Country Music Poems | Examples
These Country Music poems are examples of Music poems about Country. These are the best examples of Music Country poems written by international poets.
On 2025.04.04, in "Music and relationship".
I wrote
"The thing was, I supposed to find a song,
Not to be given from someone.
This was the first time,
It was strange and I wonder if it would happen again."
Well, it has not happened again,
And properly it would never be.
I had been playing Brahm lullaby
Ever since, but without singing it along,
And without JC heard the lyrics of the song.
Four months and four days later, 2025.08.08,
As requested, I was playing a song,
And as I played on, I felt the lyrics,
Suited for me to describe our relationship,
As I always do in the past to others,
I messaged JC about this,
Knowing him never received or read it.
"Hello, was it me you looking for?
I could see it in your eyes,
I could see it in your smiles.
You were all I ever wanted to help me,
To write my poems and sing my songs,
To travel around Victoria country towns,
Then Sydney icons' places,
And finally Australia and may be Overseas...
I know you never read this message.
Nevertheless, I write to confide
As I still remember you."
SONG
Music
Melody
Country music bloom
Rhythm still resonates
A door to my father's heart
“Songs from the heart are timeless seeds”
August 14, 2025.
Classical is from the Middle Ages
in the mid-1940's we had Bebop
a fast-tempo 19th / 20th century Jazz
then along came Doo-wop
with group harmonies
the 50's brought us rock and roll
which developed the 1960's
(sad to say) Disco and its glitter ball
then psychedelic pop rock
blues and folk rock
and in the 1970's it was Hip-hop
and also Rap
which was misspelt
it should read 'Crap'
the 1980's were synthesised
1990's gave us Garage and Grunge
2020's saw online streaming
by the record industry which makes me cringe
Country music (C&W) too (hit or flop)
I know it's true I left out (Reggae) more than a few
but no matter the genre tempo or key
the self-same seven notes do it for eclectic me
Horn Music
In the late forties and middle fifties
horn music and military marches tunes
were often parlayed in the town's park
and we lived nearby and bore the brunt
of this noisy music
to complain was not easy as the music
was seen as an expression of freedom
chasing the German army out of our
cherished country, admittingly with
the help of the Russian army, the
British took the credit
Horn music is simply horrible to enjoy
the noise one has to be unmusical
one would think the noise had stopped
with the arrival of modernity, rock and roll
and Elvis Priestly, but no
I was invited in the eighties to read a poem
in Oslo. When my turn came to read
the horn orchestra struck up.
Life is a song, my phone blasting the beat
With rock, travel quickly; with country, feel sweet.
And Classical makes aristocracy an attainable treat!
But I like the words, so powerful, true
Whether making me happy or making me blue
The poetry of song reaches the all, not the few.
So turn on the radio and soak in the vibe
Something for every person, family, or tribe.
Life is a song — sit back and imbibe!
2025
COUNTRY honky-tonk happening
3d music bot that makes hearts swoon
Is what I’d leave melodies on the moon
Musical notes float like a magical mirror
Reflecting views of places applicable to each song
The notes can gather and form a body that dances
Or dissolve like sand to create lands sang about
For instance a song about the sea would be watery
The notes would create an ocean with sandy floor
Coral and sea critters swim in harmony with notes
The same notes that glow when played
Or the music may stop as an audio bops of
A jazz or opera singer pauses for emphasis
The view would be of anyone anything
Related to musical production 3d limitless
First a low lone bell chimes to alert the mind
Of a melody about to unwind like a clocks time
Then strings blend like a waterfall of rhythm
Coloring each note as a glowing universal ghost
Ghosts of civilization past present and future
Each song moves along melting into the next
Which could be a country song or a monk chanting
The magical notes twirl and float melting into the end
For it softly samples all music with minds open
On Tuesday night, you could hear music playing
old country songs, I knew right from the start
I listened to, all the words they were saying
with stories of an aching, breaking heart
I never knew, there were boot scootin’ angels
all dressed in their mid-western, clothes and styles
in that old bar, filled with root-tootin’ angels
no prairie for at least, 4,000 miles
On Tuesday night, when I heard music playing
old country songs, I knew from long ago
I sang along, to the words they were saying
and felt I’d stepped into, a rodeo
That Mary-Lou, was a boot scootin’ angel
all dressed in her mid-western, clothes and style
she was the queen, of those root-tootin’ angels
with her Stetson hat and Texan smile.
