Arpeggios Poems | Examples

The Pangolin

For Ilene Bauer

You’ll never hear a pangolin
play the violin or mandolin
for no pangolin is musical.
though the pangolin relies 
on arpeggios of scales 
unheard but hard as nails
to ward off hungry enemies –
a major key in its survival.

(P.S. One of its distinctions
is its meat tastes like chicken.
It's other, its scales used as medicine.
And if continued to be eaten
will sadly face extinction.)

Things I love

There are so many things I am mad about.
Take sunrise with red clouds and soft rays
Penetrating through the water-laden clouds.
Rain is imminent, thunder threatening afar.
It matters not, for I love to stay cosy indoors.

Soon, it will rain, and with impulsive haste, I’ll
Sit at my beloved baby grand and play 
A few tentative light-hearted arpeggios
Followed by a mesmerising, uplifting allegro
But never finish with some sad dirge.

By noon, the weather clears into a soft breeze
And I proceed to have a meal made up
Of my favourite shellfish and rigatoni 
With shredded truffles and a glass of chilled Chablis.

From that terrace, I could see the turbulent sea,
Its waves roll nonchalantly towards the shore,
Rising and falling, always transient
And showering us with a froth of salty spray,
A sweet caress that tastes so pleasant on my lips.

There are so many things that give me pleasure and satisfaction.
And you, Madam?  I still remember your sensitivity. 
Your glossy lips met mine:   It was the best thing I loved.

Bistro Boheme - a French poetry band that sets old classics into song

How does it sound when Rimbaud rocks and Baudelaire has got the Blues? 
When Verlaine vibes to the beat and Apollinaire to arpeggios?
Bistro Bohème tries to answer these questions!
We are a French poetry band, all living together in the same Berlin flatshare. 

Please check us out on Spotify or YouTube :)

Love,
Bistro Bohème

Autumn Pathetique

Autumn  10-2-23
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Autumn Pathetique

God winks with fall in blessedness
A pathetique from a soft breeze,
Silk sonatas, scarlet tresses,
Abundant blessings and jubilees.

Veiled in gold, summer’s parting kiss,
God winks with fall in blessedness,
As amber shadows reminisce
Songs of geese with tender finesse.

Rust tremolos of grace confess
Thankfulness in coral colognes
God winks with fall in blessedness,
Arpeggios in jewel tones.

Autumn’s grace notes in golden fields
Begs hearts to see sacred largess,
Anointed days of hallowed yields -
God winks with fall in blessedness.

Felicity

I named her Felicity.
Don't know why
All babies look the same to me.
Yet she grew up into a lively girl,
so well accomplished.
She learned the piano all by herself.
How I delighted to hear her lento 
and arpeggios.  Heavenly music.
Then she took to singing her own tunes.
Oh, what a delight to my ageing soul.
Such melodies, such delicacies.
The neighbours flocked to hear her sing.
Then I decided to enter her into a contest:
The famous " America’s Got Talent".
You could not fail to admire her beautiful face,
Her slim figure, the elegant dress I bought her. 
Her singing brought her great ovations.
She came second.  I could not help but cry.

Festive Bohemian Heart

Delusional scimitars
festive daggers
soft balalaika
captive sword ...
Mandolins,
hot nights
harps, wine
poison,...
dangers
daggers
Banjo and
boldness,
gypsy waltz,
ruby joy ...
I desire
of life,
The beauty,
arpeggios
Utopia...
the art
for art to fight ...
be craftsman
of delights
live life in
complete
Bohemia......

Mist of Moonlight Fantasy

Mist of Moonlight Fantasy

Ludwig~
Shimmering waves of arching arpeggios

Grace the first moments

Of your moonlight child;

Mysterious conception
Hidden in fleeting legends 
Of a composition enraptured by blindness
Or love
Mystical as white shadows
On ebony
Dripping with dedication
Or sheer clouds that veil round fullness -
A dreamy maiden of pale passionate
Quasi fantasy
Wandering between grieving illusion
And figments of yearning;

Shapeless minor moon moods,
Like velvet blue vespers,
Rise up as scintillas
To ride
On wisps of major melody 
In notes
Of fragile all consuming passion
Grasping at moonbeams
Of melody from borrowed light -
Descending fancy now flees 
From the resolution 
In the inevitable dawn.

