Music Verse Poems | Examples
These Music Verse poems are examples of Verse poems about Music. These are the best examples of Verse Music poems written by international poets.
I hate the way you make my heart skip a beat each time you smile.
I hate that blue twinkle in your eye when you're about to speak.
I hate how my skin tingles when you gently stroke my hand.
I hate the way you rush to greet me because you say you missed me so.
I hate that music in your voice each time you're saying something sweet.
I hate the slight curl in your lips when you're about to say you love me.
I hate the way you call me sweetheart as the moon's about to rise.
I hate how natural it is for your arms to wrap around my shoulders.
I hate how calmness falls upon us when words are nowhere to be found.
But most of all, I hate the way you make it hard for me not to love you back.
My mind a cave of favorite characters
And greatest hits
A life time of connections and sidekicks
Frank Zappa plays the soundtrack
In a tumble of tightly compressed acoustic riffs
A genius long gone, but ever present
When he’s done he says,
In tightly compressed electronic bytes
“May we burn it all down.”
And I wake refreshed
To another day, another dawn.
(9/17/26)
Wily fraudster of the thicket,
feathered minstrel of the garden.
The mimic master of pilfered music,
the avian clown brings joy
with echo of tunes, not owning.
did you see it?
good luck to you
take a sound recording of the gurgling under the kitchen sink
if you play that backwards you will find
it is an interpretation of an inversion
play it back and forth
it's actually Beethoven's 5th.
like Smoke on the Water
in an encouraging interview, the guitar player
was both humble and forthcoming
my son in his music lessons
will listen to samples of classical music
selected by the teacher
i've encouraged him to ask as the piece ends
to raise his hand and say,
'now play that backwards.'
Inspirations come within our knowledge
Changing sky's colours
Non-musical dancing of the leaves
The pursuing sun's motive
The hearted kiss of the grass on my pants
Man's changing strange behaviour
The taming of the wild animals
And the imbedding strange interest in my heart
don’t keep me warm
in late summer
3 AM is never kind
to any insomniac
In the morning
I mix memories and dreams
like cocktails full of promise
that make living lovely
In mid-September,
half of us are changing into
beautiful colors:
crimping crimson,
edges and cleaner centers,
brown-spotted
wrinkling yellow
(not just the leaves)
I thank God for the breeze
that makes lesser-weighted things
dance as if there was more
than music to live for
His light, falls gently
Erasing the melancholy
The summer’s grief
Restless praises, stirred
By the music of a grace
Beyond the heavens,
Where love can amaze….
Sweet notes of praise,
On lips of leaf and life
When starlight trembles
Keeping away this strife…
Autumn’s brisk light
Falls across the night
Where melancholy
Whispers to a moon so bright,
Streams of tear like dewdrops
Rest on the soul who knows
Whatever comes in this life
God above will exalt…
Every heart who remembers
He is One who knows me best
And, with Him, life is forever blessed!
I was sitting on a three legged stool
Somwhere in the middle of ninteen seventy
nine.
Milking, by hand,a cow in the byre
When I heard, Gangsters ,
A song by the Bristish Ska band,
The Specials
On the transistor radio.
And it's like when you fall in love
Or when you recieve an unexpected gift.
Music is the gift that,
Keeps on giving.
Im forever falling in love
Over and over again.
Never say never, always say "perhaps;" unless it's a
Wedding, a funeral, or your daughter's v-ball game.
Never say never, instead say "maybe."
Never feel forced to use rhyme, tired is the fad despite the ear's need
To smile at the sound of music; rhymes are for the dullard,
Like Dr. Seuss and Mother Hubbard.
Never say never to your kids lest your aim is to model
Human folly & the grace-skill of Forgiveness.
This will all be over soon so please don't cry.
Y'know this whole poem goes way better with chicken stir-fry.
Yes, Deirdre Harrison, yes
I sang that song to my son
for years before he asked me to stop
I love you too,
Billy Holiday
"I'll always think of you that way"
in the way I hope my son
remembers me
when the trumpet plays its solo
and lesser sounds stop
This cabaret has cleared out
and the carousel has stopped turning circles
but "when the night is new"
I will find the corners
of the moon
and the meaning
of a strangely shaped life
The jingle-jangle of coins in the cash register
and the ringing of the bell
The click-clack of the Smith-Corona*
and the ringing of the bell
The raw power and whistled shriek of the locomotive
and the ringing of the bell
The ringing bell of the telephone call
schools now use a buzzer – not a bell
Is it a better world today without these forgotten sounds
~ and without the ringing of the bell
_____________________________________________________________
*An obsolete upright, manual typewriter. (Sniff, sniff).
Dancing blind is what they called us,
we both had two left feet.
I moved on the dance floor,
then she followed me gracefully.
Awkward it became,
as they laughed at us.
We did not care,
as we held each other tight in love.
In love with each other,
in love with the rhythm of the music.
In our last big turn,
our canes showed.
The room went silent,
only the music could be heard.
Now they knew we were blind,
but not by the music or by our feet.
I'm in my Easter bunny outfit
fitting right in with the crowd.
If I close my eyes I hear the disco music
and blend in with the other groupies.
Life is simple as we parade our youth,
just another bunny without a care in the world.
AP: 3rd place 2026
Some nights,
the color of music
is barely a shimmer~
a pale wash of sound
brushing the air
like moonlight learning
how to breathe.
It moves the way
a memory moves,
slow at the edges,
soft in the center,
a hue you feel
before you see.
Sometimes it glows
like a beacon under water,
a muted gold
rising through the dark
to remind you
that even silence
has a pulse.
And sometimes
it is only a shadow
of a color~
the faintest blue
that gathers
when a voice trembles
with something
it cannot name.
Music is never just heard.
It is carried,
like light in the hands,
like a secret
that keeps changing shades
each time the heart
listens.
I know what it feels like to be
visually impaired
have been losing my sight for years
I am not blind yet
two operations have helped
but it is difficult for day day
so, I walk with friends when out
go shopping with friends
and yet, still go to dance class
I use my memory
of the dance moves
the shape of the dance floor
aware of my space always
I let the music lead
four steps this way
three that way
two forward
one backward
I feel the others dancers
close to me
so, I dance free of any fear . . .