Music Dramatic Monologue Poems | Examples
These Music Dramatic Monologue poems are examples of Dramatic Monologue poems about Music. These are the best examples of Dramatic Monologue Music poems written by international poets.
Why does love come with crying? When its totality settles in and the sacrifice is known, how else could it be? Love, so happenstance, making itself fodder for blues music, and it will break your heart! Serving as the culmination of something larger than ourselves and making our lives worth living for. Just ask all those who have gone before us, those who have found its sublimity and those who haven't. It is what holds this world together. Boats and warplanes are named after loved ones, as the pilots might not see their loved ones again. Since the dawn of man, because of the importance of children in their lives, making love even that more iconic, it has ranked up there with wars in the eyes of the beholders, and its final beating will come with the crying of all those who loved its owner, left with but the memories of its grandeur, a simple kiss, and a heartfilled look in the eye!
I take my pain to where ragers rage and writhe
in their self-absorbed gluttony on all-winter days
their tea cups are only for them
interspersed with silence and solitude
the streets are buildings without them
who are the signposts talking too?
I could have been one of them
I was one of them
and still am if hills facing the sun are cloud covered
and I don’t look out of the window to notice
then, in those un-costumed days, I am
but, and it has taken rotations of earth
backpacking through antonyms, through tropics
I have conquered tinnitus, now a comfort blanket
aiding sleep as a heart monitor line crossing a screen
I have conquered deep wells, now jews harps
jaw harps if you prefer, gewgaws, yes I have conquered
the cave of crawling space days
goblins are only a light switch and their rising finger away
but my rising finger plucks at overtones and distances
between neurons, between stars, between mees
its sound soothing, rubbing balm on a restive chest
the vibrations are fizzing and feeding me
I take my white noise and float away
sound, my therapy
I'm riding and flying into dimensions beyond the 3rd,
Sweet melodies and harmonies of rhythmic words.
They speak melodiously and deeply to my soul.
I'm riding and flying; I'm losing control.
No seatbelt to buckle into or even think of,
But I'm safe and feeling free, flying like a dove.
Above all pain 'cause Trane, Bird, and Hawk are soulfully saxing,
Sweet, harmonious melodies got me chillaxing.
Free! I'm so free,
And my mind's eye can see.
And my heart can feel,
I'm riding and flying into a peaceful surreal.
was thinking the other day
How things work in their own way
And decisions that you take
May be different once you wake
For the world will turn away
And the cogs interact without your say
For decisions can hold you in
To make you saintly or in sin
So here you are today
As you listen to the music play
There’s one course left too
“Is you have to dance with who ever brung you.”
© Paul Warren Poetry
The music plays in your head, great new music, formulated from the beauty of
everything, just for you? I have ridden the silver spoons, and tripped the light fantastic, stepped into new worlds, with big eyes. And there are those heartfelt days when love appears. Is it that we are addicted to the pain? Would the sun not be as bright? How do we satisfy taboo? Seek the subtle colors behind the dawn. Sense the darkened sky, how that breathless suspense, of the rising sun, like the eyes of love, seems to make... a life worth living!
What will truly make ART great again, is when people return to the critical realization that it is not about quality, it is about expression, and more importantly, JOY. Don’t be too concerned what others say about your work, whether it’s painting or music or writing or woodworking or cooking, etc, if it brings you enjoyment, then do it to your heart’s content!!
Everything we do and say and make and write, is a little piece of us, and should be treated with the deference and appreciation that we give to one another, and no one knows better than WE do, how our intent compares to the result. If you get critique, take it kindly, but with a grain of salt, and the knowledge that others do not see the world the way you do.
EVERYONE on this planet has a special talent, and not all of those talents are the artistic type, but that savvy was given to you to make the most of. Maybe you’re not the “artistic” type, but you ARE talented, I guarantee you, and I also guarantee that endowment you’re blessed with, whatEVER it may be, is something you enjoy, and it brings others joy in the process.
THAT, my friends, along with love, is what life is all about!
Hurry! Hurry!
All aboard the Cosmic Trane
Where the mind runs free and
the soul feels no pain
A location for the elevation of
humanness to the existential
realm of salvation
Galactic spiritual religiosity in the
form of rhythmic sounds
Free. Free. Running freely into
dimensions away from the third
A ride. A glorious ride of
harmonic bliss
A kiss, a sweet kiss...
So fasten and secure your headphones
and be sure not to miss
Because this is sure to be a ride
of epic proportions
Away. Far away from the chaos and
distortions
My God!
Jones will be thudding
With Tyner tinkling the keys
Oh yes, Garrison will be a 'bassing'
And Coltrane blowing like a breeze
A ride. A celestial ride out of
this world
To places and spaces where all
dreams and hopes are unfurled
O' Wise One in the sleeper for a
Song of Praise
And Afro Blue reflects on Africa
Giant Steps in the coming days
Blues Minor to Sweet Naima
I have my ticket, so you know this
means I can not stay
I just pressed play, and now I'm coasting
and floating away
I claim my Egyptian heritage of
Love, rivers, healing
Geese fly high above our pyramids
Those rocks moved with magnetic
music
Light cascading through space
Thoth dances above our crowns
I sway beneath Amun-Ra
She-He caresses my auburn hair
a deepening of irises
it was my thunder and
my own blistering hands
Nile flows freely watching
Now my goddesses sit in their Merkaba’s
chanting around an eternal flame
carrying melodies of change
violined voices on violet strings
A million workers marched barefoot
through fields or furnaces
aligning cores below to above
Sirius clapped assent
urging me out into Space
Pyramid ! Triangle of my refuge
and direction
While above signs
watched my movement
up the Squinx
to a northern node
Bronzed arms encircle my hips
as Africa unites with Asia
I did not know that
in a Southern land I
would disembark to
crack hearts of steel
with spirals of crystalline carbon
a moment at Last Supper
I relived this teaching
Myrrh rained down to
anoint
My Heart was His-
Hers !
