Best Singer Poems
This picture is of the Columbine flower by John Denver.
(He was dead long before the shootings at Columbine.)
In my life, I was so blessed to meet you.
You cherished all people, nature, and I think
God designed His glorious sky just for you, too!
Besides your music, I know you cared about
all the hungry folks on this earth.
And you started the Hunger Project wherein
people could plant from our God’s fine earth.
You sang of God’s creation, which is far more
than I will ever do.
What an infinitesimal thing a POTD is, well, John,
when compared to your tunes.
I am so glad to this day, I had a personal chance
to talk with you.
You were as humble and beautiful as the twinkling
stars at night we love to view!
I have no idea why your plane crashed so-suddenly,
with you into the dark sea..
But here is one of your photographs, that is as beautifully
created ……as thee!
6/26/2023
my friend quigley likes to sing
really almost any thing
till once a high note
caused a bird to float
back down to earth less one wing.
Buck buck buh-buck-buck
Buck buck buh-buck
Buck buck, buck buck, buck buck buck
Bucka buck bucka bucka buck
A'buck buck buck.
Buh-KAW k'buck buck
Buh-KAW k'buck
Buh-KAW k'buck buck
Buh-KAW k'buck
Buck buck buck buck
Buck buck buck
Bucka buck bucka bucka buck
A'buck buck buck.
The Old Man and the Singer- Mystic
it was like the old man
aged and rustic
a Singer sewing machine
oddity to find in a river
rusted, like the old man
orange, colored rust
carried downstream
by a strong current and
a stronger shoulder
contemporaries they were
him and the machine
tan and tawny
both had spent too much time in
water and sun
the old man was battered but sturdy
the machine-a fossil of yesterdays
to him it was
a prized thing
harboring an industrial memory
of laboring hands
an antiquated Singer
what use had he for it
in its horribly decayed shape
yet, it was carried
downstream
by an old man
to a new destiny
9/28/17
Image Me A Poem
Lady Ella, Queen of Jazz:
you brought so many songs to life.
Forget the words? Just make up new ones
like you did on 'Mack The Knife'.
Satchmo Armstrong, so unique:
in 'Summertime' my soul is freed,
with 'Hello Dolly', 'Cheek to Cheek';
'What a Wonderful World', indeed!
Sassy, classy Sarah Vaughan:
your 'Autumn Leaves' fall scattingly.
Your 'I Feel Pretty' makes me 'Misty',
'They Can't Take That Away From Me'.
Mel Torme, the Velvet Fog:
'The Christmas Song', 'How High The Moon'.
I love it when you scat away
The 'Lullaby Of Birdland' tune.
Astrud, 'Girl From Ipanema'
walks on by, a sight to see.
Your 'One Note Samba' swings so lithe,
Brazilian skies in harmony.
Basia sings of 'Time And Tide'
and woos me with 'Astrud's tribute.
'An Olive Tree', 'Baby, You're Mine';
Each song you sing, a perfect beaut.
Time and space do not allow
for Nat, Al, Tim, or more such names:
Diana, Johnny, Janis, Cheryl*,
Jazz burns bright - you light the flames!
//Poet's Notes: Mentioned here are my favorite Jazz vocalists (*with a quick nod and smile to Nat King Cole, Alan Paul, Tim Hauser, Diana Krall, Johnny Hartman, Janis Siegel, and Cheryl Bentyne). Let me know in the comments if you have favorites I did not mention. Perhaps someday I'll write a sequel for my favorite jazz instrumentalists. //
I’m about to tell what’s an important story,
Of a singer who is sadly now long gone,
Whose story needs some increased recognition,
He could p’raps be described a special one.
He was born in nineteen forty two,
And sadly died in nineteen eighty one,
His memory and music though will never be forgot,
His charities and work continue on.
He made a lot of money, in America renowned,
At one point highest paid of all his peers,
And still the homeless charities do work that bears his name,
Despite him being gone for forty years.
At Height of fame he realised a fortune,
At times it reached 2 million a year,
At least a third of it though he did give away,
Philanthropy towards his causes dear.
