Singer
Haiku
Beautiful old woman
Singing at the shower room
Dogs are howling
Maybe it just got the best
Of everything I can't confess.
Little Things never put my mind to rest,
They just make it too tired to address.
All my confusions I must confess,
That I'm just too tired to address.
And these poems just pass the time
'Till these lines just get old and die.
So save me one more wasted breath
About how He's your ugliness.
Maybe then I'll set you free,
But who will share that sympathy.
One day it'll all just be memory.
Another chapter in this life,
Set in stone I'll write it right.
And these poems just pass the time
'Till the lines just get old and die.
Now save me one more wasted breath
And savor all that we have left.
In the name of love
she makes the same old mistakes
every time he lies
but it's all the same
as she runs away with hopes
it'll work this time
Just to realize
love is whack in the heart of a woman
truly believing the lie of a man
he strips her of love
as she refuses to lie down and die
accepting a burning bleeding red rose
she stares at the stars
no longer evident in his dull eyes
wondering who is he saving them for
just to realize
In the name of love
she makes the same old mistakes
every time he lies
but it's all the same
as she runs away with hopes
it'll work this time
In old East Putnam
A very long time ago
Mother sang this song to me
Oh so soft and low
It's just a simple ditty
She sang rocking in her chair
my mind still wanders,
Back to that old farm again
I feel her a hugging me
As she did back then
Her voice would be a hummin
As she'd rock me in her chair
For Ancient Song contest
5/7/7/5/7/7 5/7/7/5/7/7 2 Stanza's ONLY
CHANGES
You've changed your song again and sing it through
I hear it in the night it clings to me
just as the song before, the same old you,
yet different are the words and melody.
Though you've re-done your hair, and beautif'ly
and how you walk and talk is all brand new
you've changed the way you whisper things to me
so different, yet it's still the same old you.
In all my life I feel the you in me
and changes you have made in all you do
though different in your way, you'll always be
lifes tragedy and still the same old you.
Though changes that you make seem fresh and new
I see you in your light the same old you.
Thinking is meaningless,
When you think about it.
What is it used for?
People think things
But never do them.
So, thinking is obsolete
Like an old game or an old car.
So, why think?
When you always do something different.
I've found a man I want to share my life,
please set me free so I can be his wife;
when she said it I had nothing to say,
I looked at her and she was on her way.
Since she left the days had been so long,
there is so much sadness in every song;
her memory can’t ease away the pain
and no more will I ever see her again.
It is so strange to see an old love die,
teardrops fall at the closing of the door;
it is just so sad to find an empty floor,
it is so strange to see an old love die.
I gave my all but just the same I lost,
after the smoke cleared I paid the cost;
in the end when all is said and done,
she is not here we'd no longer be one.
Now she is gone I try hard to forget,
though it's all over there is no regret;
she soon shall be a page in history,
a sad refrain of a haunting melody.
Years had passed since we had
our last glimpse of each other
and memories are not enough
to bring back the good old days.
Remember how we used to shout
and howl when we hit the jackpot,
playing cards, wasting our time
all through the long lonely nights.
Well, after all those years,
it’s nice to see you again,
good to see you, old friend,
you haven’t changed at all;
the boy in you is still there
after all this time, hey, yes,
it’s nice to see you, old friend.
Remember how mom would holler
to call you home for supper;
we cried a lot each time we saw
our kites escape to the highest sky
and we’re left with just the strings.
We used to dig rhythm & blues,
John, Paul, George and Ringo;
why, they were our fans,
they’d clap their hands,
so awed by our guitars.
Well, after all those years,
it’s nice to see you again,
good to see you, old friend,
you haven’t changed at all;
the boy in you is still there
after all this time, hey, yes,
it’s nice to see you, old friend.
Hey, I'm so glad to see you again.
same old story as ever told before
girl meet boy they fall in love
two months later shes with his buddy harry
hasnt this tale been told enough
wreckless smiles cloud a misty hallway
as our hero walks into her deadly trap
chained to a cross as she taunts him with his best friend
as the ground crumbles beneath his feet
mother please will you wake me from this nightmare
lock me away far far from here
dreams become useless at a certain distance
like a crosshair on a gun
same old story as ever told before
girl meet boy they fall in love
two months later shes with his buddy harry
hasnt this tale been told enough
just the same old story
just the same old story
To Kerstin from Sweden
My train is singing
the song of roads.
I see through a window:
Yellow and red trees
are seeing me off
with sorrowful, mysterious eyes.
The wet from a rain,
the bushes,
the grass, and October’s flavours,
are telling me,
«Maybe
we shall never meet again.»
I am looking through the window,
There are a lot of old little houses
under ramshackle, black roofs
in lonely, poor villages.
They are looking at this train,
and at of me in this window.
There aren’t many people in these villages,
Almost never is children’s laughter heard here.
