Music poems from famous poets and best beautiful poems to feel good. Best music poems ever written. Read all poems about music.
I am in need of music that would flow
Over my fretful, feeling fingertips,
Over my bitter-tainted, trembling lips,
With melody, deep, clear, and liquid-slow.
I have a friend who still believes in heaven.
Not a stupid person, yet with all she knows, she literally talks to God.
She thinks someone listens in heaven.
On earth she's unusually competent.
When music sounds, gone is the earth I know,
And all her lovely things even lovelier grow;
Her flowers in vision flame, her forest trees
Lift burdened branches, stilled with ecstasies.
I am not resigned to the shutting away of loving hearts in the hard ground.
So it is, and so it will be, for so it has been, time out of mind:
Into the darkness they go, the wise and the lovely. Crowned
With lilies and with laurel they go; but I am not resigned.
Winter is icummen in,
Lhude sing Goddamm.
Raineth drop and staineth slop,
And how the wind doth ramm!
Wait Mister. Which way is home?
They turned the light out
and the dark is moving in the corner.
There are no sign posts in this room,
Music, when soft voices die,
Vibrates in the memory;
Odours, when sweet violets sicken,
Live within the sense they quicken.
All sounds have been as music to my listening:
Pacific lamentations of slow bells,
The crunch of boots on blue snow rosy-glistening,
Shuffle of autumn leaves; and all farewells:
The mother will not turn, who thinks she hears
Her nursling's speech first grow articulate;
But breathless with averted eyes elate
She sits, with open lips and open ears,
We are the music-makers,
And we are the dreamers of dreams,
Wandering by lone sea-breakers,
And sitting by desolate streams.
Music is common to all languages in the world as it's the beginning for all sure;
With any language, songs are composed with the tunes of music suitable ever;
Hence music has a permanent place in the lives of all people everywhere indeed;
For beginning, continuation and end of anything, music serves as great background!
Music is multilingual
Music is multicultural
Music is multidimensional
Music speaks peace to the nations
Divine music speaks to me...
...like words never can;
Divine music brings on happiness;
Divine music brushes off sadness;
Each generation has its own music imprinted on its soul with all the emotions that it brings.
We have the beats we like to dance to and the songs we like to sing.
Our music tends to stay with us…no matter how old we get.
Is Bob Dylan a poet or a songwriter? Is he a guitarist or a songwriter or a singer or both? Who is Bob Dylan? A singer or a songwriter or a guitarist or a music composer? Who is, who is he?
A poet or a songwriter? Who, who is this Dylan? Can his songsbe called poems? Is poetry songwriting? Is poetry song and music, a combination of it? Is he a music-maker, a word-maker?
In every town and city small and large there is a music vibe with its inhabitants
Some music is inspiring, some music is depressing while other music is exciting
Angry music is red as red as blood dripping down your skin
Depressing music is navy blue like rain falling from the sky
Who says music
Created by musical instruments
Fleetwoods music wonderful
lovers by night the last ones wonderful eternity will remember you mean everything to me evening singing and dancing Truly do singing words of soft music
open your soul music
Music, music from afar,
music, exotic music
Music that harms the soul
with sudden, hypnotic phrases!
Music, strange music . . .
Music from the cottages,
unconnected, coarse, chaotic,
savage, naïve, unsociable . . .
Music, exotic music!
Music from Gothic naves
music from old Spain
- rackety, riotous, heroic -
in which outlandish witches
sharpen their cold sickles . . .
Music, exotic music,
music exotic music!
There is music in the woodlands
When the birds their carols sing,
As they flit about the old oaks
Where the ivy tendrils cling.
Warblers, orioles and linnets,
Blue-birds with their brilliant hue;
While the sky-lark sings his sonnet
In the sky's ethereal blue.
Oh! is any of the music
That the listening ear has heard
Half so pure and sweet and lovely
As the singing of a bird?
There is music in the meadows
At the closing of the day,
When the gentle cows are coming
Slowly, on their homeward way.
Drinking from the singing brooklet,
Cropping clover in the dells;
Listen! is not this sweet music,
Murmuring stream and tinkling bells?
There is music in the forest,
In the rustling of the trees,
In the chattering of the squirrels,
In the humming of the bees.
Hark! the tall pine-trees are singing,
Wailing forth their requiem, low;
While the chipmunks clamber briskly
O'er the mossy logs below.
There is music on the sea shore,
Of the little waves at play;
While the stately ships are sailing
O'er the waters far away.
Wavelets o'er the rocks are dashing.
Say, can any music be
Sweeter than the waves' commotion
Or the singing of the sea?
There is music in the rain-drops
Pattering forth their soft refrain,
Dancing, spattering on the shingles,
Coursing down the window-pane.
Strange, weird music, what could better
The fond dreamer's thought inspire,
Listening to the tiny voices
Of the storm-king's raindrop choir?
There is music in the chiming
Of the solemn Sabbath bells,
Ringing forth to all a welcome
Over hills and vales and dells,
Calling to the house of worship,
Telling us the worth of time,
Praising God for all His goodness;
Hear the distant church bells chime!
There is music in the voices
Of the children at their play,
Bird-like songs and rippling laughter
From the dawn 'till twilight gray.
Is there any earthly music
That is half so pure and sweet,
As the children's merry voices
Or the pattering of their feet?
There is music in the voices
Of the loved ones at our side,
Those who tread life's pathway with us
And who in our homes abide.
Sweetest music, yet how often
In life's busy bustling day,
We forget to prize the singers
'Till their songs have died away.
Let us gather up earth's glories,
Let us not refuse to hear
The sweet sounds that cheer our pathway,
Without which, earth would be drear.
Let us listen to the music,
Treasure it within the soul;
It will make us wiser, better,
While the months and years roll.
Let us notice Heaven's blessings,
Thanking God for what we share;
If we will but pause to listen
There is music everywhere.
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