Truly a masterpiece of 'less is more',
a distinct album cover one should explore.
Little more than a handful of lines
of a galloping horse - minimal design.
A form so neat, so deft, so clean,
cutting a fine figure, suggesting a shape unseen.
It later became the de facto logo
of the American country-rock band Poco.
The red eye - a solitary splash of color,
small yet distinct on the mostly white cover.
Ten letters on the front - not exactly wordy;
beautiful cover - just don't get it dirty.
The image projects tremendous energy,
but the mostly mellow music brings back pleasant memory.
Forever Elvis
The guy with the pelvis
lives on, and on, and on, and on.
in the hearts of his fans he’ll never be gone
He was a guy who knew how to sing
Gyrating his hips was his special thing
When performing on stage
The crowd would rampage
It’s no wonder they call him “the king “
From gospel tunes to rock and roll
Folk and Country, blues and soul
Near fifty years since he’s been gone
But his memory and music still live on
Twilight
Tranquil country summer.
Smell the sun baked soil and thirsty blades of grass eager for the dew.
Easy. Simple. Unhurried.
Slowly swaying to nature's musical
Crickets fiddle, marsh Frogs hum bass drum and Cello trill vibrations Under bare, dirty feet.
Cattail castanets tapping to the beat.
A thrill for all the senses as the light show begins…
Each flash keeps tempo, twinkling in delightful dance!
Unveiling moments of simple summertime magic.
These nights, every blessed childhood lullaby, sweetly remembered.
Mere words cannot express
The depths of my respect
And how I mourn the fact that he's not here.
His open, honest smile,
His friendly country style,
Of course his voice and music keep him near.
As kids, on Thursday nights,
My dad turned down the lights
And by a roaring fire we'd sing his songs.
I've such dear memories...
We'd sing to his LP's
Until, at last, our bedtimes came along.
Oh, how those songs inspired
And lifted my heart higher
Each time my mundane life would drag me down.
And truly I believe
It cannot be just me
Who wishes that he could still be around.
So, here's to Brother John!
He's never really gone
As long as somewhere someone shares his songs!
He was one of the best
So may his soul be blessed!
His many fans will keep his mem'ry strong.
It’s always been a dream of mine
To walk down country roads with you
With sunshine on my shoulders
back home again to what I knew
I grew up in the mountains
The Rocky Mountains high
Where every day was diamond
Neath the wide Montana sky
We all would visit grandma
In a much loved old homestead
Where grandpa played his old guitar
To the kids in the feather bed
The wings that fly us home
Are the wings of love and joy
When memory comes a-calling
Thank God I’m a country boy
My old guitar has traveled many miles,
And seen its fair share of tears but many more smiles.
Its listeners vary – some will stop and stay,
While others, in a rush, turn and walk away.
The melodies it sings, and the emotions it projects,
Take us back to an earlier time, or a memory we can’t forget.
Her mellow tone resonates across the room,
Filling the expanse with delights of our favorite tunes.
It may not have a mind, but some say it has a soul,
Her feelings emerge in rhythms of country, blues, or rock-n-roll.
She may be old, but she remains firm and strong,
She’s always there to get me through whatever comes along.
She is almost as old as I but still a star,
I’ll always be so thankful for my old guitar.
Clearly in my memory,
a moment of discovery,
in spiritual revery,
and I was not alone.
A kid, when I first heard his sound,
with mountains all around,
it was something new I found,
Country Roads had brought me home.
Two hours each way by bus,
eight hours washing pots, and thus,
life was hard, monotonous,
and the days were long.
I was just eighteen years old.
In school, I should have been enrolled,
but in my head, a voice of gold -
I heard Annie's Song.
Those were many years ago,
and I am moving oh so slow.
I don't have too much to show.
My life is almost done.
Too early, you said your goodbyes,
but you help me see it rise,
for my shoulders and my eyes,
the shining of the sun.