A poem for a song...

1 week
1 entry each
old or new
Just go with it......
I don't care if you talk to one another all over my thread--if it brings you together--Let It Be!

please give your poem a title.


"Write a poem for your favorite song"........

I hope this will be a fun one--enjoy! Peace

Any interest in doing this one??? I think it would be cool--but could be wrong, LOL
Peace..
Miki

AN OPEN VOX  

The eerie sounds of an open vox
a guitar howls
like a dying fox
the pictures fuzzy
but it still growls
through the TV box.

Sillouhetted by a downing sun
axe in hand
he's second to none
the pound on pound
just blasts like a timeless bomb
he died too young
did this number one.

A musical genius from the past
who gleams through impervious
forever he will last .
All regal he stands there
bringing back to life the open 60's air
although I wasn't born
I know I was there
people would stand open mouthed and stare
at an amazing figure
who outshines the sun
forever Jimi will glare
forever and always number one.

Thank's Paul for an amazing first entry..on HENDRIX---yes! I was not born but was there too...and in my house Jimi is resurrected most frequently and praised LOL

I am working on one-for Mad Season by Matchbox 20 if anyone needs a direction for inspiration-it's amazing.peace

mikimoondancer said:Thank's Paul for an amazing first entry..on HENDRIX---yes! I was not born but was there too...and in my house Jimi is resurrected most frequently and praised LOL

I am working on one-for Mad Season by Matchbox 20 if anyone needs a direction for inspiration-it's amazing.peace

Thanks minxter

Dirty Little Daughter

This is in the rhythm of the 'What Shall We Do With
Drunken Sailor' Shanty
This isn't my favourite song but I've just written and posted
this and I thought it was quite fitting



What shall we do with the dirty little daughter?
He seized her smile and took it to the slaughter.
What shall we do with the dirty little daughter?
Now that she is filthy.

She kissed her daddy on the place that he told her.
She didn’t like it but if she refused he wouldn’t hold her.
She kissed her daddy on the place that he told her.
Her mind continued stealthy.


Oh no, make out you never noticed.
And she’ll keep on faking.


He had her pinned down while he had his pleasure.
This shy, timid child who was her mother’s treasure.
He had her pinned down while he had his pleasure.
She kept his secret again.

She would sit and cry alone when he’d gone.
Her love for her dad often moved to and from.
She would sit and cry alone when he’d gone.
Hiding safe inside her den.


Oh no, make out you never noticed.
And she’ll keep on faking.


As she got older she thought it was time she got away.
Time to take control of this pain she gets each day.
As she got older she thought it was time she got away.
Her heart it sat and seethed.

Just 13, was on a stool with not a tear.
The harsh, rough rope rested ready, hiding fear.
Just 13, was on a stool with not a tear.
She closed her eyes and breathed.


Oh no, make out you never noticed.
And she’ll keep on faking.


The rope pulled tight when she dropped from the ceiling.
Her body fought the strain while her mind endured the feeling.
The rope pulled tight when she dropped from the ceiling.
As she stilled her eyes then dimmed.

What shall we do with the cute little dead girl?
Now that her life has just completely unfurled.
What shall we do with the cute little dead girl?
Now that she has left him.

leesAngel its a great entry, thanks for submitting it-it does not have to be new-and i have many favorite songs ------Thank you!

This is an older poem, but it was written to one of my favourite songs by a favourite band. The song is here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RYg8lik-6Ro


Zest.

It grows like a hunger day by day,
this need to see the gentle way
your soft curves glide before my face.
That innocent smile.
The sensual chase.
The naked embrace where I pin you down.

I simply love the way you taste,
the warm perfume of your skin
anointed at the alter of lust
and given as a sacrificial gift to me.
Dear girl, I love exactly what I see,
which satisfies this primal need for a 'she'

This longing, to fill my mouth
with those gentle lustful moans,
our heaving breasts pressed tight
like mirrored whores
reflecting our sin
into the eyes of God in each other

and we intertwine our fingers
having been held captives all our lives
and break from the shackles of normality,
your hands slide the length of me
your body arches before me
and our eyes scream

'we are free.'

thank you---great write! Peace!