Ludwig ~
Here your ears still hear 

Moonlight rhapsodies

In a sonata by a waltzing river blue.

Harmony's Sounds

Violinists warming up
  Bees buzzing 'round

Flautists' arpeggios
  Waterfalls ascending

Drums rolling
  Thunder rumbling

As they all come together
  Harmony's sounds wash over me

Cornucopia of bliss ~ Nature's bounty

Wee Small Hours

Hobgoblin in the gutter under canopy of midnight, 
magic brew of muti without rein.
Shadow figure torchon, darting half-light dare.
Spine chilling droplets wobble slowly down drains,
rusty copper mouthwash at the edge of jagged chutes. 
Eerie urban soundscapes frame,
a sneeze  or smothered cough.
Drone of vagrant motors probe, the flyby ink-black abyss.
Youthful laughter echoes over back streets,
as nearby lamp posts cast their bloodshot rays.
Night owls chinwag over Onion Bhaji,  
raucous babble buried in a saffron whiff.
Strains of ragtime jazz and sleek arpeggios,
shrine or vinyl monument ahoy. 
Hobo’s lonely whistle on an empty pier.
Urban jungle cast-off ghostly lurch,/
Burakumin patsy in high dudgeon.
Spooky timelines relish every moment of suspense, 
swallowing  the hush with ghoulish glee.
Quasimodo bell ring vaults a broomstick,
setter of alarm and wanton panic.
City wall clock twiddles on its hourly thumb, 
scene plotter’s endless play denouement,
wee small hour dialogue without a script,
waiting for the dawn to take it’s baton.

Gypsy Heart

Gypsy heart
Delusional Scimitars
festive daggers
soft balalaika
captive sword ...
Mandolins,
hot nights
harps and wine
venom of passion, ...
dangers
daggers
Banjo and
boldness,
gypsy waltz,
jubilant joy ...
wish of
of life,
The beauty,
arpeggios
Utopia...
the art
for art to fight ...
be an artisan
of the delights
live life in
fully
Bohemia......

A Major Problem

sitting back
straight properly
putting my
fingers in
a slight
arch

at
my
piano
slightly
peddling
a melody

throwing in
arpeggios
and even
the odd
pause
as if

to 
state
a period
of waiting
hesitating
as if to hold

the now
the then
forgotten
where fingers
fell but knowing
it was played in minor

Fires of Imagination 148

arpeggios of murmured whispers

Another Beauty

With eyes in judgement often lies
Authority for beauty’s prize
In symmetry or colours lush
By heaven’s gift or artist’s brush
And rarely one we deem as wise
The beauty of such sights denies

With ears we may declare profound
A splendor realized in sound
Arpeggios that rise and fall
And tempo’s measured protocol
Much lure in music may be found
So beautiful is music crowned

And yet, there is a third domain
To which true beauty may lay claim
A place exists inside our minds
And there imagination finds
In shades unseen and chords unheard
The beauty of the written word


Submitted for Overlooked Beauty Poetry Contest by Jesse Rowe

We'Ll Definitely Be Back

Glissandos
with a twist of tangy lime
arpeggios
in starched cuffs and gleaming buttons
sparkle from the ivories
of a Baldwin baby grand
leaving the root notes
for the double bass to play

It's honey
in be-bop
pure rich amber honey
with a cinnamon stick
and a drop of syncopation
blending in soft beats
of a hi-hat
gentle brushes on a tom

A second round
of drinks arrives
as conversations hush
and candles flicker

Our new favorite diner
with smooth live jazz
on Wednesdays

Rain's Harp

Massaging the strings as droplets alight
Dewy nectar of the rainbow's sunlight
Angels' songs take wing -- faithfully
On earth mortals dance - in harmony

Harp notes tremble in graceful time
Arpeggios crescendo to nature's rhyme
Whilst the tempest gathers force high above
Toward its climax ~ a downpour of love

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