Long Folk music Poems
Long Folk music Poems. Below are the most popular long Folk music by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Folk music poems by poem length and keyword.
Afloat I am,
The blind horizon spreads to no end.
O river of rivers,
The queen river,
Flow as you wish,
Gather silt forever
That on your shores
Men may harrow, then sow
The seeds of happiness
And sorrow to grow.
Afloat I am,
The blind horizon spreads to no end.
Hilsa leaps at the moon,
How wondrously they blend!
Hilsa leaps at the moon,
How wondrously they blend!
O river of rivers,
The starry river,
Your blinking waves drum
Of Behula's shiver.
I too am lost,
The tattered merchant fool,
My peacock barge rides
Fate's whirlpool.
Hilsa leaps at the moon,
How wondrously they blend!
When the whistling wind wakes
All courage is pretend.
When the whistling wind wakes
All courage is pretend,
O river of rivers,
The wise river.
Who would speak for us?
If not you, may be never.
Yet the mountains rise
From the hearths' ash,
You are silent, while
The history is brash.
When the whistling wind wakes
All courage is pretend.
Heaven's horn blares slender silver
For whom to comprehend?
Heaven's horn blares slender silver
For whom to comprehend?
O river of rivers,
The hungry river,
The consort of Ruin.
An arrow in Falguni's quiver.
The infinite wasteland beckons
Hold onto heart's dream,
One more sun above
Anguish and scream.
Heaven's horn blares slender silver
For whom to comprehend?
Afloat I am,
The blind horizon spreads to no end.
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Form: Bhatiali
Date: 19 / 11 / 2016
Bhatiali is a form of folk music native to Bangladesh and Bengal. There is no place for Taal (a term used in Indian classical music for the rhythmic pattern) in pure bhatiali. Even rhyme is not that important. Generally, these songs are sung by the cattle herders on the fields or the fisherfolks living off a river. Among the several subjects of folk music in all of Bengal, that includes Deha-tatva (about the body) and Murshid-tatva (about the guru), Bhatiali deals with Prakriti-tatva (about nature). Probably the most renowned poet of this form is Jasimuddin. Some of Rabindranath Tagore's songs can also be categorised as typical bhatiali.
Lost my kids once just for a minute or so in the fair: needle in haystack.
Busy and purposeful Sunday morning. Fascinating bee hive but I wanted my kids back
Thought they were next to the glass beads jostling and rattling on a necklace chain,
Or near the polished fossils, and bags clinking their sea-shell collections from Spain.
I squinted for their faces in the crowd,as rows of cheap eyeglasses looked invitingly
Over at the gaudily-decorated casual shoes, just arrived breathless from Turkey;
And stalls overflowing with flame-coloured dresses - Moroccan, from Agadir -
Trying to inch down to the ground like wriggling children. But not my children dear.
Toy insects buzzing joyfully and plastic windmills whirring playfully in the breeze
And serious-minded compasses busy seeking north didn’t fill my search with ease.
Carousels with ponies and dinosaurs, birds and elephants?
Maybe they had fulfilled my wandering kids’ secret wants?
Noisy price-haggling. African traders switching from language of Germany to Wales,
Or even to Arabic, as they sensed customers's different interests and possible sales.
Chinese and Vietnamese comparing views in French, their only common tongue.
No doubt, my three had slipped their leash and were hiding: they were young.
The swish of the decorative paper garlands in the breeze was near-lost in the crowd;
And the conflict between Welsh folk-music and American heavy-metal rock so loud.
And I listened to the colourful chatter pulsate
Of traders trying to persuade money to leave your wallet.
Girls in sandals and sunglasses. Old ladies in floral patterns and blue-rinsed hair.
Young men eyeing girls trying on dresses ……but my three were not there.
Ah - but then! At the ice cream stall I saw three hungry mouths, kept
Pressed to the glass. Three money-less urchins all glad to see dad. I swept
Them up in my arms and started to relax and enjoy the fair-market.
I’d lost my kids for just about one minute.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Entered in Lisa Cooper ~Dark Poetess's Contest County Fair
THINGS THAT HATE ME
Spaghetti, for I don’t allow it to outrun my utensil
I chop it all to inch-long pieces then use my fork as a shovel.
