Best Contralto Poems
Her heartbeat echoes like a love moan in my mind,
summoning centuries of refined romanticism soulfully enshrined,
the contralto of her voice a fillatio upon the cock of my consciousness,
through her eyes I see that mystery is the Mistress of meaning beyond regress,
my manly mouth serenades & suckles the rosy pussy of her prophecy, homage cunnilingus,
revelations irresistible in their heretical invigorations excite our imaginations
as we fornicate a ferocious forsooth soothsaying love's reincarnations,
a vignette of virility forthcoming from fate's far side fortifications
presents a primal promise in paranormal inceptions,
Premonitions primitive in heart heat paint
streak the skin of our desire to design an indigenous heaven,
flesh tones warm fast and feral revealing a vitality of spirituality that tongues detonate,
the Universe blooms into a Multiverse as she spreads her spell of star spice scintillation
onto my ripened body rendering her rites fertile in rich freight,
within the brain's wildfire I feel her unction,
Becoming the shaman of our secret skin ceremony
I invoke the spirit of solar youth into veinage voracious for passion's patronage,
sanctifying the unifying lust between the bodily and ghostly unlicensed liberty,
shadow temple of temptation gives offering of blood and song from astral page,
death dream extremes fire hot ejaculation of divine vindication into cosmogony
as she and I have won our now with a win over age,
My Love Muse is more than a woman
she is a savage seduction and a sacred sweetness,
a Goddess of her own Cause...a lover known as Poetess,
her name changes from lifetime to lifetime, yet she is always beauty shown -
J.A.B.
“no sweeter sounds of song in winter
than from the one you hold
close to your heart …”
Quote by ~ Poet
A Winter’s Song
Frozen beauty of cold, crisp, midwinter -
Landscape shines in magical diamond dust.
Ice crystals hanging break free to splinter
as winds do blow with a shivering gust -
blankets all in hues of snow white tipped crust.
Silky snowflakes enchantingly swirl, twirl
dancing to a symphony of birdsong.
Sounds of whistling warbles daily unfurl -
rich contralto melodies, that, so long
for warmer days erelong, in soulful song.
Iced wreaths of holly, red berries, glisten
as acoustic waves reflect off the ground.
Crisp crunch of snow, chilled breath, as I listen -
creaking trees, snapping twigs, of winter’s sound
punctuate the season’s rhythmic abound.
No sweeter song held more dear to my heart
than my true love’s angelic voice that drifts
across frosty tracks like sculptured, fine art.
A winter’s song of flamed love warms and lifts
my spirits as he sings me treasured gifts.
For someone special with all my love …
IN PRAISE OF BEAUTY
O beauty allure, beauty of the hyacinth
Doused by wailing drops of dew shroud
And pierced by the radiant shaft of heaven,
Through the rituals of purity
To tread the virginal soil of Venus.
O like the scenery
Of the splendid garden of Aphrodite,
With Pageantry, the art of Pothos and Himeros,
The pearly dross most sought after
Like a wand that spelled all the eyes of men.
Dazzling aurorae shimmering in deep shadows;
Figure beholding of the twinkling crown Andromeda.
Sunrise awakening the greenery;
Ascending furrowed amber terrain of
The gloaming by the countryside!
Habendum et tenedum!
Before the lily white altar an avowal
Of chastity and tranquility enshrined;
On feather quilted bed day and night
With love elixir soothing the body and the soul!
Soul melody in diatonic harmony of
Meshed contralto with resonating baritone.
Swell the homophonic rhythm of Azande
As the pitch from my lips wear and decline
And the tempo of my heart increase!
Scented lavender wafting through subtle air;
Aromatic morning of rose bathed with dew
That transports the mind beyond earthly realm
And capture the heart at whim
Lost in imagination of the form and frame.
Culinary variety spread in romantic atmosphere
In candlelight banquet of cream and crimson;
Sheer delicacy, man’s greatest savour
Whose delights subsist even in her absence;
Whose substance transcends life’s ideal!
