#tunes
Singing was always my passion.
Music has always moved me and,
despite my attempts to hold myself back,
I always end up making a fool of myself in front of everyone
while some song is playing.
I sing because I copied my grandmother and
the birds in the morning and
the leaves with the wind and
the seeds when they sprout and
the flowers when they bloom.
I sing because I was born kicking to the rhythm of my crying and
because once I heard my mother laughing and
because when I walk my shoes make noise and
because I don’t know what else to do but that.
When I sing…I feel like I think the sun must feel when it rises again and
like my uncle felt when he saw my good grades.
He would smile and his gold tooth would shine and
I would sing because I was happy.
But, you know…
singing stops being art when it comes from the wrong body and
from a tongue that doesn’t know much about it.
It stops being important when you don’t sing in the tune they asked for and
about the things you’re supposed to.
The flowers die and
the sun no longer shines and
grandmother is no longer here and
good grades no longer bring the happiness they used to.
So I stopped singing.
(I’m not talking about singing.)
Mar 30
Mar 30, 2026 at 10:38 PM UTC
its unusual to hear someone whistling a tune-
they would have to be in a happy mood
-what that tells us, perhaps, we would rather not know.
Feb 25
Feb 25, 2026 at 8:20 AM UTC
Tune the frequencies of radio,
With tiny tweaking scrolls.
Emotions riding the thin airwaves,
Emitting you between AM/FM.
Radiocasting its magic of sweet melodies,
Amplifying the nostalgic signals we carry.
Songs sail on the wavebands of receptions,
Stationing the spells of ephemeral lyrics.
Curls flow through shiny antennas,
Conduiting radio broadcasts.
Short wave to long wave to radio wave,
Amplituding the inner emotions.
Bridging the entertainment of acoustics,
Connecting the wireless ends.
Feb 12
Feb 12, 2026 at 9:12 PM UTC
What composition of sounds will your life hold,
As it tumbles and rolls
Over and under and through
The bounds, mounds, and wounds that unfurls?
Will it be the composition of poetic punk
Or the ambient soundscapes of Pink Floyd?
Will the notation be more serene, frenetic or keltic?
My orchestration most likely will be skeet’s and skats of jazz;
There’ll be beeping and bopping
And a lot of razzmatazz!
Nov 27, 2025
Nov 27, 2025 at 2:22 PM UTC
I'm gonna get me a record player,
So I can throw on jazz vinyls,
Classical symphonies, modernistic musics, raptastic tracks-ish.
So I can hear those low notes blow,
Those high notes reach, whistle, then pop,
So I can listen to all 'em tunes,
That got me thinking about you non-stop.
Feb 26, 2025
Feb 26, 2025 at 8:11 PM UTC
(Inspired by ‘paranoir’ by Riz Mack)
Reckless Jack and fair Jill, youthful hearts aroused,
did scale that hill, less for water, than illicit thrills.
Atop that perilous height, they began a lover’s fight.
Stolen moments, once sweetly solaced, can prove brief.
Alas, the twisted tryst, turned awkward tumble swift,
with clothes askew and most immodest bruises blue.
Honest folk, share this lesson far and wide, by rhyme and tune -
beware young lovers, less passion's tide prove a bumpy slide to ruin.
Jun 20, 2024
Jun 20, 2024 at 7:38 AM UTC
injected a lot of music in me trying to replace your presence
Jun 18, 2021
Jun 18, 2021 at 3:22 AM UTC
What song this?
from neath the raven's wing
pretending bliss, a fail, a miss?
do angels laugh, or sing?
Melodies and symphonies
like a word, too wind
casting tunes, melodic moons
much akin, too sin?
Wind the word, pretend, it's heard
and suffer all the lay
cast adrift, too later sift
for what may come
what may
Mar 15, 2021
Mar 15, 2021 at 11:39 PM UTC
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
Thinking
****
I guess that's love..
Feb 6, 2020
Feb 6, 2020 at 6:34 AM UTC
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
Aug 14, 2018
Aug 14, 2018 at 7:37 PM UTC
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
because..you 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 be...no more lonely nights!"
.....
Sally
© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
September 4, 2017
Jul 21, 2018
Jul 21, 2018 at 4:08 AM UTC
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"
May 16, 2018
May 16, 2018 at 7:17 PM UTC
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
Apr 16, 2018
Apr 16, 2018 at 10:20 AM UTC
Oh my time fades away
In the evening
Tuning myself
To your tunes!
