Tune Poems - Poems about Tune

Natures’ Tune A path shadowed with darkened clouds Even the perky noon couldn’t reveal its’ paths Entrapped in a dreaded maze sealed from the soothing wind With each distorted step leading to a saddened end I mused staring at the timorous waters receding away from my feet Gawking with anxious desire I watched the twerking wave quietly caressing the sandy shore ...

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"The stars beckoned her song to reach the crescent moon" In a quiet glade where the willows weep, And fireflies dance as the world finds sleep, A girl with cheeks like a rosy bloom Would sing to the stars by the silver moon. Her hair was long, like a raven’s flight, It shimmered soft in the hush of night. Her skin was...

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Inspired by Prince Roger Nelson's song : When Doves Cry Grey clouds hover over my wasteland, the desert languishes in the heat of craving, deprived of the tuneful rain, until you arrive with drizzling breeze. In your pulsating embrace my heart’s oasis resounds with the symphony of desire. As the pristine patina of radiant roses flushes your crimson cheeks, rhapsody...

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June June June June.... is out of tune with imploding doom unJe uJne Juen June....is out fo nute tiwh lpidmgino dmoo… mdoo omod oodm mdoo... si ni nuet tihw expoidnlg oglom doom doom doom doom... is in tune with exploding gloom ...

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The earth requires it there. The poets do not like the lyrics. As the tsunami approaches the lands The poem integrates without a solution. As the summit talks upheld information Global warming, tariff continues debating: China not backing down, and we, the poets Surprisingly asking what’s next? A poem like this doesn’t comprehend That earth requires it there, Make it make sense, this Tariff war...

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It's funny. The mind goes there and back, Switching between lyre to inspire - And the sober thoughts of black. If all I love is theory, And if all I know is fiction, Then why do eyes get teary, To the tune of my prediction? I could dream a thousand times, And play the songs that flow. If nothing else at least it rhymes, With...

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• Hum a little tune • As you wait for the bus • When it sings something wretched • Don't stir up a fuss ...

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Six enlightened tunes Eight melodies of virtues To become acclaimed In the ten skies of the Church This is the eternal bell This poem is about a 1,200 year old Manichaean bell (and its inscription) found in Ordu-Baliq (Capital of the Uyghur Khaganate). ...

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Still as the wind who sings breathless praises to the tune of a softly glowing moon, stars whispering to the night, twinkling graceful abiding in the music, a soothing rhythm erasing the anxieties, the doubts, the fears wiping away the darkness, the gentle tears with a beautiful melancholy, a promise that appears when twilight fades to darkness and the trees sigh, praising...

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Shadow dancing, her heart stirs in the still memories flood her mind embraced by the journey celebrations of love and life, softly playing in soundless cries still as the effervescence sparkling on the seas, rushing to meet the beach in noisy dreams, echoing through her breathless heartbeats… shadow dancing, the sands erase the dreams as silence feeds the memories quenching the thirst of yesterday’s peace flowing through the spirit chasing...

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"before my eyes dropped their shades for the night I heard the nightingale singing" ...

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To the man with a skillful hand and a loyal brush, take my words and bring them to life for me. Paint me a grand piano, with tiles so clean they form a beautiful smile, gracefully greeting the skillful hands that have come to play. You will give it stable legs, thick and made of steel,...

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Sunflower Meadows was a place of mystical beauty, green and abloom. That's where seven-year-old Ava lived, like laughter and spicy perfume. Ava lived with her parents and three siblings, like stars dance together; And she loved golden, nursery rhymes, like sunshine, carnival pleasure. Their farm was small but busy, and all of the family had sundry chores. Ava collected eggs...

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The start is marked by a gravy weapon, Puppy barks answer the trumpets' call. The muzzle is loose, whispers are free, The light shines through the metal canvas wall. Gold insulation, thin as wool, The warmth is hard to find. The ember processor cools, And the processor servant leaves the silicone. A penthouse phallus on the street of rape The laptop is for the...

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The jury said the defendant was guilty So the judge ruled 30 days in the klinky If you visit the slammer He'll be in his pyjammers Playing a wee tune on his dinghy ...

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