When fields gleam aureate and song birds sing
and transient stars in clusters scintillate,
when sweet perennials are coaxed by spring
to blossom forth, he comes with sprightly gait.
He wends his way along the mountain trails
past opalescent rush of streams and rills,
goat-footed, on the paths that ribbon dales
and wind around and up and down small hills.
Then nymphs appear as, through the woods, he trips
to flower-smitten meadows. Fancy-free,
he leads them with his reed held to his lips,
till blithely they embrace his rhapsody.
So hear the music; watch the wood nymphs spin. . .
Then captured by sheer merriment, join in!
For Nathan A.'s ANY POEM GOES Poetry Contest
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2010
The curtain parted...there upon the stage,
neath bright chatoyant spotlight's glaring glow
she stood, a cynosure in tunneled beam;
demure, yet with ineffable glamor.
With lovely bow, this ingenue young girl,
composed, yet like a whirling breeze, began
her lissome ballet dance of twirls and swirls
to mellifluous sounds of violins.
A panacea of sweet calm filled up
my soul as she so gracefully succumbed
to call of violins and merged with them
in artful dance I wished sempiternal.
The beauty of her gracefulness in dance
enveloped me in deep hypnotic trance.
Sandra M. Haight
May 12, 2016
Written for Silent One's challenge using the words below:
Chatoyant: Having a changeable luster. A chatoyant stone or gemstone, such as the cat's-eye.
Cynosure: Something or someone who is the centre of attention.
Demure: shy and modest
Glamour: defined as the elegant, exciting or attractive quality that makes someone or something seem special or desirable.
Ineffable: too overwhelming to be expressed or described in words; inexpressible
Ingénue: A naive, innocent girl or young woman
Lissome: Moving or able to move with grace and ease; lithe and graceful
Mellifluous: something musical, melodious or pleasant to hear
Panacea: A remedy for all diseases, evils, or difficulties; a cure-all
Sempiternal: Enduring forever; eternal
Copyright © Sandra Haight | Year Posted 2016
Her big eyes shone while to her chest she clasped
the violin her dad worked hard to buy.
Delightedly that Christmas morn, she gasped
to see it; then she promised she would try
with all her might to learn to master it!
She practiced hard. The girl that they called Bright Eyes
would dedicate her all. She never quit.
Each day and night, she strove to memorize
the strings’ sweet notes, in love with allegretto!
How quickly she caught on, and one main goal
was in her offering of a vibrato,
which - when it filled the air - might touch one’s soul!
Today she casts such magic with her bow
that all who hear are warmed by Bright Eye’s glow.
written 12/29/14 by Andrea Dietrich
Now for the Trashed 4 Poetry Contest Sponsor: Broken Wings
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2014
Upon a deep blue rose, a scented song,
so delicate of harmony and sweet;
a melody, whose strains of love replete
I mused upon. To whom could it belong?
To claim such ballad ought have felt so wrong,
but I could ne’er its memory delete;
each note an echo in my own heart’s beat,
alluring me to drift and sing along.
Though how I wish I’d never found the rose
whose music stirred a restlessness in me;
where love once blossomed only sorrow grows
from searching for a love that cannot be,
and timelessly a tear-blue river flows
through heartache’s vale to discontentment’s sea.
Copyright © Sharon Tideswell | Year Posted 2010
I drift as storm and night duet,
a dance amidst a choir of rain.
wrung clouds strum strong and passionate
to cart away my deepest pain.
In every grand, thunderous note,
God’s loving heart beats in my soul.
Across the darkness, lightning floats,
to heaven skyward, I extol.
Winds sing with love blown rhythmically
just like sweet-sounding nightingales.
Clear sheets of rain course through lithe trees
bending to meet the river dale.
Then soft comes dawn, I praise the storm
in gleam of misty earth transformed.
For Shadow's Pick A Subject Contest, 3/4/15
*Subject - Storm
Copyright © Rhonda Johnson-Saunders | Year Posted 2015
Listen. The colors of the notes are wrong.
