# Reading > Poems, Poets, and Poetry >  Song lyrics that can stand alone as poetry

## Vautrin

There are countless songs we consider poetic or, at least, poetic sounding. However, most of these songs, when stripped of their instrumentals, may not hold up so well as serious poetry. 

What songs do you feel, on paper, could pass for poetry so much so that a reputable publishing company would want to acquire and distribute them regardless of the identity of the author? 

Just to get things started, here are a few of my personal choices: 

All My Love - Led Zeppelin 
What a Wonderful World - Louis Armstrong (written by Bob Thiele & George David Weiss)
The House of the Rising Sun - _authorship uncertain_

I'll stop at three for now. What songs would you suggest?

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## stlukesguild

You may wish to look at this discussion from a short while ago:

http://174.133.97.227/forums/showthread.php?t=35162

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## Dinkleberry2010

I can think of ten right off the bat:

Eleanor Rigby by The Beatles
Stairway To Heaven by Led Zeppelin
Fields Of Gold by Sting
America by Simon & Garfunkle
The Boxer by Simon & Garfunkle
Kid Charlemagne by Steely Dan
Subterranean Homesick Blues by Bob Dylan
All Along The Watchtower by Bob Dylan
The End by The Doors
The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down by The Band

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## JBI

We've already had this one, that's St Lukes' point. Might as well just bump the old one.

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## Pryderi Agni

How about this?




> I close both locks below the window
> I close both blinds and turn away
> 
> Sometimes solutions aren't so simple
> Sometimes good bye's the only way
> 
> [Chorus]
> And the sun will set for you
> The sun will set for you
> ...


This is _Shadow of the Day_ by Linkin Park.

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## stlukesguild

Nope... pretty bad as poetry.

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## JBI

> Nope... pretty bad as poetry.


In my opinion, pretty bad music as well. Seriously, this is the reason people don't take lyrics seriously, because the people who preach lyrics on these boards usually paste the worst of the lot - for instance, that kid who posted a rap song that was 40% censored by the board's autocensor.

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## JCamilo

Apparently, only because rap is "talked" and not "sung" his lyrics must be great, as if the only form of oral expression is poetry. Of course they have some vallue of political manifestation, but so had Sex Pistol musics. Anyways, I think the main mistake is that some genres do not demand from the musicians lyrical virtuose, or they will drift from such genre, such as rock and roll, and peeople usually think about rock and roll or similar pop genres as examples.

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## Dinkleberry2010

I may be wrong but I think it was Ray Charles who said of rap: "It's bad poetry with a monotonous drumbeat." Right on Ray.

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## bacchante

Dumb
Lithium 
and many others by Kurt Cobain.

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## GypsyDream

At night young faces grow sad and old
and hearts of fire grow cold
we swore blood brothers against the wind
I'm ready to grow young again
And hear your sister's voice calling us home
across the open yards
baby, we'll cut some place of our own
with these drums and these guitars

(from _No Surrender)_

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## Nick Capozzoli

They paved Paradise and put in a parking lot...

Joni Mitchell

Be careful while bending the law...

Gordon Lightfoot

and many more snippets that I think make great poetry. :Smile:

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## JackieGinger

I think many of Led Zeppelin songs are poetry in lyrics and in music as well. 
And there are several Arctic Monkeys songs worth mentioning...

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## stlukesguild

:Brickwall:

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## sixsmith

One of my favourite bands is Augie March, an Australian, er, 'progressive rock' group. Their lyrics are self consciously poetic and although I don't think any of the following constitute great or even good poetry in and of themselves, to my mind (a mind not formally trained in poetry) there are enough decent lines and phrases to suggest that lyricist Glen Richards may have some talent as a poet. 


BRUNDISIUM
They married, a dandy and a back alley tough, 
on the foreshore while kids in the needling rough, 
stayed low, in, and laid till they'd had enough 
of the somersaulting hot roll of revolting September. 

By thickets beneath the hot halo above, 
the plague bodies bathed in their talentless love. 
It's hot in the town with its back to the sea, 
O darling don't put your veil over me. 

From thinking a life was about them when, long, 
they were the thorn in its side, 
The hard men got plucked and by measures were gone, 
at pride it plucked and out, out it pried. 

Where's the shame in a gentle man? Stand him next to me. 
It's hot in the town with its back to the sea, 
O darling don't put your veil over me. 

Honey we'll go without, honey grow old and thin, 
I love you like I love my own skin. 

From thinking a life was about them but stranger, 
The soft women lowed and came in and were in, 
to swoon "O welcome hot united sailor", 
Welcome from unsteady decks and from danger, 

Did you see a new sun in the sky? 
The sun is blood and blood is a lie. 
It's hot in the town with its back to the sea, 
O darling don't put your veil over me... 

Honey we'll go without, honey grow old and thin, 
I love you like I love my own skin, 
O my bonny lies over the ocean, 
My bonny grows old and thin, 
I love her like I love my own skin...

THERE'S SOMETHING AT THE BOTTOM OF THE BLACK POOL
There's something at the bottom of the black pool 
I daren't dredge it up not while the weather's still cool 
A feathered thing it's origins mixed and untrue 
Once a straw body, now a lamb picker, now a clove in a black brew 
I think of the peacocks of the gorge and I think of the gryphons they keep in the Tower Zoo 
An unexpected torrent swept all before it 
as it rushed on terribly through 

And left them all here, and spread through the park 
Amid the myriad mangles of the coming dark - 
of the shadow of a loon, the howl from the bloody craw 
those strange interruptions don't scare me anymore, 
Since all the while the weather was cool I stood at the crumbling edge of the black pool 

Perhaps a pidgeon fell off it's stool, 
I have drowned a conscience or two, 
There are palm trees and clouds and the undersides of drowned blues 
and sometimes the faces of people I think I knew 
I know at one time this thing flew, 
I have sunk an ambition or two, 
Now when I think to drink, then I wonder with who, 
I pretend that I'm sitting in the booth with you - 

O what a ****in' sentence, what a ****in' noise 
I don't know these girls, I don't trust these boys 
And over there in the corner, there hangs a strange bird 
Sings a strange song but it won't be heard 
A song to enquire whither went the milk money 
While the darling babes of Toorak are a'yowling for their honey 

Let's walk up this hill, let's go walking on up this hill, 
The sun is in the middle of the sky, the grass is yellow from being dry, 
There's music, there's you, many others here and I, 
Up the hill then, up where those holy lodestones lie - 
How suddenly still, and though the wind blow, 
From here we will never leave or go, 
And but for a will, but for companions, 
we might go tumbling home below, 
To a place at the table, to gamble and settle, 
Make the words "amiable" and "able" 
of resting assured, in the breast of bird, 
that I sure did not suffer a fool, 
Since all the while the weather was cool I stood at the crumbling edge of the black pool 


HEARTBEAT AND SAILS 

Scoop my brains and let my heart have action 
In its thousand million lots, 
In the dumb city dawn I am senseless and drawn to the sun 
as the blackbirds and the toppyknots. 
And in biting down on the great foam world 
What is the looming thing? 
Not money, not flesh, not happiness, 
But this, which makes me sing. 
O scoop my brains and let my heart have action 
In its thousand million lots, 
And feel the subterranean movement a fraction 
and deep under ocean, the celibate rocks. 
Has it borne me down? 
Has it run me through? 
If I give it a name do I contract it too? 
More likely this thing has been growing in me, 
Like I have grown in you. 

Scoop my brains and let my heart have action 
In its thousand million lots, 
In the dumb city dawn we dispense with the forlorn beasts 
that we were in the night, grown lean on love. 
A love which will pierce and callous and tumesce, 
O upon the birth oath the morbid bloom 
Is a child's sense of impending doom 
in a womb that is ambushed, 
in a womb that is ambushed. 
In biting down on the great foam world, 
What is the looming thing? 
Not money, not flesh, not happiness, 
But this, which makes me sing. 
Not money, not flesh, not happiness, 
But this, which makes me sing.

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## Muses

Anyone else quite fancy a bit of MUSE?

Falling Away With You.. 

I can't remember when it was good
moments of happiness elude
maybe I just misunderstood

all of the love we left behind
watching the flash backs intertwine
memories I will never find

so I'll love whatever you become
and forget the reckless things we've done
I think our lives have just begun
I think our lives have just begun

and I'll feel my world crumbling
I'll feel my life crumbling
I'll feel my soul crumbling away
and falling away
falling away with you

staying awake to chase a dream
tasting the air you're breathing in
I know I won't forget a thing

promise to hold you close and pray
watching the fantasies decay
nothing will ever stay the same

all of the love we threw away
all of the hopes we cherished fade
making the same mistakes again
making the same mistakes again

I can feel my world crumbling
I can feel my life crumbling
I can feel my soul crumbling away
and falling away
falling away with you

all of the love we've left behind
watching the flash backs intertwine
memories I will never find
memories I will never find

Others might disagree but i find it quite good, and i agree that there are a few Arctic Monkeys songs that are nice, Alex Turner is quite poetrical in his lyrics.

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## wlz

I have quite a broad taste in music. But I find most of it, if not all, hard to accept as poetry. 
Most rock & pop lyrics just don't make it. Just imagine the tedium of reading 'Satisfaction' by the Rolling Stones, or lyrics as repetitive as 'Where have all the flowers gone? To be honest I find the overall effect completely different. All in all, I can't think of any songs I would regard as poetry unless it is actually poetry: Owen's 'Futility' was set to music, although for me, the poem immediately lost its gravitas - it just did not have the same impact anymore. I can say my favourite lyricist is probably Paul Simon. These songs by Simon & Garfunkle are the only tunes I can listen to without wishing they had better lyrics.

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## Heathcliff

In class last year we had to recite a poem. I did 'In the Ghetto' by Elvis Presley. The teacher liked it. The words didn't have much meaning behind them. I knew what they were saying, however there wasn't very much to interpret.

Half of the class chose 'I'm Yours' by Jason Mraz. Most of it was almost sung, however there was nothing be hind it.

I agree, wlz, Simon and Garfunkle are probably the best for poetry, as far as I'm concerned.

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## neilgee

When I was at school and The Beatles' influence was still quite strong _Penny Lane_ turned up in a poetry anthology that was handed out to the class.

This appearance was due - the teacher explained - to one particular line that Lennon threw in there:

Behind the shelter in the middle of the roundabout
The pretty nurse is selling poppies from a tray
And though she feels as though she's in a play
_She is anyway_

Can one line transform a pop star into a poet? I have my doubts...

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## Heathcliff

Well, I don't suppose John Lennon was known for his poetry. That would be something for the whole word to decide.

It is pretty good though.

Doesn't take a genious to write one line of value.

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## JuniperWoolf

So byyyye bye miss American pie! PUT THE CHEVY TO THE LEVY BUT THE LEVY WAS DRYYY!!!!
(you'll call it poetry too when you're wasted and stumbling down an icy road at five in the morning)

But really, Jim Morrison wasn't a bad poet. 

Lions in the street and roaming,
Dogs in heat, rabid, foaming.
A beast caged in the heart of a city.
The body of his mother
Rotting in the summer ground,
He fled the town.
He went down South and crossed the border,
Left the chaos and disorder,
Back there over his shoulder.

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## Heathcliff

Yes. Jim Morrison is pretty good by the sounds of that.

On the other hand of all of this, how many poems can be considered songs.
All of them are, almost. If somebody adds a melody to it.
In that case, what is a lymric if it is both? Or a catchy radio jingle?

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## Dinkleberry2010

originally, poetry was always accompanied by music

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## OrphanPip

> originally, poetry was always accompanied by music


This is still true of some poetic traditions. People trying to reestablish Inuit culture are exploring the traditional "chants" as poetry

Edit: I'd like to say though that greatest lyrics are not necessarily going to be great poetry. Song lyrics are written with the music in mind, and how the lyrics play off the music is a huge part of them. When we remove the music from the lyrics we cut ourselves off from their quality as lyrics within and of themselves.

Leonard Cohen is considered a great lyricist, but he's in general considered only a mediocre poet. Although, he was published as a poet prior to having any success in music.

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## Scheherazade

I'm Sticking with You - Velvet Underground

I'm sticking with you 
'cos I'm made out of glue 
Anything that you might do 
I'm gonna do too 

You held up a stage coach in the rain 
And I'm doing the same 
So you're hanging from a tree 
And I made believe it was me 

I'm sticking with you 
'cos I'm made out of glue 
Anything that you might do 
I'm gonna do too 

People going to the stratosphere 
Soldiers fighting with the cong? 

But with you by my side I can do anything 
When we swing 
We hang past right or wrong 

I'll do anything for you 
Anything you want me too 
I'll do anything for you 
Oohoh I'm sticking with you 
Oohoh I'm sticking with you 
Oohoh I'm sticking with you

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## stlukesguild

The Doors produced some truly great stuff, but Jim Morrison was far from being a good poet. :Sick: 

I'd like to say though that greatest lyrics are not necessarily going to be great poetry. Song lyrics are written with the music in mind, and how the lyrics play off the music is a huge part of them. When we remove the music from the lyrics we cut ourselves off from their quality as lyrics within and of themselves.

Exactly... and this point was made already on the earlier thread on this same topic. Poetry has its own internal rhythm and "music" if you will. Most song lyrics do not, rather the music provides this framework for them. Reading a great many of these song lyrics is almost painful without this framework. In an earlier discussion we brought up the fact that even a vast majority of opera librettos, texts for cantatas or oratorios, lieder, chanson, etc... do not hold up well as literature divorced from the music.

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## Heathcliff

> I'm Sticking with You - Velvet Underground
> 
> I'm sticking with you 
> 'cos I'm made out of glue 
> Anything that you might do 
> I'm gonna do too 
> 
> You held up a stage coach in the rain 
> And I'm doing the same 
> ...


I've never heard this song.
Is it a boppy, girly tune?
I hope it is, would sound alright.
Only I'm not going to check it out, so I'm not disappointed.

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## OrphanPip

> I've never heard this song.
> Is it a boppy, girly tune?
> I hope it is, would sound alright.
> Only I'm not going to check it out, so I'm not disappointed.


Velvet Underground can be described as many things, but boppy, girly probably isn't one of them  :Tongue: 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AwzaifhSw2c
(It's a different song of theirs so as not to disappoint too much)

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## Heathcliff

> Velvet Underground can be described as many things, but boppy, girly probably isn't one of them 
> 
> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AwzaifhSw2c
> (It's a different song of theirs so as not to disappoint too much)


Aw. Not girly.

That particular song totally made it NOT girly. It's pretty good though.
Would also serve a good orchestral piece...

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## JBI

> The Doors produced some truly great stuff, but Jim Morrison was far from being a good poet.
> 
> I'd like to say though that greatest lyrics are not necessarily going to be great poetry. Song lyrics are written with the music in mind, and how the lyrics play off the music is a huge part of them. When we remove the music from the lyrics we cut ourselves off from their quality as lyrics within and of themselves.
> 
> Exactly... and this point was made already on the earlier thread on this same topic. Poetry has its own internal rhythm and "music" if you will. Most song lyrics do not, rather the music provides this framework for them. Reading a great many of these song lyrics is almost painful without this framework. In an earlier discussion we brought up the fact that even a vast majority of opera librettos, texts for cantatas or oratorios, lieder, chanson, etc... do not hold up well as literature divorced from the music.


Hmm, I like to think that, but then I recall poetry started off as a sort of song-based art - Orpheus, Homer, and the rest, all accompanied by music - not to mention the Classical Chinese poets, the Vedic Indian poets, and others. I think Japanese poetry started off as textual, but I am not sure.

The point is, is that the separation is really unnatural, so I have a bit of trouble understanding it. I think really it is that music can work without good lyrics, but that music in itself is not poetry, but I don't think lyrics themselves work if they are bad with good music. The song itself works, but I don't think the lyrics do. So if we maintain distinction, it is easy to suggest one work is mediocre in one regard, but the compensation of the whole manages to keep the thing afloat. 

So, we can have the opposite, where Dylan isn't the best singer in an objective sense, but when he uses his lyrics, they become a sort of performance art work that is legitimized under the standards of good music, for the sake that their lyrics are top notch. The same thing goes the other way, and it just ends up that we evaluate one element.

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## rimbaud

the music is something that can not be explained or repeated by anyone, it just kicks a~~, and the lyrics are pure poetry 


Led zeppelin kashmir

Oh let the sun beat down upon my face
With stars to fill my dream.
I am a traveler of both time and space
To be where I have been.

To sit with elders of a gentle race
This world has seldom seen.
They talk of days for which they sit and wait
When all will be revealed.

Talk an' song from tongues of lilting grace
Whose sounds caress my ear.
But not a word I heard could I relate
The story was quite clear.
Whoa-ohh-oh
Whoa-ohhh-oh-oh

Ooooh
Oh baby, I've been flyin'
Nooo-yeah
Oh mama there
Ain't no denyin'

Oh!
Ooooh-yes
I've been flyin'
Ma-ma-ma
Ain't no denyin'
No denyin'-uh

Oh!
All I see turns to brown
As the sun burns the ground.
And my eyes fill with sand
As I scan this wasted land.
Tryin' to find
Tryin' to find
Where I've been.

Oh pilot of the storm who leaves no trace
Like thoughts inside a dream
Who hid the path that led me to that place
Of yellow desert screen.

My shangri-la beneath the summer moon
I will return again.
Sure as the dust that floats high in June
When movin' through Kashmir.

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## Heathcliff

Yer, Rimbaud, that is pretty poetic, the verses in particular.

Anyone know Low by Flo Rida and T-Pain? Can poetry get that coarse?
Would that still be considered a love sonnet?  :FRlol:

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## stlukesguild

Hmm, I like to think that, but then I recall poetry started off as a sort of song-based art - Orpheus, Homer, and the rest, all accompanied by music - not to mention the Classical Chinese poets, the Vedic Indian poets, and others. I think Japanese poetry started off as textual, but I am not sure.

Certainly both music and poetry began in song. Sappho supposedly wrote music to the poems and the Biblical Psalms were songs. In these instances the lyrics stand up separate from the music... and I am not saying this is impossible. Certainly Wagner's and Richard Strauss' opera librettos can stand alone as literature... as can many of the German lieder and French chanson set to poetry by Goethe, Heine, Morike, Verlaine, Gautier, etc...

The point is, is that the separation is really unnatural, so I have a bit of trouble understanding it. 

That is my point as well. I cannot understand why some wish to experience the lyrics of Led Zeppelin or the Doors as separate from the music. Songs and opera and oratorios and masses are completely different beast from the poem. It seems to me no different than discussing the music and the screenplay and the photography and even the acting of a film as independent entities. As Petrarch'sLove pointed out John Williams music to Schindler's List was powerfully effective... but she had to wonder how it might have functioned in a lesser film... or a film that was overly sentimental. Fred MacMurray's acting in Double Indemnity was perfectly suited to the film... but would have been over-the-top and even comic in another context. My guess is that many high-school students are introduced to the notion that pop lyrics are poetry (which they certainly are... I'm disputing this) either through teachers wishing to grab their attention... or simply on their own as these lyrics become virtually the only exposure that many will ever have to poetry... and certainly the only instance in which many will actually memorize verse. 

I think really it is that music can work without good lyrics, but that music in itself is not poetry, but I don't think lyrics themselves work if they are bad with good music. The song itself works, but I don't think the lyrics do. So if we maintain distinction, it is easy to suggest one work is mediocre in one regard, but the compensation of the whole manages to keep the thing afloat. 

Most works of art have strengths and weaknesses. An artist as undeniably central as Michelangelo can be criticized for the absence of a real setting (there is little effort placed upon the background) as well as for his lack of concern for the individual character of his people. These are more than compensated for by his strengths... and seriously... the "deficient" areas are never really "bad" to the point that they detract.

Schubert built his vocal masterpiece, the Winterreise, upon the mediocre poems of Wilhelm Müller. The poems are certainly not great on their own... they do not stand up to Goethe or Heine or Holderlin. They are just adequate examples of German Romantic poetry. The music, however, not only compensates for the poetry... but ennobles it... essentially reinterprets it or re-imagines it so that it resonates far more than the words alone do. In this manner I think of how apples are surely among the most common-place or mundane of subject matter for the artist... but in Cezanne's hands they are transformed into something more so that I never find myself thinking, "Great handling of paint. Brilliant composition. I just wish he'd painted something less mundane." 

So, we can have the opposite, where Dylan isn't the best singer in an objective sense, but when he uses his lyrics, they become a sort of performance art work that is legitimized under the standards of good music, for the sake that their lyrics are top notch. 

But certainly the music... including his singing... is perfectly suited to the lyrics so that together they both become more than what they are separate. 

I've always loved this one... the central core of the Hebrew faith reduced to pure satire in one verse:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2BH8U_z7Q6c

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## JCamilo

Isnt there an anedocte about Mallarme, when a singer did a homage to him singing one of his poems and afterwards asked him if he liked when the poem was turned into music, Mallarme answered: Why, wasnt musical before?

Anyways, I would say that the answer of lies on Borges, when he says a poem recall his oral origem. That is all, a poem only tries to produce an effect which made us recall of sound. It is not music, just like a painting is not a tree. While the lyrics of a song is really part of the music.

But like in any art, exchange is fundamental, limits will be broken. Hamlet is not really a romance or novel, but a script for a play. It is write in a way that only makes sense if we are aware that wast meant to be said by actors. Of course Shakespeare writting quality makes pleasant to read it and ignore the author, but would all scripts be that good? 

The problem mostly is that modern pop music, even Dylan and Velvet are pop, need some basic rules in their lyrics that are catchy and not exactly the best poetry. Beatles pretty much are master of this. A few lines well placed, but not the entire work. 
I would give example of brazilian culture, we are more musical than writen. Cultural wise, there is a demand for good lyricist, so poets are often seen also writting musical pieces. It was also a better way to make money. And the popular culture is very strong, if you seek the old samba lyrics, you will see they are mostly written following rules of poetic metric from popular oral poetry. And we had Vinicius de Moraes, a poet that was a great musician, and would walk from one art to another as easily as he would left empty a beer bottle.

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## Jeremydav

Visions of Johanna by Dylan is perhaps one of my favorite poems, and it is indeed a song. I could read it over and over (though I prefer to listen to it, harmonica adds a nice touch).

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## Scheherazade

> I've never heard this song.
> Is it a boppy, girly tune?
> I hope it is, would sound alright.
> Only I'm not going to check it out, so I'm not disappointed.


Mine was not a serious post, Heath, but you _should_ listen to some Velvet Underground so I will add to Orphan's list (more "girly" songs this time  :Wink: ):

I'm Sticking With You

After Hours

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## dfloyd

along with those who wrote the music: Jerome Kern, Irving Berlin, Ira Gershwin, and, of course, Cole Porter. Just take some time and watch the old B&W movies: songs like Smoke Gets in Your Eyes, Night and Day, You'll never Know I Much I Love You .... Ah yes those were the days!

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## Heathcliff

> Mine was not a serious post, Heath, but you _should_ listen to some Velvet Underground so I will add to Orphan's list (more "girly" songs this time ):
> 
> I'm Sticking With You
> 
> After Hours


Yes I know... Still, it is amasing the impression you can get from a series of lyrics, totally different to the song.

In English last year, my teacher brought in the lyrics to I am a Rock, I am an Island by Simon and Garfunkle. None of the class had ever heard it before. She made us spend a whole period trying to put a tune to it. Nobody was even close.