(Now the Butterfly)
Can you hear the music?
The beautiful butterfly;
Floating in the sky;
Majestically, so sweetly;
Standing in the wind!
As the breeze blows free;
Magically, lightly they fly;
Floating in the sky;
(Now the Birds)
Speaking God's WORDS!
Early morning there're heard;
To the ears of the Father;
The Father HEARS!
The tweeting, releasing softly, they squeal!
We FEEL,
We're FILLED with the happiness that they squeal;
Father's little ones, made of feathers and love;
Multi colors bodies of light floating, flying in the day and the night;
Nesting, breeding subconsciously fleeting;
Talkin continually!
As I watch and wonder, stare at the trees
I see them between the leaves
They speak to me! THEY SPEAK TO ME!!!
As they talk to GOD In the early morn
How I wish that I could see
- the Majestic Birds in the Trees
6/4/22
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr.2022©
Euphoria
My head is wet in an aquarium
Blue ribbon bottom
Evil is calling
Cello
What ya eating blue Jell-O
Death by love is not an option
Suicide is not my friend
Breath of fresh air
Is tainted by evils flagellants
Starship hatred
Why are you here
We used the music to find common ground
With them and to get our freedoms rhythm
Come dance freedom's rhythm
Submerge from your fish bowl
Dry off your head
Inhale the smells of fresh baked bread
Open your eyes to the witness you realize
You're not dead your yet alive
11/18/21
Written by James Edward Lee Sr © 2021
In a ceremony of love
I danced around with fairies like Alice in wonderland
Singing praises to her heart like angel from above
I kissed her voice
And collected every single breath she exhaled
I could see her flat stomach tiding up and down on the dance stage like caterpillar.
Her sharp pointed breasts applied
Newton's third law of motion to my chest
"For every force, there's an opposite reaction"
I fenced her waist with my hands
As we mingle with the music beat
As I was just about to taste her saliva,
The breeze of 5:00AM wiped my uncovered body and I woke up,
When I opened my eyes
She was the next thing I saw next to me,
I cherished her body with mine
And kissed every single part of her body like my mother's forehead,
The lipstick on her lips
Polished my hungry lips like graduation shoes.
I painted her trembling body with goosebumps,
Just in a moment to explore her world,
I was rudely greeted by an unknown rooster
I opened my eyes in a 14' by 14' isolated room
That was occupied by one living thing__ Me
My eyes visited all the corners for her
But I couldn't see her face
Now I know that it was a double dreams
______________
Artistic Poet
subtitled: Lyrics by Lamoureux
He writes upon his poet's harp complex chords of life,
motivational music to halt us
from following malicious men -
fractured minds of mankind.
He writes peaceful melodies to soothe restless thoughts;
He write knowing only a few will sing.
The lyrics of the hopeful striving for upswing
find like voices in those who untie knots
from threads miserably entwined.
His voice punctuates with his pen,
joining writers prepared to oppose injustice
while harping on the foibles of strife.
Richard plays warfare’s veto on drum and fife,
combatting behavior that’s treasonous.
Bias seen time and time again,
protest throngs unaligned.
He notes unfair sanctions on free speech and boycotts;
He composes words to caution our offspring.
January 30, 2021
edited slightly for dramatic monologue
contest: My Significant 2021 Poem
sponsor: Beata Agustin
contest: Political Verse
sponsor: Richard Lamoureux
originally written for
contest: My Invented Form - I Write Upon
sponsor: Constance LaFrance
Wasted days without a song
Wanting one that I could sing along
Where I could like the music and the words
But please nothing that is too absurd
And not an ear worm burrowing in
That would be for some un-punished sin
Perhaps a gentle melody written for her
Of their once only love as my heart stirs
So sitting in my lonesome place
Pleading for music to erase
Those thoughts that spin around
A song for me into which I could drown.
© Paul Warren Poetry
Never Never ever will I query…by T Wignesan
For Andrea MOTIS and the Joan CHAMORRO Jazz
Band’s version of Nancy Wilson’s « Never Never will I marry » (Original lyrics by Frank Loesser)
https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=mKCdi71MRi4&list=RDAMVMmKCdi71MRi4
Never Never ever will I query
What lies beyond the Dead
No race No religion not Country
I will blindly not be duped or led
Born to one Mother and lone Father
Long bred from Dark Ancestor
Neanderthal or Fontéchevade Brother
Will I let some god put asunder
No doubts No fears nor Myths
To keep this World in one Family
Never Never will I ever blunt Truths
Split countries to foist ethnic party
One father-mother One brother-sister
No nose No chin No brow Nor skull
One from the other higher or better
What Just god would want us Hell
No more wars to boost economy
No more lurid lies to breed enmity
No more priests dividing Almighty
No more excuses to halt equality
Never Never ever will I bury
The Dead in shrouds blood red
Gone to worlds far from envy
Gone to worlds where gods aren't bred…
(c) T. Wignesan - Paris, December 7, 2020
If I could go back and do anything again
I would drive more slowly
I would have not destroyed so many cars
I would not have landed in ditches expecting to die
I would not have raced wildly in and out of cars
Subjecting unsuspecting people to my brazen recklessness
If I could go back and do it all again I would listen to more music
I would sit and listen to people who wanted to speak to me
I would not have nightmares about not listening to the one who asked
After church on a Sunday when I thought I was too busy to listen
Her last Sunday as she died the next day in a car accident
Yes if I could go back I would redo that day.