Expensive French wine, for I won’t ever pretend
It’s much more delicious than Californian, “Oh it’s the end!”
Italian shoes: they grumble at each other and say
He never boasts our nationality, only speaks of comfort each day.
Versace men’s clothes, for I know they are no different to other clothes,
Only pricier and rather dull and a foreign name that one loathes.
Gateshead, because I think it was a horrible place to be born and raised
And it thinks it’s a cool up-to-date nice place now, but it should still be rased.
England, for I don’t miss it at all , and will never seek
The company of expats who say they are indeed such a clique.
Cell phones, for I won’t carry them absolutely everywhere
And won’t answer at each beep as if life depended on its blare.
Cars, which try to assert their importance as boys’ toys -
My interest is in lovely things which make no smelly noise.
Colds and flu, for I don’t allow them to spoil my whole day.
Just take regular remedy stuff and go on normally.
Ultra-slim fashion models scowling on catwalks because I say
They are only skinny girls and rather plain-looking, rather grey.
Australia, because I won’t say it’s a wonderful place,
Only a desert and a few big towns pretending to be like the USA’s.
Italian language, because it is “the most beautiful and spoken with ease”
And this is obviously not so to the Welsh or Chinese.
Football games, for they insist on pretending to be crucial to life
And much more important than kids or wife.
Squeaky hinges, wobbly tables, leaky taps and broken things myriad -
Because I don’t allow them to exist for an interminable period.
By the way, things that don’t hate me include the US Navy,
Folk music, cats, Richard Nixon, and kasha with gravy,
……..For obvious reasons.
MARKET IN BRITTANY, FRANCE
Lost my kids once just for a minute or so in the market: needle in haystack.
Busy and purposeful Sunday morning. Fascinating bee hive but I wanted my kids back
Thought they might be next to the glass beads jostling and rattling on a necklace chain,
Or near the polished fossils, and bags clinking their collections sea-shells from Spain.
I squinted for their faces in the crowd, as rows of cheap eyeglasses looked invitingly
Over at the gaudily-decorated casual shoes, just arrived breathless from Turkey;
And stalls overflowing with flame-coloured dresses - Moroccan, from Agadir -
Trying to inch down to the ground like wriggling children. But not my children dear.
Toy insects buzzing joyfully and plastic windmills whirring playfully in the breeze
And serious-minded compasses busy seeking north didn’t fill my search with ease.
Noisy price-haggling. African traders switching from the language of Germany to Wales,
or even to Arabic, as they sensed customers's different interests and possible sales.
Chinese and Vietnamese comparing views in French, their only common tongue.
No doubt, my three had slipped their leash and were hiding: they were young.
The swish of the decorative paper garlands in the breeze was near-lost in the crowd;
And the conflict between Breton folk-music and American heavy-metal rock so loud.
And I listened to the colourful chatter pulsate
Of traders trying to persuade money to leave your wallet.
Girls in sandals and sunglasses. Old ladies in floral patterns and blue-rinsed hair.
Young men eyeing girls trying on dresses …… but my three were not there.
Ah - but then! At the ice cream stall I saw three hungry mouths, kept
Pressed to the glass. Three money-less urchins all glad to see dad. I swept
Them up in my arms and started to relax and enjoy the market.
I’d lost my kids for just about one minute.
Indestructible, for Johnny Cash
by Michael R. Burch
What is a mountain, but stone?
Or a spire, but a trinket of steel?
Johnny Cash is gone,
black from his hair to his bootheels.
Can a man out-endure mountains’ stone
if his songs lift us closer to heaven?
Can the steel in his voice vibrate on
till his words are our manna and leaven?
Then sing, all you mountains of stone,
with the rasp of his voice, and the gravel.
Let the twang of thumbed steel lead us home
through these weary dark ways all men travel.
For what is a mountain, but stone?
Or a spire, but a trinket of steel?
Johnny Cash lives on?
black from his hair to his bootheels.