The monsoonal matriarch cradles her pregnant belly
Delirious with life giving blood from the womb of all nature’s gifts
As she lays distended, expectant and grey
Upon the craggy summits
Her breath billows above the bloated forests
Nurturing ominous notes as she sweeps through the trees
Like the phantom of the opera
Tuning her timbre, yet masking her desire
And now
Her contralto; it begins…
Her song breathes across the valley in rhythmical sheets
A symphonic auditorium of liquid splendour
Inciting a libretto of Lyre birds to concert in the mist
A monsoonal medley
Enticing insects to assemble in an ensemble
Their raucous chorus imploring the humid madness
Through a cacophonous chorale
Teasing the tempo from the maestro
As the crescendo climaxes to thunderous applause
Her encore; a sweeping army of waterfalls
Advance upon the sodden valley
Roaring to deafness over
Exploding banks and streams that gouge and tear
And then
It all stops
To a breath of drops…
Leonora Galinta’s contest: Rainy Days
12 September 2014
The monsoonal matriarch cradles her pregnant belly
Delirious with life giving blood from the womb of all nature’s gifts
As she lays distended, expectant and grey
Upon the craggy summits
Her breath billows above the bloated forests
Nurturing ominous notes as she sweeps through the trees
Like the phantom of the opera
Tuning her timbre, yet masking her desire
And now
Her contralto; it begins…
Her song breathes across the valley in rhythmical sheets
A symphonic auditorium of liquid splendour
Inciting a libretto of Lyre birds to concert in the mist
A monsoonal medley
Enticing insects to assemble in an ensemble
Their raucous chorus imploring the humid madness
Through a cacophonous chorale
Teasing the tempo from the maestro
As the crescendo climaxes to thunderous applause
Her encore; a sweeping army of waterfalls
Advance upon the sodden valley
Roaring to deafness over
Exploding banks and streams that gouge and tear
And then
It all stops
To a breath of drops…
Leonora Galinta’s contest: Rainy Days
12 September 2014
blueberries gasoline and prostate gland
breast cancer Wonderbread and pacifier
controlled experiment space travel and honey
peanuts inductive reasoning and electricity
tornadoes torture chamber and biscuits
copyright car radio cantaloupe
golden eagle lunch break tomato
Romanian songbook rhubarb and barbed wire
always hungry nevermind meat loaf
goosefoot mango juice Ipad
mosquito bite city street and broccoli
Chinese cabbage female sex drive water sport
pure contralto goat yogurt new year
black death white light and green tea
I deem it important to attend church for my spiritual maturation.
I really savor the fellowship of a loving and caring congregation.
I especially relish the potluck suppers and other social interactions,
But even in this worshipful scenario, there are bound to be distractions!
Now, I don't mind the preacher pounding his pulpit to gain attention,
Or the occasional "amen" from a dear sister for her comprehension,
But that feller across the aisle who always sings off-key and out of tune,
Sounds like a murder of cranky crows or an out of sync bassoon!
I thrill at a great rendition of "How Great Thou Art" by the choir,
And the crescendo of the organ as it grows higher and higher.
Even the woman belting out her mezzo-contralto doesn't bother me so,
But that feller across the aisle who murders "Amazing Grace" has got to go!
I can tolerate little children who holler and scream now and then,
Or the occasional raucous ringing of a cellphone now and again,
But I approach congregational singing with little or no anticipation,
When that feller across the aisle brays, "The Churches One Foundation!"
I don't mind the snoring of the guy who occupies the pew behind me,
And I can abide the pastor's profound homilies to a certain degree.
But how I dread to hear that feller's odious and tuneless strain!
(I suppose I could move to another pew to ease my Sabbath bane!)
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
I must say that in my four score years I've done it all and seen it all,
But in the autumn of my life, noxious noises drive me up the wall!
I like the soothing sound of most music and birds trilling in the trees,
But, Lord, spare me the wheezing of those bagpipes, if you please!
I like the sound of thunder and the rain falling softly on my roof,
But I could strangle the neighbor for letting his mutt yap and woof!
I can tolerate classical music until the prima donna Madame Zaria,
Begins to belt out her raucous contralto in an intolerable aria!
A most trying nuisance and I suppose one of my biggest gripes,
Are kids with boom boxes and their jalopies with those roaring pipes!
