songs
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Les roses, les fleurs et les bouquets
L’amour, l’honneur, le respect et la paix
Les vers, les poèmes et la littérature
Wandering the hills of my city with my mind ajar
A craving for the unknown a cliff of curiosity within my mind
Here, I live upon the toes of death and life
To get myself motivated
And psyched to work
The best thing for me
Is the Hamilton soundtrack.
Songs about a man
Working hard and non-stop,
Music inspires me.
The beat, thouch of the strings,
soothing chords balancing,
harmony, I feel free.
Filling my lungs with-
Song, connecting to my soul.
Practicing towards my goal.
Standing in front of a big iron gate
Waiting for you, waiving at you
To return home from long journey
From far, far foreign land away
Here you are, standing in front of me
I’ve heard the times are bound to bring forth changeThat our endings defeat mending to achieve great gainsAnd the newest always wins every raceEven when there’s nothing worthy left to chase
Bang, Bang.
You Shot Me Down.
You broke my heart and let me drown.
You lost sight of what we had.
You didnt care if it hurt so bad.
We Fell In Love In A Hopeless Place.
(Sing to the tune of B-I-N-G-O by Scout Songs)
There was a farmer, he had some food,
and pizza was it’s name-o.
P-I-Z-Z-A
When I see you
My mind plays every love song I know
All at once
And you’d think I would be in excruciating pain
With every voice and beat passing through my mind
There comes a point in time
When your favorite song
Grows old
After listening to it everyday,
2
3
10
20 times,
It seems to lose its value.
The same song
Sung by people who wouldn't want you
To hate yourself
The same song
Sung by people who wouldn't want you
To hurt yourself
We Automatically clicked.
Like alphabet magnets,
on the fridge.
Momma goat and her kids,
Yeah, it is.. what it is.
You can take my heart
but I never wanted you to break it
my love was yours
there's no mistaking
It. you leave, behind,
pieces of the darkest times
I, remember, the day
Gather sticks for my home
as we walk on down the road
shelter over head
is that we need for a bed
put the wood in a pile
let it sit for a while
find a women to lay down
We are poems.
A poem is an artistic expression,
Crafted by a mind whose only intention
Is to see itself and its deepest conceptions
Be seen by the world.
A poem is a breath of life;
If the world was on its last day
Would you take your hand in mine?
We can step back and watch life play
Before our eyes like a movie
If the world’s disapproving
We can forget it all
Sweet bird, write music.
Listen to your heart.
Listen to
the mellow beats of music.
Listen to
every note as the
pianist plays.
Listen to
the rhythm of guitar strings
i used to be every girl
in every song you heard
i used to pollute your mind
and populate your world
but it's not okay anymore
and you don't want me there
the way you did before
He.
He was different.
Always different.
Normalcy was an impossible feat,
A distant dream,
An indiscussable imagining.
He loved the color beige.
He liked clunker cars.
I want to live in a song
Where every rhythmic beat is a stairway to my soul
And every low key reverses time and I rise again
Living inside the enchanted heart
Where music smells as of the breeze of an ocean's shore
I hear it, my body takes over.My foot uncontrollably leads the way.The beat tapping on my attention like Morse code.
I wanna know the music you listen to when you're sad
It says a lot about you
about how you handle situations when you feel lost
when you feel lonely
or when you feel angry
Listen to the sound
Of the whisper of angels
As they sing the angels song
Happy are they
On wings of love they fly
Spread upon the sky
With colors of array
They do sway
From the void it starts
an incessant need
to fill our hearts
our spirits feed
Breaths slow and still
an eye turned to see
a hope to fill
a life to free
A song is there
Don't dance the words of a lullaby
Don't cry the words of a goodbye
Don't die in the words of a rap battle
Don't overlook the sights you see
in the blink of an eye its all gone
I'm happier than a bird singing a song.
It's all because of you, mom.
You bring me from my darkest moments and make me happier than a bird singing a song.
My only wish is for you to continue being the same.
One night, as I slept,
I dreamt a dream of voices.
In my dream,
I saw young choirs,
In the choirs,
I saw young children.
But no matter what,
I heard wonderful singers-
Turn on the radio
Max out the volume
Do you love this song?
That song speaks to you
On a level no one can ever imagine
Not the whole song but
Just that one line the artists says
What's wrong with the radio?
It's playing lies.
Everything is, "Sex and money!"
Where is the truth?
Why can't it feature better bands, like Story of the Year?
Hearts beat like a drum
Soft and low, high and fast.
Sometimes we beat as one,
And sometimes we beat alone.
LOUD! LOUD! Soft. Soft.
LOUD! LOUD! Soft. Soft.
Make me want to do my homeworks.
Make me want to sing with the beats.
Make me want to share with people.
If life is like a drum,
I’ll beat out my own rhythm
I’ll add in my melody
Come and sing it with me
Play my heart to the beat
Make it sound very sweet
One of eight, a boy grows up listening to Beatles music
He sings along to every song
And hopes his voice is heard
He sings of love and "Let it Be"
His family sings along
That song comes on the radio, once meaningful but now makes you want to cry,You see all the memories flood back into your mind's eye, You can't rip the cords out that you keep hearing in your mind,You wish that you could change it because you know
Rivulets
running down the side of your lips.
White eyelets
yellowed/fraying at the tips.
Loud starlets
clawing at the rim--one more sip.
Dimly lit
can you hear thunder shoving ribs?
Let's go home and spill some drinks And then see what the good Lord thiinks This is a poem about a man in my head He put up a fight but now he's dead
I watch from the balcony
She's sitting there surrounded by the sea
The ebb and flow swallow
Her vision of me
There's a crowd around her
Yet she's still lonely
Everything is so clear
Poetry, when people think of poetry they think useless, hard to understand, and a waste of time.
Poetry is really part of everyday life like music, commercials, etc
Poetry gives me the sensation of amazement in people's ability
Why do I constantly feel like shit?
Maybe I'm just Tired.
He does not sing to me. To air instead
he sweetly hums so soft, caressing ears
with sounds melodious, that others' heads
turn t'ward the lovely music that they hear.
Who is this girl who broke my
tethers to the world,
and now I'm dying for a girl.
Look down to earth and see them
living on below,
and never know the things I know.
But I'll show,
you now...
There's a song for every story
a story for every song.
It's one thing you can count on in the days that are so long.
Hey babe, can’t you see?
I know I swore I’d do no harm
But you know it’s insane the way you’ve warped my brain
And it’s causing me great alarm
