Unsung Song Poems | Examples
These Unsung Song poems are examples of Song poems about Unsung. These are the best examples of Song Unsung poems written by international poets.
Left slack at the edge of the violin,
an afterthought of gut and wire,
waiting for the bow that never descends.
Every note passes overhead
like birds stitching the sky.
The hollow body drinks their chorus,
yet no song grows inside this wood.
Ears open in the varnish,
dark mouths swallowing everything unfinished—
a concerto of failures,
a catalogue of unsung hours.
Different, always different,
not melody but margin,
not hand but handle.
Still the silence hums,
a taut ghost trembling
whenever others are touched.
What music it might have been
clings like rosin to the air,
faint, impossible,
vanishing before it begins.
Dying Young Lyrics by Eileen Manassian
I’m afraid of dying young
Of leaving things yet undone
I’m afraid I’ll leave this place
Yet not leave a single trace
I’m afraid I haven’t said
All that lives inside my head
I’m afraid I’ll disappear
And no one will hold me dear.
chorus
I’m afraid I’ve yet to touch ,The hearts of those I love so much
I’m afraid I’ll never see, Who it is I’m meant to be
I’m afraid, for can’t you see?, Not much time is left for me.
I’m afraid, oh, I’m afraid
Instrumental
Soon I’ll lie silent in my grave…
With my stories yet untold
With my dreams yet to unfold
With my songs yet unsung
With my words yet on my tongue
With my passion tucked away
With no more prayers left to pray
I’m afraid……
chorus
I’m afraid I’ve yet to touch ,The hearts of those I love so much
I’m afraid I’ll never see, Who it is I’m meant to be
I’m afraid, for can’t you see?, Not much time is left for me.
I’m afraid, oh, I’m afraid
Afraid
(Afraid)
Afraid
(Afraid)
Afraid
There is a piece I've longed to share,
which, up 'til now, I wouldn't dare,
where courage pushes fear aside
and shackles up my foolish pride...
To put to words, as much for me,
affection in simplicity,
and say those things I wished I could...
that chance may now be gone for good.
I near succumbed to COVID's wrath;
now, barricades deny clear path -
a bottleneck for oxygen.
So much to tell; where to begin?
A battle raged; a drawn-out war
that ended with a winning score:
I pulled ahead - a blessed reprieve;
the reaper's gone; yet, still, I grieve.
For scars remain; we coexist.
Not given up; I will persist,
but dreams? There was one 'mong the few:
to hold you close and sing for you...
A tune that melds our hearts together,
and keeps us warm through stormy weather,
a lullaby to ease all fear
and let you know how much I care.
But vocals won't cooperate;
on ev'ry nerve the raucous grates.
Those singing days are done, it seems;
some visions, sadly, dwell in dreams.
If fate insists that I must wait,
this voice will ring at Heaven's gate!
So, pardon, if I'm way off-tune;
at least, at last, Love will shine through!!
Jodie
5/23/25
Abandoned where aleatory fates immerse,
Exiled in the Whirlpool of Death we face,
Transcending a vanishing star's lost grace,
Leaving sanguine possibilities, a Time we curse,
Mirroring a microcosm of history in verse.
Perhaps in reaction, or rebellion, a world is born:
A world mirrored, where whims hold sway,
A candle's flame, twice bright, burns half its day,
Besotting fiction’s staple, known and long,
Dancing to its own drummer's vibrant song,
Problems, unpassported, its throng banish away.
The streak of cloud sounded out loud, "I shall be", the night, an unsung nuance, "shalom"
The ocean assured, "Landed indeed! Reverie, I'm no more and them!"
Sorrow they say,"Speechless we,all, Our may befall the muddy constellation and a hymn!"
and I heard, outcry, "Mingle in all en-compassing , and I , never long , elsewhere in entropy.
A world chants on, "In thine, heaven bestowed a greetings , upon, to greet"
A patsy churn, and the wind adores in high turn ,"For thee, with a lack,
Glowing lanterns are here, I am!"
The love,say," Immortal era and us, we are here, even though this is late.
We, sleepless."
Death crews on "I and thou, shall sail along the journey of life, in hamohharmony."
Incline your ear and press it to the earth dear soul on fire
feel the moist wet clod of God's rich dirt and don't speak a word;
Listen to the sound of your own heart beat
as it thrums through Mother nature's girth
move slowly, like the mollusk does
across The Sacred Land of its birth
Life is a song unsung, if you don't have love
so sing a canticle of Glory to the heavens
and for goodness sake look up child
recall the lullabies your mother sang to you
the Heroic Anthems of your Father's story
and let your song be heard
from the mountains high !
