Best Double Bass Poems
APPASSIONATO
He made overtures to her,
With the time-honoured chat-up line,
“We could make sweet music together;
I want to make you mine.”
She conducted herself quite cautiously;
Remained composed and calm.
A duet might be pleasant;
And he certainly had charm.
But she didn’t want to rush things,
The tempo should be slow.
He wished to proceed allegro,
She favoured adagio.
She played second oboe,
While he was a double bass.
They came from different cultures,
A thing she found hard to embrace.
And so she resisted his overtures,
They really weren’t well-matched.
She had an affaire with a flautist instead;
A thing with no strings attached.
2nd July 2019
Music Theme Contest
Sponsor - Geraldine Taylor
Categories:
double bass, love, music,
Form:
Rhyme
.
My dear miss Camella, you move with such grace,
And your lips are so sweet, flies swarm round your face
When you first smiled at me, i foolishly grinned.
Then you puffed out both cheeks, and loudly broke wind.
Like a ship of the desert, with a camel hair coat.
Just letting off steam, with a double bass note.
It was love at first sight, despite all of my spots.
For the touch of my leopard skin, gave you the hots.
I love how you swagger, on oversize feet.
While those knobbly knees, makes my heart skip a beat.
Or the way that you squint, with a glint in your eyes.
When you spit from ten paces, and pick off sand flies.
Well now i must tell you, i'm going to propose,
If you will say yes, and wear my ring through your nose.
We could be a couple, and create our own kid.
While it would be unique, to raise a goofy hybrid.
I'm sure that we could, if we tried very hard.
Well, whoever has heard of a camelopard.
Please don't take the hump, i'm not having a laugh.
But maybe our baby, could be a giraffe.
So my dearest Camella, please make me your beau.
I am yours, ever faithful, your handsome Leo.
11/ 5/ 2017.
If it is of interest to anyone, a camelopard is an archaic
word for a giraffe.
Categories:
double bass, funny love, nonsense,
Form:
Couplet
An ode must be written to the player of strings
Thanking them for the joy their playing brings
Reminiscent to a puppet master they strike the strings
Like a ventriloquist with seemingly voicelessness the object sings.
Sometimes seated or even when they stand
By pick, by bow or by hand
Played as an acoustic or powered with juice in the form on an electric
Like perfect circles both sit perfectly concentric
A lute, a cello and guitar
A harp, a bass, zither or sitar
A double bass, banjo or mandolin
A cigar box guitar or violin
Treble, Lyon, Pistoy, Diapason and fret gut
As different as a cashew and macadamia nut
As long as it is played well and not abused
It doesn’t matter how or what is used
The impact of sound orders the audience to be silent
In a forceful way which is strangely non-violent
The sound created is so divine
As delicious as a creamy cheese or well aged wine.
If a picture tells a thousands words
There must be infinite words present in your soulful chords
When you arrive at that magical sound
Body quivers and feet lift off the ground.
Like a boat in the ocean calmly afloat
There is a calming peace that arrives when you hit the perfect note
Choosing between being blind or deaf is decision one wouldn’t want to make
But if I was to only hear, for heaven’s sake
Strike those strings and create those harmonious sounds
And the visual images will come in leaps and bounds
Play me an a, b, c, d, e, f or g in major or minor
When beautifully played nothing could be finer
A verse on its own can be said and cheery
But without the strings it becomes tiresome and weary
The body shakes when the sounds of the strings reach perfection
In peculiar cases it has been known to aid downstairs in an uplifting direction
With the perfect note the soldier stands to attention
Here’s hoping it doesn’t occur at a men’s only convention
Undoubtedly when you play
The dark of night turns into the bright of day
Like a perfect duck dive without a splash
Or a burnt out fire with the remaining golden ash
Whether you’re in your twenty’s or seventy five
The magic moments keep you alive
So thank you to the player of the strings
For the absolute pleasure your playing brings
And sheer delight when your instrument sings
THANK YOU PLAYER OF STRINGS
Categories:
double bass, happiness, music, passion, sound,
Form:
Rhyme
Elegant frequent interludes
Ebony and ivory harmonised
The maestro raises his hands
A single note from a violin
Reverberates the soul within
Piano keys dance the storm
Conductor's baton waves the way
The orchestra now as one
Vibrations pounding in my heart
Sweet cellos and harps sing
Two dueling clarinets take front stage
Silhouetted angels fill the mind
As the beating of timpanis start
A fluttering flute swiftly flies
With dulcet melodies swirling about
A double bass begins the final coda
Then blissfully, I open my eyes
Categories:
double bass, music,
Form:
Free verse
When I was a boy of two or three,
My dad and cousin said to me;
'You'll be the gee-tar player in a big folk band',
‘'With those six little fingers on your right webbed hand',
-----------------
So he went straight out to make me a star,
And he sold his horse and bought a new gee-tar;
But a band needs maybe two or three,
So my daddy brought in some family.
