Old soundtracks,
fairy memories
With some trill ...
laughter rang
Twilight rose's evening kiss
... through the childhoods eyes
There’s children growing up that believe the stars
sound like crickets chirping,
for their only exposure to these sources of wonder
are through over-exposure to blue light and radio waves
and soundtracks overlaying simulations.
The night they know
is bright as day,
lit by “satellite internet constellations”
or fogged out by the price of progress.
They don’t understand what it is to stare upwards
and be humbled in awe.
That’s what’s wrong with men today;
they never look up, never gaze around.
They only march forward on a path
marked with dollars instead of footprints
and fail to take heed of the wails around them.
But at least one day, when
we’ve siphoned the earth dry to fuel
“achievements”
(greed),
when the cities are burning from the debts of desire,
the children will look up at the stars that aren’t stars
and hear real crickets chirping
and they won’t be afraid of the end.
Once upon a time ago,
An act of marriage was made so.
Film and sound both intertwined
And made a movie when combined.
At first, colour was not in sight...
Merely greys of black-and-white.
Ceremonies made in silence
Without gratuitous sex or violence.
As time went on, movies evolved
With many contributors involved.
The inclusion of colour and soundtracks
Enhanced what some pictures would lack.
Cameras of stock and sprockets
Would eventually fit into pockets.
Anyone can perform marriage
These days with the correct carriage.
These words are a mere summation
Of imagination and inspiration
That cinema has given me...
Thank you for all I hear and see.
Mother tongue held in such high regard, not only words, tone is known.
Beating chests signal the end, well maybe in the mind of the ignorant.
Broken glass, and sweeping rubble make for the coldest of soundtracks to the nightly news.
Failing to heal without the bandage of community, fractured are the few.
Discontent and disavowed makes for passing headlines, while we continue to pull together to heal like ointment on a grazed knee, of a child fallen from a tree, or the swollen flesh of a arm got by an ant, wasp or bee.
Talking, listening isn't all that we need?
If it was not for words
there'd be no poetry.
Can a veiled muse survive,
unable to release
poems that make us thrive?
If it was not for words.
Can we cope being mute
when hearts have to suppress
reasons behind sorrows,
teardrops cannot express.
If it was not for words.
There would be no lyrics,
only background soundtracks.
No songs to soothe our souls
or help tired minds relax.
If it was not for words.
How will eyes view nature
when art fails to describe
moon, blooms, angst or romance?
Nothings left to inscribe.
How I wished, free flow of wheels
No words to tell , "how it feels".
When vehicles swish
Well, well, well!
This is what I relish.
How I missed, the rumble and rush
Noisy Wide tyres! are my first crush
Fizzing of tyre
Well, well, well!
My Heart's on Fire.
How I mixed the soundtracks
Made by different crackerjacks
Brakes and clonks
Well, well, well!
Those frequent tonks.
How I loved those droning hums
Whinin' poppin' or screechin' ones
The drumming and hissing
Well, well, well!
Those wet roads n' tyres slipping.
How I longed to be awake
For me, there was no escape
Now back with all my might
Well, well, well!
Tales of travels we'll write.
#?? #?? #?? #?? #?? #??
Note: National Highway in India remained blocked for more than a year due to farmer's protest against some laws??
#FarmersProtest
#nationalhighway
#poorcommutors
#poetrylove
#AABCB
#onomatopoeia
#personifyingNH9
Please, bright holidays - summon irresistible cheer
that dancing souls can celebrate with free hearts.
Let hallow'd observances pass with seasonal soundtracks, tinsel-prismed
cascades of multicolored lights and evergreen scents.
Too often these days, our joys seem hostage held
by some fearsome heaviness, like that of a guilty thing.
Give wholesome nights back their power to charm,
enjoy festive feelings, and pass those, as gifts, on to others.
soundtracks of my youth
lyrical triggers hypnotic
deeply etched in my heart
drift the melodies of memories
AP: Honorable Mention 2022
Submitted on July 26, 2020 for contest FOUR LINES sponsored by CONSTANCE LA FRANCE - RANKED 1ST
Some songs die when they aren’t sung
Each having a life that is not done
For the soundtracks of your life
Keep the faith in times of strife
I remember the happy sounds of my youth
Did we know the truth?
