When She Sings – Author D.B. Hall

 

When she sings, she channels all that she’s heard

Raising to tiptoe and warbling like a morning bird

She sounds as beautiful as the rush of angel wings

This is my little songbird, glorious when she sings

 

When she sings, there’s no telling what you’ll hear

Raised around country folks drinking beer

I’ll tell you of one who was her crazy old uncle

Who was particularly fond of Simon and Garfunkel

Another, an ex-boyfriend, who loved ol Hank and Cash

And was known to go cheating after smoking hash

She’ll easily belt out a drinking and cheating song

Raising the roof with a voice classic and strong

Then drop to a whisper and sing Amazing Grace

That will leave wonderment all over your face

“Go Rest High On That Mountain” or “Whiskey Lullaby”

And I promise the room will have nary a dry eye

Born with a blessed gift, she sings from a pure heart

When she looks at you and sings it will rip you apart

 

When she sings, she channels all the abuse she’s felt

Pours it into every vibrant note her voice can belt

Haunting as the brush of unseen angel wings

This is my little songbird, glorious when she sings

 

I can never hold her; I’d damage her healing wings

So I listen in rapture to my songbird when she sings

I pay the barkeep for her a round or two

Then I slip out the door when her set is through

Echoes of her melodies haunt me as I walk

Every night with my demons I have a little talk

So far I have won and will as long as I am strong

I won’t let my darkness hurt my songbird and her song

 

For my salvation comes twice a week

When into the Horseshoe I quietly sneak

Listen to her angelic voice make the rafters ring

For my salvation comes when she sings

 

©  D.B. Hall

Excerpt from the book “Poetic Melodies”


poetic-melodies

Preface . . .

There is a human language that encompasses the globe, regardless of race, color, creed or country. Much the same way as laughter or tears, or any of our human emotions. When we see someone laugh, there is a universal language that is communicated by all of us. We know they are happy. Just as when we see someone crying, it is generally accepted to mean they are, most likely, sad. However, the language I am referring to goes beyond the sight of emotions, and runs deeper than the tear streaked lines of a sad face. I am speaking of a language that can penetrate to the deepest depths of the human psyche, it can be felt in the beating of our hearts and it can leave us soaring among our dreams.

This universal language is music.

Upon these waves of sound we can find our spirits lifted to the heavens, we can feel the beats and the rhythms in our beings and we are moved by the vibrations. We may become lost in a memory or a moment of time may be singled out by the distinct patterns and oscillations of a melody. We may gather by the thousands to listen to this music together or we may be alone in our rooms, or be dancing with our friends or  cuddling with our love, but the universal language of music expands human communication beyond the normal realm. It propels us into the wavelengths of our souls, and it is there that we become in tune, we find our harmonies, and we recognize that there is a true power in music.

The poetry included in this book seeks to capture that essence and tap into that power. These are the lines of communication opened and inspired by the universal language called music.

Christopher Allen Breidinger, Author

100% of all proceeds from this book are being donated to the “Starving Artist Fund” to assist writers in becoming published authors. Please support a writer today!

Now Available At the following Retailers:

www.ctupublishinggroup.com/anthologies.html

www.createspace.com/6343353

www.amazon.com/Poetic-Melodies-D-B-Hall/dp/0692739750

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Categories: Anthology

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1 reply

  1. Phenomenally writen

    On Oct 9, 2016 7:31 AM, “Creative Talents Unleashed” wrote:

    > Raja’s Insight posted: ” When she sings, she channels all that she’s > heard Raising to tiptoe and warbling like a morning bird She sounds as > beautiful as the rush of angel wings This is my little songbird, glorious > when she sings When she sings, there’s no tell” >

    Like

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