This is some of it:
" A winter's day
In a deep and dark December;
I am alone,
Gazing from my window to the streets below
On a freshly fallen silent shroud of snow.
I am a rock,
I am an island.

I've built walls,
A fortress deep and mighty,
That none may penetrate.
I have no need of friendship; friendship causes pain.
It's laughter and it's loving I disdain.
I am a rock,
I am an island. "

Really amazing how hard it was for my class, although it is very difficult.
Like what wlz said in page two, Simon and Garfunkle are awesome. Maybe no in those exact words... still.

I listened to those, Sher, I really liked I'm Sticking With You. Very interesting. Very cute and girly.  :Blush:

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## Scheherazade

> I listened to those, Sher, I really liked I'm Sticking With You. Very interesting. Very cute and girly.


Have you watched the movie "Juno"? It is in the soundtrack.

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## Heathcliff

> Have you watched the movie "Juno"? It is in the soundtrack.


I haven't seen the movie. I should.

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## The Comedian

For me, the songwriter who has consistently written the best lyrics is Bruce Springsteen. And, of all the popular artists that I listen to, he is the one whom I would rank first. 

I love songs that tell simple, but emotional stories that make me bond with singer. And Springsteen does that better than anyone that I've ever listened to.

Of note here, I could listen or read the words of his song "The River" over and over and over and over for their simple story and their profound impact.

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## Paulclem

Look What I Found In My Beer -lyrics by he Beautiful South

Look what I found in my beer
A couple of dancing ladies and a ticket out of here
Look what I've found in my beer
A start to being lonely and an end to my career
Look what he found in his gin
Lights' looking lively when love's looking dim
Look what he found in his gin
Souls look heavy when personality's thin

Look what I found in the drum
A lifelong beat and a replacement to the rum
Look what he found in his guitar
Another fellow thinker and a chauffeur to my heart
Look what I found in the mic
An end to screwed-up drinking and a Paul I actually like
Look what I found in my beer
A free test drive for a heart I cannot steer
Look what I found in my beer -The Beautiful South

Look what I found in my drink
A brain without a plughole and a sink without a think
Look what I found in my drink
A "love you" to the barmaid and a too-familiar wink
Look what we found in his booze
The reflection of him and his children without shoes
Look what we found in his booze
This mornings jigsaw in a hill of last nights clues
Look what I found in the drum
A lifelong beat and a replacement to the rum
Look what he found in his guitar
Another fellow thinker and a chauffeur to my heart
Look what I found in the mic
An end to screwed-up drinking and a Paul I actually like
Look what I found in my beer
A free test drive for a heart I cannot steer
Look what I found in my beer
Look what we found in the dance
Look what I've found in the song
Low expectations in a large pile of cans
It maked the drink seem weak,the friendship strong

I think these lyrics by The Beautiful South make interesting poetry, and the song's pretty good too. It describes Paul Heaton's well nown struggle with lohol.

The question is an interesting one, and may blur with more technology. In the meantime, as hs been said, poetry as been combined it music, such as Eliot's Old Possums Book of Cats, and art, for example Easter Wings. 

There's no real reason why any artistic disciplne should be kpt isolated. Poetry is an effective element with music, though as JBI has pointed out, bad lyrics can't hide in a song - see the words of Maggie May, which make little sense.

I couldn't find a link for ths song on Youtube, but here's another one about - surprisingly - a table. A poetic conceit if evr there was one.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nNdqtcXy9vs

----------


## OrphanPip

> There's no real reason why any artistic disciplne should be kpt isolated. Poetry is an effective element with music, though as JBI has pointed out, bad lyrics can't hide in a song - see the words of Maggie May, which make little sense.


While I don't think the lyrics to Maggie May are fantastic, they do make perfect sense. I don't know what you find confusing about them.

He was a young man who was in love with an older woman and she left him... the end. Nothing too special about it, but meh it's Rod Stewart.




> Wake up Maggie
> I think I got something to say to you;
> it's late September and I really should be back at school.
> I know I keep you amused
> but I feel I'm being used
> 
> oh
> Maggie
> I couldn't have tried anymore.
> ...

----------


## Paulclem

He doesn't make any sense. Does he love her or not? I like the tune though.

----------


## Sancho

Chuck Berry, Promised Land




> I left my home in Norfolk Virginia, California on my mind
> Straddled that Greyhound and rode him into Raleigh 
> And on across Caroline
> 
> We stopped in Charlotte and bypassed Rock Hill
> And we never was a minute late
> We was ninety miles out of Atlanta by sundown 
> Rollin cross the Georgia state


Charlie Daniels, Uneasy Rider




> I was takin a trip out to L.A.
> Toolin along in my Chevrolet
> Tokin on a number and diggin on the radio
> 
> Just as I crossed the Mississippi line
> I heard that highway start to whine
> And I knew that left rear tire was about to blow


Homer, The Odyssey




> Sing to me of the man, Oh Muse
> Of the hero who traveled far and wide
> Driven off course again and again
> After he plundered the heights of Troy
> 
> Many cities he knew
> Many customs he learned
> Mightily he suffered on the open sea
> Fighting for his life and to bring his brothers home

----------


## Koa

I truly don't know why this came to my mind...

Sharp and open
Leave me alone
And sleeping less every night
As the days become heavier and weighted
Waiting
In the cold light
A noise
A scream tears my clothes as the figurines tighten
With spiders inside them
And dust on the lips of a vision of hell
I laughed in the mirror for the first time in a year

A hundred other words blind me with your purity
Like an old painted doll in the throes of dance
I think about tomorrow
Please let me sleep
As I slip down the window
Freshly squashed fly
You mean nothing
You mean nothing

I can lose myself in Chinese art and American girls
All the time
Lose me in the dark
Please do it right
Run into the night
I will lose myself tomorrow
Crimson pain
My heart explodes
My memory in a fire
And someone will listen
At least for a short while

I can never say no to anyone but you

Too many secrets
Too many lies
Writhing with hatred
Too many secrets
Please make it good tonight
But the same image haunts me
In sequence
In despair of time

I will never be clean again
I touched her eyes
Pressed my stained face
I will never be clean again

Touch her eyes
Press my stained face
I will never be clean again
I will never be clean again
I will never be clean again
I will never be clean again 


(The Cure, The Figurehead)
I think I like all the visual images...the painted doll, the concreteness of Chinese art and American girls. And the genius of Robert Smith  :Smile: 

I think all lyrics are poetry. (except mainstream pop...) Some maybe are bad poetry, like yeah the Linkin Park one posted above is not great, it's too easy.

----------


## Heathcliff

So, sometimes rap doesn't have the same melody, timing, etc. as the music. Are those 'words' considered lyrics or poetrey, or just a string of sounds?


The following are some lines from Ghetto Gospel, 2PAC and Elton John:
Tell me do you see that old lady ain't it sad
Living out a bag, but she's glad for the little things she has
And over there there's a lady, crack got her crazy
Guess she's given birth to a baby
I don't trip and let it fade me, from outta the frying pan
We jump into another form of slavery
Even now I get discouraged
Wonder if they take it all back while I still keep the courage
I refuse to be a role model
I set goals, take control, drink out my own bottles
I make mistakes, I learn from everyone
And when it's said and done
I bet this Brother be a better one
If I upset you, don't stress
Never forget, that God hasn't finished with me yet
I feel his hand on my brain
When I write rhymes, I go blind, and let the lord do his thang
But am I less holy
'cause I choose to puff a blunt and drink a beer with my homies
Before we find world peace
We gotta find peace and end the war on the streets
My ghetto gospel

_________________________

I don't think most of that goes with the beat, well, not very easily. Still, at school anyway, that became a very well known song.

So I suppose pumping our minds with somethong-like-poetry is a good thing.

----------


## Paulclem

It's an interesting question as to whether text is prose or poetry. It may just come down to the arrangement of the lines on the page, as so much of the features of poetry can appear in prose. The arrangement of the lines may just state the author's intention - poem not prose.

----------


## Heathcliff

True.

There are many ideas of what poetry is. It doesn't have to rhyme or be phrased in any way, or even go to a set of rules.

There are more restrictions in songs, I think.

----------


## Riesa

To cross the wide sea I deserted,
From the shore I did fly.
I thought it time that I travelled,
So I took to the roads of the sky.

It was late and the wind it did gently blow,
Oh the night it was calm.
I saw the flower of the ocean
And the universe did me no harm,
It said to fly on.

The sea captain he loved the ocean,
But his ship was on fire.
His hands they did stretch out before him,
For to take one of many desires,
But there was no time.

Across the wide sea he departed,
From the ship he did fly.
He thought it time that he travelled
And I saw him as he passed by,

----------


## Paulclem

> True.
> 
> There are many ideas of what poetry is. It doesn't have to rhyme or be phrased in any way, or even go to a set of rules.
> 
> There are more restrictions in songs, I think.


I prefer it as it is now with free verse acceptable, and form, in the best poetry, chosen to fit the purpose. It seems more democratic in that it doesn't need follow such stringent forms. Thats not to say I don't like older poetry. 

Anyway, to get back to the thread. I really like these two Pink Floyd songs. I think as poetry they are only ok, whereas the mournful tunes really add on the atmosphere.

Comfortably Numb lyrics
Songwriters: Gilmour, David Jon; Waters, Roger;

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tkJNyQfAprY


Hello?
Is there anybody in there?
Just nod if you can hear me
Is there anyone at home?

Come on, now
I hear you're feeling down
Well I can ease your pain
Get you on your feet again

Relax
I'll need some information first
Just the basic facts
Can you show me where it hurts?

There is no pain you are receding
A distant ship's smoke on the horizon
You are the only coming through in waves
Your lips move but I can't hear what you're saying

When I was a child I had a fever
My hands felt just like two balloons
Now I've got that feeling once again
I can't explain you would not understand
This is not how I am

I have become comfortably numb

I have become comfortably numb

Okay
Just a little pinprick
There'll be no more
But you may feel a little sick

Can you stand up?
I do believe it's working good
That'll keep you going through the show
Come on it's time to go

There is no pain you are receding
A distant ship's smoke on the horizon
You are the only coming through in waves
Your lips move but I can't hear what you're saying

When I was a child I caught a fleeting glimpse
Out of the corner of my eye
I turned to look but it was gone
I cannot put my finger on it now
The child is grown the dream is gone

I have become comfortably numb


Breathe lyrics

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fx6iIp-PvnY


Breathe, breathe in the air
Don't be afraid to care
Leave but don't leave me
Look around and chose your own ground
For long you live and high you fly
And smiles you'll give and tears you'll cry
And all you touch and all you see
Is all your life will ever be
Run, run rabbit run
Dig that hole, forget the sun,
And when at last the work is done
Don't sit down it's time to dig another one
For long you live and high you fly
But only if you ride the tide
And balanced on the biggest wave
You race toward an early grave.

----------


## Emil Miller

I don't know if it can stand alone as poetry, but nobody can doubt the poignancy of the words in this recording:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eih67rlGNhU

----------


## Desolation

_Teachers_ - Leonard Cohen

I met a woman long ago
her hair the black that black can go,
Are you a teacher of the heart?
Soft she answered no.
I met a girl across the sea,
her hair the gold that gold can be,
Are you a teacher of the heart?
Yes, but not for thee.

I met a man who lost his mind
in some lost place I had to find,
follow me the wise man said,
but he walked behind.

I walked into a hospital
where none was sick and none was well,
when at night the nurses left
I could not walk at all.

Morning came and then came noon,
dinner time a scalpel blade
lay beside my silver spoon.

Some girls wander by mistake
into the mess that scalpels make.
Are you the teachers of my heart?
We teach old hearts to break.

One morning I woke up alone,
the hospital and the nurses gone.
Have I carved enough my Lord?
Child, you are a bone.

I ate and ate and ate,
no I did not miss a plate, well
How much do these suppers cost?
We'll take it out in hate.

I spent my hatred everyplace,
on every work on every face,
someone gave me wishes
and I wished for an embrace.

Several girls embraced me, then
I was embraced by men,
Is my passion perfect?
No, do it once again.

I was handsome I was strong,
I knew the words of every song.
Did my singing please you?
No, the words you sang were wrong.

Who is it whom I address,
who takes down what I confess?
Are you the teachers of my heart?
We teach old hearts to rest.

Oh teachers are my lessons done?
I cannot do another one.
They laughed and laughed and said, Well child,
are your lessons done?
are your lessons done?
are your lessons done?

----------


## Heathcliff

> I prefer it as it is now with free verse acceptable, and form, in the best poetry, chosen to fit the purpose. It seems more democratic in that it doesn't need follow such stringent forms. Thats not to say I don't like older poetry. 
> 
> Anyway, to get back to the thread. I really like these two Pink Floyd songs. I think as poetry they are only ok, whereas the mournful tunes really add on the atmosphere.
> 
> Breathe lyrics
> 
> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fx6iIp-PvnY
> 
> 
> ...


I like the Breathe ones, the type of poem that my English teacher would like, anyway.

Free verse bothers me in poems and songs, I think it is a lot harder to write.

I think it also depends on what comes first, the lyrics or the words.

----------


## Paulclem

> I like the Breathe ones, the type of poem that my English teacher would like, anyway.
> 
> Free verse bothers me in poems and songs, I think it is a lot harder to write.
> 
> I think it also depends on what comes first, the lyrics or the words.


I wonder what others think. I think free verse is easier to write, as the discipline of using a poetic form effectively limits your options for word order, meaning etc.

----------


## IWroteAPoem

Kurt Cobain wrote really good lyrics

Underneath the bridge
The tarp has sprung a leak
The animals I've trapped
Have all become my pets
I'm living off of grass
And the drippings from the ceiling
It's okay to eat fish
'Cause they don't have any feelings

----------


## Heathcliff

> I wonder what others think. I think free verse is easier to write, as the discipline of using a poetic form effectively limits your options for word order, meaning etc.


I suppose everyone is different. I don't like free verse because having to rhyme gives me boundaries and I have to stretch my vocabulary to meet them.

----------


## Paulclem

> I suppose everyone is different. I don't like free verse because having to rhyme gives me boundaries and I have to stretch my vocabulary to meet them.


I know what you mean. I do like the discipline it imposes, and crafting something into a form is satisfying. Not much time though.

----------


## Heathcliff

> I know what you mean. I do like the discipline it imposes, and crafting something into a form is satisfying. Not much time though.


Then again, if it is a poem and not a song, you can have these massive, long lines, then some short ones. Only hard part is that it has to flow somehow, so at least some of them must be to a corresponding length.

----------


## wlz

If this kind of repugnant twaddle is to be enjoyed as poetry then we're all immediately made redundant:

"Whoa-ohh-oh
Whoa-ohhh-oh-oh

Ooooh
Oh baby, I've been flyin'
Nooo-yeah
Oh mama there
Ain't no denyin'

Oh!
Ooooh-yes
I've been flyin'
Ma-ma-ma
Ain't no denyin'
No denyin'-uh

Oh!" 

- extract from 'Kashmir'.

I think I hear coffin doors opening in Pere Lachaise!

Westminster Abbey is groaning!

The Greek Island of Ios is freezing over!

I'm sure you may all be thinking that there's some sort of poetic famine on, but come out of the dark and back into the light before it's too late!

----------


## Emil Miller

> Sometimes I think there should be a one-year moratorium on all recorded songs. For one year, no songs can be recorded. There are too many being recorded as it is.


Whatever made you think that they were songs?

----------


## Paulclem

> Then again, if it is a poem and not a song, you can have these massive, long lines, then some short ones. Only hard part is that it has to flow somehow, so at least some of them must be to a corresponding length.


I think there's more use of internal rhymes etc. I agree that there has to be a flow. I suppose there's more options for mimicking real speech, the conscious flow of thoughts or significant pausing.

----------


## Heathcliff

> I think there's more use of internal rhymes etc. I agree that there has to be a flow. I suppose there's more options for mimicking real speech, the conscious flow of thoughts or significant pausing.


There would have to be. I'm still stuck on my theory that lymrics are already songs. Also, I think Nursery Rhymes can be considered both. 'Baa Baa Rainbow Sheep', have you heard that one? I've never heard that without chords and pitch changes; music. I suppose it is still a Nursery 'Rhyme'.




> If this kind of repugnant twaddle is to be enjoyed as poetry then we're all immediately made redundant:
> 
> "Whoa-ohh-oh
> Whoa-ohhh-oh-oh
> 
> Ooooh
> Oh baby, I've been flyin'
> Nooo-yeah
> Oh mama there
> ...


I suppose I throw in the towel. Half of the words aren't words.

----------


## Paulclem

I like this poem by Tatamkula Africa. It's free verse, but the stumbling rythmn mimics the effort needed to walk over the wasteland. One of the trngths of fr ersei thatit gives you options. 

Nothings changed 


Small round hard stones click
under my heels,
seeding grasses thrust
bearded seeds
into trouser cuffs, cans,
trodden on, crunch
in tall, purple-flowering,
amiable weeds.


http://southafrica.poetryinternation...hp?obj_id=5497

----------


## Veho

All the fear has left me now
I'm not frightened anymore
It's my heart that pounds beneath my flesh
It's my mouth that pushes out this breath

And if I shed a tear I won't cage it
I won't fear love
And if I feel a rage a won't deny it
I won't fear love

Companion to our demons
They will dance, and we will play
With chairs, candles and cloth
Making darkness in the day
It will be easy to look in or out
Upstream or down without a thought

Peace in the struggle
To find peace
Comfort on the way
To comfort

(Fumbling Towards Ecstasy - Sarah McLachlan)

----------


## !!!

the horrors - Scarlett fields, their lyrics are very underrated

As the summer fades away
you'll lead me to the garden
passing the lovers
swooning in the autumn

see yourself, your image in the eyes of someone else
see yourself, your fears as they appear to someone else

when the sun sets
on dark silhouettes
collapse into dream

as summer fades away
laugh at my reflection
passed to a lover
seeking your affection

though i know you won't be here for long

----------


## Revolte

ok here are a couple.

All Along by Tin Tree Factory ( the lyrics are nowhere to be found so heres the youtube link )

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Lc2Ft2990R0


and 

saftey pin stuck in my heart - Patrik Fitzgerald ( the punk rock poet )



I don't love you for your graveyard eyes
I don't love you for your shaven thighs
I just love you for that
Beat-beat-beat-beat-beating

I don't love you for your tattered tie
I don't love you, and I don't know why
I just love you for that
Beat-beat-beat-beat-beating


I've got a safety pin stuck in my heart 
For you, for you 

I don't love you for your professed hate
I don't love you for your cards of fate
I just love you for that
Beat-beat-beat-beat-beating

I don't love you for your painted shoes
I don't love you for your friends you never choose
I just love you for that
Beat-beat-beat-beat-beating

I've got a safety pin stuck in my heart
For you, for you

I don't love you for your many reasons
Propagandas, doctrines, treasons
All I know's that
Beat-beat-beat-beat-beating

I've got an ear inflamed on my dog chain
Painted faces, painted names -
My shirt - it's all that
Beat-beat-beat-beat-beating

I've got a safety pin stuck in my heart
For you, for you

----------


## MartyJones

Empty is the sky before the sun wakes up.
Empty is the eyes of animals in cages.
Empty, faces of women mourning
When everything's been taken from them.
Me, don't ask me about empty.

Empty is a string of dirty days
Held together by some rain.
And the cold winds drumming at the trees again.
Empty is the color of the fear
Long about September when the days
Go marching in a line toward November.
Empty is the hour before sleep chills you every night
And pushes you to take me away from every kind of light.
Empty is me.
Empty is me.

-Frank Sinatra, "Empty is"

----------


## sixsmith

I'm sorry to say that I think this thread simply reinforces a fairly well known truth. Song lyrics, to an overwhelming extent, make for awful poetry.

----------


## Pryderi Agni

Dunno if it's been posted before, but here are two of my faves:




> "Shadow Of The Day"
> 
> I close both locks below the window
> I close both blinds and turn away
> 
> Sometimes solutions aren't so simple
> Sometimes good bye's the only way
> 
> [Chorus]
> ...


And:




> Every time I look in the mirror
> All these lines on my face getting clearer
> The past is gone
> It goes by, like dusk to dawn
> Isn't that the way
> Everybody's got their dues in life to pay
> 
> Yeah, I know nobody knows
> where it comes and where it goes
> ...


For the clueless, the two songs are Linkin Park's Shadow of the Day and Aerosmith's Dream On.

----------


## Heathcliff

> I'm sorry to say that I think this thread simply reinforces a fairly well known truth. Song lyrics, to an overwhelming extent, make for awful poetry.


Agreed.

There are one or two that aren't so bad, but it just isn't the same.

----------


## Molpadia

_Lateralus_ by TOOL is one of the single most beautifully written things I've ever read.




> With my feet upon the ground
> I move myself between the sounds and
> Open wide to suck it in
> I feel it move across my skin
> I'm reaching up and reaching out
> I'm reaching for the random or
> Whatever will bewilder me,
> Whatever will bewilder me
> And following our will and wind
> ...

----------


## Paulclem

[QUOTE=Vautrin;821511]There are countless songs we consider poetic or, at least, poetic sounding. However, most of these songs, when stripped of their instrumentals, may not hold up so well as serious poetry. /QUOTE]




I'm sorry to say that I think this thread simply reinforces a fairly well known truth. Song lyrics, to an overwhelming extent, make for awful poetry. Sixsmith

The thread began with that premise, but Vautrin was asking for possible exceptions.

----------


## wlz

"The thread began with that premise, but Vautrin was asking for possible exceptions."

Well in that case...

Diamonds and Rust Lyrics

(Words and Music by Joan Baez)

I'll be damned
Here comes your ghost again
But that's not unusual
It's just that the moon is full
And you happened to call
And here I sit
Hand on the telephone
Hearing a voice I'd known
A couple of light years ago
Heading straight for a fall

As I remember your eyes
Were bluer than robin's eggs 
My poetry was lousy you said
Where are you calling from?
A booth in the midwest
Ten years ago
I bought you some cufflinks
You brought me something
We both know what memories can bring
They bring diamonds and rust

Well you burst on the scene
Already a legend
The unwashed phenomenon
The original vagabond
You strayed into my arms
And there you stayed
Temporarily lost at sea
The Madonna was yours for free
Yes the girl on the half-shell
Would keep you unharmed

Now I see you standing
With brown leaves falling around
And snow in your hair
Now you're smiling out the window
Of that crummy hotel
Over Washington Square
Our breath comes out white clouds
Mingles and hangs in the air
Speaking strictly for me
We both could have died then and there

Now you're telling me
You're not nostalgic
Then give me another word for it
You who are so good with words
And at keeping things vague
Because I need some of that vagueness now
It's all come back too clearly
Yes I loved you dearly
And if you're offering me diamonds and rust
I've already paid

The above is far from being poetry but I love these lyrics, (and the song).

----------


## Paulclem

> The above is far from being poetry but I love these lyrics, (and the song).


I like them.  :Smile:

----------


## Heathcliff

> The above is far from being poetry but I love these lyrics, (and the song).


It almost is a poem. I wouldn't have thought it a song.

----------


## Paulclem

This is by The Verve - Sonnet, though they're not. Great song and a few good lines. 