I don't mind the occasional rumbling of a train or the screaming jets,
But when dining I suffer acid reflux hearing inane cell phone vignettes!
I've got a bone to pick with the inventor of the wailing saxaphone!
That and the squeaking of a clarinet are more than I can condone!
I like western musical harmony sung by "The Sons Of The Pioneers."
But spare me those "She Done Me Wrong Songs" - they aggravate my ears!
Why can't folks keep their cats inside so they aren't yowling on my lawn,
And a hex on the dude revving his Harley Davidson waking me at dawn!
I reckon before I blow a gasket or worse yet lose my poise,
I'd better rush out and buy some ear plugs to stifle that noxious noise!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
his guitar is raunchy and moody and his singing voice raspy
and if I close my eyes I am in a rundown jazz bar
down and out on luck and drinking alone
drowning my sorrows in the booze and loud blues music
his name is Joe Leonard Bonamassa and he reaches my soul
he is a blues rock guitarist, singer and songwriter
and he touches all the dark places in my mind
her voice is visceral with grittiness, raw, I feel her pain
so dusty, raspy, aching, tormented with agony, real
her moody contralto deep and low reaches me
I am lost in her voice, mesmerized
gliding on the waves of soulful blues
her name is Beth Hart
an American blues musician and singer
put these two musicians together and you have magic
and listening to them all else fades
it is just me and them as Beth is singing
Your Heart is as Black as Night
so sensual and deeply moving it gives me chills
and Joe is lurking in the shadows with his moody guitar
his skill with runs is perfection as he loses himself
outside it is raining in the dark night
but in this jazz bar it is hot and I am wrapped in blues
my heart scarred by a cruel lover
and my tears are falling
Random Lyrics
inspired by the song
Your Heart is as Dark As Night
your heart is black, black, black
black as the night
your lips are sweet
your arms hold me close
your words whisper love
but it feels wrong
those whispers are lies
and if I let you, if I let you
you will take my soul
cause your heart is black, black, black
black as night
and my tears are falling, falling
cause I love you still
__________________________
May 14, 2023
Poetry/Free Verse/Joe and Beth, Together
Copyright Protected, ID 05-1547-326-14
All Rights Reserved, 2023, Constance La France
Written for the Premiere contest, Blues Artists
sponsor, Robert James Liguori, Judged 05/14/2023
First Place
Lavender green, lavender blue
She sings; her voice suits contralto.
Magnolias are in full bloom
Each bloom like a lotus flower
Spreading its petals as if readying
Itself for Buddha's fleshy thighs.
The rill flows clear as dew
On a spring day
Caressing her feet
Azure Summer sky is a delight today
Sensing the honeydew love.
She had been in love before
Fives times.
Once in her late teens.
Four in early twenties.
Late bloomer she was.
But fast
She caught up in love
And lust.
This one is different.
He is tall, warm
And lovely.
Yes lovely!
Lovely she needs more than
Anything else today.
He offers her his arm
Getting on the fast train.
They venture into Europe
Paris, Venice, Barcelona
Then Far East.
He is the one.
She will bear him children
Soon.
The buxom diva shattered chandeliers when she sang soprano.
Opera houses vibrated and thundered when she sang contralto!
When belting out an aria her voice quivered like Robin Hood's bow,
As she struggled through Mozart's ll re pastore blow by tedious blow!
His lady friend sat rapt but not her culturally impaired and hapless beau!
He'd much rather they'd spent the evening at the Grand Ol' Opry show!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
"When I was a kid my dad left me in a bad way .... he was
in the lives of my sisters and brothers but he wasn't in mine."