And even the sad ones near your heart
Will help your grieve in its part
So sing your favourites out loud
Make them all strong and proud
For they are your life each one
Taking you back to love and fun.
© Paul Warren Poetry
the soundtracks of my youth ramble
through the back alleys of my mind
bygone feelings in a scramble
stirring old childhood memories
cerebral meanderings in kind
thrust my heart into a shamble
dulcet escape from daily grind
old melodies as preamble
reminiscing years left behind
entice a bittersweet gamble
stirring old childhood memories
Published in my 24-page photo/anthology book ~LOOKING BACK~ 2023
AP: Honorable Mention 2021
Submitted on May 9, 2020 for contest BRIAN'S CHOICE 8 sponsored by BRIAN STRAND - RANKED 3RD
on March 10, 2019 for contest 2019 POETRY MARATHON MILE 23 sponsored by MARK TONEY
and February 9, 2019 for contest WRITING CHALLENGE, FEB 2019 ROUNDEL FORM sponsored by DEAR HEART
A frequenter of concert square
A consumer of ecstasy
Thus was how I begot my teenage kicks
A cocktail mix of pills and beer
On a Saturday night
Bound for club
To dance away
Human traffic
Writhing to the soundtracks of the summer of love
Inside the dome of a super club
As God is my D.J
A child of Robert Miles
Faithless insomniac
I cant get no sleep
My ears bled from the beat
Starring into my bedroom ceiling
In the dark my pupils arch
Back to the strobe lights
I lay in wait
Counting sheep
Still underneath the chemical spell
Pulsations in my veins
The birds who chirp
And dawning sun that thaws between my curtain
Is the price the riders must pay
The entry tickets
When going out to play
With drugs inside your system
Mike drop!
Just because the thought you have ran into overtime
You don't have to play as if rhymes do not rhyme
Thrill without skills
Techniques with out beats
Beds pulled down access with out sheets
Beat hold up repeats
Devastated as Skip chased knight rider black streets with out leaps
Peep game recognize game like monopoly without a same
Turn with sand burns
Park avenue with out turns
Dill lard cooks turn
Burn backs of chill burn
Bluto olive ships stern
Pop eyes Gargamel Smurf son
Shirt stocky like Rocky bull run
Chosen chapels like priest son
Choir shirts with out pleats son
Example related question interrogate that son
Open Sesame street son
Big bird in trees without flowing tweets son
Literally drac cue the curtains ready for action applaud Oscar award son
Tony hip hop the skip scotch top charts with who son
Dedicated related to you
Pushed back with hit tracks soundtracks eight black
Two streets with Maybach's
Sandy skilled take that
Blowing winds made that
Frosty Pebbled laced that
Lyrical that made that
Energized happy
Changes snappy
Speeding trains
Traveling the same
On a journey
For favorite scenes
Random choices
New soundtracks
Spark emotions switch gears
Swallow fears
Exchange glances
Taking chances
Spending the day
In a usual way
Time spent
Going the distance
To journeys end
By duskfall, I cruise with the sky,
throwing life’s pebbles unto ripples
of yearning… and she lifts her veil against
the moist air fondling the blue of night
unto my pale meadow…she whispers
before an interlude, refreshing my senses;
a warm potion to my languid thoughts
and pierced refrains, delicately whisking
shadows and cluttered notes: her luster
bequeathing new facets of hue
and a gleam for sweet beginnings
reaching for my wet skin with a melody
like a passage from tear's soundtracks,
then to grasp my wish on her halo.
Laying on columns of grass, I rise
to feel the sky cruising with me in the meadow.
Craig Cornish's Debussy Contest
6/10/2014
.
Pursuing a solo career turned out to be a great choice.
Laura was gifted with a strong alto voice.
From upstate New York, this fine lady came.
Her prolific songwriting talent launched her to fame.
We saw that overwhelming success coming true
with the release of “How Am I Supposed to Live Without You”.
Laura’s biggest number one hit was “Gloria”.
That one lasted a long time on the charts in America.
Two other song hits the public would extol,
were the popular “Solitaire” and “Self Control”.
For several film soundtracks, she contributed many a song.
The list of acknowledgements and awards is certainly long.
Unfortunately, this talented artist is not with us anymore.
Laura sadly passed away back in 2004.
I thank both wikipedia.org online encyclopedia and LauraBraniganOnline.com for information I obtained to write this poem.
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