Sonnet lyrics
My friend and me
Looking through her red box of memories
Faded I'm sure
But love seems to stick in her veins you know

Yes, there's love if you want it
Don't sound like no sonnet, my lord
Yes, there's love if you want it
Don't sound like no sonnet, my lord
My lord

Why can't you see
That nature has its way of warning me
Eyes open wide
Looking at the heavens with a tear in my eye

Yes, there's love if you want it
Don't sound like no sonnet, my lord
Yes, there's love if you want it
Don't sound like no sonnet, my lord
My lord

Sinking fast within a boat without a hull
My lord
Dreaming about the day when I can see you there
My side
By my side

Here we go again and my head is gone, my lord
I stop to say hello
'Cause I think you should know by now
By now
By now
By now
By now
By now
Oh, by now
Oh, by now
Oh, by now
Oh, by now

----------


## Heathcliff

That would make a wonderful poem. Maybe not, the last few lines, but there are some fine quality phrases in that.

Fall for You - Secondhand Serenade

Best thing about tonight's that were not fighting
Could it be that we have been this way before
I know you dont think that I am trying......
I know youre wearing thin down to the core..

But hold your breath
Because tonight will be the night that i will fall for you
Over again
Dont make me change my mind
Or I wont live to see another day
I swear its true
Because a girl like you is impossible to find
Youre impossible to find

This is not what I intended
I always swore to you I'd never fall apart
You always thought that I was stronger
I may have failed
But I have loved you from the start

Oh, But hold your breath
Because tonight will be the night that I will fall for you
Over again
Dont make me change my mind
Or I wont live to see another day
I swear its true
Because a girl like you is impossible to find
Its impossible 
________________________
Well, that is most of it.
My favourite song for a while.
Not bad.

----------


## stlukesguild

Lateralus by TOOL is one of the single most beautifully written things I've ever read.

You need to read more. :Biggrin: 

I'm sorry to say that I think this thread simply reinforces a fairly well known truth. Song lyrics, to an overwhelming extent, make for awful poetry.

I don't love you for your graveyard eyes
I don't love you for your shaven thighs...

Yep... they just get worse and worse.

----------


## Katy North

My favoritest band ever is U2. I love their songs. I hardly ever listen to music Willingly unless it is one of their albums.

However, do their lyrics make good poetry?

One of my favorite songs by them is Yaweh from their album "How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb". 

YAWEH

Take these shoes
Click clacking down some dead end street
Take these shoes
And make them fit
Take this shirt
Polyester white trash made in nowhere
Take this shirt
And make it clean (clean)
Take this soul
Stranded in some skin and bones
Take this soul
And make it sing

Yahweh, Yahweh
Always pain before a child is born
Yahweh, Yahweh
Still I'm waiting for the dawn

Take these hands
Teach them what to carry
Take these hands
Don't make a fist (no) 
Take this mouth
So quick to criticise
Take this mouth
Give it a kiss

Yahweh, Yahweh
Always pain before a child is born
Yahweh, Yahweh
Still I'm waiting for the dawn

Still waiting for the dawn... sun is coming up
Sun is coming up on the ocean
This love is like a drop in the ocean
This love is like a drop in the ocean

Yahweh, Yahweh
Always pain before a child is born
Yahweh, tell me now
Why the dark before the dawn?

Take this city
A city should be shining on a hill
Take this city
If it be your will
What no man can own, no man can take
Take this heart
Take this heart
Take this heart
And make it break

Is it deep? Yes. Does it make me sing along in my off-tune, unmelodious voice? Yes. Does it make me cry sometimes when I listen closely to the words and the passion and uncertainty behind Bono's voice? Yes. 

Are the lyrics on their own good poetry? Nope, though since I love the song I want to say yes.

But, does it mean that there will never be a song whose lyrics can stand alone as good poetry?

Not by a long shot. I'd just say we're waiting for a poet to become a rock star.

----------


## Molpadia

> Lateralus by TOOL is one of the single most beautifully written things I've ever read.
> 
> You need to read more.


That was pretty uncalled for. I didn't go out of my way to demean your preferences. I'm not sure what you did that put you in such a venerated position justifying you making such judgments.

----------


## Paulclem

> I'm sorry to say that I think this thread simply reinforces a fairly well known truth. Song lyrics, to an overwhelming extent, make for awful poetry.
> 
> I don't love you for your graveyard eyes
> I don't love you for your shaven thighs...
> 
> Yep... they just get worse and worse.


There are countless songs we consider poetic or, at least, poetic sounding. However, most of these songs, when stripped of their instrumentals, may not hold up so well as serious poetry.

That was the premise of the post. i think posters are enjoying the thread anyway.

The disadvantage that song lyrics have is that they are crafted to the music which then rounds off the form. It may contain interesting lines, but it is not solely reliant upon the words. There isn't the adherence to poetic form that you get with poetry, and the emphasis and power id focused often upon the music. Despite that there are still good lines within the lyrics.

----------


## JackieGinger

> It may contain interesting lines, but it is not solely reliant upon the words.


Hmm Paulclem, I think that makes songs - GOOD SONGS - superior to poetry, as it is double poetry: a poetry of words and music (music might add a great touch to the words, even a change in the meaning)!  :Wink:

----------


## Babyguile

*Mechanix by Megadeth*

You need your metaphor detectors [ON]

_Imagine you were at my station
And you brought your motor to me
Your a burner yeah a real motor car
Said you wanna get your order filled
Made me shiver when I put it in
Pumping just won't do ya know luckily for you

Whoever thought you'd be better
At turning a screw than me
I do it for my life
Made my drive shaft crank
Made my pistons bulge
Made my ball bearing melt from the heat
oh yeah yeah

We were shifting hard when we took off
Put tonight all four on the floor
When we hit top end you know it feels to slow
Said you wanna get your order filled
Made me shiver when I put it in
Pumping just won't do ya know luckily for you

I'm giving you my room service
And ya know it's more than enough
Oh one more time ya know I'm in love_

*Megadeth - Black Friday*

_Hey, I don't feel so good.
Something's not right,
Something's coming over me
What the **** is this?


Killer, intruder, homicidal man.
If you see me coming, run as fast as you can.
A blood thirsty demon who's stalking the street.
I hack up my victims like pieces of meat.
Blood thirsty demon, sinister fiend,
Bludgeonous slaughters, my evil deeds. 

My hammer's a cold piece of blood-lethal steel.
I grin while you writhe with the pain that I deal.
Swinging the hammer, I hack through their heads,
Deviant defilers, you're next to be dead.
I unleash my hammer with sadistic intent.
Pounding, surrounding, slamming through your head. Yeah! 

Their bodies convulse, in agony, and, pain.
I mangle their faces, till no features remain.
A blade for the butchering, I cut them to shreds.
First take out the organs, then cut off the head.
The remains of flesh now sop under my feet.
One more bloody massacre, the murders' complete.
I seek to dismember, a sadist fiend.
And, blood baths are my way of getting clean.
I lurk in the alleys, wait for the kill.
I have no remorse for the blood that I spill
A merciless butcher who lives underground.
I'm out to destroy you and ,I will, cut you down.
I see you, and, I'm waiting ,for Black Friday. 

Killer, intruder, homicidal man.
If you see me coming, run as fast as you can.
A blood thirsty demon who's stalking the street.
I hack up my victims like pieces of meat.
I lurk in the alleys, wait for the kill.
I have no remorse for the blood that I spill
A merciless butcher who lives underground.
I'm out to destroy you and ,I will, cut you down. 

It's Black Friday, paint the devil on the wall._

----------


## Paulclem

> Hmm Paulclem, I think that makes songs - GOOD SONGS - superior to poetry, as it is double poetry: a poetry of words and music (music might add a great touch to the words, even a change in the meaning)!


Yes. It probably explains the vast expansion of music in relation to poetry. It also does credit to memorable poetry which doesn't have the musical backup, just the internal music.  :Smile:

----------


## JackieGinger

> Yes. It probably explains the vast expansion of music in relation to poetry. It also does credit to memorable poetry which doesn't have the musical backup, just the internal music.


_It probably explains the vast expansion of music in relation to poetry._ 
I said *good music* so the expansion is not that vast!

_the internal music_
Ha! Got me with that one!
One thing I could repeat though, is that music can stand alone for poetry, so once again, the amount of poetry is increased...

----------


## Paulclem

> _It probably explains the vast expansion of music in relation to poetry._ 
> I said *good music* so the expansion is not that vast!
> 
> _the internal music_
> Ha! Got me with that one!
> One thing I could repeat though, is that music can stand alone for poetry, so once again, the amount of poetry is increased...


My eclecticism is as big as an ipod, (though not my wallet). I think there's loads of great music, and I guess you're right about the poetry of music.

----------


## conartist

Not sure that I've ever heard song lyrics that could stand alone as poetry, but there is a certain buoyancy in The Smiths at their best:

Punctured bicycle
On a hillside desolate
Will nature make a man of me yet ?

When in this charming car
This charming man

Why pamper life's complexity
When the leather runs smooth
On the passenger seat ?

I would go out tonight
But I haven't got a stitch to wear
This man said "it's gruesome
That someone so handsome should care"

Ah ! A jumped-up pantry boy
Who never knew his place
He said "return the ring"
He knows so much about these things
He knows so much about these things

I Know It's Over is probably the pinnacle...

Oh Mother, I can feel the soil falling over my head
And as I climb into an empty bed
Oh well. Enough said.
I know it's over - still I cling
I don't know where else I can go
Oh ...
Oh Mother, I can feel the soil falling over my head
See, the sea wants to take me
The knife wants to slit me
Do you think you can help me ?
Sad veiled bride, please be happy
Handsome groom, give her room
Loud, loutish lover, treat her kindly
(Though she needs you
More than she loves you)
And I know it's over - still I cling
I don't know where else I can go
Over and over and over and over
Over and over, la ...
I know it's over
And it never really began
But in my heart it was so real
And you even spoke to me, and said :
"If you're so funny
Then why are you on your own tonight ?
And if you're so clever
Then why are you on your own tonight ?
If you're so very entertaining
Then why are you on your own tonight ?
If you're so very good-looking
Why do you sleep alone tonight ?
I know ...
'Cause tonight is just like any other night
That's why you're on your own tonight
With your triumphs and your charms
While they're in each other's arms..."
It's so easy to laugh
It's so easy to hate
It takes strength to be gentle and kind
Over, over, over, over
It's so easy to laugh
It's so easy to hate
It takes guts to be gentle and kind
Over, over
Love is Natural and Real
But not for you, my love
Not tonight, my love
Love is Natural and Real
But not for such as you and I, my love
Oh Mother, I can feel the soil falling over my head
Oh Mother, I can feel the soil falling over my head
Oh Mother, I can feel the soil falling over my head
Oh Mother, I can feel the soil falling over my ...
Oh Mother, I can feel the soil falling over my head
Oh Mother, I can even feel the soil falling over my head
Oh Mother, I can feel the soil falling over my head
Oh Mother, I can feel the soil falling over my ...

----------


## Paulclem

Depressing words, depressing song - superb for a moody night. :Biggrin:

----------


## Heathcliff

Yea I guess sad songs are alright. Only great if you want to cry. Then again, a lot of poems are like that. Maybe I'm just squeamish.

----------


## Paulclem

> Yea I guess sad songs are alright. Only great if you want to cry. Then again, a lot of poems are like that. Maybe I'm just squeamish.


Have you read the Megadeath lyrics?

----------


## Heathcliff

> Have you read the Megadeath lyrics?


I have now. I got a quater of the way through 'Almost Honest'.
What is it with people and sad things?

----------


## Paulclem

> I have now. I got a quater of the way through 'Almost Honest'.
> What is it with people and sad things?


Lots of sad people? Or is it an indulgence to dip into every now and then? 

Would truly sad people want to listen to a sad/ mad song?

----------


## Heathcliff

> Lots of sad people? Or is it an indulgence to dip into every now and then? 
> 
> Would truly sad people want to listen to a sad/ mad song?


I don't know. I'm generally very happy. Although just very girly.

----------


## Paulclem

> I don't know. I'm generally very happy. Although just very girly.


Neither do I. I too am very happy, but not at all girly.  :Banana:

----------


## Heathcliff

> Neither do I. I too am very happy, but not at all girly.


If you say so. Then you think, what if they turned the words to 'The Highway Man' by Alfred Noyes into a song?

----------


## Helga

I think most lyrics can stand as poems, especially if you haven't heard the song... 
this is just for educational fun... (and cause I love the Monty Python)

When ever life gets you down Mrs. Brown
and things seem hard or tough.
and people are stupid obnoxious or daft
and you feel that you've had quite enough
Just remember that you're standing on a planet that's evolving
And revolving at nine hundred miles an hour,
That's orbiting at nineteen miles a second, so it's reckoned,
A sun that is the source of all our power.
The sun and you and me and all the stars that we can see
Are moving at a million miles a day
In an outer spiral arm, at forty thousand miles an hour,
Of the galaxy we call the 'Milky Way'.
Our galaxy itself contains a hundred billion stars.
It's a hundred thousand light years side to side.
It bulges in the middle, sixteen thousand light years thick,
But out by us, it's just three thousand light years wide.
We're thirty thousand light years from galactic central point.
We go 'round every two hundred million years,
And our galaxy is only one of millions of billions
In this amazing and expanding universe.

The universe itself keeps on expanding and expanding
In all of the directions it can whizz
As fast as it can go, at the speed of light, you know,
Twelve million miles a minute, and that's the fastest speed there is.
So remember, when you're feeling very small and insecure,
How amazingly unlikely is your birth,
And pray that there's intelligent life somewhere up in space,
'Cause there's bugger all down here on Earth.

----------


## Paulclem

> If you say so. Then you think, what if they turned the words to 'The Highway Man' by Alfred Noyes into a song?


It was done with Eliot's Old Possums Book of cats, which turned out great, so why not. 

I wonder what music would be good.

----------


## Babyguile

> I have now. I got a quater of the way through 'Almost Honest'.
> What is it with people and sad things?


Did someone post Almost Honest lyrics in this thread? What page  :Eek2:  

Also Paulclem are you a fan of these Megadeth lyrics ? lol

----------


## Heathcliff

> Did someone post Almost Honest lyrics in this thread? What page


I don't think so, I'm not sure. I searched it up.

----------


## rimbaud

Most of Bob Dylan's lyrics can be considered poetry

----------


## Paulclem

> Did someone post Almost Honest lyrics in this thread? What page  
> 
> Also Paulclem are you a fan of these Megadeth lyrics ? lol


No not now. I might have been when I was younger. :FRlol:

----------


## Babyguile

> No not now. I might have been when I was younger.


Those lyrics I posted were written in 1985 when the band were themselves kids, and part of a musical scene that they were creating, riding high on a mega tsunami if you like  :FRlol: 

Since then they've made brilliant music and some truly excellent lyrics. What I'm saying is don't be too hasty and judge a band of 26 years on two songs from their early career, even though I admit that those lyrics are totally genre slaves  :Nod: 

OK I'm going to be a complete fankid and post some more Megadeth lyrics:

*Diadems*

Sacriledge and blasphemy
Sets the stage today
The more insatiable the sex
The more swelled our tongues became 
As pre-historic as it seems
This is now, today
As pre-historic as it seems
This is now 

Talkin' 'bout no vision
Talkin' 'bout no dream
The Harlot puddles for her lies
From where she speaks 

I look above and see
Entrails in the sky
This song ain't over 'til the
Fat lady dies 

I saw a new earth today
I saw a former pass away

*A Tout Le Monde (To All The World)*

Don't remember where I was
I realized life was a game
The more seriously I took things
The harder the rules became
I had no idea what it'd cost
My life passed before my eyes
I found out how little I accomplished
All my plans denied

So as you read this know my friends
I'd love to stay with you all
smile when you think of me
My body's gone that's all

If my heart was still alive
I know it would surely break
And my memories left with you
There's nothing more to say

Moving on is a simple thing
What it leaves behind is hard
You know the sleeping feel no more pain
And the living all are scarred

So as you read this know my friends
I'd love to stay with you all
Please smile, smile when you think about me
My body's gone that's all

*Addicted To Chaos* 

(The part I bolded is undoubtly poetry by my reckoning. A great use of words)

Only yesterday they told me you were gone
All these normal people, will I find another one?
Monkey on my back, aching in my bones
I forgot you said "One day you'll walk alone"
I said I need you, does that make me wrong?
Am I a weak man, are you feeling strong?
My heart was blackened, it's bloody red
A hole in my heart, a hole in my head?

Who will help me up?
Where's the helping hand?
Will you turn on me?
Is this my final stand?

*In a dream I cannot see
Tangled abstract fallacy
Random turmoil builds in me
I'm addicted to chaos*

Light shined on my path,
Turn bad days into good
Turn breakdowns into blocks, I smashed 'em cause I could
My brain was labored, my head would spin
Don't let me down, don't give up, don't give in
The rain comes down, cold wind blows
The plans we made are back up on the road
Turn up my collar, welcome the unknown
Remember what you said "One day you'll walk alone"

----------


## firefangled

> If you say so. Then you think, what if they turned the words to 'The Highway Man' by Alfred Noyes into a song?


It has been set to music. Loreena McKennitt sings it beautifully.

----------


## Heathcliff

> It has been set to music. Loreena McKennitt sings it beautifully.


Heard that just now. I never would've pictured it.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S2CFM4ev-g8
When I read it I found it a lot more solemn, the song is just so fruity, I think.
I always thought of it as thought a man was saying it. It is pretty different, I thought it would be a lot more sad.

Anyone heard the song Fat-bottomed Girls by Queen? I thought it would be more that beat.

----------


## Nax

Wont be surprised if its been done before. But it is possibly my favorite P.F. Song ever.

Wish You Were Here
Pink Floyd

So, so you think you can tell 
Heaven from Hell, 
Blue skys from pain. 
Can you tell a green field 
From a cold steel rail? 
A smile from a veil? 
Do you think you can tell? 

And did they get you to trade 
Your heros for ghosts? 
Hot ashes for trees? 
Hot air for a cool breeze? 
Cold comfort for change? 
And did you exchange 
A walk on part in the war 
For a lead role in a cage? 

How I wish, how I wish you were here. 
We're just two lost souls 
Swimming in a fish bowl, 
Year after year, 
Running over the same old ground. 
What have we found? 
The same old fears. 
Wish you were here. 





Gets me every time, my favorite line is 
" We're just two lost souls 
Swimming in a fish bowl, 
Year after year, 
Running over the same old ground. 
What have we found? 
The same old fears. "

Im thinking about drawing/designing an image to depict this, and then having it tattood on somewhere between my already growing collection of body ink.

----------


## Revolte

Sounds Of Silence - Simon and Garfunkle

Hello darkness, my old friend
I've come to talk with you again
Because a vision softly creeping
Left its seeds while I was sleeping
And the vision that was planted in my brain
Still remains
Within the sound of silence

In restless dreams I walked alone
Narrow streets of cobblestone
'Neath the halo of a street lamp
I turned my collar to the cold and damp
When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon light
That split the night
And touched the sound of silence

And in the naked light I saw
Ten thousand people, maybe more
People talking without speaking
People hearing without listening
People writing songs that voices never share
And no one dared
Disturb the sound of silence

"Fools", said I, "You do not know
Silence like a cancer grows
Hear my words that I might teach you
Take my arms that I might reach you"
But my words, like silent raindrops fell
And echoed
In the wells of silence

And the people bowed and prayed
To the neon god they made
And the sign flashed out its warning
In the words that it was forming
And the sign said, "The words of the prophets are written on the subway walls
And tenement halls"
And whispered in the sounds of silence

----------


## wlz

Yes folks, it's finally here! The Best Oxford/Norton Top of The Pops Anthology Ever, edited by Simon Cowel Now That's what I call poetry/music/other a quick glance at the top list:

Homer, (Ancient poetry)
Shakira, (or whoever happens to be in the charts at the moment)
The Divine Comedy, (no not the great work by Dante but the beautiful lyricism of the indie pop band!)
Virgil, (oh no, not again, more Ancient literautre)
The Kinks, (if you like a good whine)
Ovid, (what the f%*k?)
Robbie Williams, (from the Take That Movement)
The Psalms of David, (who's David? Is that the Ziggy fella or zigazig ah or something?)
Elvis Presley, (for best recitation)
Dante, (didn't he start a band called The Divine Comedy?)
The Spice Girls, (poetically dressed to beat the rest)
Oasis, (poetic sibling rivalry - artistic frustration as they battle to learn guitar chords)
Blur or Bob Dylan, (how many more songs can I write with themes and names taken from REAL POETRY AND NOVELS?)
And finally whoever the hell you like, it's a free for all!!!!

Best Literary Novel of The Year: Rocky 7 (Shortlisted early for the next Nobel Prize).

Let's take a quick look at an extract from the opening poem 'Kashmir' written by that genius, Robert Plant:

"Whoa-ohh-oh
Whoa-ohhh-oh-oh

Ooooh
Oh baby, I've been flyin'
Nooo-yeah
Oh mama there
Ain't no denyin'

Oh!
Ooooh-yes
I've been flyin'
Ma-ma-ma
Ain't no denyin'
No denyin'-uh

Oh!"

The execution and masterful way in which Plant is quite able to express himself without using too many proper words is amazing. A better critique would be perphaps "awesome" a common literary/musical term in use throughout the explications of such fine readable texts. I can't believe my eyes can I be reading such power?

Another fine example of a later genre is the girl power movement not to be confused with the flower power counter-culture era. The Spice Girls, boy they really knew how to write a poem:

Yo, I'll tell you what I want, what I really really want,
So tell me what you want, what you really really want,
I'll tell you what I want, what I really really want,
So tell me what you want, what you really really want,
I wanna, I wanna, I wanna, I wanna, I wanna really
really really wanna zigazig ha.

If you want my future forget my past,
If you wanna get with me better make it fast,
Now don't go wasting my precious time,
Get your act together we could be just fine

I'll tell you what I want, what I really really want,
So tell me what you want, what you really really want,
I wanna, I wanna, I wanna, I wanna, I wanna really
really really wanna zigazig ha.

If you wanna be my lover, you gotta get with my friends,
Make it last forever friendship never ends,
If you wanna be my lover, you have got to give,
Taking is too easy, but that's the way it is.

What do you think about that now you know how I feel,
Say you can handle my love are you for real,
I won't be hasty, I'll give you a try
If you really bug me then I'll say goodbye.

Yo I'll tell you what I want, what I really really want,
So tell me what you want, what you really really want,
I wanna, I wanna, I wanna, I wanna, I wanna really
really really wanna zigazig ha.

If you wanna be my lover, you gotta get with my friends,
Make it last forever friendship never ends,
If you wanna be my lover, you have got to give,
Taking is too easy, but that's the way it is.

So here's a story from A to Z, you wanna get with me
you gotta listen carefully,
We got Em in the place who likes it in your face,
we got G like MC who likes it on an
Easy V doesn't come for free, she's a real lady,
and as for me..ah you'll see,
Slam your body down and wind it all around
Slam your body down and wind it all around.

If you wanna be my lover, you gotta get with my friends,
Make it last forever friendship never ends,
If you wanna be my lover, you have got to give,
Taking is too easy, but that's the way it is.

If you wanna be my lover, you gotta, you gotta, you
gotta,
you gotta, you gotta, slam, slam, slam, slam
Slam your body down and wind it all around.
Slam your body down and wind it all around.
Slam your body down and wind it all around.
Slam your body down zigazig ah
If you wanna be my lover.

What fabulous rhyme scheme!

"But is it poetry?" I hear you asking. It doesn't matter, someone is bound to like it and think so.