Quote by - Beth Hart
Her voice has an innate, inborn, visceral grittiness
dusty, raspy, raw with emotions of pain, aching, torment
and agony, an unstained contralto deep and low, and you
get lost in her voice, gliding on the waves of life with her
her name, Beth Hart, an American blues musician and singer
Born in 1972, Elizabeth (Beth) Hart is from California, USA
at 4 years old she played the piano concentrating on classical
music, like Bach and Beethoven but as she got older she
was playing artists like Etta James, Otis Redding, and Led Zeppelin
she has a magical voice like Janis Joplin and Tina Turner combined
As a young teen she was singing in open mic nights
and was playing clubs at fifteen, in 1993 band search she won
best female vocalist but her success went nowhere as she
became drug addicted, she spent all her winnings and hit bottom
even spent time in a psych ward for bi-polar and drug addiction
Beth has had ups and downs and she managed to have lots of hits
too many to list in this poem, but there are many hits that I fav
like LA Song, Don't Explain, Am I The One and many, many more
she collaborated with Joe Bonamassa and went on tour with him
and together they had hits, she also collaborated with Jeff Beck
Beth controls her addictions with religion and meditation now.
Joe said in an interview," I am totally knocked out by Beth. Here
is a lady who's acting like I'm the cool one and meanwhile I'm thinking
Man, she's got it all ... the next Janis Joplin . . the real deal, you know."
Random lyrics
War In My Mind
by Beth Hart
hollerin' all the time
black in my soul
and its ugly when I cry
there is a war in my soul
blood on the wall
hiding
making love to the
war in my mind
_____________________
May 09, 2023
Poetry/Bio/It's Ugly When I Cry
Copyright Protected, ID 05-1546-229-09
All Rights Reserved, 2023, Constance La France
Written for the Premiere contest, Beth Hart Inspiration
sponsor, Robert James Liguori, Judged05/09/2023
First Place
JAR OF LIFE....??
Like the thighs of a fresh virgin
The softness of your lips embraced my origin
You contralto voice like the echoes of the Moon filled the room to the brim
Each thrust into your thirty-two made my heart sound gbim! Gbim!! Gbim!!!
The awesomeness of your salivary gland
Like the pool of a wet nurse baptized my origin
Blessed is the angel that carved thy cheeks
More blessed is he that carved thy firm-fleshed riped fruits
In them my soul is buried
It is the sight of them that motivates my inner man
Watching you rise like the mother of dragons
Sent a wave of pleasure down the tails of my drogon
At that point did I say to myself...
If I perish, I perish
Indeed deep within your warmness truly I perished
The welcoming and opening ceremony of your sleekness
Succulence of your inner estate
Your solemn contralto voice of many notes
All worked together for the good of my adventure
In the business of your satisfaction
I was busy making profits till I felt the last drop of my last seed
Into your JAR OF LIFE...
©ABSOL
????????
Silver moonbeams strike the old packhorse bridge
As its ancient stones use silent language
To speak of those who passed this way before
And stood on these worn slates staring in awe
At the sandstone walls surrounding the pool
To echo the thundering waterfall
Firefly ballet on the watery stage
As nightingale chorus and frogs engage
A contralto owl adds a haunting tune
While the baritone fox sings to the moon
The whispering willows applaud with grace
As I lose myself in this mystic place
It moves me to tears, almost ev’ry time
But on moonlit nights, it is just sublime ~
Jimi Hendrix-Played electric guitar with his teeth and left hand
Ripped through scales, held notes, used flames on stage on command
Janis Joplin- Rolling Stone—Her cover enthralling ”Me And Bobby Magee”
Mezzo-soprano vocals and an "electric" stage presence that’ll ever be
Mama Cass- Of "The Mamas And Papas" Singer Alto—perfect pitch
“California Dreamin” rumor she choked on a ham sandwich
Mama Cass was in the club too
but kicked her out because she was 32!
Jim Morrison- “L.A. Woman” His presence quite a sight to see
The Doors, his band, Jim’s buried in a famous Paris cemetery
Amy Winehouse- Jazz singer—her deep, expressive contralto vocals
New York bluesy new Motown sound, knew she’d die young say the articles
Kurt Cobain-Modern day Rock Icon died
lead singer & guitarist of Nirvana, by suicide
Although rumor has it was Courtney Love
Kurt’s death meant he joined the fabled 27 club
A few of “The 27 Club” Rock Stars that rocked me!
A dormant sadness erupts in me when their songs are played
Rock Stars are noted for their high-risk lifestyles
Admissions free—no cover charge!