Where is the perfection of sapphire-chords
that I am due? Cornflower doesn’t belong
here, plotting the composition’s borders.
Master music has all fingers contorting
to fit themselves into the metronome’s tock.
These tight strings have badly distorted
my repertoire; I’ve lost both key and lock
in a palette of sorrow that canvasses pain.
Now the cavernous range of a rhapsody
releases those scales of anguish again
until I am concert and concert is me.
Dissonance and harmony do not combine,
Still, under sockets, lack and blue shines.
*inspired by Picasso's The Old Guitarist and pianist David Helgott's struggle with mental illness.
Copyright © Cyndi MacMillan | Year Posted 2012
She Dances To Her Music
She dances to her music gracefully—
her choreography, at whim, profound.
With graceful twirls and spins, so dreamily
her rhythm flows to music without sound.
She dances to the music only she
can hear—although I feel its lovely flow
and cadence shape her form; exquisitely
she dips and rises in artistic show.
No music here, but just a silent song
created by the currents that she feels—
with turns and twists, she aptly glides along,
directed by whichever one appeals.
She dances to her music wondrously—
My muse—the soul mate of my poetry.
Sandra M. Haight
Contest: Your Own Favorite Poem Contest
Sponsor: Carol Eastman
Contest: So I Thought Of This Line
Sponsor: Francine Roberts
Copyright © Sandra Haight | Year Posted 2015
Oh, angel, how you flutter 'bout my heart
The joy of love and living you impart
Your voice my soul does carry into flight
Illuminates with incandescent light
Your eyes are blind to wonders of this world
Yet, when you sing, its beauties are unfurled
I live a dream unmarred by pain and strife
Where passion, joy, and love are verdant, rife
You sing my heart into that special place
Where naught resides but beauty touched by grace
Angelic face when lit up by a smile
Invites my heart to dream a little while
Bocelli, angel sweet of paradise
In blinded eyes, the light of heaven lies
March 30, 2014
Sponsored by Anthony Slausen
Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2014
Compassion’s finger strums another note,
He listens as the angels start to sing,
Recalling lines from what apostles wrote,
Indwells the spirit held by Heaven’s king.
Succinctly spoken leaving soul in tune,
The gifts we need are never under trees,
Mosaic mustard seeds lit by the moon,
Aspires our gaze and prayers on bending knees.
Submits himself to love and sounds of grace,
Mistrust no longer drowns and mutes his heart,
United song with Christ, him to erase
So many sins in mercy to impart.
In essence, life and hope beyond today.
Contrasts the world, as it dissolves away.
Contest: A Christmas Sonnet Acrostic
Sponser: Andrea Dietrich
Copyright © rob carmack | Year Posted 2015
The blue-grass music blares from speaker's face
as guys and gals entwine moon-round the floor,
she sits alone, ignores the dancers' pace
although her ears record the rhythm score.
He begged her love; he painted instant fame.
She nursed her song in dreams alive to wit,
she trusted him to give the verse her name,
and reasoned out they spun a perfect fit.
With traitor's greed intense, he stepped aside,
and claimed her song as his with no remorse.
He left her raw, his chest out-puffed with pride.
Disgraced, abased, her anger reinforced,
she writes another song, recounts the tale,
assured his star will now commence to pale.
Copyright © Cona Adams | Year Posted 2014
On the rebound
Beyond the forceful strokes of the first crush,
the smell of copra oil invades your mind,
On creamy sand the sound of waves will rush,
such music leaves a concert far behind.
Under an azure sky, no place for guilt,
inside the depths of souls, love will recur
with chants of mermaids in a dreamy lilt,
until a lonely spirit feels the stir.
The notes float gently on the verdant sea,
and slowly creep into adoring veins,
inciting thoughts till hopes are flying free,
to shake the fear until we lose our chains.
For once this major portent is imbued,
the tune of life and passion is renewed.
After: Blue and Green Music by Georgia O’Keefe 1921
To thank Debbie Guzzi for her selfless attitude with the challenge she set for the soup community and her endless encouragement to all on soup.