The Sounds of Flatulence

Hello toilet, my dear friend
I’ve come to crouch on you again
I see your edges are quite greasy
left by someone who was sleazy
and this vision I quickly flushed from my brain
down your drain
to the sounds of flatulence

In restless dreams I tossed and turned
bladder relief I did yearn
'Neath the glare of forty watts
I dropped my PJ’s so that I might squat
Then the paint did peel as I strained in that bathroom stall
it’s natures call
to the sounds of flatulence.

In need of fresh air I cracked the door
a couple inches, maybe more
People walking began running
People standing began kneeling
People living close had started losing hair
And still they dared
breathe the sounds of flatulence.

“Fools” said I, “By now you know
spicy foods make gasses grow.
Find an exit and save yourself,
I think my Bean-o’s on the top shelf.”
And my wind though silent rips the nose,
still echoes
in my bowels as flatulence

There was no one spared or saved
most looked forward to their grave
A lucky few had no warning,
didn’t see the green cloud forming.
And to this day, the words of survivors
are sharpied on mall restroom walls
and workplace stalls,
say beware the sounds of flatulence.

People are strange

Laugh at me, see if I care
I only hear ignorance in the air
STRANGER DANGER
The children scream
But is only just a dream
What is real?
I cannot feel
This is no lie
I cannot deny
Are you on my side?
I can no longer hide
I'm a joker, a jester, a fool
So I go by my own rules

Sitars And Stars  


The Indian Sitar
sounds its sliding neck
the yellow star
burns the viking deck
did I somehow
remember now
that I did know
to forget  .
balancing my mind
a constant rhyme
ageless in time
to mesmorise
closing of the eyes
I visualise
colour cloud sighs
Emerald inset  .


In control
I balanced on a pole
high up from the earth
Violins in a church
waiting for the dearth
life the phoney show
sat upon the perch
if only you could know
more candles glow
for sure .



Sitars like stars
go up and down
musical clouds
buzz around
a cerebal recall
multiple times do fall
all big in space
is small
you dig
you  retrace
your haul
this life is a race
for all
to be etched
on a floating balled
two faced
revolving wall .



 

got this poem from. THE BOXER Paul Simon

survived

I was only 14 years old,
my behavior was not good, and I had to hit the road,
my father said,
hit the road,
hit the road,

3 times he mentioned until I finally
Realized, that I had to pick and go,
Looked back to my unpainted house
Down into that dirty neighborhood,
Wondering where I was going to go,

Tears wanting to mark my face
But I believe in me,  hit my chest so hard, so I did not cry
I finally finished highschool and time was like taking a flight,
That never left.
Then I got a scholarship, In medical school,
I rejected it, because I did not like it.  What a fool,
I got a nice advice, now I have an office and tools.
Where I can see patients, most of them with boots

Went back to see my family, my brother and sister
They insisted that I should spent the night,
And my response was not.
They asked me why?
I told them nobody was there
When I felt hungry and alone,
Now you want me to stay,
I sent you guys my number,
But I never got a called.

I hear this slowly steps approaching  me,
A black and ugly old man, calling me son
I told him you killed your own son,
When he was 14 years old.

SENA

Sing me a silly song !
....T H IS - IS - THE - C H O R U S....
Sing me something silly,
Because I'm a silly Billy,
Pop go's Popper!
As the weasel is down the shops,
As I'm writing on the jotter,
Oh my pen is leaking!
I can hear a squeaking,
Mickey Mouse is on the TV,
And now I need a wee,
Wee, wee, wee, all the way home,
You see,
He, he, he;
:~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~:
Mummy what’s for dinner,
Is it chips and Cat food,
Oh! Mummy Dear,
I'm feeling quite Queer,
Can we have a can?
Of spam,
Because your boy has turned into a man.
C H O R U S
When is Daddy coming home?
Or are we living on our own,
I can see a bumble bee,
Is he having chips for tea,
I don’t like cat food,
Sorry Mummy?
I'm not being rude
C H O R U S
There's a doggy in a fight,
Did he win?
And dose he bite!
Can we take him home for tea,
We have to stop!
He needs a wee,
Are we having chips again,
Put your coat on hear comes the rain,
C H O R U S
REPEAT LAST VERSE
2007
By
The Warrior Poet - Eamon John Healy
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Very nice entries-impressive! thank's , keep them coming! Peace,
                                                  Miki