I refuse to live in a world where Simon Cowel will be the next literary critic! Eat your heart out Harold Bloom!! Freud, tsh! Madonna will sort you out.  :FRlol:

----------


## Babyguile

wlz I'm not sure what your point is. We should keep the two artforms very clearly divided and I'll always and forever believe that. The lyrics I posted were just for fun.

----------


## rimbaud

> Sounds Of Silence - Simon and Garfunkle
> 
> Hello darkness, my old friend
> I've come to talk with you again
> Because a vision softly creeping
> Left its seeds while I was sleeping
> And the vision that was planted in my brain
> Still remains
> Within the sound of silence
> ...


I love that song  :Smile:  the movie too

----------


## Silas Thorne

:FRlol: wlz, you crack me up! The Spice Girls, terrific!  :Smile:

----------


## Silverblue

a great great rocking and unusual song from the 90's heather nova

----------------

_
There are parts of me he'll never know, my wild horses and my river beds, and in my throat voices he'll never hear.
He pulls at me like a cherry tree, and I can still move but I don't speak about it.
Pretend I'm crazy, pretend I'm dead. He's to scared to hit me now - he'll bring flowers istead

I need an island, somewhere to sink a stone
I need an island, somewhere to bury you,
Somewhere to go

And the dogwoods shimmer in October sun, "oh sweet thing", he sings to me,
"You're the only one."

I need an island, somewhere to sink a stone
I need an island somewhere to bury you,
Somewhere
I need an island, somewhere to sink a stone
I need an island, somewhere to bury you,
Somewhere to go.

And I don't know why I can't tell my sister, 
He spat in my face again, and I don't want to die here. 
You know that dream when your feet won't move, 
you want to come but your body won't let you. 
He steals it from me.He steals it from me. 
It shines like sweat, like jewels, like something that has died to soon.
He ****s with the beauty. 
A kiss, a kick, a kiss, a kick, a kiss kiss kick. He steals it from me. 
It's out of my hands again.

I need an island, somewhere to sink a stone
I need an island, somewhere to bury you,
Somewhere to go, to go.....
_

----------


## stlukesguild

It does seem a rather sad comment upon the current state of poetry that this thread and the "stellar" examples of the poetic brilliance of illiterate rock stars is is virtually the most active commentary upon poetry... classic or contemporary... within the poetry boards... on a site devoted to literature, no less.

 :Beatdeadhorse5:

----------


## sixsmith

> It does seem a rather sad comment upon the current state of poetry that this thread and the "stellar" examples of the poetic brilliance of illiterate rock stars is is virtually the most active commentary upon poetry... classic or contemporary... within the poetry boards... on a site devoted to literature, no less.


Sadder still when newly minted poet laureates are spruiking the poetic wares of rock stars.

----------


## PeachesPieces

If these have not been mentioned before in this thread i would have to suggest Dark Star and St. Stephen by the Grateful Dead as well as Minstral in the Gallery by Jethro Tull

----------


## pjjrfan1

Anything by Paul Simon I consider poetry. although I haven't followed him since the mid 70's so a lot of his new stuff I don't know about. Bob Dylan's songs also. I like a song by Joni Mitchell called Both Sides Now. Bow and Flows of angel hair and ice cream castle in the air and feathered canyons everywhere, I've looked at clouds that way, but now they only block the sun , they rain and snow on everyone, so many things I could've done but clouds got in my way. I've looked at clouds from both side now,from up and down and still somehow it's clouds illusions I recall I really don't know clouds at all. 

I don't find it sad that so many songs are considered poetry, while the literary merits may be lacking, the message in my mind has always been the beauty of poetry. I'll take it anyway it comes to me, as long as I get something from it.

----------


## Silverblue

and hop ! 

_I was the driver for the drive-by of the neighbor's dog
Dad had always hated him and he said "Come on son,
"Get into the Vega now and I'll go get my shotgun"
It was a military holiday and kids were everywhere
I hid behind the steering wheel and tried to disappear
I tried to speak but couldn't, Dad was whistling and drinking beer
And I prayed "Dear God, if You save this dog
"I will never get high, I will never jack off
"I will do all the things that I should but have not
"I'll be a good boy from now on"
We turned around the corner soon and saw the neighbor's yard
Dad lit up a cigarette and rolled his window down
And grinning like an idiot he stuck his head and body out
And I prayed "Dear God, if You save this dog
"I will never get high, I will never jack off
"I will be all the things that I should but have not
"I'll be a good boy from now on"
Well he popped in a shell and took aim with the gun
Then a flash and a bang and the dog it was gone. . .
Jumped up and he ran away
Dad had shot right through his chain
Dad said "Take me to the Dairy Freeze, I want to have a shake"
We sipped them on the benches there and stared out on the lake
And Dad has never said another word about that day
And I hope you're not disappointed, God
'Cause I still get high and I still jack off
And you knew I was lying but you still saved that dog
You're such a good God
Such a good, good God
You're such a good goddamned backwards dog
And I'll be a good boy from now on
_

----------


## Paulclem

> It does seem a rather sad comment upon the current state of poetry that this thread and the "stellar" examples of the poetic brilliance of illiterate rock stars is is virtually the most active commentary upon poetry... classic or contemporary... within the poetry boards... on a site devoted to literature, no less.


It's a bit of speculative fun.

----------


## Heathcliff

I don't mind song lyrics as poetry, providing they use legitimate words.

Gonna, wanna, imma, HATE THEM!! I don't mind lemme though. If they are in talking marks, fair enough, but too much unintelligent jargon is inconvenient.

Words like Fergalicious. If that is a word...

----------


## Paulclem

> I don't mind song lyrics as poetry, providing they use legitimate words.
> 
> Gonna, wanna, imma, HATE THEM!! I don't mind lemme though. If they are in talking marks, fair enough, but too much unintelligent jargon is inconvenient.
> 
> Words like Fergalicious. If that is a word...


It is an Irish cannibal word referring to the fact that fergus is delicious.  :FRlol:

----------


## Heathcliff

> It is an Irish cannibal word referring to the fact that fergus is delicious.


Hilarious. So if I call someone Fergalicious it means I want to eat them? Hilarious.  :FRlol:

----------


## Paulclem

Here's the OED definition:

Fegalicious: adj - fer-ga-li-shus
As delicious as Fergus was: also used as a general description of something tasty.
Tyrone was fergalicious. It was a fergalicious pizza.

 :FRlol:

----------


## downing

I have always considered this song to be really Shakesperian. What do you think?

The Twelfth of Never - Johnny Mathis 

You ask how much I need you, must I explain?
I need you, oh my darling, like roses need rain.
You ask how long I'll love you; I'll tell you true:
Until the twelfth of never, I'll still be loving you.

Hold me close, never let me go.
Hold me close, melt my heart like April snow.

I'll love you till the bluebells forget to bloom;
I'll love you till the clover has lost its perfume.
I'll love you till the poets run out of rhyme,
Until the twelfth of never and that's a long, long time.

Hold me close, never let me go.
Hold me close, melt my heart like April snow.

I'll love you till the bluebells forget to bloom;
I'll love you till the clover has lost its perfume.
I'll love you till the poets run out of rhyme,
Until the twelfth of never and that's a long, long time.

Until the twelfth of never and that's a long, long time.

How about Elvis' As long as I have you? Perhaps the best love song I have ever heard:
AS LONG AS I HAVE YOU (Elvis Presley)

Let the stars fade and fall 
And I won't care at all 
As long as I have you 

Every kiss brings a thrill 
And I know that it will 
As long as I have you 

Let's think of the future 
Forget the past 
You're not my first love 
But you're my last 
Take the love that I bring 
Then I'll have everything 
As long as I have you 

Let's think of the future 
Forget the past 
You're not my first love 
But you're my last 
Take the love that I bring 
Then I'll have everything 
As long as I have you 

As long, as long as I have you

----------


## stlukesguild

I have always considered this song to be really Shakesperian. What do you think?

 :Smilielol5:  :Ack2:  :Prrr:  :Mad2:  :Yikes:  :Puke: 

That should cover it.

----------


## downing

Could you argument this reaction, please?

----------


## Drkshadow03

I think the problem with trying to read song lyrics taken from Pop or rock songs as poetry in the traditional sense is the structure of the songs themselves. Take this song, "Love and Peace, or Else!" by U2:




> Lay down
> Lay down
> Lay your sweet lovely on the ground
> Lay your love on the track
> We're gonna break the monster's back
> Yes we are...
> Lay down your treasure
> Lay it down now brother
> You don't have time
> ...


On the one hand, the lyrics are moderately clever in that this is either a song where war is a metaphor for a sexual relationship or a song where a relationship is a metaphor for war. Release, release, release can mean sexual release or release of his broken heart through violence. Lay down, can mean lay down for sexual intercourse or lay down your weapons. Break the monster's back can mean sexual intercourse or war can be the monster and you're ending war. 

On the other, this clearly isn't Shakespeare, or Wordsworth, etc. When taken on its own in lyrical form, the repetition of a line like: "I need some release, release, release" seems kind of silly, blunt, and crude. Ditto the ending repetition of: "Where is the love?" Not to mention the expression itself is rather simplistic. The repetition suggests it was made for music in the first place. When backed by the appropriate chords, this kind of repetition works fine and makes sense. It's hard to compare it to poetry of the traditional sense because of the inherent repetition in music related to rock musical structure, usually with a repeating chorus, which thus repeats the same lyrics over and over again. 

I think there are a ton of songs that are meaningful and important and great music, but I'm not sure they function as poetry without their musical backing. This isn't to say that the music works by itself without the lyrics either. The two compliment each other. The music gives the lyrics more power and profundity, while the lyrics give a structure and strength to sheer emotional thrust of the music.

----------


## mortalterror

> Could you argument this reaction, please?


I think what he's saying is that Shakespeare's songs sound more like 

O Mistress mine, where are you roaming?
O, stay and hear! Your truelove's coming,
That can sing both high and low.
Trip no further, pretty sweeting.
Journeys end in lovers meeting,
Every wise man's son doth know.

What is love? 'Tis not hereafter.
Present mirth hath present laughter.
What's to come is still unsure.
In delay there lies no plenty,
Then come kiss me, sweet and twenty.
Youth's a stuff will not endure.

----------


## Drkshadow03

> I think what he's saying is that Shakespeare's songs sound more like 
> 
> O Mistress mine, where are you roaming?
> O, stay and hear! Your truelove's coming,
> That can sing both high and low.
> Trip no further, pretty sweeting.
> Journeys end in lovers meeting,
> Every wise man's son doth know.
> 
> ...


Pssh, "I wanna rock and roll all nite and party every day!"

Take that Shakespeare!

----------


## bluevictim

> I have always considered this song to be really Shakesperian. What do you think?
> 
> The Twelfth of Never - Johnny Mathis 
> 
> You ask how much I need you, must I explain?
> I need you, oh my darling, like roses need rain.
> You ask how long I'll love you; I'll tell you true:
> Until the twelfth of never, I'll still be loving you.
> 
> ...


It's interesting that you compared this song to Shakespeare. I wonder if there is something specific that you have in mind about the song that reminds you of Shakespeare?

For one, the verses have a very regular meter, and they're essentially in iambic pentameter. Three of the four lines in each verse are in iambic pentameter (with an anapest in the fourth foot), and the fourth line is in iambic hexameter (again, with an anapest in the fourth foot). One of the great things about well written lyrics is that they tend to have much more compelling rhythmic structures than other forms of contemporary poetry. It's actually somewhat unique that the verses use pentameter; most songs have shorter lines (for example, the Tool song that Molpadia posted earlier, which is in tetrameter), so that may be one thing that made it feel more like Shakespeare to you than other songs do.

I don't usually associate Shakespeare with heterogeneous stanzas like these (extra foot in the last line, regular anapests), but these features are part of the reason I find Spenser so enjoyable.

As for stlukesguild's comment, I think if you've been around long enough you'd know that he is offended by comparisons of established literary authorities to any kind of popular expression. He's written voluminously on it already, and it's unlikely he'll provide any more insight than he already has.

A number of posters scoffed at the meaningless repetitions that appear when songs are transcribed. I think it's quite reasonable to simply leave out the vocal embellishments of performances (the "yeah, yeah, yeah"s and "oh, oh"s). However, repetitions and refrains are sometimes quite important structures not just in songs, but in non-song poetry as well. Many examples can be found, from Theocritus to Shakespeare (Double, double toil and trouble) to T.S. Eliot.

Finally, everyone here seems quite apologetic about reading song lyrics as poems. As far as I'm concerned, song lyrics are well within the range implied when such random scraps as



> Afraid of losing you
> 
> I ran fluttering 
> like a little girl
> after her mother


and



> 1(a
> 
> le
> af
> fa
> ll
> 
> s)
> one
> ...


are regarded as poetry.

----------


## Dodo25

I somehow find it hard to imagine these lyrics as ordinary peotry because when I'm reading them I automatically fall into the rythm of the songs. Maybe someone who doesn't know the songs will be in better place to comment. Here just some suggestions - and if they don't make for good poetry, they're still awesome songs :Wink:  By the way, I'm trying to show that even modern punk pop & rock can have cool lyrics..


Hero of War - Rise Against

He said, "Son, 
Have you seen the world? 
Well, what would you say 
If I said that you could? 
Just carry this gun, you'll even get paid." 
I said, "That sounds pretty good."

Black leather boots 
Spit-shined so bright 
They cut off my hair
but it looked alright 
We marched and we sang 
We all became friends 
As we learned how to fight

A hero of war 
Yeah, that's what I'll be 
And when I come home 
They'll be damn proud of me 
I'll carry this flag 
To the grave if I must 
'cause it's the flag that I love 
And the flag that I trust

I kicked in the door 
I yelled my commands 
The children, they cried 
But I got my man 
We took him away 
A bag over his face 
From his family and his friends

They took off his clothes 
They pissed in his hands 
I told them to stop 
But then I joined in 
We beat him with guns 
And batons not just once 
But again and again

A hero of war 
Yeah that's what I'll be 
And when I come home 
They'll be damn proud of me 
I'll carry this flag 
To the grave if I must 
'cause it's the flag that I love 
And the flag that I trust

She walked 
through bullets and haze 
I asked her to stop 
I begged her to stay 
But she pressed on 
So I lifted my gun 
And I fired away

And the shells 
jumped through the smoke 
And into the sand 
That the blood now had soaked 
She collapsed 
with a flag in her hand 
A flag white as snow

A hero of war 
Is that what they see 
Just medals and scars 
So damn proud of me 
And I brought home that flag 
Now it gathers dust 
But it's the flag that I love 
It's the only flag I trust

He said, "Son, have you seen the world? 
Well what would you say 
If I said that you could?"



East Jesus Nowhere (excerpts) - Green Day 

Put your faith in a miracle
and it's non-denominational
join the choir we'll be singing
in the Church of Wishful Thinking

A fire burns today
of blasphemy and genocide
the syrens of decay
will infiltrate the faith fanatics

Oh bless me Lord for I have sinned
It's been a lifetime since I last confessed
I threw my crutches in a river of a shadow of doubt
and I'll be dressed in my Sunday best

Say a prayer for the family 
drop a coin for humanity
ain't this uniforms so flattering?
I never a asked you a god damn thing!

A fire burns today
of blasphemy and genocide
the syrens of decay
will infiltrate the inside


Tears into Wine (excerps) - Billy Talent

His fate was written on a neon sign
A DUI never changed his mind
He got hooked like a fish caught on a line

You never gave yourself a chance to shine
Your destination's a chalk outline
And when you get to the gates you'll be denied


White Sparrows - Billy Talent

Today I walked down our old street
Past the diner where we'd meet
Now I dine alone in our old seats
The cold wind blows right through my bones
And I feel like I'm getting old
But I wish I was getting old with you

I held your hand while we took shelter from the rain
She laughed as we picked out our children's names

White sparrows fell from heaven and carried her away
Black arrows cut the strings of my heart, 
I kneel and pray

Her clothes hang in the closet still
The phone sits on the windowsill
And every time it rings it gives me chills
My heart just stopped when I was told
Doctor, doctor, on the phone
Said my love was never coming home

I hold your casket gently walking to the grave
Dark clouds eclipse the sun won't shine again

White sparrows fell from heaven and carried her away
Black arrows cut the strings of my heart, 
I kneel and pray

They gave her one more day
To say the words I couldn't say
I'm crying in pain, crying in pain

And I'm not looking for answers
No, I'm not looking for answers
But dear God, why did you choose her?

White sparrows fell from heaven and carried her away
Black arrows cut the strings of my heart, 
I kneel and pray

They gave her one more day
To say the words I couldn't say
I'm crying in pain, crying in pain
Our love will remain
I'm crying in pain.

----------


## Drkshadow03

> A number of posters scoffed at the meaningless repetitions that appear when songs are transcribed. I think it's quite reasonable to simply leave out the vocal embellishments of performances (the "yeah, yeah, yeah"s and "oh, oh"s). However, repetitions and refrains are sometimes quite important structures not just in songs, but in non-song poetry as well. Many examples can be found, from Theocritus to Shakespeare (Double, double toil and trouble) to T.S. Eliot.
> 
> Finally, everyone here seems quite apologetic about reading song lyrics as poems. As far as I'm concerned, song lyrics are well within the range implied when such random scraps as
> 
> and
> 
> are regarded as poetry.


I don't think repetition is meaningless, so much as structured around song patterns: Lyrics, chorus, lyrics, chorus, bridge, chorus. My point was really that you can't remove the song lyrics from the music itself. The reason the lyrics are repetitive is usually because the music behind it is repetitive.

I mean "Know Your Rights" by The Clash is a great politically-charged song:




> This is a public service announcement
> With guitar
> Know your rights all three of them
> 
> Number 1
> You have the right not to be killed
> Murder is a CRIME!
> Unless it was done by a
> Policeman or aristocrat
> ...


But lines like "This is a public service announcement *with guitar*" clearly lose something when not backed by music. Not to mention if I read it as a straight poem, it comes off as a bit crude and blunt. However, as a song it works well. Listen in The Clash how the music adds both the feeling that we are listening to an actual public service announcement and the malevolent feeling of the nonexistent rights.

I am all for music as a kind of poetry. In an American poetry class where we read poetry from 1800s onward: poets like Pound, Frost, Whitman, etc. were included, but we also had the Beat Poets, Bukowski, Slam Poets, and even a modern poet talking about the art of ***-licking (don't remember who the poet was). The last class we were all told to pick a favorite song and print out the lyrics, each person had to present the song, given background on the musical style, on the band itself, and give a quick interpretation of the lyrics and why they liked the song so much. For me I just don't think you can remove the music.

----------


## mortalterror

> I don't think repetition is meaningless, so much as structured around song patterns: Lyrics, chorus, lyrics, chorus, bridge, chorus.


Yes, some of Shakespeare's best songs are repetitive.




> Blow, blow, thou winter wind,
> Thou art not so unkind
> As man's ingratitude;
> Thy tooth is not so keen
> Because thou art not seen,
> Although thy breath be rude.
> Heigh-ho! sing heigh-ho! unto the green holly:
> Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly:
> Then, heigh-ho! the holly!
> ...


or how about 




> When that I was and a little tiny boy,
> With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,
> A foolish thing was but a toy,
> For the rain it raineth every day.
> 
> But when I came to mans estate,
> With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,
> Gainst knaves and thieves men shut their gate,
> For the rain it raineth every day.
> ...


I am reminded of Blake's Jerusalem Hymn 




> And did those feet in ancient time
> Walk upon England's mountains green?
> And was the holy Lamb of God
> On England's pleasant pastures seen?
> And did the Countenance Divine
> Shine forth upon our clouded hills?
> And was Jerusalem builded here
> Among those dark Satanic mills?
> 
> ...


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bKaJ4b0XYmI
And though I could not find any on the web, I know I've heard Wyatt's sonnets set to music before. Oh well, I did find these English Madrigals.



> April is in my mistress' face,
> And July in her eyes hath place;
> Within her bosom is September,
> But in her heart a cold December.


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hd0oZXi-Ygs



> Fair Phyllis I saw sitting all alone
> Feeding her flock near to the mountain side.
> The shepherds knew not,
> they knew not whither she was gone,
> But after her lover Amyntas hied,
> Up and down he wandered
> whilst she was missing;
> When he found her,
> O then they fell a-kissing.


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y_lD4cYjkj0

----------


## bluevictim

> I don't think repetition is meaningless, so much as structured around song patterns: Lyrics, chorus, lyrics, chorus, bridge, chorus. My point was really that you can't remove the song lyrics from the music itself. The reason the lyrics are repetitive is usually because the music behind it is repetitive.
> 
> I mean "Know Your Rights" by The Clash is a great politically-charged song:
> 
> ...
> 
> But lines like "This is a public service announcement *with guitar*" clearly lose something when not backed by music. Not to mention if I read it as a straight poem, it comes off as a bit crude and blunt. However, as a song it works well. Listen in The Clash how the music adds both the feeling that we are listening to an actual public service announcement and the malevolent feeling of the nonexistent rights.


I agree that there are common forms of song, and I agree that the repetition of lyrics found in many songs are closely related to the form of the song. I disagree that the lyrics are usually repetitive merely because the music behind it is repetitive.

The refrains found so commonly in songs serve many purposes beyond just being verbal filler for the music. Sometimes they provide segues between different episodes of a narrative. Sometimes they serve as a point of contact for otherwise disparate (or not obviously connected) observations. Often they reinforce a central theme of the song. The repetition is often very crucial to the economy with which many songs achieve a deep emotional effect. The repetition is usually entirely intentional, and not merely because the music happens to repeat; after all, the music of the verses repeat, too, but the lyrics usually do not.

As an example, I think the Beatles' Eleanor Rigby is quite an effective song about loneliness, which is not atypical in its use of a refrain. The pad between the verse about Eleanor Rigby and Father MacKenzie helps to create the tension in the narrative whose resolution comes when the two threads come together (when Father MacKenzie buries Eleanor Rigby). At the same time, it deepens the emotional response of the audience to the bare wisps of narrative provided in the verses.

I also somewhat disagree that you can't remove the lyrics from the music. I think it goes without saying that the music enhances the song (in most cases), and it's quite clear that the lyrics of some songs are particularly reliant on the music (and even sometimes sound effects) -- that Clash song being a great example. However, there are many songs whose lyrics do repay attention even apart from their music. Sometimes, I find reading the lyrics without the music even reveals things about the song that I miss when I listen to the song because my visceral response to the music makes me overlook them.

----------


## Modest Proposal

Has anyone mentioned W. S. Gilbert from Gilbert and Sullivan? He was knighted long after Sullivan presumable because of his very critical view of politics. 

His librettos are biting but often their beauty is overlooked. 

King. 
Oh, better far to live and die
Under the brave black flag I fly,
Than play a sanctimonious part,
With a pirate head and a pirate heart.
Away to the cheating world go you,
Where pirates all are well-to-do;
But I’ll be true to the song I sing,
And live and die a Pirate King.

For I am a Pirate King!
And it is, it is a glorious thing
To be a Pirate King!

For I am a Pirate King! 
Chorus. 
You are!
Hurrah for our Pirate King! 
King. 
And it is, it is a glorious thing
To be a Pirate King. 
Chorus. 
It is!
Hurrah for our Pirate King! 
King & Chorus. 
Hurrah for the/our Pirate King! 

King. Darrell Fancourt as the Pirate King
1926 

When I sally forth to seek my prey
I help myself in a royal way.
I sink a few more ships, it’s true,
Than a well-bred monarch ought to do;
But many a king on a first-class throne,
If he wants to call his crown his own,
Must manage somehow to get through
More dirty work than ever I do,

For I am a Pirate King!
And it is, it is a glorious thing
To be a Pirate King!

