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First Encounter - Skeeter Davis

Skeeter Davis
She tries to sound
the sweet girl of old

She must be in her 60s when Skeeter Davis came to Kuala Lumpur for a concert some years back. She looked like a granny but tried hard to speak in the sweet girl voice that topped the country charts in the 50s and 60s. Of course the voice like a knife poked at her heart by breaking between the notes. Skeeter or Mary Frances Penick from
Kentucky died in 2004. The album Great American Country released this year, featured her songs.

poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Clock and Bells

When I was young, the clock was barely alive.

It seemed that the good times would never arrive.

As I grew older the needles had something to prove.

Their pace increased; they livened their move.

But still they seemed to just plow along,

Though church bells did render a louder gong.

Who knows if a new life is foretold by these chimes?

I just hope they herald the advent of new times.

In concert clock and bell have something to say…

Their message, “Leave the world a bit better each day.”

[...] Read more

poem by Gregory Huyette
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Time Grows Shorter

When I was young, the clock was barely alive
It seemed that the good times would never arrive.
As I grew older the needles had something to prove.
Their pace increased as they livened their move.
But still they seemed only to plow along,
Though church bells did render a much louder gong.
If a new life is foretold by such chimes,
I just hope they herald the advent of good times.
In concert clock and bell voice vulnerable dismays;
Their message, “Time grows shorter to find happy days.”

poem by Gregory Huyette
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This Glory Is My Invitation

A new world awaits;
I, in concert with the fates,
Must embrace this journey-
My destiny awaits, for me!

I am not whole here, sans its light-
I shan't allow its fleeting, before my sight;
Stride into this resplendence, I must-
In its ever-benevolent purpose, I trust!

This glory is my invitation;
I await my long-sought elation-
In this place, at this time-
For this viage, I am prime!
This beauteous, life-long somniation
Waits for me, to impart its realization!

Maurice Harris,5 June 2010

poem by Maurice Harris
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My God, my King, Thy Praise I Sing

My God, my King, Thy praise I sing,
My heart is all Thine own;
My highest powers, my choicest hours,
I yield to Thee alone.

My voice awake, thy part to take;
My soul, the concert join;
Till all around shall catch the sound,
And mix their hymns with mine.

But man is weak Thy praise to speak;
Your God, ye angels, sing;
’Tis yours to see, more near than we,
The glories of our King.

His truth and grace fill time and space;
As large His honors be
Till all that live their homage give
And praise my God with me.

poem by Henry Francis Lyte
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Lines on Thamesford

Delivered at Masonic concert, Thamesford-Grand Master
Col. Moffat in the chair.

The middle branch of Thames doth flow
O'er pebble bed, and it doth glow
And sparkle like silver in the sun,
As it through pasture lands doth run.

In dam is ample water stored,
To drive flour mills in Thamesford ;
Besides the power of the stream,
Saw mills and flax are drove by steam.

Our mind it doth with pleasure fill,
To see fine brick church on each hill.
And that substantial one of stone
Owned by congregation of St. John.

poem by James McIntyre
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Desert Medley

Whistling wind on the drifting desert
Fluting a tune on the Joshua tree,
For whom are you piping your concert,
Weary from travel, is it for me?
Listen to hear the lost burro's bray,
The prospector's call and trekker's song
Desert medley of a bygone day
To lift me as I travel along.
A Rosery of Love

A rosery of love you've wrought
Each bead a precious loving thought
Expressed by you in your own way
For fifty years each single day:
I tell them over tenderly
They bring such happiness to me.

poem by John N. Blow
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Out of your depth

Look… through the windowpane!
All in a streamline!
Sitting on top of the corporate world roof!
Differing from being on the road!
Chat…chat…chat…chat…chat!

The shape of modern mental is not speaking!
Eighty percent harshly lashed to rags! ’
Throw mind concert of silver sand,
a play of golf on a private jet!
With a tale on classified earth globe,
ambition becomes entirely lawful!
Money does not have colour!
What is of Pirate, fights in Sahara!
Sailing unreasonably through season chats!

poem by Gloria Seseng
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Beauty Is Truth

Natural beauty of nature
Is like a beautiful damsel.
She needs no makeup or perfume
To enhance her physical beauty-
Her beauty is truth, period.
An anonymous wildflower
Growing with delicate fragrance
Beside a forests time-worn path
Can't be anymore lovelier
If plucked and placed within her locks;
Nor her comely grace be improved.
Their "beauty is truth, truth beauty"
Apart they are most beautiful;
In concert they accent the whole.

On a Grecian urn:
"Beauty is truth, truth beauty"
All we need to know.

poem by Albert Ahearn
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Feeling of Life

Hot like the sun,
Cold like Antarctica,
Loud like a concert,
Quite like a mouse,
Sour like Air heads,
Salty like peanuts,
Scary like a haunted house,
Calm like reading,
Weird like a mystery,
Normal like television,
Sweet like a mom,
Mean like a hurricane,
Gross like bugs,
Cool like shopping,
Hard like math,
Easy like the easy button,
Fun like a rollercoaster,
Boring like detention,
Hurts like a bully,
Happy like a bunny,

[...] Read more

poem by Courtney Helm
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