----------------
There was cousin Jeb with his massive chin,
He could play pee-anna and the violin,
There was cousin Pete on the double bass,
His teeth were huge and covered half his face.
---------------
My cousin Jane was an easy choice,
With her long gold hair and an angels voice;
And daddy noticed too that as she grew,
She had udders like our old cow daisy too.
---------------
We practised hard till we were good,
But every now and then we would;
Be forced to play without our singer,
Cause she'd be in the hay with a local minger.
---------------
So when we'd growed and we could play,
We loaded up the cart one day,
We headed out, past our own land
With my six little fingers on my webbed right hand.
--------------
We got on stage on the opening night,
My hand felt stiff and my stomach tight;
But we couldn't begin without our Jane,
And she'd disappeared round the back again.
-------------
The curtain opened but the stage was bare,
We couldn't find jane anywhere;
Then I found them bangin in the nearest loo,
Now cousin jane is my auntie too!
------------
We came back to Norwich and broke up the band,
I'm not the big star that Daddy had planned,
But I'm the fastest milker in the whole damned land,
With my six little fingers on my webbed right hand.
Categories:
double bass, fun, humorous,
Form:
Limerick
When I awoke, I found I was in a different land
stood amongst trees and flowers made of sand
still holding the tv Tuna in my hand.
I walked in through the Crabs side door
and Floundered, couldn't feel my feet any more
they had gone from right under my nose
Why they were there in the first Plaice? Who knows?
The Crab wasn't home, so I left him a note
with no pen or paper, you may ask how was it wrote?
ahh, well, that's none of your business
but all the Fish know how it is.
Through the window, I see horses, oh Seahorses
Something sparked and made me squeal
I just trod on an Electric Eel
A smile Bream-ed wide across my face
as I plugged in my double Bass
rockin' out with Squid and George Martin
having a party in the Octopus' garden.
Oh such a happy place to be, below the waves and under the sea!
©John-Ovan.P.Hull
Categories:
double bass, adventure, fantasy, funny, nature,
Form:
Rhyme
Raised up gooseflesh dipped in metal,
a shiver runs right down my spine;
Every emotion they enshrine,
somehow the scream helps me settle;
Please hit that double bass pedal,
I’ll throw you a devil horn sign;
Raised up gooseflesh;
They view me as the jezebel,
a black fishnet flavored outline;
With a head bang everything’s fine,
healing factor with no equal;
Raised up gooseflesh.