For I am a Pirate King! 
Chorus. 
You are!
Hurrah for the Pirate King! 
King. 
And it is, it is a glorious thing
To be a Pirate King. 
Chorus. 
It is!
Hurrah for our Pirate King! 
King & Chorus. 
Hurrah for the/our Pirate King! 



And of course the Major General's solo. This time do it REALLY fast!

I am the very model of a modern Major-General,
I've information vegetable, animal, and mineral,
I know the kings of England, and I quote the fights historical
From Marathon to Waterloo, in order categorical;
I'm very well acquainted, too, with matters mathematical,
I understand equations, both the simple and quadratical,
About binomial theorem I'm teeming with a lot o' news,
With many cheerful facts about the square of the hypotenuse.
I'm very good at integral and differential calculus;
I know the scientific names of beings animalculous:
In short, in matters vegetable, animal, and mineral,
I am the very model of a modern Major-General.
I know our mythic history, King Arthur's and Sir Caradoc's;
I answer hard acrostics, I've a pretty taste for paradox,
I quote in elegiacs all the crimes of Heliogabalus,
In conics I can floor peculiarities parabolous;
I can tell undoubted Raphaels from Gerard Dows and Zoffanies,
I know the croaking chorus from The Frogs of Aristophanes!
Then I can hum a fugue of which I've heard the music's din afore,
And whistle all the airs from that infernal nonsense Pinafore.
Then I can write a washing bill in Babylonic cuneiform,
And tell you ev'ry detail of Caractacus's uniform:
In short, in matters vegetable, animal, and mineral,
I am the very model of a modern Major-General.
In fact, when I know what is meant by "mamelon" and "ravelin",
When I can tell at sight a Mauser rifle from a javelin,
When such affairs as sorties and surprises I'm more wary at,
And when I know precisely what is meant by "commissariat",
When I have learnt what progress has been made in modern gunnery,
When I know more of tactics than a novice in a nunnery—
In short, when I've a smattering of elemental strategy—
You'll say a better Major-General has never sat a gee.
For my military knowledge, though I'm plucky and adventury,
Has only been brought down to the beginning of the century;
But still, in matters vegetable, animal, and mineral,
I am the very model of a modern Major-General.

----------


## Drkshadow03

> I agree that there are common forms of song, and I agree that the repetition of lyrics found in many songs are closely related to the form of the song. I disagree that the lyrics are usually repetitive merely because the music behind it is repetitive.
> 
> The refrains found so commonly in songs serve many purposes beyond just being verbal filler for the music. Sometimes they provide segues between different episodes of a narrative. Sometimes they serve as a point of contact for otherwise disparate (or not obviously connected) observations. Often they reinforce a central theme of the song. The repetition is often very crucial to the economy with which many songs achieve a deep emotional effect. The repetition is usually entirely intentional, and not merely because the music happens to repeat; after all, the music of the verses repeat, too, but the lyrics usually do not.
> 
> As an example, I think the Beatles' Eleanor Rigby is quite an effective song about loneliness, which is not atypical in its use of a refrain. The pad between the verse about Eleanor Rigby and Father MacKenzie helps to create the tension in the narrative whose resolution comes when the two threads come together (when Father MacKenzie buries Eleanor Rigby). At the same time, it deepens the emotional response of the audience to the bare wisps of narrative provided in the verses.
> 
> I also somewhat disagree that you can't remove the lyrics from the music. I think it goes without saying that the music enhances the song (in most cases), and it's quite clear that the lyrics of some songs are particularly reliant on the music (and even sometimes sound effects) -- that Clash song being a great example. However, there are many songs whose lyrics do repay attention even apart from their music. Sometimes, I find reading the lyrics without the music even reveals things about the song that I miss when I listen to the song because my visceral response to the music makes me overlook them.


I'm not sure you're comments disagree with anything I said. Lyrics are repetitive because the musical patterns are repetitive. Choruses, of course, provide the central theme for the musical composition of a rock song, hence why they repeat the choruses in the first place (both musically and lyrically), and serve as segues between the lyrics. It's the glue so to speak of a song. 

I think lyrics can be very meaningful. I just don't think they're meant to be read as poetry in the same way a Shakespeare poem is supposed to be read.

I mean I like The Rolling Stones a lot, but is "Hot Stuff" really all that deep song?




> Hot stuff, yeah
> Hot stuff
> Hot stuff, yeah
> Hot stuff
> Can't get enough
> Hot stuff, yeah
> Hot stuff
> Hot stuff
> Can't get enough
> ...


And what about songs that fulfill part of the thematic work through solos when there isn't any lyrics being song, such as the solo guitar work in Metallica's Ride the Lightning, which imitates lightning coursing through someone's body (at 3:43, although the solo starts earlier than that, I consider that the "lightning coursing through a body" part).

Rarely do lyrics reach the depth of any of Shakespeare's poetry by themselves. Looking at the variety of lyrics posted here in this thread hasn't changed my mind at all on that point. However, I think lyrics can be meaningful. I'm certainly not calling them meaningless and vapid. I thought the U2 lyrics that I posted were meaningful.

----------


## bluevictim

> I'm not sure you're comments disagree with anything I said. Lyrics are repetitive because the musical patterns are repetitive. Choruses, of course, provide the central theme for the musical composition of a rock song, hence why they repeat the choruses in the first place (both musically and lyrically), and serve as segues between the lyrics. It's the glue so to speak of a song. 
> 
> I think lyrics can be very meaningful. I just don't think they're meant to be read as poetry in the same way a Shakespeare poem is supposed to be read.


Maybe we are just talking in circles. Let me try to clarify.

Here is what I thought you were/are trying to say:


You can't remove the song lyrics from the music itself.
Reason 1. When you read the song lyrics without the music, they aren't at all like Shakespeare.
Reason 2. This song by the Clash is pretty lame without the music.
Reason 3. This song by the Rolling Stones is pretty lame without the music.
Reason 4. This song by Metallica rocks when you consider the guitar part.

Sub-point: the reason song lyrics are repetitive is usually because the music behind it is repetitive



My previous post was mainly about the sub-point concerning repetition. I guess I probably made too much of the word "because". I agree that repetition in songs often follow a form (as does repetition in poems). I thought you were trying to say that the repetition in the lyrics is merely an artifact of the music. Now I'm not sure what you were trying to say. To say that the lyrics often repeat according to a structure seems tautological to me. Maybe you were just musing and I mistook it as some point you were trying to get across.

I also tried to touch on the point that "you can't remove the song lyrics from the music itself". If all you meant was that there are some songs that are lame when the lyrics are considered apart from the music, I fully agree. I don't agree that this is true of songs in general.

I do agree that most lyrics do not read like Shakespearean poems. In fact, I would agree that even the best song lyrics do not give the same kind of enjoyment as Shakespeare (usually). I don't see why this means you can't remove the song lyrics from the music, though. Song lyrics, even apart from the music, often provide a different kind of enjoyment. If this is all you meant , I agree, but I dislike the use of the word 'depth' to describe the difference. Song lyrics are not as 'deep' as Shakespeare only in the sense that Ovid is not as 'deep' as Virgil.

As for there being examples of song lyrics that aren't compelling without the music (like Hot Stuff) and examples of songs where music adds a lot to the lyrics (like Ride the Lightning), I don't see what their existence is meant to imply about the quality of other song lyrics. I think there are many examples of songs whose lyrics are very rewarding to read. I already mentioned Eleanor Rigby, which I think achieves a great amount of emotional resonance with a very brief narrative. Not even Coleridge and Wordsworth's lyrical ballads are as efficient. I think the lyrics of Stairway to Heaven are very well-written, as well. The metrical structure of that song is quite rich, and reminds me of ancient Greek lyrics, like the choruses of the tragedies. I have come across few contemporary non-song poems as effective in their rhythmic structures, and this kind of complexity isn't typical of Shakespeare. There are also great examples from musical theater, like the one Modest Proposal posted above.





> However, I think lyrics can be meaningful. I'm certainly not calling them meaningless and vapid. I thought the U2 lyrics that I posted were meaningful.


It's probable that I simply missed something entirely about what you are trying to say.




> And of course the Major General's solo. This time do it REALLY fast!
> 
> I am the very model of a modern Major-General,
> I've information vegetable, animal, and mineral,
> I know the kings of England, and I quote the fights historical
> From Marathon to Waterloo, in order categorical;
> ...


I love it.  :Smile:

----------


## mortalterror

I'm also a fan of Gilbert and Sullivan.

----------


## Mrs. Dalloway

Any bob dylan's song!

----------


## Teeqs89

One or two of Jason Mraz's song -- A Beautiful Mess and Plane have the best lyrics..it might not be conventional but you can say its a postmodern poem

----------


## Heathcliff

> One or two of Jason Mraz's song -- A Beautiful Mess and Plane have the best lyrics..it might not be conventional but you can say its a postmodern poem


Yea, I guess. And of a modern song as well, he is pretty cool.

----------


## neilgee

I don't think you would count these as song lyrics that qualify as poetry but every line in the song is taken from a book by Elizabeth Smart called "By Grand Central Station I sat down and wept" right from "Do you hear me when you sleep?" 

The book still has something of a cult standing


Well I wonder
Do you hear me when you sleep ?
I hoarsely cry 
Why ...

Well I wonder
Do you see me when we pass ?
I half die ...
Why ...



Please keep me in mind


Gasping - but somehow still alive
This is the fierce last stand of all I am


Gasping - dying - but somehow still alive
This is the final stand of all I am

----------


## Heathcliff

These are a few of the lines, in moderately messed up order, of I'm Going Slighty Mad by Queen. Would make an awesome extended metaphor. Enough so, anyway.


" You're missing that one final screw
You're simply not in the pink my dear
To be honest you haven't got a clue
I'm one card short of a full deck
I'm not quite the shilling
One wave short of a shipwreck
I'm not at my usual top billing
I'm coming down with a fever
I'm really out to sea
This kettle is boiling over
I think I'm a banana tree
I'm knitting with only one needle
Unravelling fast its true
I'm driving only three wheels these days "

----------


## Revolte

folk and riot folk seem to be the closest I can think of to poetry lol. Of coruse like always its heard better then read.

Mischief Brew - Ramblers Ghost

she's off to anywhere
every town grows stale soon enough
so it's fields to east and the hills to the west
under crescent moons
and grassy bends
she lays her head to rest

she's been in a hundred movies
and in six billion dreams
taking out wood and wide
singing romance round the fire
giving tastes of truth to those of us employed as liars

and we sing ain't that the life
she's got it made
her head in the sand her guitar in the shade
rambling beauty she sang to me
was she in my mind
or on the tv
yes she's on my mind
come from the tv

noble hobo corporate cutthroat got the wisdom of the tramp
brother can't spare no crumbs
don't you trip over the bums
as you step out of a cab
on the way to see a gypsy band

railroad boxcar blasts and burns on down the line
and her feet are a swingin'
and the song she's a singin'
tell of greener fields and freer times

and we sing ain't that the life
she's got it made
her head in the sand her guitar in the shade
rambling beauty she sang to me
was she in my mind
or on the tv
yes she's on my mind
come from the tv

rambling beauty
let me be your mate for awhile
be a shoulder for your head
carry a bag and roll up bed
another day in this place
and i swear i'll end up dead

and how I'm sorry
that my ancestors threw you in jail
but now I can see your ramblings were poetry
will you sell me the rights if I put up the bail?

and we'll sing ain't that the life
we've got it made
our heads in the sand our guitars in the shade
rambling beauty sing sweet to me
yeah you're on my mind
just like on tv
yeah you're on my mind
come from the tv 


Mischief Brew - A Rebel's Romance

Goodnight, my dear
Lay aside songs of spite and fear
We lovers are bound
Completing the circle and waltzing around
Your words soothe as fire
Roaring and washing the tinsel from liars
And with every kiss, solace and bliss, will not seem so rare

A rebel's embrace, shall give us a taste
Of truth that is masked by a sly poker face
A spirit is well and alive
Live and we will survive.


Goodnight, my love
The moon, she shines from above
So forgot all the rough
Rejoice and revolt with love when you rise up
Your words soothe as waters;
Carving a path through mountains and mortar
To shatter the ground, walls of silence with sound
With lions and doves

A rebel's embrace, shall give us a taste
Of truth that is masked by a sly poker face
A spirit is well and alive
Live and we will survive.

----------


## TheRoyalist

Apologies for not reading all the comments. I have to disappear soon. Probably Springsteen has been quoted and this is my fave. Thunder Road.

Well I got this guitar
And I learned how to make it talk
And my car's out back
If you're ready to take that long walk
From your front porch to my front seat
The door's open but the ride it ain't free
And I know you're lonely
For words that I ain't spoken
But tonight we'll be free
All the promises'll be broken
There were ghosts in the eyes
Of all the boys you sent away
They haunt this dusty beach road
In the skeleton frames of burned out Chevrolets
They scream your name at night in the street
Your graduation gown lies in rags at their feet
And in the lonely cool before dawn
You hear their engines roaring on
But when you get to the porch they're gone
On the wind so Mary climb in
It's town full of losers
And I'm pulling out of here to win

----------


## Drums

Arctic Monkeys man Alex Turner is an amazing lyricist (if that's a word)

Fright Lined Dining Room
You thrive on dancing in our laps before the more familiar chaps who know the curtain leads to fever
We watched a womanizer cry and in the last sip you and I declared we might require a breather
I am a truth’s true truant and I can feign excitement fluently as solidly as I can busk shock.
With well presented merriment and I know all too well I shouldn’t break the key off in the lock
The tumble splits the frame revealing silk and fits
in the fright lined dining room throw a gaze towards them while they feast
The days drag their heels when you’re not there to crack the whip
And the weeks wait to burst like a sachet of brats
The old pantomime villain follows my coat and he hides where it hangs and he spies through the slats
And meanwhile in the desert’s only costume shop the cowls hang and wait to rot away the identities of the willing
I’m back to sugar in the night, rocketing shutter doors despite the shop not opening for hours
You can itch, flap and whistle.
Try to avoid the tock
as I scribbled over drivel you were snoring showing off.
The tumble splits the frame revealing silk and fits in the fright lined dining room
throw a gaze towards them while they feast.

Catapult
Both sides,
In softly came the growl from both sides
And if his whisper splits the mist
Just think of what he’s capable of with his kiss

Nice try,

You cannot turn away, but nice try
He’ll turn your legs to little building blocks and with his index finger flicks you on your socks

I go high pitched
He’ll talk and make your voice sound high pitched
Dread to think if he got you on your own and whispered in your ear in that baritone

It’s the same stone
His heart was cut out of the same stone that they use to carve his jaw
It’s impossible not to feel inferior

And he could catapult you back to your daddy or into any hissing misery
And he will tell you how the day after a triumph is as hollow as the day after a tragedy
He’ll extinguish any chance of escape when he slaps you on your arse or kisses your nape
And he’s leaving without saying bye

And they would queue up to listen to him pissing and hang around to watch some poor girl blub
And then they’d chase him down the avenue incessantly pestering him to let him join the club
He knows how to put a cork in the fuss and just how to shut up the charming ones of us

And I’ve seen him talking to your lady friend

There’s a dust track waiting for betrayal where he’ll teach you all the bits they missed

Dance Little Liar
I heard the truth was built to bend.
A mechanism to suspend the guilt is what you will require
and still you’ve got to dance little liar
It’s just like those fibs to pop and fizz
and you’ll be forced to take that awful quiz
and you’re bound to trip and she’ll detect the fiction on your lips
dig a contradiction up

The clean coming will hurt
and you can never get it spotless
when there’s dirt beneath the dirt
The liar takes a lot less time
I’m sure it’s clear and plain to read
It’s not an alibi you need just yet
Oh no, it’s something for those beads of sweat,
yes that will get you back to normal
And after you have dabbed the patch
you’ll breathe and then proceed to scratch the varnish off that newly
added calmness so as not to raise any alarms too soon
The liar takes a lot less time to decide on the saunter
Have you got itchy bones and in all your time alone
can you hack your mind being riddled with the wrong memories?
The clean coming will hurt
and you can never get it spotless
When there’s dirt in between the dirt

----------


## jet.thursday

the lyrics of this song, well for me, made an impact
and i think it sends a good message  :Blush: 

In Keeping Secrets of Silent Earth:3 by Coheed and Cambria

A broad incision sits across the evening
The victim to our fathers lost war
The restless children sit and mourn the graves
Of those they've never seen before
Will they be buried here among the dead?
In the silent secret

The pioneers
In dealing with it they march for dawn, of Will and worthy
The truth be told the child was born
Man your own jackhammer
Man your battle stations
We'll have you dead pretty soon
And now
Sincerely written from my brother's blood machine
Man your battle stations
We'll have you home pretty soon
And now

Awake through motion with curiosity to curtain your first move
Over arms length they'll break protocol
Jealous envy for the youngest one
To be the hero is all I'll ask
Can I be buried here among the dead?
With room to honor me here in the end
You'll be better off too soon
You'll be better off when you get home

For you,
I'd do anything just to make you happy,
hear you tell me that youre proud of me
For them,
I'll kill anything cut the throats of babies for them 
break their hearts for they were them
Waiting for you to say: I love you too

The navigator
The pilot
Her favorite
The one they call the vision that bears the gift

Will, 
Do the children really understand the things you did to them?
And why oh why
Should they conjure up the will for you my love I would kill him 
we're coming home pretty soon
Coming home

In the seventh turning hour
Will the victims shadow fall?
Should the irony grow hungry? 
With the victory and all they sought for
We were one among the fence
One among the fence

We're coming home

Man your own jackhammer
Man your battle stations
We'll have you dead pretty soon
And now
Sincerely written from my brother's blood machine
Man your battle stations
We'll have you home pretty soon
tonight

----------


## NikolaiI

Every Grain of Sand
Bob Dylan


In the time of my confession,
in the hour of my deepest need
When the pool of tears beneath my feet 
flood every newborn seed
There's a dyin' voice within me 
reaching out somewhere,
Toiling in the danger and in 
the morals of despair.

Don't have the inclination to
look back on any mistake,
Like Cain,
I now behold this chain of events 
that I must break.
In the fury of the moment 
I can see the Master's hand
In every leaf that trembles, 
in every grain of sand.

Oh, the flowers of indulgence 
and the weeds of yesteryear,
Like criminals, 
they have choked the breath 
of conscience and good cheer.
The sun beat down upon the steps 
of time to light the way
To ease the pain of idleness 
and the memory of decay.

I gaze into the doorway of 
temptation's angry flame
And every time I pass that way 
I always hear my name.
Then onward in my journey 
I come to understand
That every hair is numbered 
like every grain of sand.

I have gone from rags to riches 
in the sorrow of the night
In the violence of a summer's dream,
in the chill of a wintry light,
In the bitter dance of loneliness 
fading into space,
In the broken mirror of innocence 
on each forgotten face.

I hear the ancient footsteps like 
the motion of the sea
Sometimes I turn, there's someone there, 
other times it's only me.
I am hanging in the balance 
of the reality of man
Like every sparrow falling, 
like every grain of sand.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Within You Without You
The Beatles (Harrison) 

We were talking-about the space between us all
And the people-who hide themselves behind a wall of illusion
Never glimpse the truth-then it's far too late-when they pass away.
We were talking-about the love we all could share-when we find it
To try our best to hold it there-with our love
With our love-we could save the world-if they only knew.
Try to realise it's all within yourself
no-one else can make you change
And to see you're really only very small,
and life flows within you and without you.
We were talking-about the love that's gone so cold and the people,
Who gain the world and lose their soul-
they don't know-they can't see-are you one of them?
When you've seen beyond yourself-then you may find, peace of mind,
is waiting there-
And the time will come when you see
we're all one, and life flows on within you and without you.

"Ripple" 
Grateful Dead

Words by Robert Hunter; music by Jerry Garcia.

If my words did glow with the gold of sunshine
And my tunes were played on the harp unstrung
Would you hear my voice come through the music
Would you hold it near as it were your own?

It's a hand-me-down, the thoughts are broken 
Perhaps they're better left unsung
I don't know, don't really care 
Let there be songs to fill the air

(Chorus)

Ripple in still water
When there is no pebble tossed
Nor wind to blow 

Reach out your hand if your cup be empty
If your cup is full may it be again
Let it be known there is a fountain
That was not made by the hands of men 

There is a road, no simple highway
Between the dawn and the dark of night
And if you go no one may follow 
That path is for your steps alone

(Chorus) 

You who choose to lead must follow
But if you fall you fall alone
If you should stand then who's to guide you?
If I knew the way I would take you home

----------


## EJMathews

I think the lyrics to the bosa nova song, 'The Girl from Ipanema' is poetry: 

"Tall and Tan and young and lovely
the girl from Ipanema goes walking
and as she passes, each one she passes
goes, ahh..."

It has always been one of my favorites, because when I heard it sung I could see this young woman with all eyes on her as she walked completely unaware toward the beautiful blue ocean and soft sandy beach.

----------


## Gregory Samsa

Many of Bob Dylans lyrics. Byt this two I also like.

*Into My Arms* by Nick Cave

I don't believe in an interventionist God
But I know, darling, that you do
But if I did I would kneel down and ask Him
Not to intervene when it came to you
Not to touch a hair on your head
To leave you as you are
And if He felt He had to direct you
Then direct you into my arms

Into my arms, O Lord, into my arms
Into my arms, O Lord, into my arms
Into my arms, O Lord, into my arms
Into my arms, O Lord, into my arms
Into my arms, O Lord, into my arms
Into my arms, O Lord, into my arms

And I don't believe in the existence of angels
But looking at you I wonder if that's true
But if I did I would summon them together
And ask them to watch over you
To each burn a candle for you
To make bright and clear your path
And to walk,like Christ, in grace and love
And guide you into my arms

Into my arms, O Lord, into my arms
Into my arms, O Lord, into my arms

But I believe in Love
And I know that you do too
And I believe in some kind of path
That we can walk down, me and you
So keep your candles burning
And make her journey bright and pure
That she will keep returning
Always and evermore

Into my arms, O Lord, into my arms
Into my arms, O Lord, into my arms
Into my arms, O Lord, into my arms

*Fruit Tree* by Nick Drake

Fame is but a fruit tree
So very unsound.
It can never flourish
Till its stock is in the ground.
So men of fame
Can never find a way
Till time has flown
Far from their dying day.
Forgotten while you're here
Remembered for a while
A much updated ruin
From a much outdated style.

Life is but a memory
Happened long ago.
Theatre full of sadness
For a long forgotten show.
Seems so easy
Just to let it go on by
Till you stop and wonder
Why you never wondered why.

Safe in the womb
Of an everlasting night
You find the darkness can
Give the brightest light.
Safe in your place deep in the earth
That's when they'll know what you were really worth.
Forgotten while you're here
Remembered for a while
A much updated ruin
From a much outdated style.

Fame is but a fruit tree
So very unsound.
It can never flourish 
Till its stock is in the ground.
So men of fame
Can never find a way
Till time has flown
Far from their dying day.

Fruit tree, fruit tree
No-one knows you but the rain and the air.
Don't you worry
They'll stand and stare when you're gone.

Fruit tree, fruit tree
Open your eyes to another year.
They'll all know
That you were here when you're gone.

