Posts Tagged ‘song’

Peter, Paul & Mary — If I Had A Hammer

September 17, 2009

Peter, Paul & Mary – Puff The Magic Dragon

September 17, 2009

Peter, Paul & Mary — The Times They Are A Changin’

September 17, 2009

The Platters — Unchained Melody

September 15, 2009

Everly Brothers – All I have To Do Is Dream

September 14, 2009

Never On Sunday – Connie Francis

September 14, 2009

The Real Ritchie Valens – La Bamba

September 14, 2009

Mr. Sandman – The Chordettes

September 14, 2009

Poem: The Present Perfect

August 18, 2009

The Present Perfect -- clipart

 

                               The world waits, and bends to us,

                               or we bend to its waiting –

 

                               truth and the antithesis of truth;

                               the equivalents of motes (dust)

 

                               and the drench that absolves

                               dust, absorbs it, makes it more

 

                               than it once was, a desert

                               without bloom, without the plumes

 

                               of moisture that might deliver

                               us, names and the echo of names,

 

                               place and the presence in each

                               of purest absence, the song

 

                               we deliver as beads sheet down.

 

 

 

                                                                 ©  Diane Beaty 

 

Please note: The poem in this post is my work, the accompanying

photo is a clipart piece.

Poem: Red With Lavender

July 22, 2009

clipart for Red with Lavender

 

                            There is a music to this; there

                            is a slight fluttering, a trilling

                            if you will, a measured

                            distance between these peaks;

 

                            a bird in its nest would

                            know this, would feel the wind,

                            would name the currents as

                            some do stars, would

 

                            shuffle the alphabet, if birds

                            have that, would call this

                            more; music is like that

                            to birds, to those able to carry

 

                            these single syllables,

                            draw them out, build on a simple

                            chirp and produce song where

                            there was none, where notes

 

                            were the last small somethings

                            to be papered in. When

                            the queen wears diamonds, we

                            breathe ambrosia.

 

                                                         © Diane Beaty