But I think, somewhere,
two old persons, a man and a woman,
are watching the TY program of Sweden,
And after that they are traveling
in their thoughts and dreams, to that country.
But they heard nothing
about two Swedish people: Kerstin with Olle,
about their little red house,
about horses and the fields nearby.
Yellow and red trees
are seeing me off
with sorrowful, mysterious eyes.
My train is singing
the song of roads.
Along the street I go.
Day has ended,
and warm Sunday evening
puts its own scarf
on the shoulders of the earth.
He has dressed the city
with secrets of meetings.
I see many people:
They are both young and old.
They walk cheerfully
And they know nothing about me! –
Where I live, how old I am.
What I do and what I know. –
It is not interesting to them.
«Hi, people!» –
Stop, look back,
Give me your smile, please!
Suddenly they all will stop,
And they all will get acquainted with each other:
What is your name?
What do you like to read?
Have you frequently been invited by friends?
What kind of dreams do you have?
There will be so many kind words!
«Hi!»,
Suddenly Boris Orlov will say to me,
And I shall answer,
«Hi!»,
But in this moment, a magic has ended.
Again flows of people walk along the street:
the young and old people who walk cheerfully,
and they know nothing about me.
And It is not interesting to them,
Not at all.
And a circus is again:
lights, laughter and cheerful music,
as it was many years ago.
I go before many people
in my old clown dress.
I laugh my painted smile,
I hasten from station to station.
The spectators dare to laugh
At my mistakes,
and at my incorrect steps.
The graceful gymnasts
represent their own work beautifully.
and spectators passionately applaud them.
I want to make something fine, too.
Allow me! I shall be able!
I try hard not to fail.
But I have fallen again.
I am afraid to lift my eyes.
You may be joyful and have fun,
You may laugh at me!
I want to run from this arena,
I want to run from you all –
to my childhood, to mom,
to our old garden.
But I cannot find an exit
And I run again
along a secluded, closed circle.
I do not distinguish day from night.
I run and pray
to an unfamiliar friend,
Who will help to find an exit,
and rescue me.
I once was your Armageddon, your mystic legend
Times we argued, realized it was foolish and grinned
Times we laughed, time is a luxury we do not have
Let us old hands old man
The lady beside you, she sang a beautiful tune
The things we don’t want to lose
The loved ones we hate, similar to the above sons mate
The people we want to please
Those we set a perfect yet fragile image
Only to be later ceased
Precious moments we so desperately want to keep
Shh! You speak as though you’re never coming back
But I will not return, best wishes, Ur angel of sadness
I’m a survivor
I work miracles, I was yours
I was everything and nothing anyone would care for
I am still your Armageddon, your mystic legend
My objectives to make you laugh, smile, and mourn
Your rapture, warriors of eternity, a child lost and torn
Mission suffered massive failure
Let us hold hands this final hour
For your misery is ours
You can say you loved him
You can say you placed no other above him
Despite how it sounds
The individual will everyone around him
Is the loneliest person around
In memory of those whom titled him “Angel of Sadness”
VERSE-1:
Under the Pennsylvania skies,
In a town where I was Born,
Stands an old red covered bridge,
Where sweethearts Love and cry,
The water ripples down below,
The moon shines bright above,
Sweethearts kiss and share their love,
As their eyes give off a glow.
CHORUS:
The old red covered bridge,
Stands Raggedy and worn,
Withered from the storm,
Up across the ridge,
That old red covered bridge,
Still stands there on the ridge
That's where I gave my heart,
And promised to never part,
VERSE-2:
In the sky above the bridge,
Shining in their eyes,
Glistening stars across the ridge,
Twinkle as the night goes by,
So when I come I bring my love,
To the place that holds the truth,
And every kiss will be enough,
Underneath the roof.
CHORUS:
The old red covered bridge,
Stands Raggedy and worn,
Withered from the storm,
Up across the ridge,
That old red covered bridge,
Still stands there on the ridge
That's where I gave my heart,
And promised to never part,
I love the song of my old music box
Singing the tune of Joyful Joyful
Everytime I'd open it
There was the song, so simple
But so beautiful
I love when it would just open up a new light
Although I've been through a lot that day
Just hearing the sound of the song
The song which reminded me of love
Love so beautiful
I love the way it would brighten up the sky
I mean, everytime I'd open that Music Box
There, looking out my window, was the sun
The sun grazing the depths of the cement and grass
The landscape so beautiful
I loved it when it would make me smile from the deepest frown
I loved it when it would sound the song of the Triumphant and Brave
I loved it when I would open it and it play
I loved it when I would let it ring for hours, and hours a day
But that I have grown from my younger years
I can see myself walking further away
But as I fade into the dark, dark light
I can still hear my old Music Box
My old Music Box singing its song
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