----------


## pains of sleep

I'm sure somebody has mentioned this already, but a lot of "stand alone" poetry was originally intended as song, like much of Shelley's work and arguably Homer's epics, among many others. I think poetry and song are two sides of the same coin, so to speak

----------


## Zothar

it is hard to make a song sound like a poem if you constantly have the repeating chorus. take that out and it will sound much better.

"It's just a piece of paper,
It says IN GOD WE TRUST,
A little short-felt good,
But a lot is not enough

And everybody loved me
When I was on a role
And I thought i held everything
When I held the gold

But you're not my God,
You're not my friend,
You're not the one that I will walk with in the end

You're not the truth
You're a temporary shot
And you ruin peoples lives and don't give a second thought

You're not my God."

Not My God by Keith Urban

----------


## NikolaiI

This is a translation from Vladimir Vysotsky; his song _Skazal sebe ya: bros' pisat'... 
_

If you're not familiar with him I can't tell you much, I just found about him a month and a half ago. All I know is his music is beautiful and he was important in Russian history.
I did ``'s for the line indentions.
I think the last stanza is a little loose, but the rest of it, being a translation, stands pretty nicely.


I told myself:- must stop to write!
But stubborn hands will not comply,
Oh, help me mother! Friends - I'm in a fix! 
I lie in bed - they grin at me, 
They might attack me terribly,
I'm scared to sleep: they're noiseless, hopeless freaks.

The psychos vary here, and sure,
`` Not all are rowdy, some impure,
Receiving treatment - getting starved and beat,
But here is what surprises me:
`` These madmen here are walking free,
And all the food that I receive, they simply take and eat.

Great Dostoyevsky's fallen short 
`` With the renowned, famous "Notes"!*
I wish the poor deceased could come and see!
The famous Gogol* I could tell 
`` Such stories of this life in hell
That sure to God, this Gogol would most-boggled be!

Can't stand this! Spit on those baboons,
`` 'cause after all, they're rowdy loons!
They always aim to lick me on my face!
Just yesterday, in seventh ward,
`` One madman lost his mind and roared,-
He yelled, "America!" and stormed around the place.

I don't want fame, and just for now,
`` I'm still remaining sane somehow,
I've yet to lose my head, but that's my fate.
Here is the chief,- the woman nurse,
`` She's just a little crazed of course,
I yell that I am going mad and she just tells me: "Wait."

And I am sensing while I wait,
`` I'm walking on a sharpened blade,-
Forgot the alphabet,- my language's Greek to me!
And I am asking friends mine this
`` Whoever I'm of theirs is
Of him, to take, his, me away from outtahere!

----------


## RitaKay

I hope you never lose your sense of wonder 
You get your fill to eat 
But always keep that hunger 
May you never take one single breath for granted 
God forbid love ever leave you empty handed 
I hope you still feel small 
When you stand by the ocean 
Whenever one door closes, I hope one more opens 
Promise me you'll give faith a fighting chance 

And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance 
I hope you dance 
I hope you dance 

I hope you never fear those mountains in the distance 
Never settle for the path of least resistance 
Living might mean taking chances 
But they're worth taking 
Lovin' might be a mistake 
But it's worth making 
Don't let some hell bent heart 
Leave you bitter 
When you come close to selling out 
Reconsider 
Give the heavens above 
More than just a passing glance 

And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance 
I hope you dance 
(Time is a real and constant motion always) 
I hope you dance 
(Rolling us along) 
I hope you dance 
(Tell me who) 
I hope you dance 
(Wants to look back on their youth and wonder) 
(Where those years have gone) 

I hope you still feel small 
When you stand by the ocean 
Whenever one door closes, I hope one more opens 
Promise me you'll give faith a fighting chance 

And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance 
Dance 
I hope you dance 
I hope you dance 
(Time is a real and constant motion always) 
I hope you dance 
(Rolling us along) 
I hope you dance 
(Tell me who) 
(Wants to look back on their youth and wonder) 
I hope you dance 
(Where those years have gone) 

(Tell me who) 
I hope you dance 
(Wants to look back on their youth and wonder) 
(Where those years have gone)

----------


## Austin Butler

I had an English teacher that introduced us to poetry in this manner: First, he asked how many of us had bought a book of poetry in the last year. A few people raised their hands. Then, he asked how many had bought a book of poetry in the last month. No one raised their hands. He asked these questions again, substituting a CD of music for a book of poetry, and everyone had their hands raised for both questions. He proceeded to tell us how he thought this was ridiculous, that songs are merely poems with additional music added to them since poems contain music within themselves, are inherently musical. I liked his introduction and would say that all songs are arguably poems. Some songs may not be good poems, just like some poems are not good poems. I think this raises an interesting question of why a song writer is a songwriter and not a poet, and a poet is not a songwriter. In my opinion, both are concerned with the music of the line, although one may lean on instrumentation.

----------


## Stewed

When I first heard this recording on Youtube I was surprised by how close to a song Yeats's reading of his own poem was. I actually prefer the voice in my head to Yeats's reading, terrible as that might be to say. But this makes me wonder if the divergence of song and poetry isn't more recent than we tend to think.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u2FT4_UUa4I

----------


## JCamilo

> I had an English teacher that introduced us to poetry in this manner: First, he asked how many of us had bought a book of poetry in the last year. A few people raised their hands. Then, he asked how many had bought a book of poetry in the last month. No one raised their hands. He asked these questions again, substituting a CD of music for a book of poetry, and everyone had their hands raised for both questions. He proceeded to tell us how he thought this was ridiculous, that songs are merely poems with additional music added to them since poems contain music within themselves, are inherently musical. I liked his introduction and would say that all songs are arguably poems. Some songs may not be good poems, just like some poems are not good poems. I think this raises an interesting question of why a song writer is a songwriter and not a poet, and a poet is not a songwriter. In my opinion, both are concerned with the music of the line, although one may lean on instrumentation.



Because yout teacher with the good intention of showing that rhytimic language is not something gay and outdate and everyone can enjoy it, is teaching you wrongly. 

Song - or Music - is an art on its own. It actually predates the existence of literature (and poems) for quite awhile. In fact, Poems and writer are trying to get the status of music, not the other way around, but fabricating a form of writing (not singing, which is what you do with songs) that produces on readers the "Illusion" of musicallity. When you read a poem, you have no real sound, music, just silence. 

When you sing it, using words as lyrics, you move to another art (which is verbal) which is music. You do not even need to have the words written in first place. 

That is why a songwriter is a songwriter. And a poet is a poet. They aim for things that may be similar but have different ends. (And of course, nothing stops a songwriter to be a poet, as some have been, but as one of the most fmaous today, Leonard Cohen would put, when he is writing a song, he is writing a song, when he is writing a poem, he is writing a poem).

----------


## stlukesguild

I had an English teacher that introduced us to poetry in this manner: First, he asked how many of us had bought a book of poetry in the last year. A few people raised their hands. Then, he asked how many had bought a book of poetry in the last month. No one raised their hands. He asked these questions again, substituting a CD of music for a book of poetry, and everyone had their hands raised for both questions. He proceeded to tell us how he thought this was ridiculous, that songs are merely poems with additional music added to them since poems contain music within themselves, are inherently musical. I liked his introduction and would say that all songs are arguably poems. Some songs may not be good poems, just like some poems are not good poems. I think this raises an interesting question of why a song writer is a songwriter and not a poet, and a poet is not a songwriter. In my opinion, both are concerned with the music of the line, although one may lean on instrumentation.

I confronted this question some time ago in another thread devoted to the same question as to why 'good' songs were not also recognized as 'good' poetry:

Poetry... in written form... relies solely upon the words to create the music and the meaning. This is quite different from song. With a song (an aria, chanson, lieder, ballad, pop song, etc...) the music and the words combine to create the music and the meaning. If we take a song such as the Beatle's _Norwegian Wood_, the lyrics in and of themselves are not bad. There is something open-ended and surely more sophisticated than the usual teen age love song... but we are not talking Shelley/Keats/Blake/Yeats here. The "meaning" or aesthetic impact, however, does not lie solely with the lyrics, nor the music. Indeed, the song is greater than the sum of its separate elements.

Perhaps the greatest example of this is to be found in the songs of Franz Schubert, long acknowledged as the greatest classical song writer. Schubert famously set a cycle of poems by Wilhelm Müller known as _Die Winterreise_ (the Winter's Journey) to music. The poems on their own are but mediocre to average examples of German Romantic poetry. They most certainly are not of the level of Goethe, Schiller, Holderlin, or many others whom he might have set (and did on other occasions). The musical accompaniment, however... the piano and the vocal... reinforce... expand... or *even contrast* with the actual lyrics making the end result far more profound that the lyrics standing upon their own. 

The attempt to tear down an art form into separate elements seems wrong-headed to me. Just because a film works brilliantly, in no way means that if we dissect it we will find that each individual element will stand as a brilliant work of art independent of the whole: that the screen play will stand as great novel, the cinematography as equal to Anselm Adams, the musical score as worthy of standing along side Beethoven, etc... The whole in a work of art is not necessarily simply defined as a sum of the parts. Inflated claims for the "poetry" of John Lennon, Robert Plant, Lou Reed, etc... underestimates *real poetry* as well as it underestimates the the importance of the music in song and the merger of the two in creating a new art form... whole in and of itself.

----------


## JCamilo

I think people forget how writing is artificial and try to understand the musicality of a text or the rhytim (not a exclusive trait of poetry) as if it is the same as music. It is too much literal interpretation of a text. Just like a painting has elements that are artifical caused by the perspective but represent a real world, poetry does it with music and sounds. They are not there, they are represented and it is an aesthetic effect the impression we have that people are singing the poems to the point we vocalize the poems (or feel the urge for it). 

Of course, several poems work well with music, of course, several metrical systems are born from lyrical experiments, but just like it is different the experience of a teatre and the reading of a dramatic text. 

Most people would not know him, since he is brazilian, well, maybe would know his fame as musician, as his importance for Bossa Nova and being the co-writer of Girl from Ipanena, but Vinicius de Moraes was really the most talented (much more than Dylan, Reed or Cohen) lyricist -poet. His sonnet collection is widely read, some of the best sonnets collection of all portuguese literature, and of course, with him, it is extreme hard to put apart the lyricist and the poet. But this simple because he always said he was an amateur that knew good musicians, liked women, beach, drink and music and wrote thinking of poems that luckly went well sung.

----------


## Silas Thorne

Some prose works well with music too:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BMEacD_4VdI 

Good fun and wonder will come to those who hear it.  :Smile:

----------


## Stewed

Even having this argument seems like a mistake to me.

----------


## Silas Thorne

> Even having this argument seems like a mistake to me.


It's not really an argument, it's a discussion. A discussion can go off the thread topic, and then we can leave it behind and start a new one. 

Actually, has no one mentioned Robbie Burns? His songs are often studied as poems, aren't they?
Still of course, they are much much better with the music. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oUs-5dHFksw

----------


## TheRoxaxis

Almost every song of Bob Dylan.

----------


## YesNo

> Actually, has no one mentioned Robbie Burns? His songs are often studied as poems, aren't they?
> Still of course, they are much much better with the music. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oUs-5dHFksw


I liked Eddi Reader's interpretation of that poem. 

One of my favorite poems is Johnny Mercer's _Moon River_. Here is Andrea Ross singing the Henry Mancini song: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nwBjR...eature=related

I think the formatting of the text as a lyric should be different from the formatting of it as a poem. For example, the lyrics of Moon River are recorded as every word in the song: http://www.lyricstime.com/audrey-hep...er-lyrics.html

However, as a poem, I think just the first two stanzas are all that is needed. The repetition can be removed.

Whether any of these lyrics would actually get accepted today by a respectable publisher of poetry, I don't know. Nor care. I prefer the songs.

----------


## stlukesguild

There was also Thomas Campion:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sZsT4lWg5Go

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zUv8D0KUCz4

Of course you also have the examples... especially in classical music... when a great poem (or prose) is set to music by a later artist. Schubert, Schumann, Wolf, and Richard Strauss set poems of Goethe, Schiller, Morike, Holderlin, Novalis, Hermann Hesse, etc... French composers such as Ravel, Debussy, Hahn, Faure, etc... set poems by Verlaine, Baudelaire, Mallarme, Rimbaud, etc... Richard Strauss was especially attuned to the literary quality of his operas, employing librettos by Hugo von Hoffmansthal and Stephan George that stand on their own as literary theater.

----------


## Stewed

Yeah, you're right. re. discussion

----------


## Austin Butler

> The attempt to tear down an art form into separate elements seems wrong-headed to me. Just because a film works brilliantly, in no way means that if we dissect it we will find that each individual element will stand as a brilliant work of art independent of the whole: that the screen play will stand as great novel, the cinematography as equal to Anselm Adams, the musical score as worthy of standing along side Beethoven, etc... The whole in a work of art is not necessarily simply defined as a sum of the parts. Inflated claims for the "poetry" of John Lennon, Robert Plant, Lou Reed, etc... underestimates *real poetry* as well as it underestimates the the importance of the music in song and the merger of the two in creating a new art form... whole in and of itself.


Yes, I agree. I was not trying to argue, nor was my teacher, that poems and songs are synonymous, rather, that they do share many qualities. I think your response eloquently illustrates that. What I was trying to articulate was those interesting examples (such as Schubert's cycle, or Cohen) that blur lines or make us view poems or songs in a different way.

----------


## Stewed

I was going to bring up the Odyssey etc. but it's been brought up. I remember hearing something Lenny Bruce said, something like, "Sure it's art. It might not be good art, but it's art."

----------


## mortalterror

Does any one know where the love of God goes
when the waves turn the minutes to hours?
-Gordon Lightfoot, The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald

----------


## YesNo

> Does any one know where the love of God goes
> when the waves turn the minutes to hours?
> -Gordon Lightfoot, The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald


I've listened to Gordon Lightfoot's _Gord's Gold_ collection and I think all of the lyrics could be formatted as poems and be enjoyable as such. I doubt they would make it into a modern collection of poetry, but then they wouldn't reach the audience his lyrics have reached.

Of course, the music adds to the overall enjoyment. I particularly enjoy _Early Morning Rain_, _Carefree Highway_ and _If You Could Read My Mind_.

The OP wanted to know if there are song lyrics that could be published as poetry by a respectable poetry publisher. The very question hints that lyrics might not be real poetry. That hint does not imply anything good about modern poetry. I think it is a popular impression that any drivel that has line breaks could get published as "poetry" by these respectable poetry publishers, but anything that is too ballad-like would get rejected.

I also suspect songwriters don't really want to be called "poets". It associates them with too many negative ideas and personality traits. If you don't know what I mean by these negative ideas, the movie _Running With Scissors_ does a good job of expressing them.

----------


## APEist

Alright damnit, I looked through 10 pages and didn't see any Jeff Mangum (of Neutral Milk Hotel fame) material, so here I am filling that incredible void.

Holland 1945

The only girl I've ever loved
Was born with roses in her eyes
But then they buried her alive 
One evening 1945
With just her sister at her side 
And only weeks before the guns 
All came and rained on everyone 
Now she's a little boy in Spain 
Playing pianos filled with flames
On empty rings around the sun
All sing to say my dream has come

But now we must pack up every piece
Of the life we used to love 
Just to keep ourselves
At least enough to carry on

And now we ride the circus wheel
With your dark brother wrapped in white
Says it was good to be alive
But now he rides a comet's flame 
And won't be coming back again
The Earth looks better from a star
That's right above from where you are 
He didn't mean to make you cry 
With sparks that ring and bullets fly 
On empty rings around your heart
The world just screams and falls apart 

But now we must pack up every piece
Of the life we used to love
Just to keep ourselves
At least enough to carry on

And here's where your mother sleeps
And here is the room where your brothers were born
Indentions in the sheets 
Where their bodies once moved but don't move anymore
And it's so sad to see the world agree 
That they'd rather see their faces fill with flies
All when I'd want to keep white roses in their eyes


Communist Daughter

Sweet communist
The communist daughter
Standing on the sea-weed water
Semen stains the mountain tops
Semen stains the mountain tops
With coca leaves along the border
Sweetness sings from every corner 
Cars careening from the clouds
The bridges burst and twist around
And wanting something warm and moving
Bends towards herself the soothing 
Proves that she must still exist
She moves herself about her fist
Sweet communist
The communist daughter 
Standing on the sea-weed water
Semen stains the mountain tops
Semen stains the mountain tops

----------


## Mr.lucifer

This is slighty off topic, but isn't it true bob dylan has been nominated for the nobel prize for literature before?

----------


## Stewed

Regarding The Edmund Fitzgerald: Granted I'm half drunk right now, but those lines strike me as adequate poetry. I remember seeing a Gordon Lightfoot album that showed him long-haired, lying on his back in a baggy dress-shirt in a meadow, smelling a flower. I thought: this guy's trying to look like a troubador. It wouldn't surprise me, leaving how good or bad he is aside, if Gordon Lightfoot had traditions in mind other than those of modern pop music.

----------


## ZTay

Leonard Cohen

The door it opened slowly,
My father he came in,
I was nine years old.
And he stood so tall above me,
His blue eyes they were shining
And his voice was very cold.
He said, "I've had a vision
And you know I'm strong and holy,
I must do what I've been told."
So he started up the mountain,
I was running, he was walking,
And his axe was made of gold.

Well, the trees they got much smaller,
The lake a lady's mirror,
We stopped to drink some wine.
Then he threw the bottle over.
Broke a minute later
And he put his hand on mine.
Thought I saw an eagle
But it might have been a vulture,
I never could decide.
Then my father built an altar,
He looked once behind his shoulder,
He knew I would not hide.

You who build these altars now
To sacrifice these children,
You must not do it anymore.
A scheme is not a vision
And you never have been tempted
By a demon or a god.
You who stand above them now,
Your hatchets blunt and bloody,
You were not there before,
When I lay upon a mountain
And my father's hand was trembling
With the beauty of the world.

And if you call me brother now,
Forgive me if I inquire,
"Just according to whose plan?"
When it all comes down to dust
I will kill you if I must,
I will help you if I can.
When it all comes down to dust
I will help you if I must,
I will kill you if I can.
And mercy on our uniform,
Man of peace or man of war,
The peacock spreads his fan.

----------


## ZTay

Jackson Browne


It is a dance we do in silence 
Far below this morning sun 
You in your life, me in mine 
We have begun 
Here we stand and without speaking 
Draw the water from the well 
And stare beyond the plains 
To where the mountains lie so still 

But it's a long way that I have come 
Across the sand to find this peace among your people in the sun 
Where the families work the land as they have always done 
Oh it's so far the other way my country's gone 

Across my home has grown the shadow 
Of a cruel and senseless hand 
Though in some strong hearts 
The love and truth remain 
And it has taken me this distance 
And a woman's smile to learn 
That my heart remains among them 
And to them I must return 

But it's a long way that I have come 
Across the sand to find you here among these people in the sun 
Where your children will be born 
You'll watch them as they run 
Oh it's so far the other way my life has gone 

If you look for me, maria 
You will find me in the shade 
Wide awake or in a dream 
It's hard to tell-- 
If you come to me, maria 
I will show you what I've made 
It's a picture for our lady of the well

----------


## ZTay

[Sir Mix-a-Lot]
I like big butts and I can not lie
You other brothers can't deny
That when a girl walks in with an itty bitty waist
And a round thing in your face
You get sprung, wanna pull out your tough
'Cause you notice that butt was stuffed
Deep in the jeans she's wearing
I'm hooked and I can't stop staring
Oh baby, I wanna get with you
And take your picture
My homeboys tried to warn me
But that butt you got makes me so horny
Ooh, Rump-o'-smooth-skin
You say you wanna get in my Benz?
Well, use me, use me
'Cause you ain't that average groupie
I've seen them dancin'
To hell with romancin'
She's sweat, wet,
Got it goin' like a turbo 'Vette
I'm tired of magazines
Sayin' flat butts are the thing
Take the average black man and ask him that
She gotta pack much back
So, fellas! (Yeah!) Fellas! (Yeah!)
Has your girlfriend got the butt? (Hell yeah!)
Tell 'em to shake it! (Shake it!) Shake it! (Shake it!)
Shake that healthy butt!
Baby got back!

(LA face with Oakland booty)
Baby got back!

[Sir Mix-a-Lot]
I like 'em round, and big
And when I'm throwin' a gig
I just can't help myself, I'm actin' like an animal
Now here's my scandal
I wanna get you home
And ugh, double-up, ugh, ugh
I ain't talkin' bout Playboy
'Cause silicone parts are made for toys
I want 'em real thick and juicy
So find that juicy double
Mix-a-Lot's in trouble
Beggin' for a piece of that bubble
So I'm lookin' at rock videos
Knock-kneeded bimbos walkin' like hoes
You can have them bimbos
I'll keep my women like Flo Jo
A word to the thick soul sisters, I wanna get with ya
I won't cuss or hit ya
But I gotta be straight when I say I wanna ******
Till the break of dawn
Baby got it goin' on
A lot of simps won't like this song
'Cause them punks like to hit it and quit it
And I'd rather stay and play
'Cause I'm long, and I'm strong
And I'm down to get the friction on
So, ladies! {Yeah!} Ladies! {Yeah}
If you wanna roll in my Mercedes {Yeah!}
Then turn around! Stick it out!
Even white boys got to shout
Baby got back!

Baby got back!
Yeah, baby ... when it comes to females, Cosmo ain't got nothin'
to do with my selection. 36-24-36? Ha ha, only if she's 5'3".

[Sir Mix-a-Lot]
So your girlfriend rolls a Honda, playin' workout tapes by Fonda
But Fonda ain't got a motor in the back of her Honda
My anaconda don't want none
Unless you've got buns, hun
You can do side bends or sit-ups,
But please don't lose that butt
Some brothers wanna play that "hard" role
And tell you that the butt ain't gold
So they toss it and leave it
And I pull up quick to retrieve it
So Cosmo says you're fat
Well I ain't down with that!
'Cause your waist is small and your curves are kickin'
And I'm thinkin' bout stickin'
To the beanpole dames in the magazines:
You ain't it, Miss Thing!
Give me a sister, I can't resist her
Red beans and rice didn't miss her
Some knucklehead tried to dis
'Cause his girls are on my list
He had game but he chose to hit 'em
And I pull up quick to get wit 'em
So ladies, if the butt is round,
And you want a triple X throw down,
Dial 1-900-MIXALOT
And kick them nasty thoughts
Baby got back!