Copyright © Ronald Zammit | Year Posted 2016
My eyes are dazzled at the sight of you,
Extremely chic, your sparkles they just grew.
Your penguin costumes always sat just right,
With candelabra burning there so bright.
Yours eyes they glittered as if they just knew,
The secret to life was you, being you.
Your smile was a magical starlit gaze,
When you came out, we were all in a daze.
That you were eccentric, no one would doubt,
The crowds would go crazy, when you came out.
Walk to your piano, sit there so tall,
Fingers would move, and captivate us all.
Rings filled with diamonds slid over keys,
Magical misfit, our senses appeased.
Written by Brenda Meier-Hans
Mystic Roses Contest: Eccentricize my Eyes
Copyright © Brenda Meier-Hans | Year Posted 2014
Your head is dead a chamber vast and void
and nothing's what you think on anymore
forgotten are all things you once enjoyed
and are replaced by life the constant bore.
Your brain's been drained you sit alone and stare
all hope's run out, your heart is solid stone
from night to day and day to night it's there
the wish to be forgotten and alone.
You think and sink into Oblivion
not caring if you fade or if you die
but only that you shed the shell you're in
you've gone beyond the questioning of why.
You are the death, the dark of greatest fear
the song of life only the dead can hear.
© ron wilson aka vee bdosa the doylestown poet
Copyright © Vee Bdosa | Year Posted 2014
The orchestra was loud when I walked in,
Performing a whimsical waltz by Strauss.
I picked a group of friends and settled-in,
And perused the fineries of the house.
The chandeliers were unevenly spaced,
Creating random spaces of shadows
Where intimate strangers chastely embraced,
And not-so-innocent virgins caroused.
A friendly acquaintance introduced me
To his available little sister.
Turned out she was charming and quite lovely,
So I gave up trying to resist her.
“I would be most honored, beyond measure;
If you’d care to dance, it’d be my pleasure.”
Copyright © Mark J. Halliday | Year Posted 2014
I had thought to give you the moon and stars,
But they are far from these high mountains’ reach,
Only a heart and a guitar to start,
Hoping that these lyrics would make me preach,
The feeling I could not hide nor deny;
As my eyes begin to gaze up above,
To see your face and never say goodbye,
Because with you I will not ever love,
Any other jewel that is less rare,
Than a soul so bright that shines through the night;
O nothing compares to your glossy stare,
And your soft lips that vanished on my sight;
If only music can bring back our time,
Maybe I can sing to you one last time.
Copyright © JIG Enriquez | Year Posted 2014
She walked by my side
trying to clasp my hand,
I was dreaming wide
with a lonesome land.
Where she could not follow
or call me through the night –
my heart is now hollow
and whiteness is my sight…
A man with a smile on his lips
and an old guitar on his back
gave me life’s wicked tips:
Love is better when love lacks,
you will follow alone his track
surrounded by scattered lilacs…
Copyright © João Camilo | Year Posted 2013
Tears of a little girl
that's so young, that's in her childhood,
make a golden well, make a golden well,
but she doesn't realize
her tears sing a song so beautiful.
They sing a song of treasure,
they sing a song so wonderful,
they sing to worship God,
but she doesn't realize
she has a gift to sing.
She mustn't sing for anything
she must sing for the King,
but she doesn't realize,
she can sing so goldenly, (so as a golden well)
Copyright © Sebenele Shongwe | Year Posted 2007
The cause of death, shot- dead,
They quickly get a fame,
And quickly they leave us,
Shot-dead is a dominating cause of death,
What is wrong with this Hip-Hop music?
The music that influence a violence and anger,
The music that influence gangster ‘ism,
The music that promote hatred amongst groups,
The music that promote the abuse of alcohol and drugs,
They speak of imaginary riches and not physical riches to drug you in,
They go deep underground to blaspheme God,
If there is power behind this music,
I believe is a power from the darkness,
Shot-dead, the cause of death in Hip-Hop industry.
