Troubadour Poems - Poems about Troubadour

John Denver Tribute 1-31-25 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Troubadour Annie’s song rings maroon bells Sung in gratitude by a country boy As snowflakes celebrate alpine festivals Where sunshine dances on shoulders. Cowboy becomes mountain man Letting melodies soar High in the cathedral of the Rockies Dance with dolphins on lyrical waves Or serenade Blue Ridge mountains Strumming lullabies for baby. Perhaps love tells the story of your passion For mountains, seas and...

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In earnest I would comb the earth Through desert, mountain, forest, firth Cross highlands, lowlands, rolling hills Swim oceans, rivers, fjords, and kills All to find out where you are No distance is too great or far That isn't worth the trodden way To be with you at end of day My love is with a passion quite Enough to make the darkest...

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In a land of troubadours and song, A young man dreamed he would belong, With heart afire and passions strong, He set out to join the throng. He practiced every single day, Learning scales and melodies to play, And practiced singing in every way, Hoping his talents would soon sway. But when he joined the troubadour's guild, He found his hopes and dreams were...

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Place your finger on my arm Trace the outline of your guitar Then take it up on to my chest And trace my heart, you know it best You think you don't but yes, you do It's very beat belongs to you And someday you may feel its peel The pulse it has for you is real...

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Expose faster your songs from limbo of your soul and exposes your bosom...! Do it list and with tenderness... May you sing them beautifully and grace...! cast them accurately on your beloved balcony, at the counter of your intended... Do it with maximum promptness and grace, because you're at risk that she listens to the songs of love from another further agile troubadour... and be enchanted...!...

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The Troubadour Like water reflecting upward To a canopy of trees Like blossoms on cacti In a red rock valley The troubadour makes miracles from words Like meteors traveling From distant silence Like canyons carved From deliberate waters The troubadour makes magic from sound Like sunrises over mountains On cloudless mornings Like snowfall on asphalt Like wind in daffodil fields The troubadour makes songs That sing my life The troubadour paints the...

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I Am Troubadour... I am troubadour; the singer and the swinger of ancient lyrical lines, as I inscribe them with my pen. I am traditionalist; of writing down many thoughts, inscribing them on parchment skin the feelings of inner self. I am the smith; a crafter of dexterity in using many points of view; when putting down on paper. I am storyteller; the one likes to relate and tell tales...

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'Course as a grim teller of tall tales, (albeit poetic) reasonable rhyming quasi roundelay I readily admitted to feign cuz, stringing words together with pride and prejudice plus sense and sensibility, jocularity, and conformity I dissed deign (spoiler alert) iamb, trochaic, dactylic, and anapestic metrical reign jest your ordinary garden variety dollar short day late dime a dozen penniless citizen banker Abel and Cain, yet mine mean...

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Troubadour Heart Your troubadour heart diamond embers sows through cloudlike patches of blue gently strumming wreathes of feathered accords and when sadness rears its grieving head your strings weaving invisible threads a simple melody lace and a thousand lifting notes rise tied in a flow of caressing waves calling me back from a dark and grave soul stealing place and I now bathe in the dreams of tomorrow as your troubadour heart carries mine away...

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Laughter frozen in time Silent yesterday's trapped inside Whispered dreams aching to be heard Before layers of years and lessons learned Buried the path to the child in my heart. Traveling on a mid-summer breeze A misplaced troubadour With a suitcase of tears Parting mists with gentle hands Beckoning... "Come out and play, before the storm Don't fear the chill Neverending fires are here to...

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It all began in a small Orange Room Followed by the big streets of The City In which led to the grand stage of the Madison Square Garden From the many meager loose change To the endless sleeps on sofas His own words never stopped on reaching for his dreams Songs about love and heartbreak Lyrics about emotions and experiences Melodies about the...

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A troubadour came by my house; beneath my window he did sing. I had never heard such melody or listened to like lyrics ring. He sang a song I understood, a song of love for me alone; and , gazing through the latticed frame, I knew that I would be his own. The haunting strains, they wound their way, even before I could resist, my...

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Black who I be Carrion my feed Common is my flight Hidin’ - still - Back of my fellow Raven’s roost I’ll steal away your pain If you’ll but allow me Simple ‘Cause it’s also mine All yea got to do Is choose Known your secrets Can’t hide ’m from me Does that make me Your enemy? Black Who I be Carryin’ away your heart on wing Chargin’ your spirit’s battery Requires your...

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STAR TROUBADOUR Who in noontime blaze Comes singing of left right ...

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I love the songs of working people played In cabins and at dances, and along Highways where the vagabonds wander by, Unchanged since days of early English song. The English, Celtic minstrelsy can never die As long as mandolins and fiddles cry The ancient ballads of true love turned wrong— Of God—and ghosts—and deaths and birth, Wherever people and their folklore...

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