Yes, does the mother bird sing
to her sleeping young. Yes, does she wake them each morning, with a full heart, aware they may not make it, and yet she sings with gusto. She opens herself fully to her loved ones because even if they pass, even if they fly too short or plummet from the well-kept nest, it was always worth the morning song and always were her children worthy of her love.
We need more familial love songs, it doesn't have to be romantic
My vocal chords scream out,
But I haven’t the means. My knees give out, But it wasn’t on a screen. I haven’t made the grade Till I’m on that stage.
there’d be no songs.
With the right voice
Everything is poetry © 2019 MJL
To Jackson, Dean, Cash, Lightfoot, Hurt, Brooks, Thomas, Elliot, and my lovely bride.
He had always been confusing to me.
I think we consider ourselves to be friends. I never could tell if he meant the things he said. I had this preconceived idea about him, based on what others have told me. "Don't trust him." "He's a player." "He seems nice, but it's only a cover." I was at the band and choir competition, looking for my friend. I flung open the door of the vocal warm-up room, the fieldhouse, and my heart stopped. He was the only one there, yet he seemed to fill the room. Twirling around, singing his heart out, jumping from piano to piano, playing the accompaniment to his song. He must've stolen that voice from the cosmos, for I've never heard anything so celestial. He turned to me, still singing, but I'm not sure if he really saw me. He saw those empty bleachers as packed to the brim, all listening eagerly. There is something indescribably vulnerable about singing. I was awestruck, at a loss for words. How could someone so emotionally raw be characterized as---manipulative?
I don't know.
Tears drowning chestnut eyes
As I sing brokenly along to "sing!" playlist, Wincing inwardly at my awful voice, Which is caught between male and female, No, no, stop, no, Don't even think about auditioning. A career stopped in its tracks before I can even dream.
It always happens.
I blow the white tendrils of seeds away
out into the world my wish scatters I wish.. Oh so many things. Most of all I wish.. I could belt my emotions away You don't know me I envy you Don't take for granted your voice is so wonderful I blow white tendrils of seeds away out into the world my wish scatters I wish... Oh so many things Most of all I wish.. I was someone else tomorrow You don't know me I envy you Don't take for granted your life is so beautiful I blow white tendrils of seeds away out into the world my wish scatters I wish... Oh so many things Most of all I wish.. I was happier today Don't take for granted your smile is so radiant I blow white tendrils of seeds away out into the world my wish scatters
Aki for Autumn,
Haru for Spring. I hate karaoke, Because I can't sing.
A quatrain I've written while listening to my friends in the booth.
I think I will rot.
Maybe I will not. There isn't any air, My head feels hot. I would like to ask, Do you feel as lonely as I? In melancholy we shall bask, Quietly contemplating under a gray sky. I feel like singing. My heartbeat is stinging. The dull mirth fading, My subtle song thinning. I would like to ask, Do you feel as quiet as I? In burnt kerosene we shall bask, Quietly suffering until we die.