(Little in the middle but she got much back)

----------


## Gregory Samsa

Joni Mitchell

Just before our love got lost you said
"I am as constant as a northern star"
And I said "Constantly in the darkness
Where's that at?
If you want me I'll be in the bar"

On the back of a cartoon coaster
In the blue TV screen light
I drew a map of Canada
Oh Canada
With your face sketched on it twice
Oh you're in my blood like holy wine
You taste so bitter and so sweet

Oh I could drink a case of you darling
Still I'd be on my feet
oh I would still be on my feet

Oh I am a lonely painter
I live in a box of paints
I'm frightened by the devil
And I'm drawn to those ones that ain't afraid

I remember that time you told me you said
"Love is touching souls"
Surely you touched mine
'Cause part of you pours out of me
In these lines from time to time
Oh, you're in my blood like holy wine
You taste so bitter and so sweet

Oh I could drink a case of you darling
And I would still be on my feet
I would still be on my feet

I met a woman
She had a mouth like yours
She knew your life
She knew your devils and your deeds
And she said
"Go to him, stay with him if you can
But be prepared to bleed"

Oh but you are in my blood
You're my holy wine
You're so bitter, bitter and so sweet

Oh, I could drink a case of you darling
Still I'd be on my feet
I would still be on my feet

----------


## Gregory Samsa

Bob Dylan

In the time of my confession, in the hour of my deepest need
When the pool of tears beneath my feet flood every newborn seed
There’s a dyin’ voice within me reaching out somewhere
Toiling in the danger and in the morals of despair

Don’t have the inclination to look back on any mistake
Like Cain, I now behold this chain of events that I must break
In the fury of the moment I can see the Master’s hand
In every leaf that trembles, in every grain of sand

Oh, the flowers of indulgence and the weeds of yesteryear
Like criminals, they have choked the breath of conscience and good cheer
The sun beat down upon the steps of time to light the way
To ease the pain of idleness and the memory of decay

I gaze into the doorway of temptation’s angry flame
And every time I pass that way I always hear my name
Then onward in my journey I come to understand
That every hair is numbered like every grain of sand

I have gone from rags to riches in the sorrow of the night
In the violence of a summer’s dream, in the chill of a wintry light
In the bitter dance of loneliness fading into space
In the broken mirror of innocence on each forgotten face

I hear the ancient footsteps like the motion of the sea
Sometimes I turn, there’s someone there, other times it’s only me
I am hanging in the balance of the reality of man
Like every sparrow falling, like every grain of sand.

----------


## stlukesguild

Bump!

----------


## Lotus Kid

I have always thought that Isaac Brock has a way with words and is one of those few artists whose lyrics can directly translate into beautiful poetry. 


Wild Pack of Family Dogs

A wild pack of family dogs came runnin' through the yard one day
My father got his gun, shot it up, they ran away OK
A wild pack of family dogs came runnin' through the yard
And as my own dog ran away with them, I didn't say much of anything at all
A wild pack of family dogs came runnin' through the yard
As my little sister played, the dogs took her away 
And I guess she was eaten up OK, yeah she was eaten up OK
My mother cryin' blood dust now

My dad he quit his job today, well I guess he was fired but that? OK
And I sittin' outside my mud lake, waiting for the pack to take me away
And right after I die the dogs start floating up towards the glowing sky
Now they?l receive their rewards, now they will receive their rewards


I think that he clearly writes and thinks poetically and not simply to get a catch lyric that will be stuck in peoples heads. His work speaks to me and I have always viewed it as poetry as much as it is music. If you haven't listened to or read any of his other stuff, you really should look into it. Doing the Cockroach is also a really good one, and People as places as people.

----------


## nutmeggy

Thom Yorke of Radiohead is often overlooked as a serious songwriter, but many of his Kid A era songs engage in some really intelligent political and social commentary, especially the meaningful lyrics of "Like Spinning Plates." Song lyrics often get overlooked by academia, but that is too bad because there are many musicians out there who have more talent and interesting things to say than many current "poets." 

legomenon.com/radiohead-like-spinning-plates-lyrics-meaning-rwanda-genocide.html

----------


## Maria May

Lyrics from ''town without pity'' by Gene Pitney:

''...If we stop to gaze upon a star
People talk about how bad we are
Ours is not an easy age
We're like tigers in a cage
What a town without pity can do

The young have problems,many problems
We need an understanding heart
Why don't they help us, try to help us
Before this clay and granite planet falls apart...''

----------


## WyattGwyon

Neurotica [a sort of Manhattan field guide?] King Crimson

Good morning, it's 3am in this great roaring
city full of garbage eaters ravaging parking
spots beneath my plaza window I see cheetah in their
tight skins and tired heels all-night hippo in
the diner crossing the street swarthy herds of young
impala flambastic gibbon even a struggling monza
and over there the brilliant head ornament on that
Japanese macaque but look closely at the hammerhead hand
in hand with the mandrill, it's a sight you're
unlikely to see anywhere else on the planet . . .

the stench and the noise, yes, yes, the howler's
resonating repertoire is not too bad when mixed with
the more musical twern of the tropical warbler but the 
impatient taxi blare the squawking elderly ibis and
the glass-eyed snapper hawking papers I can certainly
live without also be cautious of the poisonous
boomslang laughter social droppings of the fruit bat 
and purple queen fish and who's that babbler conversing
with a magazine stand? evidently he's getting a good reply . . .

arrive in neurotica
through neon heat disease
I swear at the swarming herds
I sweat the foul terrain
I rove the moving scenery
I have no fin
no wing no stinger
no claw no camoflauge
I have no more to say . . .

Say . . . isn't that an elephant fish on the corner over
there look at that bush baby mud puppy noolbenger
rhinoderma marmoset spring peeper shingleback skink
siren skate starling sun-gazer spoonbill and suckers,
they seem to be everywhere, well it's a live revue
random animal parts now playing nightly right here in neurotica . . .
so long . . .


I'm not sure it stands on its own but it is fun to read  at high speed in a few breaths

----------


## The Highwayman

I think some Leonard Cohen is quite poetic. As is nearly everything Damien Rice writes. I posted the lyrics to his song, "Elephant" in another thread about his poetic prowess.

----------


## Ser Nevarc

A lot of the Doors, in my opinion. 



This is the end
Beautiful friend
This is the end
My only friend, the end

Of our elaborate plans, the end
Of everything that stands, the end
No safety or surprise, the end
I'll never look into your eyes...again

Can you picture what will be
So limitless and free
Desperately in need...of some...stranger's hand
In a...desperate land
Lost in a Roman...wilderness of pain

And all the children are insane
All the children are insane
Waiting for the summer rain, yeah
There's danger on the edge of town
Ride the King's highway, baby

Weird scenes inside the gold mine
Ride the highway west
Ride the snake, ride the snake
To the lake, the ancient lake
The snake is long, seven miles
Ride the snake...he's old, and his skin is cold

The west is the best
The west is the best
Get here, and we'll do the rest
The blue bus is callin' us
The blue bus is callin' us
Driver, where you takin' us

*The killer awoke before dawn, he put his boots on
He took a face from the ancient gallery
And he walked on down the hall
He went into the room where his sister lived, and...then he
Paid a visit to his brother, and then he
He walked on down the hall, and
And he came to a door...and he looked inside
Father, yes son, I want to kill you
Mother...I want to...WAAAAAA*

----------


## Ser Nevarc

Oh, and to Highwayman, hell yes to King Crimson!

----------


## papillondemai

It's All right Ma (I'm Only bleeding) by Bob Dylan
http://youtu.be/GtW6crUOFQs

Darkness at the break of noon
Shadows even the silver spoon
The handmade blade, the child's balloon
Eclipses both the sun and moon
To understand you know too soon
There is no sense in trying.

Pointed threats, they bluff with scorn
Suicide remarks are torn
From the fools gold mouthpiece
The hollow horn plays wasted words
Proved to warn
That he not busy being born
Is busy dying.

Temptation's page flies out the door
You follow, find yourself at war
Watch waterfalls of pity roar
You feel to moan but unlike before
You discover
That you'd just be
One more person crying.

So don't fear if you hear
A foreign sound to you ear
It's alright, Ma, I'm only sighing.

As some warn victory, some downfall
Private reasons great or small
Can be seen in the eyes of those that call
To make all that should be killed to crawl
While others say don't hate nothing at all
Except hatred.

Disillusioned words like bullets bark
As human gods aim for their marks
Made everything from toy guns that sparks
To flesh-colored Christs that glow in the dark
It's easy to see without looking too far
That not much
Is really sacred.

While preachers preach of evil fates
Teachers teach that knowledge waits
Can lead to hundred-dollar plates
Goodness hides behind its gates
But even the President of the United States
Sometimes must have
To stand naked.

An' though the rules of the road have been lodged
It's only people's games that you got to dodge
And it's alright, Ma, I can make it.

Advertising signs that con you
Into thinking you're the one
That can do what's never been done
That can win what's never been won
Meantime life outside goes on
All around you.

You loose yourself, you reappear
You suddenly find you got nothing to fear
Alone you stand without nobody near
When a trembling distant voice, unclear
Startles your sleeping ears to hear
That somebody thinks
They really found you.

A question in your nerves is lit
Yet you know there is no answer fit to satisfy
Insure you not to quit
To keep it in your mind and not forget 
That it is not he or she or them or it
That you belong to.

Although the masters make the rules
For the wise men and the fools
I got nothing, Ma, to live up to.

For them that must obey authority
That they do not respect in any degree
Who despite their jobs, their destinies
Speak jealously of them that are free
Cultivate their flowers to be
Nothing more than something
They invest in.

While some on principles baptized
To strict party platforms ties
Social clubs in drag disguise
Outsiders they can freely criticize
Tell nothing except who to idolize
And then say God Bless him.

While one who sings with his tongue on fire
Gargles in the rat race choir
Bent out of shape from society's pliers
Cares not to come up any higher
But rather get you down in the hole
That he's in.

But I mean no harm nor put fault
On anyone that lives in a vault
But it's alright, Ma, if I can't please him.

Old lady judges, watch people in pairs
Limited in sex, they dare
To push fake morals, insult and stare
While money doesn't talk, it swears
Obscenity, who really cares
Propaganda, all is phony.

While them that defend what they cannot see
With a killer's pride, security
It blows the minds most bitterly
For them that think death's honesty
Won't fall upon them naturally
Life sometimes
Must get lonely.

My eyes collide head-on with stuffed graveyards
False gods, I scuff
At pettiness which plays so rough
Walk upside-down inside handcuffs
Kick my legs to crash it off
Say okay, I have had enough
What else can you show me ?

And if my thought-dreams could been seen
They'd probably put my head in a guillotine
But it's alright, Ma, it's life, and life only.

----------


## The Truth

Conversely, if you turn the sound off of Miley Cyrus' most recent video, it's a lovely avant-garde film work.

----------


## papillondemai

> Conversely, if you turn the sound off of Miley Cyrus' most recent video, it's a lovely avant-garde film work.


 And if you turn the video off you can contemplate something much, much more lovely: The wonderous miracle that is the modern high definition television set (or computer).

----------


## veganpoet

Any Simon and Garfunkel really, but Kathy's Song comes to mind!

----------


## kev67

I thought some of Paul Weller's songs from The Jam days stood up well, for example:

Puts up the closed sign does the man in the corner shop
Serves his last then he says goodbye to him
He knows it is a hard life
But its nice to be your own boss really
Walks off home does the last customer
He is jealous of the man in the corner shop
He is sick of working at the factory
Says it must be nice to be your own boss (really)

Sells cigars to the boss from the factory
He is jealous is the man in the corner shop
He is sick of struggling so hard
Says it must be nice to own a factory

Go to church do the people from the area
All shapes and classes sit and pray together
For here they are all one
For God created all men equal

----------


## kev67

I like some of Ian Curtis of Joy Division's lyrics. Often I thought he would write a real stand out line followed by another line that was not as good or a bit clichéd. He was a bit morbid.

In the shadowplay, acting out your own death, knowing no more,
As the assassins all grouped in four lines, dancing on the floor,
And with cold steel, odour on their bodies made a move to connect,
But I could only stare in disbelief as the crowds all left.

----------


## Paige Burdick

I really liked this one song by Jack Johnson. The figurative language he uses just works perfectly to me.

Gone, by Jack Johnson

Look at all those fancy clothes
But these could keep us warm, just like those
And what about your soul, is it cold?
Is it straight from the mold, and ready to be sold?

And cars and phones and diamond rings, bling, bling
Those are only removable things
And what about your mind, does it shine?
Or are there things that concern you more than your time?

Gone going, gone everything
Gone give a damn
Gone be the birds when they don't want to sing
Gone people, all awkward with their things, gone

Look at you out to make a deal
You try to be appealing but you lose your appeal
And what about those shoes you're in today, they'll do no good
On the bridges you burnt along the way

You're willing to sell anything
Gone with your herd, leave your footprints
We'll shame them with our words
Gone people, all careless and consumed,

Gone, gone going, 
Gone everything, gone give a damn
Gone be the birds when they don't want to sing
Gone people, all awkward with their things, gone

----------


## WyattGwyon

A fun one from Henry Cow:

War

Tell of the birth
Tell how war appeared on earth

Thunder and herbs
Conjugated sacred Verbs
Musicians with gongs
Fertilized an egg with song
Asleep in the sphere
Her fetus was a knot of fear
She butted with her horn
Split an egg and war was born
A miracle of hate
She banged her spoon against her plate.

Upon her spoon this motto
wonderfully designed:
"Violence completes the partial mind."

Stacking the bones
On the empty aerodrome
Tinted turtle green
She haunts the slender submarine
She shakes her gory locks
Over the deserted docks.

Come follow me
Out of dark obscurity
Follow my torch
Pilgrims at the double march
Through meadows and seas
Abattoirs and libraries
The pilgrims increase
Boasting they are led by peace
They gut huts with gusto
Pillage villages with verve
War does what she has to
People get what they deserve.

----------


## Maria May

''The sound of silence'' by Simon and Garfunkel,absolutely beautiful!  :Smile: 

''Hello darkness, my old friend
I've come to talk with you again
Because a vision softly creeping
Left its seeds while I was sleeping
And the vision that was planted in my brain
Still remains
Within the sound of silence

In restless dreams I walked alone
Narrow streets of cobblestone
'Neath the halo of a street lamp
I turned my collar to the cold and damp
When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon light
That split the night
And touched the sound of silence

And in the naked light I saw
Ten thousand people, maybe more
People talking without speaking
People hearing without listening
People writing songs that voices never share
And no one dared
Disturb the sound of silence

"Fools", said I, "You do not know
Silence like a cancer grows
Hear my words that I might teach you
Take my arms that I might reach you"
But my words, like silent raindrops fell
And echoed
In the wells of silence

And the people bowed and prayed
To the neon god they made
And the sign flashed out its warning
In the words that it was forming
And the sign said, "The words of the prophets are written on the subway walls
And tenement halls"
And whispered in the sounds of silence...''

----------


## DATo

*Jazzman

by

Carol King* 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OUBnLJdi1rU

Lift me, won't you lift me above the old routine
Make it nice, play it clean, Jazzman

When the Jazzman's testifyin'
A faithless man believes
He can sing you into paradise
Or bring you to your knees
It's a gospel kind of feelin'
A touch of Georgia slide
A song of pure revival
And a style that's sanctified

Jazzman, take my blues away
Make my pain the same as yours
With every change you play
Jazzman, oh, Jazzman

When the Jazzman's signifyin'
And the band is windin' low
It's the late night side of morning
In the darkness of his soul
He can fill a room with sadness
As he fills his horn with tears
He can cry like a fallen angel
When risin' time is near

Jazzman, take my blues away
Make my pain the same as yours
With every change you play

Oh, lift me, won't you lift me with every turnaround
Play it sweetly, take me down, oh, Jazzman.

----------


## bedbugboy54

I like Under the Bridge By Red Hot Chili Peppers, although I think some of it could be shaved out if the music isn't present.
Twilight Zone is also awesome.

Here's Twilight Zone:
Somewhere in a lonely hotel room
There's a guy starting to realize
That eternal fate has turned it's back on him
It's two A.M.

It's two A.M. the fear has gone
I'm sitting here waitin' the gun still warm
Maybe my connection is tired of takin' chances

Yeah, there's a storm on the loose, sirens in my head
Wrapped up in silence all circuits are dead
Cannot decode, my whole life spins into a frenzy

Help, I'm steppin' into the twilight zone
Place is a madhouse, feels like being cloned
My beacon's been moved under moon and star
Where am I to go now that I've gone too far?

Soon you will come to know
When the bullet hits the bone


I'm falling down the spiral destination unknown
Double crossed messenger all alone
Can't get no connection, can't get through
Where are you?

Well the night weighs heavy on his guilty mind
This far from the borderline
When the hitman comes
He knows damn well he has been cheated

And he says, "Help, I'm steppin' into the twilight zone
Place is a madhouse, feels like being cloned
My beacon's been moved under moon and star
Where am I to go now that I've gone too far?"

Here's one part of under the bridge I think is great:

I drive on her streets
'Cause she's my companion
I walk through her hills
'Cause she knows who I am
She sees my good deeds
And she kisses me windy
I never worry
Now that is a lie

----------


## fajfall

I can't find a name other than 'Botany Bay' of this convict ballad. There's a very haunting reading of the last stanza on YouTube under Botany Bay:

Botany Bay 2

Come all young men of learning, a warning take by me
I'll have you quit night walking and shun bad company
I'll have you quit night walking, or else you'll rue the day
And you will be transported and be sent to Botany Bay


I was brought up in London town, a place I know full well
Brought up by honest parents, the truth to you I'll tell
Brought up by honest parents, who loved me tenderly
Till I became a roving blade, to prove my destiny


My character was taken and I was sent to goal
My parents tried to clear me, but nothing would prevail
Twas at our Rutland sessions the Judge to me did say
The jury's found you guilty, you must go to Botany Bay


To see my poor old father, as he stood at the bar
Likewise my dear old mother, her old gray locks she tore
And in tearing of her old gray locks these words to me she did say
O son ! O son ! What hast thou done, Thou art bound for Botany Bay
Notes

----------


## DATo

*Houses

by 

Judy Collins*

POSTER'S NOTE: The song itself is both poetic and hauntingly beautiful. Written and sung by Miss Collins as a tribute to her deceased son.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L3C6FJU3R1k

You have many houses, one for every season
Mountains in your windows, violets in your hands
Through your English meadows your blue-eyed horses wander
You're in Colorado for the Spring

When the Winter finds you, you fly to where it's summer
Rooms that face the ocean, moonlight on your bed
Mermaids swift as dolphins paint the air with diamonds
You are like a seagull as you sail

Why do you fly bright feathered sometimes in my dreams?
The shadows of your wings fall over my face
I can feel no air, I can find no peace
Brides in black ribbons, witches in white
Fly in through windows, fly out through the night

Why do I think I'm dying sometimes in my dreams
I see myself a child running through the trees
Looking everywhere crawling on my knees
Searching for myself, looking for my life
I cannot see the leaves, I cannot see the light

Then I see you walking just beyond the forest
Walking very quickly, walking by yourself
Your shoes are silver, your coat is made of velvet
Your eyes are shining, your voice is sweet and clear
"Come on" you say "come with me, I'm going to the castle"

All the bells are ringing, the weddings have begun
But I can only stand here-I cannot move to follow
I'm burning in the shadows I'm freezing in the sun

There are people you knew living in your houses
People from your childhood who remember how you were
You were always flying, nightingale of sorrow
Singing bird, with rainbows on your wings

----------


## Danik 2016

The House of the Rising Sun! Haunting!!
https://www.google.com.br/search?q=t...GYrAwATcupL4BA

----------


## ennison

There is an intimate connection between songs and poetry. But just as it's easy to create crap poetry it is just as easy to create garbage songs. The lower end of the pop factory produces tat. But many singer songwriters are genuinely poetic. It is a particular talent to write a poem that is also musically satisfying. Many effective simple songs are effective simple poems. I remember the late Iain C Smith sneering at those Gaelic song writers who produced material that their communities enjoyed. He himself could do nothing like that. Snobbery of his type is too common among the supposed stars of literature. It would be too boring for me to try to list the huge number of songs that I consider poetry but the number is enormous. I consider the field called poetry to be wide and varied.
In this respect I share some of the attitudes of Auden. I would recommend his pre-war poetry anthologies as examples of democratic taste.

----------


## YesNo

I remember reading a book about writing song lyrics where the author (I forget who) wrote that lyricists should not consider themselves poets. It amazed me that neither songwriters nor poets thought song lyrics were poetry. That didn't make sense and as a reaction to defend my common sense I would insist that the opposite was true.

Over the years I realized that for most people song lyrics are not just poetry, they are the best poetry. 

One song I listened to more closely earlier this year, paying attention to the lyrics, was the Bee Gee's "Heartbreaker": https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8VCuCm6XKeA Although I found it moving when it first appeared, my remembrance of it was as a sentimental love song. Why was it so popular? What moved me at the time and even today? Clearly the line, "My love is stronger than the universe", is what made the song successful, but that is not the sort of thing a girl would so defiantly say to her distant lover which made me wonder just what were we hearing when we heard those words?

----------


## JCamilo

Maybe, just maybe, the suggestion that lyricists should not consider themselves poets is only because they are writting something that must work when sung first, while the poet must consider what will be read first. A matter of focus, rather than a matter if the lyrics can be read or have poetical elements. (Just as a poem have musical elements and is not exactly music).

----------


## desiresjab

Hardly any songs, especially modern ones, stand up as poetry, as clearly evinced in this thread. As stand alone works of poetry, the rhymes of songs sound and read with a juvenile feel and content. Only when the music is added can they take you over.

----------


## kingdavid

> Hardly any songs, especially modern ones, stand up as poetry, as clearly evinced in this thread. As stand alone works of poetry, the rhymes of songs sound and read with a juvenile feel and content. Only when the music is added can they take you over.


For the most part I agree. Especially Top 40 music, it has some of the worst lyrics I've ever heard; they essentially use the voice as an instrument rather than means of conveyance. But I wouldn't take modern lyrics out of considering them poetry though. If you look for it there is some gorgeous poetry in song writing, especially modern. You may have to go a wee bit under the radar to find it, but it is there. The work of Connor Oberst comes to mind. Honest lyrics make great poetry.

----------


## mynguyen

I think of poetry transformed into a song is both an artistic process.

----------


## Agliomby

Me and Bobby McGee
Hallelujah
California Dreaming

And many more must compare more than favourably with any contemporary "poetry". I think modern ( that is, post war) poetry has lost its way, written for the author to be admired, rather than to please an audience.

----------


## Agliomby

Lyrics, or poetry, are not inevitably made worse by being set to music.

----------


## YesNo

> Me and Bobby McGee
> Hallelujah
> California Dreaming
> 
> And many more must compare more than favourably with any contemporary "poetry". I think modern ( that is, post war) poetry has lost its way, written for the author to be admired, rather than to please an audience.


Good selections. A poet's goal should be to please a _wide_ audience. The audience, unfortunately, for poetry today (not songs) is restricted to a very small number of people whom one should probably not want to please.

----------


## EmptySeraph

> Maybe, just maybe, the suggestion that lyricists should not consider themselves poets is only because they are writting something that must work when sung first, while the poet must consider what will be read first. A matter of focus, rather than a matter if the lyrics can be read or have poetical elements. (Just as a poem have musical elements and is not exactly music).


Celan's ''Todesfuge'' didn't get its title by chance. Poetry ought to be read aloud, for it strongly links to musicality, or it should anyway. As Verlaine said:

_De la musique avant toute chose,
Et pour cela prfre l'Impair
Plus vague et plus soluble dans l'air,
Sans rien en lui qui pse ou qui pose._

However, Celan is quite a special case, for he actually tried to destroy exactly that musicality, to expel it from his poetry, to isolate it from outer beauty, from the German expresionism (which is still sensible in his poems from Der Sand aus den Urnen) and neoromanticism (from Rilke, Stefan George etc.) that possessed a gentle rhytm and a smooth, facile rhyme. But Celan wanted a poem that could no longer be identified with musicality and exterior acustics, and hence the metamorphosis the poem suffers; witness, par example, his _Engfhrung_, perhaps the piece where the _Verwerfung_ is most conspicuous. This process of destroying the usual shape of the poem is a form of, as Martine Broda put it, _celaniser la langue_. 
So, you can make poetry without music, but you'll still have to start with a musical form and destroy it as you advance.

