolent, flurry winds... (Take away her agony)
Fluster the vacant sky;
Harmless; devoid of the Earth...
Tranquil, but restless... (Tranquil, but restless)
in clustering glory
Sullen though crystal... (She's now collapsed)
In weeping for man...
High above gazing... (High above)
In garments of wonder
In union their eyes watch in pain... (Take away her agony)
Octogenarian clinging to life
Caught in a whirlwind of odious
Strife
Caught in the currents that pull
From below
Holding her down but she dying
Slow
Fa la la, Fa la la,
Falling from her Peace
She's now collapsed
Farewell, Farewell, Farewell.
(Words in parenthesis are whispered in background)
This is a song written and put to music by my husband,
Thielus Grenon. Copyrighted song and given permission to post.
Music can be heard at http://soundclick.com/share?songid=684065
A. Green
Nutshell we would play
A song that’s hard to hear today
So many memories
So many thoughts
It’s a song I haven’t quite forgot
Together we would play
Strumming our instruments everyday
Singing with our hearts out aloud
Even though there was never a crowd
But together we would play
Stuck in nutshells we would stay
My strings are now out of tune and rusty
His guitar will never again be played
Our song has died with him
Nutshells all seem to fade
This song that we played
Has reached the end of its day
Like Nutshells in the song
I know you’re never gone
So let the sand cover your face
Leave at peace from this place
But always remember our song
Wherever in heaven you may roam
Sing it to yourself when alone
We will one day sing together
When God calls me home
So now your gone
My tears will continue to pour
I will always remember our song
But to me Nutshell is no more
I arrived at the garden of peace,
Typical day...mundane routine.
He arrives with a drink in hand
Laying his guitar case down on the curb.
He takes the guitar out slowly,
And begins strumming it...into tune.
He leaves the guitar case open,
And asks a passerby for any requests.
The passerby says, “No, thank you.”
He suddenly begins to play Jimi’s ‘Hey Joe’
The passerby pauses...slowly turning around,
Walking back to listen to him play.
I see the performer clutching the guitars neck,
As if Jimi...was the one performing.
The passerby astonished...began to cry,
I thought he enjoyed the song for what it was.
The song ended with a good finale,
The passerby dropped his change in the case.
I couldn’t help but to hear him ask,
How he knew what to play.
The performer said that it was his job,
To study his clients real well.
The passerby responded, “today’s my sons
Death anniversary and he loved Jimi to death.
I went through his closet this morning,
And grabbed one of his many shirts.”
The passerby slowly turned to walk away,
And unbeknownst to him...I saw his tears.
The performer accomplished what he came to do,
And like him...without asking a question,
I too...observed the faded...Jimi Hindrix,
Printed in psychedelic colors on the passerby's shirt.
I was thinking back to better days
When you could sing along to the songs they played
We’d all tune in on Friday night
To see when Lucky Strike brought you the Hit Parade
Cindy Oh Cindy and Chances Are
Perry’s song Catch a Falling Star
Striped shirts on the dancers for Jailhouse Rockin’
And a touch of blues with the song I’m Walkin’
Pat sang about an April Shower
So please come down from your Ivory Tower
Instead of wondering what’s behind the green door
I took a trip with Duane Eddy on a Detour
I heard someone say Please Love me Forever
And a song about the Twelfth of Never
Then Buddy sang That’ll be the Day
All the way to Hernando’s Hideaway
I remember Kenny Chandler singing Heart
And Johnny’s Cry could make your teardrops start
Harry sang Daylight come and a bunch of banana
Paul was singing to his girl Diana
Sixteen Tons was a song about coal
The words to Padre touched my soul
And Fats was singing he found his thrill
On Blueberry, not Mocking Bird Hill
Wish we could return to way back then
Listen to the Kalin Twins singing When
Songs like Marianne and Nickelodeon’s tune
After I bought you the rainbow, I’ll buy you the moon
If only we could be two Silhouettes on the Shade
Just listening to music on the Hit Parade.