In Britain there aren’t many who remember Harry’s name,
But some of his songs linger in their head,
They’ve heard about a morning DJ and cradles for cats,
And a better place to be than in their bed.
Songs autobiographical,
And others based on news that he had read,
At first he struggled for success like Mister Tanner did,
Ignored the critics views and what they said.
His passion was world hunger that was unacceptable,
He’d do what he could to eradicate,
The Harry Chapin Foodbank still stands proudly in his name,
And still relieving hunger to this date.
He always felt Long Island was the place to live his dreams,
Perhaps you’d say his opportunity,
To make a massive difference in the world to many folks,
Perhaps you’d say a better place to be.
He co- founded World Hunger Year,
With DJ friend that he knew called Bill Ayres
Congressional Gold Medal, a posthumous award
That later recognised each of his worthy cares.
On July 16th Nineteen eighty one his fate was sealed,
Going to a show in East Meadow, New York,
A truck crashed into him whose fault ended his life,
No more he’d ever sing again or talk.
That could have been the end of things, for others it sure would,
But Harry is the subject of this rhyme,
His legacy maybe seems as important as his life,
And not diminished with passing of time.
Theatres and student halls named in his memory,
Foundation chaired by Sandy, she his wife,
His legacy continues to improve the world today,
This story of a most important life.
Spotted Pardalote
very rare singer to see
cute Australian bird
The Masked Singer is an entertainer on stage in masquerade
A baker by day; a singer by night with accolade
The Masked Singer dresses as a male and sometimes female
He is a ***** but with many personalities of a strong male
The masked one bakes bread in the morning
Before dawn donates bread in an orphanage
That's what he does in bright days of living
Sings and dance in the evening passage
The masked male renders songs of praise
To God and to all of humane haste
Once he was awarded in the Hall of Craze
Disguising as a singing pauper on streets of blaze
It's a short-lived life narrated about the masked singer
Who died shortly after a sponsored-play with a ringer
A runaway train in the dark that ran over
His untenable body wringed and flattened headless
Yards away from the rail... a rolling head of the masked singer
"I dedicate this simple poem to a friend representing all other hardworking LGBTQs of the World who offer more than enough of themselves in saving other people's lives."
(Prosebite)
I love the Singer in an All Girl Band
Loch David Crane, 1976
I dreamed about 'ya in your pixie shoes
and watched ‘ya stomp on all my blues;
I dreamed about 'ya in your fishnet tights
and how ‘ya kept me up all night.
I dreamed about 'ya next day too
when my mind should'a been on school.
I dreamed about ‘ya in your leather skirt
‘til my heart began to throb and hurt.
I dreamed about 'ya at a biker dance,
a third leg grew inside my pants.
I dreamed about 'ya and what I’d do
if I could go to bed with you---
But you don't know me an' I think it's true
that I could never succeed with you.
I may as well make other plans
'cause I love the singer in All Girl Band.
My heart is locked in my rib cage
prisoner of a new-wave age;
the only way to set it free
is if you will make love to me.
I've seen the future-- it's black and blue
from random violence, dancin' too;
but that is where I'll have to stand
'cause I love the singer in All Girl Band.
.........( ( ( ( (........
a singer performing country score
dropped false teeth bouncing on stage floor
though pelted with loud boos
he continued his blues...
as big boss kicked his rear out the door
same singer was given one more chance
rehearsed a perfect song and dance
by middle of refrain
his shoe knocked a plain Jane...
who gave him naughty, come-on glance
(c) copyright-
............................
for: Tracie's Make Me Giggle, Make me Laugh...
by: nette onclaud
PARIS BLUES SINGER
Her voice is dreams, out through the fog and mist,
behind a concertina's mournful sound,
through halos made of light streetlamps have kissed
as Paris goes to sleep with dreams it's found.
She sounds as if her song will make her die,
there in the cabaret before she's done,
while patrons stare at her, and have to cry,
forgetting this, their night for having fun.