Compare the last stanza of _Todesfuge_:

_Schwarze Milch der Frhe wir trinken dich nachts 
wir trinken dich mittags der Tod ist ein Meister aus Deutschland 
wir trinken dich abends und morgens wir trinken und trinken 
der Tod ist ein Meister aus Deutschland sein Auge ist blau 
er trifft dich mit bleierner Kugel er trifft dich genau 
ein Mann wohnt im Haus dein goldenes Haar Margarete 
er hetzt seine Rden auf uns er schenkt uns ein Grab in der Luft 
er spielt mit den Schlangen und trumet der Tod ist ein Meister aus Deutschland_

with the last from _Engfhrung_:

_ (– – taggrau,
der
Grundwasserspuren –


Verbracht
ins Gelnde
mit
der untrglichen
Spur:

Gras.
Gras,
auseinandergeschrieben.)_

It's conceptually the same poem. But the shape is completely massacred, it's emptied of any musicality that could resemble anything from the exterior universe. What led to this radical change? Roughly fifteen years of lyrical maceration, of denying the music...

----------


## YesNo

> But Celan wanted a poem that could no longer be identified with musicality and exterior acustics, and hence the metamorphosis the poem suffers; witness, par example, his _Engfhrung_, perhaps the piece where the _Verwerfung_ is most conspicuous. This process of destroying the usual shape of the poem is a form of, as Martine Broda put it, _celaniser la langue_.


I think words require sound even when one says them to oneself. It is the sound that brings out the meaning for a member of our species. There is no "shape of the poem" to destroy.




> It's conceptually the same poem. But the shape is completely massacred, it's emptied of any musicality that could resemble anything from the exterior universe. What led to this radical change? Roughly fifteen years of lyrical maceration, of denying the music...


What does it mean for two poems to be "conceptually the same poem"?

----------


## desiresjab

Just like condensed milk, songs are seldom poetry without the water added. Phrasing to a musical bar is different from solo poetic scansion. The notes of the melody determine where the beats fall.

Not that there is not great stuff out there on occassion, but everyone must admit poetic songs become better with the music added, usually at least a hundred percent better. This means that on fifty percent of their power they would equal the poems of masters. This cannot be true. Bob Dylan on half power is not as good a poet as W.B. Yeats or T.S. Elliot. Once one adds the water to the powdered milk, perhaps then there is a contest, but certainly not until.

I am willing to believe stand alone song lyrics are poetry, just not the best poetry. Otherwise, once the water was added, song would exceed all poetry by far, and I do not believe this to be true either. I do believe that lyrics+music is a powerful combination somtimes as powerful as the greatest poetry, with the added advantage of reaching the emotions of listeners more quickly. If that is all there was to poetry, songs would be the champ.

To demonstrate how powerful music itself is, consider that we have all cried over songs with mediocre lyrics. I believe this to be a fact. If I have, then I know you sentimental saps have, too. It does not even take decent poetry to wrench our emotions strongly if the music grabs us. We can be affected mightily in spite of mediocre lyrics.

Stevie Wonder is arguably the greatest musical artist of the pop/rock era, as lyricist and songwriter, singer extraordinaire, and brilliant soloist on two instruments. He does not blow his solos on a little diatonic harmonica, which the best players can get plenty out of, but a chromatic harmonica capable of much more.

Musically, he was way above the era he participated in, respected by all. A dozen or song creators will stand out, I believe, when historians and musicologists of the future are able to gaze back on the 20th century. Stevie is likely to be one of those dozen.

The amazing thing is, he was only an average lyricist. There was nothing special about his words, they simply worked for his material. He was a mundane but adequate lyricist in the overall, which does not prevent many of his songs from being classics.

With songs it really is mostly about the music, especially once the song leaves the format of one person on an instrument singing and becomes highly produced with top musicians, added string sections, backup singers et al.

Great words can get in there which will stand alone as poetry, i.e. interesting words with line breaks. Those words came out as part of a melody, not as scanned poetry, which have to confrom to the melody, so it is difficult and unusual to also confrom to poetic scansion as well, and still sound good musically. On the other side of the coin, I have heard the works of some of the greatest poets set to music, and I did not feel their words were elevated by the experiment but struggled to equal themselves solo.

Absolutely wonderful songs can have so-so lyrics, that is how strong the music is. 

My favorite lyrics of Stevie Wonder are in a little song called Lately. I do not know if they are poetry. I think they must be. Because we know the artist and that he is blind, the lyrics become even more meaningful than usual. I guess you cannot fool the nose of a blind person either, along with their ears, but I had never thought of it. Once you add the water to these lyrics where they are contextually metered within the melody, you have a piece of art, in my opinion, that will stick around for a while, and that any great poet must strugle to equal for a piece of similar duration.

I once set to music some words of Robert Herrick, which may have originally had music, for all I know.

_WHENAS in silks my Julia goes	
Then, then (methinks) how sweetly flows
That liquefaction of her clothes.

Next, when I cast mine eyes and see 
That brave vibration each way free:
Oh how that glittering taketh me!_

Image-wise, these are great words, in spite of (maybe because of) mediocre meter, if any. Nonetheless, the four hundred and fifty year old poem was found in an anthology of English poetry covering a six hundred year span, where there was only space, presumably, for the best poetry from any period, with some wiggle room for the editor, who in this case was Oscar Williams, a poet so great I have go look up his name in the middle of this sentence, and who included by privilege of that wiggle room some of his own poems and, one might reasonably imagine, a few of his friends as well who were possibly over-represented in the modern period, yet the high standards of the tome did not noticably suffer.

I also tried setting some Houseman to music. It worked, but the poems of Houseman I wanted were so short that I needed to stitch a number of them together, and this did not work, musically. They all had their own melodies.

----------


## Agliomby

I just love that Robert Herrick poem! I first encountered it in "A Prosody Handbook" by Shapiro and Beum, which I read when I was struggling to define "poetry" for myself. Of course, many call themselves poets and what they write, poetry. Impact with brevity would be my paramount requirement. But, desiresjab, setting those Herrick verses to music could not reduce their inherent impact; nor, then, can you say song lyrics must depend on their music.
In my opinion, poetry has become ridiculously academic, always trying to break new ground or be deliberately obscure. Thus here we get poetry by a poet laureate that is nothing but a list of childhood toys, no metre or rhyme, gaining attention by nostalgia only. Read in front of a sycophantic audience, evoking sycophantic appreciation.

----------


## YesNo

I like the Herrick poem also. It is justifiably famous, but it is very simple like a song lyric and yet it teases the reader's attention even today years after it was written.

Thinking about EmptySeraph's idea of the "shape" of a poem, song lyrics illustrate that poetry has no shape. True there are standard ways to represent the poem metrically in a text, but if one were listening to a YouTube video displaying the lyrics, no one would complain if that video reformatted that standard display. The display, or shape, is not part of the poem.

However, there has been an attempt to add shape to poetry. When poets insist that line breaks are inserted where they originally put them or when extra spaces and indentations are copied just as they submitted them, they seem to be implying that those shapes of the written text are part of the poem itself. They do seem to restrict their liberties only to the shapes that an early twentieth century, manual typewriter could construct which is odd. Why not insist that the paper be of a certain color or the font be just as they presented it to the editor?

Shape, that bizarre peppering of a text with line breaks and needless spaces, is something that needs to be removed from modern poetry. It is not something modern poets removed from traditional poetry.

----------


## Agliomby

> I like the Herrick poem also. It is justifiably famous, but it is very simple like a song lyric and yet it teases the reader's attention even today years after it was written.
> 
> Thinking about EmptySeraph's idea of the "shape" of a poem, song lyrics illustrate that poetry has no shape. True there are standard ways to represent the poem metrically in a text, but if one were listening to a YouTube video displaying the lyrics, no one would complain if that video reformatted that standard display. The display, or shape, is not part of the poem.
> 
> However, there has been an attempt to add shape to poetry. When poets insist that line breaks are inserted where they originally put them or when extra spaces and indentations are copied just as they submitted them, they seem to be implying that those shapes of the written text are part of the poem itself. They do seem to restrict their liberties only to the shapes that an early twentieth century, manual typewriter could construct which is odd. Why not insist that the paper be of a certain color or the font be just as they presented it to the editor?
> 
> Shape, that bizarre peppering of a text with line breaks and needless spaces, is something that needs to be removed from modern poetry. It is not something modern poets removed from traditional poetry.


But isnt that just changing the definition of poetry? Or, indeed, including prose in your definition?

----------


## YesNo

I don't think prose has any "shape" either.

----------


## Agliomby

> I don't think prose has any "shape" either.


Okay...That takes some explaining and digesting. Syntax, are you talking about? Surely the construction of a sentence attempts to predict the way most minds process information, thus a complex sentence can be very satisfying, if one can stay with it throughout its twists. For me, prose trumps poetry nearly everytime.

----------


## Agliomby

But "Julia turns me on" doesnt quite sound as good as the way Herrick puts that fact.

----------


## YesNo

What I understood EmptySeraph to mean by "shape" was formatting the words on a page. Usually poems have special formatting distinct from prose, but in both it is the sound that gives us the meaning. It doesn't matter if we ever see it formatted on some medium.

----------


## Agliomby

BUtif we donthear ---------------------------------------------------------------__________________________________________________ ___________________________ it
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- allwe
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- havEForclues


iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii iiiiiiiiiiiiisthefor------------------------------------------------------- mat/

----------


## YesNo

I see you understand the "shape" concept. It is all in the formatting.

Here is the question: For language, does the shape matter? I would say no. You could write what you posted as "But if we don't hear it all we have for clues is the format". Now it is true that I might not understand the language being used or misread the words, but that doesn't mean the shape is part of the language.

I also don't think there are "images" in a poem (or in prose). Images might inspire words, but words do not contain images. They are meaningful sounds, or as Frost mentioned, the "sound of sense". I might not understand what Frost means by "sound of sense", but I don't think there are images involved in it.

----------


## desiresjab

> Of course, many call themselves poets and what they write, poetry. Impact with brevity would be my paramount requirement. But, desiresjab, setting those Herrick verses to music could not reduce their inherent impact;


I my case, it didn't, because I got lucky and found a good melody with a nice Elizabethean feel and sound. Do it wrong, for instance with heavy metal music, and you could certainly reduce the impact of the words rather than enhance them, my friend, for anyone listrening to that performance.





> nor, then, can you say song lyrics must depend on their music.


I did not use the word _must_, did I? What does it matter? You know what a melody is. Perhaps you know that a melody makes many demands of accents, it holds certain words as half notes or whole notes. In my opinion this makes most great poetry unsuitable for musical adaptation, sticking strictly to original texts. This is because of accentual exigencies of the melody you have not thought about. What fits with a great melody is often not great poetry, or even good enough to be called stand alone poetry, though the line is arbitrary and personal in every case. 




> In my opinion, poetry has become ridiculously academic, always trying to break new ground or be deliberately obscure. Thus here we get poetry by a poet laureate that is nothing but a list of childhood toys, no metre or rhyme, gaining attention by nostalgia only. Read in front of a sycophantic audience, evoking sycophantic appreciation.


Okay. I believe something like this, too. Almost every well known poet teaches somewhere in academia. I cannot blame anyone for the fact that poets need to have day jobs, though, except the readers of poetry or the poets themselves. I look at journals and I cannot read most of what is presented as quality poetry. It bores me. All it has to do is interest me. That is all any words have to do, and it is the first and hardest job simply to be interesting. I can usually tell from the first few lines of a poem or story whether an author is going to bore me. If the author simply keeps my interest going, that is a huge plus in his/her favor.

Poetry readings are one type of event where poetry goes public, so naturally it has different manners than it has at home. A spirit comes over some readings, call it the spirit of sychophancy, if you must, but I have seen good spirit at readings, too.

What works at a reading may not be great poetry, and great poetry may not work at a reading. So much depends on the audience and what they will respond to, what they are used to etc., etc. There is no law that says great poetry has to sound good at a reading. But anyway, some of the stuff they are calling fine poetry these days does not sound good, look good, or read good.

Poetry may have begun as an oral art, but for hundreds of years there have been poems that are meant to be read in the silence of your study, because they read better than they sound. Part of the way they read is the way they look. This is why poems have different looks, and looks are important, because they change the silent reading, and because silent reading is a huge and valuable part of appreciating poetry.

There is not one among us (I hope) who thinks Sailing To Byzantium is just as effective written in straight prose across the page. That is really nonsense. Not only would it affect the silent reading, anyone reading it aloud would also have to practice it more extensively to get it to sound like it should, unaided by the visual cue of line breaks. So changing the geometric shape of the poem alters both the silent and the oral reading of it.

Call it custom, but the vocabulary of songs is an extremely limited one. I think it is more than custom. Small common words can fit in with the demands of the melody better than larger, less common, awkward ones.

This limited vocabulary may be a hidden demand of the meeting of words and music, and a hidden reason that stand alone song lyrics can seldom if ever acheive the highest poetic level. Great poetry in song essentially has to be acheived with only the vocabulary of a teenager who is a perenial "D" student. This is another reason it hardly ever happens.

People do not want to hear a lot of big words sung, but they will read them. Perhaps this is cultural, but it has been so since song began, as far as I can tell.

Looking closer at the Herrick poem, it has a lynchpin--the word _liquifaction_. Without that one highly unusual word, the poem is not special anymore, and it would not have been found in the anthology by Mr. Oscar Williams. The second verse is, in fact, rather mediocre as a whole. The power and grace of the first verse and the single word holds the reader's attention for another few short lines. But everything comes from that graceful first verse and its unusual word.

It has no exact rhythm of its own, and does not read aloud as well as it reads silently. Because it contains so little identity rhythmically, perhaps, it came alive aurally with my melody, I must admit. It seemed to help it, which I think is extraordinarily unusual with great poetry.

----------


## Patrick Bell

I would say some that are great poetry are...

'The Stranger Song' Leonard Cohen:


"Stranger Song"

It's true that all the men you knew were dealers
who said they were through with dealing
Every time you gave them shelter
I know that kind of man
It's hard to hold the hand of anyone
who is reaching for the sky just to surrender,
who is reaching for the sky just to surrender.
And then sweeping up the jokers that he left behind
you find he did not leave you very much
not even laughter
Like any dealer he was watching for the card
that is so high and wild
he'll never need to deal another
He was just some Joseph looking for a manger
He was just some Joseph looking for a manger

And then leaning on your window sill
he'll say one day you caused his will
to weaken with your love and warmth and shelter
And then taking from his wallet
an old schedule of trains, he'll say
I told you when I came I was a stranger
I told you when I came I was a stranger.

But now another stranger seems
to want you to ignore his dreams
as though they were the burden of some other
O you've seen that man before
his golden arm dispatching cards
but now it's rusted from the elbows to the finger
And he wants to trade the game he plays for shelter
Yes he wants to trade the game he knows for shelter.

Ah you hate to see another tired man
lay down his hand
like he was giving up the holy game of poker
And while he talks his dreams to sleep
you notice there's a highway
that is curling up like smoke above his shoulder.
It is curling just like smoke above his shoulder.

You tell him to come in sit down
but something makes you turn around
The door is open you can't close your shelter
You try the handle of the road
It opens do not be afraid
It's you my love, you who are the stranger
It's you my love, you who are the stranger.

Well, I've been waiting, I was sure
we'd meet between the trains we're waiting for
I think it's time to board another
Please understand, I never had a secret chart
to get me to the heart of this
or any other matter
When he talks like this
you don't know what he's after
When he speaks like this,
you don't know what he's after.

Let's meet tomorrow if you choose
upon the shore, beneath the bridge
that they are building on some endless river
Then he leaves the platform
for the sleeping car that's warm
You realize, he's only advertising one more shelter
And it comes to you, he never was a stranger
And you say ok the bridge or someplace later.

And then sweeping up the jokers that he left behind ...

And leaning on your window sill ...

I told you when I came I was a stranger. "

Or 'Alice' Tom Waits:

"Alice"

It's dreamy weather we're on
You waved your crooked wand
Along an icy pond with a frozen moon
A murder of silhouette crows I saw
And the tears on my face
And the skates on the pond
They spell Alice

I disappear in your name
But you must wait for me
Somewhere across the sea
There's a wreck of a ship
Your hair is like meadow grass on the tide
And the raindrops on my window
And the ice in my drink
Baby all I can think of is Alice

Arithmetic arithmetock
Turn the hands back on the clock
How does the ocean rock the boat?
How did the razor find my throat?
The only strings that hold me here
Are tangled up around the pier

And so a secret kiss
Brings madness with the bliss
And I will think of this
When I'm dead in my grave
Set me adrift and I'm lost over there
And I must be insane
To go skating on your name
And by tracing it twice
I fell through the ice
Of Alice

And so a secret kiss
Brings madness with the bliss
And I will think of this
When I'm dead in my grave
Set me adrift and I'm lost over there
And I must be insane
To go skating on your name
And by tracing it twice
I fell through the ice
Of Alice
There's only Alice"

Or 'The Magical Bird in the Magical Woods' by Current 93:

"I saw the slot of the sun
The final cut of the sun
Start like a hare
Over the shoddy grey walls
I saw you dimple and crease
And turn a card from the pack
By your bed
As though swords, cups, discs and wands
Might tumble into your head
And give you a glimmer of something profound
But your gods made no sound
The gods made no sound
Your gods made no sound
You were cartwheel and sommersault
But not at your ease
I was not at my ease
As through unfolding vistas
Of dullness and deadness
I saw the metal buckets
Fatigued and buckled
With nimbus of rustflowers
In sheds by the lake
I was already falling and fallen and lost
And it was not at your cost
And I was not at my ease
And it was not at your cost
By aimless pools with no surprise
I counted the flickerings of your eyes
And saw the magical bird
In the magical woods
Fly over the hills
And far away
From the sea it's you I see
By the glowing seashore it was you that I saw:
The magical bird in the magical woods"

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## Red Terror

During the Great Depression (1929-1940) bank robbers plagued the USA --- John Dillinger, Baby Face Nelson and Pretty Boy Floyd, among others.




Pretty Boy Floyd
Words and Music by Woody Guthrie

If you'll gather 'round me, children,
A story I will tell
'Bout Pretty Boy Floyd, an outlaw,
Oklahoma knew him well.

It was in the town of Shawnee,
A Saturday afternoon,
His wife beside him in his wagon
As into town they rode. 

There a deputy sheriff approached him
In a manner rather rude,
Vulgar words of anger,
An' his wife she overheard. 

Pretty Boy grabbed a log chain,
And the deputy grabbed his gun;
In the fight that followed
He laid that deputy down.

Then he took to the trees and timber
Along the river shore,
Hiding on the river bottom
And he never come back no more.

Yes, he took to the trees and timber
To live a life of shame;
Every crime in Oklahoma
Was added to his name. 

But a many a starvin' farmer
The same old story told
How the outlaw paid their mortgage
And saved their little homes. 

Others tell you 'bout a stranger
That come to beg a meal,
Underneath his napkin
Left a thousand-dollar bill. 

It was in Oklahoma City,
It was on a Christmas Day,
There was a whole car load of groceries
Come with a note to say: 

"Well, you say that I'm an outlaw,
You say that I'm a thief.
Here's a Christmas dinner
For the families on relief." 

Yes, as through this world I've wandered
I've seen lots of funny men;
Some will rob you with a six-gun,
And some with a fountain pen. 

And as through your life you travel,
Yes, as through your life you roam,
You won't never see an outlaw
Drive a family from their home.

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## Red Terror

Phil Ochs was up there with Bob Dylan but later committed suicide.




Oh, I marched to the battle of New Orleans
At the end of the early British war
The young land started growing
The young blood started flowing
But I ain't marching anymore


For I've killed my share of Indians
In a thousand different fights
I was there at the Little Big Horn
I heard many men lying, I saw many more dying
But I ain't marching anymore


It's always the old to lead us to the war
It's always the young to fall
Now look at all we've won with the saber and the gun
Tell me is it worth it all


For I stole California from the Mexican land
Fought in the bloody Civil War
Yes, I even killed my brothers
And so many others
But I ain't marching anymore


For I marched to the battles of the German trench
In a war that was bound to end all wars
Oh, I must have killed a million men
And now they want me back again
But I ain't marching anymore


It's always the old to lead us to the war
It's always the young to fall
Now look at all we've won with the saber and the gun
Tell me is it worth it all


For I flew the final mission in the Japanese sky
Set off the mighty mushroom roar
When I saw the cities burning I knew that I was learning
That I ain't marching anymore


Now the labor leader's screamin'
When they close the missile plants
United Fruit screams at the Cuban shore
Call it Peace, or call it, Treason
Call it Love, or call it, Reason
But I ain't marching anymore
No, I ain't marching anymore

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## Shoucatie

My entreaties died in the caverns of your eyes.
And my flags surrendered to the winds of despair.
My days escaped to find your door closed.
Layla
And what transpired with the object of my cries?

Two years and she didn't hear the melody of my strings...
And she didn't the see light of my sky.
I freed the love in my heart and squeezed it...Then I drank grief
From a dirty chalice.

And I became torn. I had no prestige or luxury to tempt you with.
So then leave me with my grief ..
If you squeeze the years of my life completely,
The blood from my wounds would flow.
If I had riches, you would not have refused my love.
But I am in a state of difficulty, a state of poverty, a state of weakness.

I suffered... I suffered
But I do not reveal my sorrow, and you did not know a thing about my suffering .
I walk and smile, oh Layla, because I'm stubborn.
So I hide from the people, my approaching death.
For if the knew what is the matter, they would try to console me.
And I knew that they could not.
Deprivation rests upon my brow and sucks my blood.
And only he can allow me to smile.
You are forgiven for aborting my hopes.
The fault is not yours; it was my foolishness.

I wasted my procession in the desert.
And I came, looking for myself in your eyes.
And I came, looking for happiness in your embrace.
Like a child, I formed my innocent dreams.
And you planted your palms and uprooted my veins.
And you are planted without the kindness of my pleasures.

And she emigrated...
My lost cities emigrated away from me
And my sails never left her.
I was exiled and the strangers settled in my country
And they destroyed all my beloved things.
Your eyes betrayed you.
With forgery and lying
Your confusion decieved you.
My lady.

came as a butterfly to place within your hands, the colors of my wings.
Then injustice burned my wings.
I screamed while the sword was implanted in my chest.
And the betrayal destroyed my huge hopes.
And you also, I perished on your hands.
I perished from your hands.
Because you preferred my murder and loved the sound of my groans.
And so I deleted your precious ssss from my sssssssss.
Therefore, they will be told without Layla... Layla
Therefore they will be told without Layla, my stories

This is an Arabic song by Kazem Saher, Called Ana w Layla

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## mortalterror

Songs that could stand as poetry
Bob Dylan - All Along the Watchtower
Jethro Tull- Thick as a Brick
Gordon Lightfoot - The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald
Leonard Cohen- Bird On a Wire
Neil Young- The Needle and the Damage Done
Procol Harum- A Whiter Shade of Pale
Led Zepplin- Stairway to Heaven
The Beatles- Across the Universe
The Band- The Weight
Cream- White Room

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## kiz_paws

What comes to mind for me are lyrics that come from a Canadian band, RUSH, who wrote _Closer To The Heart_ . Stand-alone poetry methinks.
Then of course is _Tom Sawyer_ ... love it.
Thinking also of Neil Young, with his lyrics to the incredible music of _Harvest Moon_.
And, although often 'off colour', the NIN lyrics to a whole lotta songs. But poems, nonetheless. Luv it.

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