Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Senita 1d
I heard some chirping  tunes ;
In the end of  the month june;
I thought what a lovely day it brings;
But that's just a phone ring!!!!
Crimping the morning....
ok okay Feb 6
It's so much easier to blank it all out
That ******* tune never leaves does it
'Tic toc tic toc therapy wont fix my mind-block'
But as soon as your fears confront you
The music can't get loud enough
And your stuck
I guess that's love..
Angela Liyanto Oct 2018
If song be the source of comfort, listen while it lasts
Of mere countenance shows the pleasing suffered mind
And young Pan will turn to his plaid bagpipe,
The pastel rhythms bring blissful evergreen song
As I look outside, I find the ranched moon hollow
From the empty inhales of notes so high-reached
It popped the moon & bleeded moonlight the more
Like the sippings of hard apples is sweetness of the tune
Brought to near tears, and woven crescendo crisps,
The wavelengths as exponential boughs and troughs,
Stolen her breath as I listen to Music’s golden swings,
And the pickings of a more fitting song, Make a woman
     Slighted and bent in emotion at music’s touch,
     Bending time to a halt, as surrendered passion seized.
Carlos Torres Aug 2018
I listen to Blue when I’m with you
I listen to O’s shudder when you are gone
And share a hope of warmth when I dream,
Of course, of you

I see Red in our house today
Do the Devil’s tears fade my eyes?
Running until there is nothing?
I see but do not recognize you

I can hear, I can see, but where are you?
I have taste, touch, smell, all of it!
But I am in bed with a stranger
I know all of you, or nothing
Another original. Inspired by music, as are most things in my life. If you know any good tunes, shoot them my way. Thank you for reading!
Sally A Bayan Jul 2018
The pile is ever ready
whatever type of music we dig...a ditty,
old songs, contemporary...all in a jiffy,
instruments will be playing
words, vocalizing all feelings
maybe, a song of calm
coming before, or after the storm...
Notes hover above the piled 45s
look closely...find your desired jive,
let's find our favorite tunes
and take turns in  dropping coins,
record is pulled out...shortly, our song will play
hold disruptive elements at bay and i, we're gonna sway
as a full moon....rises from the bay
allow our feelings to speak
while we're cheek to cheek,
as much as we want, we may croon,
after we dance, maybe we'll swoon
the world is ours...we'll be alright
"there'll more lonely nights!"


© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
    September 4, 2017
(recapturing memories of the's a feel good poem,
esp. when paired with Paul McCartney's
  No More Lonely Nights...)
Henry Koskoff Jul 2018
Crimson curtains opening and closing and draping over a cliff say:
          it’s showtime
          (or lights going on and off).

Let’s go through the alphabet and use alliteration:
          Daffy Duck, Porky Pig,
          (or other creatures getting hurt tonight).

I hope and dream that their hopes and dreams have plummeted like their bodies:
          by the wayside
          (or waist-side, or waste-side, or cliffside)—

low tide that surges shores like the seamstress from New Zealand:
          those Kiwis,
          (or feijoas, or passionfruit).

But passion don’t matter to us folks, and neither do kangaroos! We have our own hops:
          Pabst Blue Ribbon draining in sad funnels
          (or Bud Light, a treasure).

Second is the best, but Third is the one with that treasure chest in his stupid palm:
          not even knowing what to do
          (or how to act).

Are you serious, bro? It’s called a shotgun! Shoot it with my key:
          pop the cap to release pent-up pressure
          (or you can just chug normally).

Choo-choo trains chug, Thomas and me, little plastic wheels in hot pursuit:
          I know you can do it
          (or my name’s not Percy),

as I violently consume swizzle sticks before the sepia glow of:
          That’s all, folks!
          (Or is it?)
Desmond the poet May 2018
I'm a DJ, a Disk jockey.
My fingers are like a jockey stick.
I breathe and live House music.
The first descendant of Disco music.

I'm the descendant of Frankie Knuckles.
My tunes ease listener's glooms.
I'm a predator, music beats are my prey.
House music is the only language I understand.
I busk locally and internationally.

I'm a beast, not just any beast.
Beast that play 4/4 repetitive beats.
I play tunes that move with heart beats.
My tunes aren't restricted to race or religion.
Behind the deck, I'm thee "House beast"
Dedicated to my boy Thendo Davhana aka "House beast". One of the upcoming and potential DJ of the future.
Aflaha Apr 2018
Do I miss you?
You ask

Why would I be jealous
my love

Of the light
that touches your face

Of the ground
beneath your feet

Of the traffic
outside your window

Of all the places
your fingers linger

Of the food
you taste

Of the words
you write

Of the tunes
you hum

Of the air
you breathe

And every thought
In your mind

That isn't me
Next page