Life is a song,
incomplete, yet soothing—
lullabies lulling the world to sleep
with its balladic lilt, gently swaying
to the depths of its nomadic
syncopation.
Where I can subdue archaic
hieroglyphics in hues of
rose gold notes, invading my
tentative aura, glistening upon
tragic horizons,
for the wandering seekers,
freely waltzing to arias of the moon,
escaping unsung passages to
desolate wastelands,
where fiends roam in spite;
surviving the clusters of
rain drenched clouds,
draining the life out of
sunken nocturnes,
lost in cataclysmic paradoxes
overshadowed by waves of
monotonous soliloquy.
Yet I crave the aphotic harmonies of
its flesh and bones,
cocooned in the stillness of
shadows that align,
stonewalling the
world so bent on exposing me—
finding my true element,
inhabiting where life meets its end credits,
resuscitating sentiments long forgotten,
enabling me to breathe.
I hid my love, concealed it deep within,
Not out of reluctance to say those words,
“I love you,” but to forge a brand new tongue,
A language born of passion, all my own.
I yearned to write a letter, rhymed and sweet,
Each verse a note, a sign of boundless love,
A symphony of words, unsung till now,
To resonate with angels, awe-inspiring.
In their return, the angels would turn back to you
The echoes of a heavenly refrain,
A song forgotten, yet upon their ears,
Its healing balm would mend their broken hearts.
Alas, my efforts faltered, came to naught,
For though I meditated through the years,
In verdant jungles, pleading to the Earth,
To gift me with the melody I sought,
Nature sang me a song, divine and pure,
But in my mortal grasp, it slipped away.
Now, I stand before you lost and unsure,
Of how to express the depths of my love.
No words can capture all that lies within,
No verse or rhyme can fathom my desire.
Yet still, I strive to find a way to show,
The love that dwells inside, forever true.
To once again hear the renditions of the
songbird’s morning trill as leaves upon the
trees tremble in triad tones within the
moorside tempest; and lyrical waves in unsung
meadows symbolically crash against limestone walls
and telephone wires in viola whines
an archaic symphony.
© Harry J Horsman 2022
Cascade of golden thread,
inundating web of light
kindling fires of ecstasy,
as blossoms stretch to heights;
blushing shower of flowers
soon scent springtime’s spray.
Elysian babes in Gaia’s nursery
ringing silent laughter to the sun,
gifting hope despite the elements.
Sacred stories unsung to earth
glean sustenance from her womb;
a celebration of rebirth.
Rose of bleeding hearts desire,
you sweet perfumes are elation.
Garden caretakers work full-time
and hopeful dreams do not elude
the awakening spirit’s
sip of refreshing dew.
3-12-2020
Spring Showers or Spring Flowers Poetry Contest
Regina McIntosh
Victory is a song unwritten,
whose words beget the score
With truth in play, all time relayed,
past battles, future wars
Yesterday winless, tomorrow tied,
the moment zero sum
The hour prescient, each second dear
—glory still unsung
(Villanova Pennsylvania: October, 2019)
Dying alone,
a forgotten song
Last lyric unsung
—muted and gone
(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2017)
A song yet unsung,
my prayer in the wind
Its blessing assured
—eternity’s hymn
(Villanova Pennsylvania: January, 2017)
The greatest love song
written
never made airplay
Somewhere, shes
grinning because
she dances every time
she hears
"I've been missing you"
Inspiration occurs
when she's on my mind
inclination tips brain cells
towards new patterns
Sparking a realization
her matter is all that matters
I write lines
that produce elevated
energy cost,
Mentally, she gets me
heated
bodies need bundling
hearts protecting
My all-in is as deep as it gets
Metaphors
stab somewhere
in the vicinity of
eye rolls and bitten lips
Sweet soliloquy!
Shut the front door
The world can't handle
our volume
So lend me your ear
dance,
for all you need
bankrupt my existence
and be my ATM
It's true, the greatest love song
never made it beyond
just for her moments
Copyright pending
Bemoan the songs unsung for want of melody and tongue.
Bewail the sorrows unlamented and veiled, for want of a good sob.
Waffling silent tunes echoing and rattling in the cage, trapped unexpressed.
We humans can only hear the flaps and rustles of the unsung,
which roost like bats inverted, upended in trees unheard, cloaked, silent.
The unsung lie on the ground, unheralded, unapplauded, unlauded, quiet,
never played out.