Categories:
double bass, emotions, feelings, music,
Form:
Other
Embracing eyes upon sight
Swirling as a whirlwind
Clasping lips together as one
Hearts in sync as a double bass
A Symphony of Violins
Quivering tones of Love
As Bass Woodwinds
With Sounds of Angels harps
Reaching deep into the soul
Beethoven whispering tunes
In this Theater
of Love
Categories:
double bass, love, magic,
Form:
Personification
You numb my eyes
From tippity-top
To eight count plies
Rhythmic grooves
Crossing hard waxed floors
Bouncing orange orbs denied
Double bass pounding, pounding
In my ears
Heart
Pride
Moving like soft water
Untethered sass
Yesterday’s child
Today a Dancer
Numbing eyes
Categories:
double bass, daughter,
Form:
Free verse
In a damp, bluesy club in the middle of the reeds
Two amphibious musicians gathered in the weeds
Stringed instruments of driftwood and canary grass
Played with webbed fingers and a dash of southern sass
Two of them will face off to see who would headline
Swamp juice and flies aplenty and the music is divine
Marsh creatures waiting, having a drink on mossy log
While they watched the marsh house band, Bulrush Bog
Tadpoles grooving in the water, afraid of the limelight
Since they are literally spineless, some likely stage fright
Beavers gnawing on wood, carving out a double bass
Muskrats drumming cattails at Animal’s Muppet pace
The music now quiets with the sun as the light goes dim
Fireflies set the mood, drinks filled, lake foam to the brim
Two finalists take stage, Marsh music battle is to start
Yet… they sounded the same, you couldn’t tell them apart
So how do you decide which musical act will take the win
When it’s a toad with a fiddle versus a frog with a violin?
January 23, 2023
The Fiddler and the Frog Contest
Sponsor: Craig Cornish
Categories:
double bass, animal, fun, music,
Form:
Rhyme
I’ve got madness turned, all the way up
submerging myself in thundering double-bass
and wrenching screams.
"THOSE WHO RUN, WILL BE BURNED!"
My legs tap the carpet to the beat, my soul on its way out the door.
Escape.
And then her voice wails over the tiny speakers, calling to me, in need.
I pull out an ear-bud,
and feel the divide:
The solace of chaotic notes/The reality of a mother that needs help getting up.
I press pause on the computer and run to the aide of the womb that made me the fighter I am.
The survivor, my hero.
Escape can wait.
The battlefield is here.
-James Kelley 2014, All rights reserved.
Categories:
double bass, home, hurt, life, mom,
Form:
Free verse
Washing out the stains,he deceived me into believing that.
A story that stirs the imagination,iam constrained to leave.
He was subject to periods of euphoria and dreadful depression.
Do you call this monstrosity a work of art?
I made sure he was telling the truth.
He addressed himself to the task of promoting detente.
He can be very mean in his spite,reduce me to silence.
Honorouble mention happen to meet reputation,i said
as idealism was wounded in the right side.
Drive me to drink,iam tired,double bass sounded strange.
You must rest for a while,as my conscience dictates.
I will get up a dramatic performance,an orgiastic night.
Duality,schizophrenia or simply a disagreement?
Me or him,splitting in two,something unique.
Categories:
double bass, allegory, art, confusion, depression,
Form:
Free verse
2 Dollar's of Whiskey Bourbon
My sweet Jubilee,
To toast
My throat is drier
Than Country Music Heartache
And tired double bass
In downtown New Orleans's
Backwater Blues
Scratching Cotton field tune's
Backed by Harmonicas and Flutes
Rag Time,
Swing Time
Jazz Time
Line Dancing
Play that Banjo Boy
Like its the 4th of July
Slide your slow hands down
Southern Soul
Put the needle on the Gramophone
Take me Home
Take me back
I yearn to hear the record scratch
1 last time
Before I walk the Green Mile
Dead Man Walking
Categories:
double bass, music,
Form:
Free verse
Hanging With The Moon
Moving to the deep hollow
rhythm of the double bass
coupled the with
dance of the piano keys
and the slow cadence of the guitar strum.
This Master of Jazz carries me away,
off to an old flowing riverboat,
cruising off into the sunset,
taking my restless feet with it,
so I can hang with the Moon,
for a while.
JAZZ
Categories:
double bass, happiness, music, passion, song-uplifting
Form:
Free verse
Your moods are like sounding boards.
You can sound serious or sad like a cello or double bass,
you can sound aggressive or violent like a bass drum,
heavy and repetitive like a marching drum;
but also cheerful and lively like a piano or a tambourine.
It all depends on the wood you are made of,
of the frame and the capacity to vibrate
and the "soul" that supports the weight of the tensioned strings.
Categories:
double bass, character,
Form:
Prose Poetry