Copyright © Mulaudzi Ndifelani Eric | Year Posted 2015
I had forgotten freckled fields of white
where our fair petals synchronized their dance,
and beauty’s cadence sung to ears romance,
on Monet’s clouds lilting love notes to heights.
I had forgotten silk-winged butterflies
adrift on breezes sunned in Mexico.
Their brightened wings sung stories of their own
when silent words fell into lover’s sighs.
Lost lyrics in your eyes have brought to mind
sounds of our music and your windy ways,
soulful melodies of forgotten days,
my lullaby on darkened nights unkind.
I pray our chance meeting opens that door
and dreams become life's dance forevermore.
Copyright © Rhonda Johnson-Saunders | Year Posted 2015
**This is a little different from any sonnet I have wrote. I normally write Shakespearean
sonnets but I found one called Spenserian sonnet and wanted to try my hand at it!**
Vibrations pierce me straight through my core
settling gently alongside my heart.
Awakening a burning yearning want of yore
a craving unquenchable from the start.
The tears stream down--my eyes they smart!
How music can touch a person I know not.
Floating aloft o'er my head as does a lark
and the strums and the riffs they plot.
Upon the soul and mind the sound picks a spot
nestles down into the thickest of thick,
The deepest deep recess where I am caught
and chooses to lodge there--in the quick.
An invasion of my senses entirely welcomed.
Tasted on the tip of my tongue; notes envisioned.
Copyright © Monica Hattabaugh | Year Posted 2014
Tears In The Wind
Left hand deftly fingering strings on frets,
While my right hand is picking or strumming.
Composing a sad song about regrets
And searching a melody by humming.
I easily find a chord progression,
Played in a melancholy minor key,
Then add some dynamics for expression--
Reaching a fugue-like state releases me
Fleeting perfection is my endeavor.
Like tears in the wind, now lost forever.
Copyright © Mark J. Halliday | Year Posted 2014
Time Was when I heard a loud ragin' fire
And the sound of glory raised from the Ash,
When my Sometime World long playing higher
Dazzled the age with a hot vinyl flash!
That Flying V, Fender Strat, Blowin' Free
Amplified in my ear and in my brain,
And The King Will Come slowly unto me
When I hear the piper and drum again.
In beauty of Leaf and Stream evermore
Comes the hypnotic Wishbone trance that was;
Like a Warrior at the gates of war
To rise again the legend of Argus!
And in the end a new age will record
The great band of four who Throw Down the Sword.
Dedicated to the 1972 album, Argus,
by Wishbone Ash.
Still a classic!
Copyright © Keith Trestrail | Year Posted 2015
Listen when you awake at crack of dawn
hear the chorus of all the birds singing
watch them as they scurry and dig the lawn
until a nasty cat sends them fleeing
How very dull and bland without any birds
silence would greet us with it's bleakness
less colour everywhere, half mast halyards
how lucky to have birds to add brightness
So many feathered friends around
delighting us with their wonderful songs
the sound of harmony our souls surround
for the sweet mellifluous songs prolongs
Tunes everywhere blending in harmony
sweetly combining sounding like honey
Copyright © Shadow Hamilton | Year Posted 2013
Dangling from the tree I can see,
Broken wind chimes that still sing.
They just hang on by a split string.
Sending a harmony of tunes to thee.
Their tones and vibrations are a bit broken for me.
I listen and I ponder for what tunes they can bring.
From the tree they will sway when they can swing.
Bits and pieces are released through the air and flee.
Caught in the wind is it’s vibrations.
Carrying signals of great magnitude.
Funneling clouds into new creations.
Bringing air into a brand new mood.
Broken wind chimes can still sing a song,
But their messages are scattered all along.