A man, in a pissoirre, out on the street,
has heard the song so many times before,
but still she makes him moan, and wet his feet,
that's why he must return, to hear some more.
There's lovers near the Seine, who've lived the songs,
and cannot ever shake them from their minds;
they keep each word of them where it belongs
hid deeply in a heart nobody finds.
A taxi driver, waiting for a fare,
finds little hope, but listens to each word,
he knows his life's not going anywhere,
just like the saddest song we've ever heard.
© Ron Arbuthnot
I once knew a songster from Skokie
Who was thrown in the Sing Sing pokey
They claimed he was off key
And his voice was croaky
So he killed them at karaoke!
To all of you who read the first song, I thank you-and to those of you who went to CJBELL.NET I thank you exponentially
TAKE A SPIN IN CRINOLINE
Do you tango?
Do you dance a lot,
my Sir Lancelot?
Do you cha-cha?
And like me you sure are hot
Do you mambo?
Do you Lindy Hop?
Do you slow dance?
And does dancing make your champagne pop?
Do you rumba?
Do you shake your butt about?
Do you do the twist?
Now does it make you scream and shout?
This girl must dance as she must breathe
A two step done from two steps away
A breath apart and ready to dance
Wanting to wiggle and set to sway
Does the band believe in you,
The way that it does me?
Is the music your only muse,
And does the music make you free?
So again I ask you……
Do you tango?
Do you dance a lot,
my Sir Lancelot?
Do you cha-cha?
And like me are you hot?
And just like me, baby, are you hot?
CHANGE MELODY
So do you want to quick step, Mister?
With me in silk and crinoline
Don’t peek under my dress demure
As you watch me begin to spin
We can rumba and drink some rum
We can ch-ch-chance a cha-cha or two
Put your hands forcefully around my waist
Because Mister, I’m ready to dance with you
You can lead and lead me anywhere
Places you may have seen before
Like to the bar and back again
But I won’t leave this here dance floor
No I won’t leave this here dance floor
Do you tango with your cheek near mine
And lips so close we share one taste
What is that Mister dancing man,
you don’t dance, oh what a woeful waste?
Yes what a woeful waste
So you don’t tango the way that I do
And your slow dance has slowed to a halt
Well Mister, the fact that you can’t dance
alas honey, that ain’t this young chick’s fault
No baby, that ain’t none of this young girl’s fault
No, that ain’t no fault of mine
But let’s not call this love to a halt
Because I said, Mister Mister,
that just ain’t,
that just ain’t this hot chick's faultttttttttttt!
© 2013 copyright PHREEPOETREE…..~free cee!~
Fairly
Squarely
Rarely
Barely
Shot from the hip fairly, squarely true
Loaded clip but, rarely, barely drew
1-19-2018
The singer looks at the now empty stage
His voice guarded deep in his warm throat
Shielded by a high neck shirt he wore
Singing with passion from down within
Rehearsing day and night until it’s right
Blended rhythms and notes run the scales
Clinging in smoky night clubs like a shadow
Getting your pay with crumbled dollar bills
Go from gig to gig if it makes you whole
Your songs will make them dance and spin
Like a magic spell being cast far and wide
Allow your words to heal wounds and scars
And when you have earned your keep
Collect the spoils from your conquest sweet
Gobbled champagne and fancy caviars
And your heart beats crashed musical chart
Find the singer who was once loved
The brilliant heart that once lived in joy
Consider yourself a singer without a heart
Who has traded his soul from the start
As it ends the conquest will lose its spark
Come to your senses and stop this slide
You may be witted and sharp as a tack
Don’t get eluded and slip—stay on track
Comments: This is a narrative dialogue poem. It sets the stage one may
probably find in a conflicting situation. It develops into a complication, reaches a
crisis then falls into a resolution. It displays connections, alienation,
disconnections, and a turning point where a change takes place between a
protagonist and antagonist. The ending brings about a resolution after a
dramatic point has been reached. Give it a try one day, and I will give it a review
for you. It must be very interesting and relates to real life.