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Music Villanelle Poems | Villanelle Poems About Music

These Music Villanelle poems are examples of Villanelle poems about Music. These are the best examples of Music Villanelle poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

Details | Villanelle | |

Plays for Tips

She plays for tips,
this lady with guitar
for the hour she plays
while patrons eat lunch.

This lady with guitar
she sings her compositions
while patrons eat lunch
on a busy day.

She sings her compositions
written by her hand
on a busy day
for those who come to hear her play.

Written by her hand
lyrics and melodies touch hearts
those who come to watch her play
she sings her compositions.

She plays for tips
this lady with guitar.
She sings her compositions
written by her hand.


Details | Villanelle | |

What was His Name

Pondering past loves in the dim light of age,
the memories float upward, smiles engage sounds.
Ah, what was his name that handsome man from the stage?

Blindfolded, he lifted me and reality disengaged.
The sound of the harmonica swept all around.
Pondering past loves in the dim light of age.

A serenade planned, the empty ice-rink re-staged,
I was placed in the sweet spot, I drowned in the sound.  
Ah, what was his name that handsome man from the stage?

Once unmasked, I tumbled to his arms, my eyes glazed  
like Ophelia sinking on love's waves to drown.
Pondering past loves in the dim light of age.

Oh, the places he took me, my senses ablaze
in sunlight, in moonlight, in starlight, un-gowned. 
Pondering past loves in the dim light of age.
Ah, what was his name that handsome man from the stage?

 


Details | Villanelle | |

Music

All music is from heaven sent,
When times are hard or when your’e low
A piece of paradise is lent.

When we say, “music” what is meant ? –
What feelings sound like – let them flow,
All music is from heaven sent.

When all your money has been spent
Then blues and soul can make you glow,
A piece of paradise is lent.

No matter what the instrument,
Sweet music soothes the troubled brow;
All music is from heaven sent.

It stirs the soul – ill humour, pent;
Rich harmony and tuneful, slow,
A piece of paradise is lent.

When music flows we are content,
Relax and soak it up, just so.
All music is from heaven sent
A piece of paradise is lent.


Details | Villanelle | |

Music in the Air

When life seems tough and full of care
And things go wrong at every turn,
Reach out, there’s music in the air.

As Elgar said, it’s everywhere,
This melody for which I yearn
When life seems tough and full of care.

Be silent, still, and yet aware
Of something you can just discern –
Reach out, there’s music in the air.

This music is a thing most rare;
To sooth your soul it will return
When life seems tough and full of care.

To feel its pulse my fervent prayer,
Its mode and melody to learn –
Reach out, there’s music in the air.

Then take some music – all can share,
It’s yours by right so do not spurn.
When life seems tough and full of care,
Reach out.  There’s music in the air.


Details | Villanelle | |

Thoughts on a Medaeval Castle

'Tis a merry company gathered about the fire
Comfortably warm, at their tables they dine
Under the spell of a beautiful lyre

In the great hall, under the castle spire
Enjoying immensely their vittles and wine
'Tis a merry company gathered about the fire

Chatting with ease as the torches burn higher
Bathed in the scent of the burning of pine
Under the spell of a beautiful lyre

Their laughter is ready, and wit does not tire
It only grows greater at hours after nine
'Tis a merry company gathered about the fire

Flick and the dart of the shadows inspire
Tales, ere the dawn of the even's decline
Under the spell of a beautiful lyre

Their thoughts and their words, do we dare to inquire?
Perhaps if we could there were riches to mine
'Tis a merry company gathered about the fire
Under the spell of a beautiful lyre


Details | Villanelle | |

Marshland Dreams

In the night the marsh cricket cries,
Ringing through the starless still
A song of aurora skies.

A pale gray moon, listening, sighs,
No wind rippling the watermill
In the night the marsh cricket cries.

Shearing the dark a lost bird flies,
The melody shivers in the chill
A song of aurora skies. 

Hours before forgotten sunrise,
Ants dare venture from their hill
In the night the marsh cricket cries.

Beneath the marsh water millions of eyes,
Shameless creatures drink in their fill
A song of aurora skies.

There are no fears, there are no lies
They cannot understand this thrill
In the night the marsh cricket cries
A song of aurora skies.


Details | Villanelle | |

Dance Fever

We dance to strains of music for the thrill
for when musicians play we feel the beat.
Great music is a balm for every ill.

Sometimes we dance until we feel the chill
and cringe because of numbness in our feet.
We dance to strains of music for the thrill.

Three times a week we hoof a practice drill.
We must prepare for soon we shall compete.
Great music is a balm for every ill.

Our mated moves require a heap of skill,
to master them makes us appear elite.
We dance to strains of music for the thrill.

Our perfect form could garner us a frill
at Silver Games; to win the Gold is sweet.
Great music is a balm for every ill.

Our troupe performs the dance without a spill
we bring our medals home clutched like a treat.
We dance to strains of music for the thrill.
Great music is a balm for every ill.                                        


Details | Villanelle | |

Decorates

The conch shell decorates the chest
With the ocean resounding in its soul
As the distinguished maestro plays his best

Soft, low, and inviting just to test
Which music touches the soul
The conch shell decorates the chest

While the cobalt blue waters of the ocean crest
The violin gently held and bow softly pulled
As the distinguished maestro plays his best

The gray hair and beard show his years stressed
But his love only sees his great gift while
The conch shell decorates the chest

That under the open window sits at rest
Sun shining on that bay as the violin music drifts astray
As the distinguished maestro plays his best

While his love just a room away dances and sways
To the music that touches her soul this day
The conch shell decorates the chest
As the distinguished maestro plays his best

(This is written from  a picture that is on James Fraser's web site.  I have his permission to 
use the picture for my write.   Thanks James.)

(The word maestro here means: a master of any art.)


Details | Villanelle | |

A Poem Old ( a villanelle )

A poem old has verses wrapped in gold 
As rhythmic beauty pours from every line; 
A magic gift with music to behold. 

Sophisticated language ripe and bold 
Applied with master crafted strokes sublime; 
A poem old has verses wrapped in gold. 

A reservoir of riches there we mold 
Inside a tapestry spread over time; 
A magic gift with music to behold. 

As summer heat turns into winter cold, 
These songbird troubadours sing out their rhyme; 
A poem old has verses wrapped in gold. 

Perfection flows from words these poets told 
In metronomic splendor like a chime; 
A magic gift with music to behold. 

The modern poet cannot lift their load 
While writing pablum far removed from prime; 
A poem old has verses wrapped in gold, 
A magic gift with music to behold.