Life Music Poems | Examples
These Life Music poems are examples of Music poems about Life. These are the best examples of Music Life poems written by international poets.
Etun Atay
The Sword of Stars pierces the veil,
To expose the universe to a holy female.
She will bring peace throughout the lands.
The shroud will lift and there will be a man,
Who walks alone all dressed in black.
The sun on his back is a chasing fireball,
And his only escape is in her mind,
If he can find and see through her eyes.
The two will meet in a moment of perfection.
The world will unite beneath the lights of Heaven,
Which reign down upon the throng of singers,
Who sing their songs to the unbelievers,
Who shall be convinced by a story of epiphanies,
That light up life like a rain of sunbeams,
Blinding the darkness,
Making all unseen to be seen,
Creating meaning,
Dreamers dreaming,
Silence the screaming,
For only joy can reign this day.
Glory, Glory, etun atay.
(C)2025 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Always
Can’t stop listening to ‘Always’.
In all ways I am under her spell.
Don’t want to quit thinking of future days,
Because right now I am free from my personal Hell.
I am walking in the light for love is glorious.
It is not asking to take anymore from us.
We are speaking without words, telepathic understanding.
I think about her and she let’s me keep on dreaming.
Lost in a moment of purity.
Not harmed by the truth of what is.
Living in a head of fantasy,
Is walking through air blowing bliss.
It embraces me with loving arms.
She holds me gently to keep me from harm.
I am day dreaming of a life so charmed,
That nothing can cause me to fear what could be, or what was.
(C)2025 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Man, there we were sitting in the front row,
this one night now a fantasy come true.
There is no way we could begin to know
in that moment what we would need to do.
A backstage pass you were able to go,
Prince let you in I had to fret and stew.
The Artist's spontaneous meet and greet,
woke up now I want a real life repeat.
A soft wind whispers
early September.
The year is passing
and you are closed
for good.
You were more
than brick and mortar—
You had a heart.
Now you rest in shadows
in the downtown.
You still bear the voices
of those who came in
for a burger or a drink
also playing video games
or sports.
I still hold in my heart
how you cared for
the servers working
their way through college.
They were the dearest friends.
But mostly I remember
the Friday nights when
I stood on the dining porch
and you urged me to sing.
I still hear the applause.
I still hold dear the night
when I painted a waterfall
while nursing a drink
in your loft.
O how a blank canvas came to life.
Each morning the sun shines
but your lights are off.
Sparrows dance in the sidewalk
and chatter by the front steps.
But as I drive and take a look
I sing my song for you.
A raw and calloused thumb
Sliding over steel
The sound of buzzing string
Is the only thing that's real
A kind and loving world
A place I saw on screen
That kind that won't exist
The kind that makes me scream
I strike another chord
I play until I bleed
It's the kind of sound I want
It's the kind of sound I need
To make it through the day
To make it through the week
To make it through my life
To lift me when I'm weak
I pay another bill
I write another check
I click another mouse
I'm at another desk
I wipe it all away
When I play the tetra line
I'm in another world
The kind of world that's kind
And, so, with the dawn
of a new night, we met
for song and dancing.
Stars are made for wishing...
while suns are dear sources
of life.
POWER OF THE IVORIES
~~~~~~~~~~~
I wrote this poem as a remembrance of my mother. Even when macular degeneration and diabetes took her eyesight, she continued playing her beloved piano. I often sat adjacent to her, watching her arthritic fingers dance pirouettes across the 88 ‘blacks and whites,’ lost in creativity and the music. Her pain temporarily dissolved, and she was at peace in her musical heaven, soulfully content.
She walks into the empty room
and sits down on the stool;
her heart engulfed with grief and gloom
from life that has been both kind and cruel.
She knows that she must persevere
though things seem dark and grey;
then wipes away a single tear
as she begins to play.
Familiar music soon takes flight,
her sorrows start to lift;
and so she plays into the night
and feels the music’s gift.
At last, she plays a soft reprise
and feels her gloom depart;
true solace found in ivory keys
That mended her broken heart!
Masthead Media Group
Chug Cramproll made his heelstand in Buffalou so the story goes.
He sprinkledd sand on a surface
and made percussion sounds to the amazment of an audeince.
The song "Mumbled" was used as his entrance theme.
It's beleived it was remixed to the standards
of Modern sounds to have
a edgey Urban feel. " Jive Talking" Cat Vamp was said to be his manager.
"Scatt " and Bebop accompanied them to the ring. Off the wire these sounds like
"oh-be Doo-Bee" with some "ahh-you ahh's"
the debutting sounds of reasons.