Originally published by Strong Verse. When I was a teenager Johnny Cash used to pop into the Nashville McDonald’s where I worked to buy burgers after the Grand Ole Opry let out. True to his nickname, the Man in Black always dressed in black. I think he’s as immortal now as human beings can become, since someone will be singing songs he wrote and and recorded till the end of time.
Music Trivia: Johnny Cash wrote "I Walk the Line" in 1956. This song, in which he vowed to be faithful to his wife, became his signature song. But seven years later Cash recorded "Ring of Fire," a song about the scorching love affair that caused him to leave his wife for June Carter of the famous singing Carter family. (Ironically, the Carters’ signature song was the gospel classic “Will the Circle Be Unbroken.” Apparently not the one symbolized by Johnny Cash’s wedding ring!) June Carter wrote "Ring of Fire" with Merle Kilgore. Johnny Cash had a dream in which he was singing the song with mariachi horns in the background, which was how he recorded his version of the song.
Keywords/Tags: Johnny Cash, black, hair, clothes, boots, voice, rasp, gravel, steel, guitar, songs, singing, music, mountains, stone, heaven, manna, leaven , country music, folk music, American, Americana, USA, folklore, folk, lore
The Grief of Gaziantep.
Hotter than a Dragon’s kiss,
the seas boil under saffron sun.
Tiny thrumming mosquitoes zone on sweating, caramac skin,
Customer entertainment...hanging from shop fronts,
nine carat gold cages lure buyers in,
imprisoned, flush-red faced finches,
wings of pumpkin-orange
hypnotize purring feral cats.
The afternoon air laden with aromas,
Cinnamon, cumin, ginger...
Bluest sky tips to ripe pomegranate.
Anatolian mountain weavers peddle hand-spun carpets,
fine silk, cool cotton, warm wool.
Faded proud portrait of mounted Ataturk accepts toasts
from chinking, inky Turkish and golden-apple tea glasses.
Layered lutes echo the Ciftetelli as lovers entwine... ***
An odd guest delivers a soul-scalding gift.
Blast! Bang! Splatter! Shatters the buzzing streets of Gaziantep.
Poppy-red plasma sprays through ghost-grey gusts...
Whimpering, wailing, screaming, sobbing,
echoes of sadness rupture the sodden earth,
in once jovial corners, now cups of embers smoulder.
Still Mama’s jet hair moves...like Puma’s in slow-motion.
Leapt into an everlasting world of sorrow,
grief beat-beats upon severed hearts.
Ceaseless pain flutters on wings of wind,
as stretchers convey the motionless and the maimed.
A Jasmine flower chain now a poisonous asp.
The apricot horizon flits through boundless violet skies
as the barley half-moon sings with newborn stars.
Bleeding wounds will scab,
hope, the key of freedom, falters.
Swallows weave darkness to night.
Longings for the lost...
as loved ones whisper in their sleep.
*** Ciftetelli..Turkish Folk music often played at Weddings.
Dedicated to the Citizens of Gaziantep Turkey... Where 54 people (including 22 children) were killed and many injured by a suicide bomber on Saturday 20th August 2016. One mother lost four of her five children.
Rain poured down
Made me think about music
Like listen to blues
The droplets danced on the metal railings
Made me think about music
Like listen to jazz
It was the end of may
Made me think about music
Like listen to joik
A dog run past me
Made me think about music
Like listen to country and western
It was Sunday
Made me think about music
Like listen to Gospel
The dog’s owner called out for his dog
Made me think about music
Like listen to opera
A red, white and blue car was parked outside
Made me think about music
Like listen to folk music
The dog’s owner ran after his dog
Made me think about music
Like listen to r&b
The dog’s owner was united with his dog
Made me think about music
Like listen to soul
It stopped raining
Made me think about music
Like listen to classical music
A woman went by; red dress, black sweater
Made me think about music
Like listen to rock and pop
It started raining again
Made me think about music
Like listen to heavy metal
The rain hit the artificial grass
Made me think about music
Like listen to electronica
The sun split the clouds
Made me think about music
Like listen to salsa
Like listen to cha-cha-cha
It started to rain; again
Made me think about music
Like listen to the last song; played
Last round in the pub
Last song played by the band
Last chance to follow her home
It made me think of a song
A song I know I don’t know
The song I don’t know how to sing
The song with “Corona; Corona” in the chorus
Me; I’m very happy
Because I don’t have to think about:
Music in the church
Song by a grave
Just waiting in line to register for college courses.