Oh a string of the ektara(a stringed musical instrument)
Cannot bear!
The melody
Of this song!
With you
Again and again
I have accepted
My defeat
In this playful game!
Oh tuning myself to your tunes
Oh this string of mine
Is tuned to a note so near
Oh that flute but plays far
Oh on the shores
Of the glorious acts
Of this melodious song
In reaching there to be lost
In you
Can everyone succeed?
Oh in the palace
Of the heart of hearts
Of this world
To weave a mesh
Of soulful raga-raginis(tunes)
Oh tuning myself to your tunes
Happily I do get lost
Oh my time fades away
In the glories
Of this evening!
Jan 25, 2018
Jan 25, 2018 at 8:16 AM UTC
y
o
u
r
eyes
have lights
with (cosmic) glow
i hope You know the Light
You hOMe; Your heaven-sent
enzymes align to roam & tangle
with the roots of the ones that i own
your storms are divine, the rocks that
You climb are leading you to Love
from past dimensions of time
there is no thing to do
but to (Love) all
of You
as
You
let Love
be what
does lead
all You may do
so that some day that
force finds its way back to You
as it forms light from (tunes) that
You (sing) to the moon; it will
paint You with gold stars
that flow right (through)
You & the trees You
had bloomed in
the forrest of
You will all
dance to
the falls
that led
(You)
back
to
Y
o
u
Nov 11, 2017
Nov 11, 2017 at 11:53 PM UTC
The door opened, he entered
There was a whoosh of air
The Bluesman looked bedraggled
And he grabbed himself a chair
Cy, came out, he heard the bell
Saw the Bluesman, gave a smile
He said "I see the storm is worse"
"It's gonna keep up for a while"
The Bluesman looked around the store
Saw a guitar on the wall
"She's an old one hanging over there"
He called to Cy, now down the hall
He grabbed it, rubbed the neck some
He said "she's got a lot to say"
He went back to the wooden chair
And the Bluesman, he did play
"There's lots of music in this girl"
"So many songs not sung"
He looked back at the hook behind
Where this old guitar had hung
He sang songs about Jesus
about freedom, and the moon
Amazingly for the guitars age
It wasn't out of tune
Cy went to the pawn stores back
returning with a flask
He'd brought the Bluesman medicin
The Bluesman continued with his task
"This old girls a treasure trove"
"She's just so full of words"
"Songs kept hidden for so long"
"Songs just waiting to be heard"
He played some more, the storm let up
He thanked Cy, took his leave
"An old guitar needs to be played"
"It's lost songs to be grieved"
"You know that you can play her"
"Whenever you come by"
The Bluesman turned and smiled
He held the flask given by Cy
"That old guitar is special"
"She's an old soul, just like me"
"I thank you for the offer"
"Time will tell, we'll see"
The Bluesman left the pawnshop
It was if he wasn't there
He went out back behind Gianni's
And sang his music to the air
Oct 8, 2017
Oct 8, 2017 at 3:41 PM UTC
Your guitar speaks a lot about you.
Through the songs you sing,
and the tunes you play.
May 27, 2017
May 27, 2017 at 2:57 PM UTC
Darkness was in the tunes
Which the little bird sang
Ignorance, broken hearts, despair and pain
Was all stories which the little bird
Tried to explain
But the stories stayed unheard
Because of a hunter and his aim
He shot down the little bird
And in it's heart
The stories were hidden away
Jan 5, 2017
Jan 5, 2017 at 2:44 PM UTC
The fairy flew like a dried leaf,
Way beyond the red coral reef,
It flew unto its fairy mom.
The mom was unlike other fairies,
For it is red in colour & has horns,
It also has a pointed fairy tail..
For it is the Devil's own fairy agent!!!
Jan 2, 2017
Jan 2, 2017 at 11:47 PM UTC
Music,
It's had the power,
To make a person enthusiastic,
Or even nourish a beautiful flower,
There is music all around us,
Every tune and every beat,
Can please us,
The rhythmic tapping to feet,
Follows the beat,
One may be listening to,
Music take a person,
To a whole new world,
A pleasant beautiful one,
A song can be sung,
Or just plain instrumental,
Bells can be rung,
Beats can be made,
And tunes can be sung,
And i give you,
A beautiful song,
Songs helps us survive,
Keeps us alive,
Fine beats and tunes we strive,
And music is the elixir,
Of life!
Dec 2, 2016
Dec 2, 2016 at 2:34 PM UTC