So Right" and Yubbia Yubbah"
modern talking swing grooves.
When asked about that debut he said
" I'm a fool to want you: you know
that's life: thats the way it's gotta be!"
Where's that Crooner man; WWhere's that Crooner?"
Zu Du-dum: ooh we!
ahh wee ah!
OOh-wee!
As the maestro meticulously draws sound from the strings,
Feelings and sensations the music brings.
A skilled violinist performing with skill,
Can lull your heart and make it still.
The maestro has a story to tell,
And with his violin he tells it well.
Quickly rising with a higher pitch,
Then fallings again as in a ditch.
Bow across strings faster and faster,
A building crescendo by the master.
Then the soothing of a softer sound,
A sense of release the artist has found.
It’s much like life with its ups and downs,
A revealing balance of smiles and frowns.
I'm a wild nomadic rocker
stratocaster guitar is my one true friend
~ trailblazing through this lifelong journey
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
Two Seven Four Poetry
Contest //Sponsored by: Charles Messina
( 2nd Place )
Written: August 23, 2025
strings hum
fingers drum
notes soar
echo roar
heart beats
soul meets
night sings
wood sings
tone rings
air bends
sound sends
fire glows
warm flows
life swings
chords leap
dreams seep
eyes close
spirit knows
hands play
tunes stay
time drifts
music flies
stars rise
strings dance
hearts glance
joy swells
song tells
world wakes
PETE THE PERCUSSIONIST
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
There once was a drummer named Pete,
whose rhythm was funky and sweet.
He dreamed of the stage,
a rock star despite his age.
His sticks, though, were clumsier than his feet.
He practiced with pots and with pans,
in hopes of a life with great bands.
With a crash and a boom,
he shook up the room,
Wishing for a gazillion and one fans.
He donned leather pants, shiny and tight,
and shouted, "Tonight, I’ll be outta sight!"
But when he would play,
the crowd ran away,
He understood ‘twas rock star’s plight.
Late November,
and lonely resonance of harmattan
salutes this solitude.
A weaverbird's contralto, in one
gale-sweep, lays bare the lower balustrade
of a maisonette,
and the romance of the last seasons
shoots the long throat of the clarinet...
O'classicals, on wings
ye come;
leaf cusps and petal ears —
classicals, swearing oaths of
mellifluous assembly...
Calm rhythms hasten to the
ears of Beethoven —
summon him for a serenade,
lest the dark shelter of a
decrepit day strips this solitude.
Anodyne hisses among
this hidden threshold,
curing and healing the weakness of
Clepoatra's hair, dampened with
the venom of haters of vanity.
Classicals,
rid us now of this grief of mundane
dances...
Even in death, Stravinsky hails solitude
on notes of the keys.
From the clarinet,
the bimetallism of barter —
the platitude of life and death
(symbiosis of percussions)
epitaph to the aftermath of
inveterate tradition —
now and forever...
And the clarinet looms.
Choose to live
When darkness falls upon you,
and, you can't see the light
Look to the maker of the stars,
to show the way
Sometimes the pain of heart is,
too much to bear....
Life can be beautiful...
despite the pain.
Chorus
Choose to live...
even when it seems
the whole world's against you
Choose to live...
forget about the pain
they've caused you
Choose to live...
Remember your life's
a gift from God,
and you don't have the right
to take it!
You may live in a mansion,
or a... cardboard shack
Life can be beautiful
either way
Affliction may bring you sorrow,
but... that's o.k
Look to tomorrow's sun to
shine a better day
Chorus
Choose to live...
even when it seems
the whole world's against you
Choose to live...
forget about the pain
they've caused you
Choose to live...
Remember your life's
a gift from God...
and you don't have the right
to take it!
Bridge
Everyone is beautiful,
in their own way...
look inside yourself
to find YOUR special gift!
Repeat chorus and fade
John Derek Hamilton
December 05,2021
Revised July 28 with music and vocals
We seem to be losing our famous entertainers so fast. Its not that they can last forever. But its that they must finish their talent in Heaven, where they can rest. The best part is that their recorded music lasts a life time. However, their bodiily existence is gone and we can't see them perform in person.
The new performers are good, and entertain our minds for the present. But the old ones we grew up with can never be forgotten or replaced.
So here's to you Connie, Beach Boys' leader. and all the others. Your music keeps us going. Keeps us believing, they were always on our minds.
See you when I get there, again. L-O-V-E.