I did not relish such crowded coarseness.
Then, mon Dieux, my eyes fixed upon you, lost was I!
Your brown eyes, made me feel like I was flying in the rainbows
Of a star phantasmagorical sky.
No, I told myself, I was imagining such things...
But fate arranged our years together, beyond my limited imaginings!
We lived and loved together under sunny and rainy kweather.
We were somehow born to be soul-tethered.
Cooked quiche Lorraine, salads so divine amd kthe best part was,
at bedtime,
This old fashioned girl was thine, and totally shined.
You got me to attend the Old Town School of Folk Music and learned
to play guitar.
You introduced me to Second City, where I was to ibecame a minor
improvisational star.
We studied Baba Ram Das and went to sensitivity trainings.
My life with you was neither boring nor draining!
We blew weed and went to see the "Yellow Submarine", together.
Came out laughing so hard, we walked home in the rainy weather!
You gave me my first cat, Luvey, my first sweet Calico,
Hal, the fantastic, far-out life I had with you,was quite the show.
For my birthday, a book of great poetry ....Kahlil Gibran, so cool!
Thanks Hal, for loving me and never treating me like a fool.
I will forever hold you in my beating heart,
From my inner soul, there is a gem-filled Hal part!
With you, I was forever dancing on freshest air.
We were on the wings of time, a rare, loving special pair!
11- 13- 2020
There's an arch of music
Under the tranquil lighthouse
Glide towards me my beloved
We'll walk on the roads
Beyond that galactic sky
Wrapped under the cozy blanket
Of shimmering little guiding stars
The moon doesn't make a sound
We'll hide behind the cotton clouds
Each molecule will light up
Each one will dive deep
Into the enchanted midnight of our love
That would stay undeterred
Embrace me like sleep does
You'll peep into my heart
With your half-opened eyes
Hiding behind your palms
Like lazy sun rays of a Winter morning
We'll talk of folk music and tales
Beside the warm fire of our love
Where the dawn wouldn't end
And the night would never arrive
The golden dusk would go on
And if dusk ever ends
Dawn would sleep on
That enchanting midnight would go on
Hold me close when I can't sleep
Sing to me the lullabies of our love
My heart seems to be lost
Somewhere in those terrains
And you are still unaware
This anxiety dissolves me
More into you than I am
I have been floating around
In the silent depths of your eyes
And you are still unaware
That newborn pearls spill out
Of the lips of silver seashells tonight
And songs are getting drunk
Over the melodies of the past
The ocean sleeps under the
Blanket of her own waves
Yet I am awake
Drunk and drowsy with your love
But you are still unaware
I await your arrival
Under that arch of music tonight
May 15, 2020
BRIAN'S CHOICE D,any form,any theme
Winner: First Place
Today's Sounds
Music rolls off the banjo, bluegrass
Active cheery sound, gland it’s around,
Folk music in little town passed down by word of mouth;
Family remembers and other people too, and songs abound.
Symphony sounds dynamic notes through the grand hall,
Aria Nessun Dorma rapturous great joy emotion,
Opera transports to a lofty feeling, heavenly classical,
Piano music and classical guitar uplifting feeling locomotion.
Listen, echoing 14th century chant cathedral music,
Hymn captivating, baroque music alive to this day,
History’s not historical, it’s not even past; and organ rolls on,
Waltz smoothly wafts across the air through the dance hall bay.
Ice cream parlor music cheerful tunes with hot fudge sundae,
Oldies music reminiscence rock ‘n’ roll, jazz, country and western feeling,
Big band dance music, rhythm and blues, brass band thrill,
Gospel music, spirituals, and blues, highland healing.
Motion picture music score jumps high fidelity positive
Enjoyment, touching stereo button to instrumental music roll,
Relax in the day, easy listening music comfortable rest,
Sound waves motions ear drums, people listen alive soul.