Tuning Poems - Poems about Tuning

I tune out the news Just as much as I can, So I won’t have to hear When the s*^# hits the fan. But I still read the paper And catch little bits From the radio as every Story transmits. The migrants, the pardons, The Congress, the Court – Democracy fighting But coming up short. The voters who quoted The prices of eggs, Now twice as expensive, The question...

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While in deep sleep tuning fork synchronized circadian rhythm in pitch perfect qi while channeling the energy of Google exemplified by cute and cuddly moogle. I awoke from mid-day siesta exuding peaceful easy feeling total all encompassing bliss suffused body electric of mine. Ecstasy resonated within these lovely bones triggering subliminal stimuli from head to toe profound tranquility linkedin entire corporeal essence, what me worry mindset bundled...

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We are not going to recreate Wrestling in this jerks image! It's was said at a press conference. Look he's unified Twenty independents and he's looking to get everybody involvled. "We don't do that!" Well one of the "big League companies made a deal to have there Companies trophy to be put against " the...

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The stubborn frog was holding tight to the yellow zinnia She had abnormally long petals, so she kept him dry in spurts. However, her stalk was slippery. He kept sliding into the wet grass Let go! His wife said. “It is dry down here, under the mushroom.” But he had tuned her out for so many years, he could...

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you study the silences I survey all THE words each with their craft......

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Peeping down through the closed blind, reflecting moon spy-tease the created mind; manipulating the running of ebony-hued time, trying to canvas a poem with lines that rhyme. Now if you knew how to rap, this would be a snap but it’s not so easy in the wee hours, without a nap. Yet, when you’ve survived the trials of another day, It’s not really that hard to scribe what you need...

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Moon Tuning… Peeping down through the closed blind, reflecting moon spy-tease the created mind; manipulating the running of ebony-hued time, trying to canvas a poem with lines that rhyme. Now if you knew how to rap, this would be a snap but it’s not so easy in the wee hours, without a nap. Yet, when you’ve survived the trials of another day, It’s not really that hard to scribe what you...

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'The sounds of Earth is the music of my soul.’ I'm scrambling up the crumbling cliffs the Pacific ocean is raging below it's heaving about roaring and thumping then sucking back with strong undertow It crashes and spits onto the shore bubbling the sand as the sea sweeps by high above me the gulls skirl and whirl in scattered squall of high-pitched cry close...

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When soul and heart together together they hit the harmony life and love...

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I Why does the universe look the same no matter where we ( humans and telescopes) look? II The question is complex for this reason: an expanding universe from the Big Bang, has voids, columnar structure, and may be akin to the biggest sponge, between galaxies. III A possible answer is the theory of Inflation, and the role of theoretical.particles...

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When there be no inspiration Shrouded in gloomy darkness Upon our brow perspiration We shift into tranquil stillness Attention poised unexpectantly No one within now searching A throb within rises vibrationally Identity with universe connecting Thought rested limitations cease Within the world internal we dream Following the scent of love in ease Inspiration divine begins to stream We write although not the...

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When no longer self absorbed, as in with self serving goals, including striving for enhancing spiritual enableability, the body apparatus hollowed out, relegated to the role of a material interface to navigate earth life, presence integrated therein with lower and higher aspects of mind in alignment with the glowing heart, detached cessation thus of self...

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How blessing Moms? Her son a song to be Music to form his children All at homes to sit Together to sing...

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Tuning William Blake's Whistle by Michael R. Burch a musical prophecy, after William Blake I. Many a sun and many a moon I walked the earth and whistled a tune. I did not whistle as I worked: the whistle was my work. I shirked nothing I saw and made a rhyme to children at play and hard time. II. Among the prisoners I saw the leaden manacles of Law, the heavy ball and chain, the quirt. And yet...

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what mean it to say (you me or she he speaking) luck a life was saved that's all well and fine but what of tomorrows fates if the heart doesn't stop there are worse endings on this roller coaster life luck implies grace the living are blind grace and bad luck are made up it's all a logic makes the world go round reality mechanics keep yer engine tuned stan...

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