© Copyright: Ann Rich 2007
Copyright © Ann Rich | Year Posted 2010
My sweet angel , slowly close your eyes
Dream of stardust wisps and satin thread,
My arms gather your toes unto twinkling skies
Come now ,let moon beams cradle your head
Heaven’s fairies touch your cheeks to render
Blue sky lights fireflies and teddy bear kisses,
Smile now, winds blow fluffy twirls from yonder
Filled with magical pillows from soft night wishes
Cherubs spray chuckles on a bright wand
They’re babies too, keeping you safe and sound
Sleep now, drift off to wonder , wonderland
Mommy’s beside you, my love songs abound
This lullaby chimes straight from my heart
Till tomorrow brings us to new bubbly start
Copyright © nette onclaud | Year Posted 2011
Where do I start as my mind sings
Sounds aplenty throwing my hearts songs
Thoughts thrown to eyes memories bring
Brought to the fore where they've belonged
Where do I start regarding my music tastes
Sounds aplenty resonating in my ears
Thoughts instrumental studio stage based
Brought solos vocal amidst talented gears
Where do I start for my likes be revealed
It's Rock, Progressive, Classic to last
Thoughts with desire chosen now sealed
Brought to today, played from my past
Where do I start naming favourite thoughts
Sounds eyes ears, senses now brought
Copyright © James Fraser | Year Posted 2015
Come caroling on Christmas Day, my love.
Hark merry sounds, one spirit sings as two.
Rise carols high above white turtle dove
In flight with cardinals of reddest hue.
Sing loud of peace and joy and jingle bells
Together as we glide o’er sparkling field.
More music blends with wind and wintry smells -
All spice, pine cones and tasty treats concealed.
Snow powders us in magic, soft and white.
My hands and heart are warmed by you so near.
Until the day retreats in full moon light,
Sing tenderly into my loving ear.
If New Year, like a thief, takes you away,
Could you return to me 'fore Christmas Day?
Written 12/9/15 for Andrea's Something New: A Christmas Sonnet Acrostic Contest
Copyright © Rhonda Johnson-Saunders | Year Posted 2015
MY SINGING STAR
Annual days in our University existed before too, only in annals,
Until the day, she on the ramp thrilled our hearts that came to the ears;
We had ‘Abbey Road on the River’; we lived in our souls and became ears,
That heard the first time ‘unheard melodies’ reverberating through Lit annals.
The Nightingale of India would’ve left her oriole and put her in musical panels;
The roaring Moor would’ve left Desdemona to live, riveting his ears for years,
The brooding Ruth would’ve left her diffidence to dance sprightly for years,
To the thrill of her voice, sounding end to sittings of juries, forever in annals.
She could’ve sung ‘they’re gonna make a big star out of me,’
But, that would’ve rivaled the great Beatles; she could’ve her ‘Jai Ho’
That would’ve made Mozart of Madras again dedicate glory to Him.
Lyrics she required not, for, it’s in the listeners’ glee;
Lyres she required not, her voice throbs humans in harmony, robbing ego;
Life is un-lived, if you have no ears for my singing star, not even Him.
Copyright © Swamidhason Francis | Year Posted 2015
Opening the box, she peers deep inside
Soft music is played from its underside
A smile appears on her cute tender face
Within her a giggle is everyplace
Her thoughts race, exactly how could this be
How do sounds exit something so pretty
The intricate markings on the box’s side
This is where the music comes to confide
She closes the lid and the music ends
Underneath she looks to see where it sends
But curiously she just finds a key
She turned it, twisted it, quite endlessly
Hearing nothing, she flipped the lid open
To hear the sounds that emanate within
Copyright © Russell Sivey | Year Posted 2013
Punk is not dead. It was never alive.
We stitched it together from mangled parts
with contents we poured from inconstant hearts
in our basements during bleak nights.
Finding in art the best ways to survive
a world beyond our vague comprehension.
Some wounds will never taste restoration,
some demons may never be exorcised.
We crafted this monster with filthy surmise,
with minds obsessing on rebellion.
Eyes that deny beauty in convention,
and hands craving vengeance and patricide.
With all of our collective contentions,
this lifeless cadaver is galvanized.
Copyright © Samuel Lee | Year Posted 2015