Entries by members of our message board.

The poems are the result of a writing challenge.

~ Things That Sing ~



Something Singing

An old man ambling along
ear buds playing music he likes
mumbling, humming trying to keep time
all the while walking a line

sounds of yesteryear he hears
songs and melodies from when he was a child
quips from the war, victory too
makes him smile as he reminisces

pinto pony and a Navajo
tom dooley, too young
smoke gets in your eyes
he smiles, he realizes

yes the old man does sing
sings in his own way
line here, phrase there
few words all off key

heck it is I, that old man
all the lines of yesteryear
songs not acceptable these days
Yma Sumac and the smoothness of Lena Horne

he does sing as he walks along
sings and hums, smiling too
how about a 10 cent Savings Stamp
again, all off key, just for me

By Tom (tomWYO@aol.com)




Oh how I yearn once again
to see my love on stage
to hear his melodious voice,loudly wain
his voice will always upstage

anyone else who sings out
I will always stand and sing and shout
for Kenny C
he is for me

his voice can sting your heart its true
he can belt it out,with his energetic crew
up on stage
he is the rage

I will hear his song
and hum it all day long
he is a star
he has come far

he has paid his dues
in smokey hues
on bars
with stars

he made it in nashville, tennessee
I am in love with Kenny C

By Amy (fabulousfilly@aol.com)



My Heart Sings

My heart sings
At simple things

A chill in the air
Come September

A dog asleep - dream
Chasing a squirrel

Fresh laundry
Folded and stacked

Placing the groceries
On shelves neat

A favorite song
Heard through my headphones

Spontaneous laughter
From the next room

A phone call from my family
In the depths of winter

And breathing in and out.

By Mercedes (mercedes1947@gmail.com)



Things that Sing

I here the wind a singing
As fall breezes start to blow
I hear the lake waters too
As it ripples by quite slow

Childrens' laughter rings out
It's music to my ear
The creak of my spouse's chair
Sings out that he is near

The whistle of UPS man
As he brings a package to me
The sound of many a bird
Singing in the Palo Verde tree

I hear the sound of love
When grandchildern enter door
The song of my family makes
Me feel rich and not too poor

The song of friendship when
A neighbor drops right in
As long as we have friends
It's a Situation of win

By Sharon (ByGolly25@aol.com)



You're Song

There's a special melody
That plays within each heart
The tempo of each life:
It sets each soul apart

The song within one's breast
That you alone can know
Beating out its rhythm
Wherever you might go

Rising in crescendo
Playing slow or fast
As it unveils itself
Your lot in life is cast.

You're a singer in live's choir
Give beauty to your voice
The song in you is born...
Keeping tune, is your own choice!

By Sandy Lee (dewdotsag@aol.com)



My Singing Teapot

There are many things that sing that I love
but one I love best sits on my stove
My teakettle sings out when the water is hot
And I pour it into my grandma's tea pot

I let it steep for a while, and I sing
About just most anything
Then I sit down at my table with my cup of tea
That I made since my teapot sang to me.

By susi (Texaswishr@aol.com)



Night Sings

I hear an owl early,
Singing his who who who who,
And then
The lovely little roosting fluffs
Murmur in harmony
With him,

Dry flies or locusts mezzo,
A few dogs sing note to note,
And then
Someone pulls a coyote’s bow,
A summer symphony free to
Porches dim.

Inside the home devices
Humm low and calm the nerves,
And then
Little Annie curls, with rhythm snores
Her own night song

By Norma (Twi1ite@sbcglobal.net)



Catly Chorus

My cats can sing,
And hum and purr and everything.
When they wait to eat
They all yowdle to a beat.

Their displeasure they make known.
By looking at the food and groan.
A heavenly chorus they will make,
For salmon and crab they'll love to take.

A time for a pet and a belly rub.
Have a drink at the kitty pub.
Singing and purring to the moon,
They'll all fall asleep soon.

Kitties, my kitties snoring away.
Music is made in it's own way.
I know my job is their treat,
If they could drive I'd be in the back seat.

By Swampetta (SWAMPETTA@aol.com)


Brought Forth from the Archives.

Ode to a Japanese Garden

Looking Forward

The Road to Granny's House

Fred the Pumpkin

Baseball Cards and Double-Bubble Gum

Sunday Morning, October 9th

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