Best Flautist Poems


Premium Member Kokopelli

Listen!  There’s a melody wafting sweetly,

Tempting blossoms liltingly. Watch enchantment!

Kokopelli’s bringing the beauty nearer.

Magical flautist!

For the Sapphic Stanza Number Three - Poetry Contest of Craig Cornish
Categories: flautist, spring,
Form: Sapphic stanza

Premium Member From Sunset To Sunrise

FROM SUNSET TO SUNRISE

Her clinging mermaid-figure, auburn hair - french braid-chaste.
Pearl’s arms circumnavigate his nautical-neck. Strong arms gird her waist.
His hands, like the current, draw her in. She inhales with fingers laced.
Like the sublime shoreline, their outlines traced.
Water and sand swirl around their feet, hearkening to the flautist-tide.
Pearl’s arms circumnavigate his nautical-neck. Strong arms gird her waist.
The sky, stars, and moon vanish - in a lover’s cove, they hide.

Recognized with a full-moon revelation - no disguise,
She is likely to drown in the whirlpool of his eyes.
With the whispers of his high-tide love, she does rise,
Answering in kind - breathing in and out her replies,
As their lifetime stretches from sunset to sunrise.
The aquamarine of Pearl’s eyes match her swimming gown.
She is likely to drown in the whirlpool of his eyes,
Snatched by the undercurrent, of her lover’s seaweed crown.

The shrieking seagull o’erhead, her memory recalls.
The darkened lighthouse, stronghold sinking, falls.
Feet weeping on serrated shells, his footprints lost in sandy halls.
His sea-drenched bodysuit, her frightened squalls.
Inlet eyes, stained red, revere venomous jellyfish - tentacled balls. 
A shallow survivor - her lover’s footprints she could not save.
The darkened lighthouse, stronghold sinking, falls.
She dives into the cold abyss of a mourner’s grave.

Pearl will find her eternal love, beyond the sun’s rays.

11/2/2017
Laura Loo’s Rhyme Time II Contest
Categories: flautist, love,
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Symphony Orchestra

SYMPHONY ORCHESTRA

There’s a player up there
                          stomach resting on his chair
     blowing air
                          through at least a hundred feet of twisted    golden tubing
                                                   and 
A man putting oil on a slide
                          makes toothy talk aside
    to a skinny tuba player (imagine a tuba player being skinny)
                          who takes the fat horn on his lap

Drummers    four    all stand
                          Testing skins and whatnot with their hands
     The first selection    using such collection?
                           NOISY    indeed!

Then    there are the winds
                           All in a row    with chimneys on the end
    sucking       for dear life    it would seem
                           the flutist (or is it flautist?) is a dream

Finally    the violins    
                       adjusting gadgets     rooting with their chins
    cellos    (big violins)    screw into the floor
                       basses    (huge violins)     as a rule    sit astool

Here comes a fiddler    late
                   must have had a heavy date
    of all the nerve    he turns and bows
                   then sits    that’s more than law allows
                                       for

Here comes the conductor     with a stick!
Categories: flautist, funny
Form: Free verse

Book: Radiant Verses: A Journey Through Inspiring Poetry


Appassionato

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: flautist, love, music,
Form: Rhyme

Discord

A flautist and harpist were matched
And plans for the wedding were hatched,
But, getting cold feet,
He beat a retreat,
Preferring her ‘no strings attached’.

20.11.20

Put Your Best (One) Limerick Forward (Be Like Rico Leffanta) Poetry Contest
Sponsor : Andrea Dietrich

'Quin-To Your Five Line Poetry Contest'
Sponsor : Brian Strand

Bite Size Poem #32 Poetry Contest
Sponsor : Line Gauthier
Categories: flautist, humor,
Form: Limerick

Premium Member The Flautist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ THE FLAUTIST  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

       
 THE FLAUTIST fluently flaunted her flute- Music flew faultlessly through the airwaves, flying fluidly above the noise of the blustering city                                                    
THE flautist created a calm fragrance, who's flavor of creativity fell-well onto your soul creating a soul stirring calmness across the city. 
 
She played her flute clean into the night vehemently, over the feverish chaos – 
And the people in the park and in the city could hear clearly as they walked in rhythmic tunes/ She flaunted her music like sweet low hanging fruit, Her music dangled beautiful and singly. She alone, Solo-ed notes of delightful serenity-  
 
  The flautist moved the masses to a state of bliss; Like free kisses flying in the wind landing on ears conquering and engaging spirits, conquering pandemonium with her flute, she blew her flute... SHE BLEW HER FLUTE, and we marched and listened obediently. She blew her flute and we marched magnificently to her concert.
Categories: flautist, appreciation, art, beautiful, blessing,
Form: Prose Poetry


Premium Member Blessings of Music

// This is my tribute to the many blessings that music brings to our
lives. I know many of you share this enthusiasm and gratitude. //

Appreciating an amazing artform: allegro, andante, or adagio -
Bach, Beethoven, Brahms: beautiful berceuse, ballad, and bolero
Classical concertos and Christmas chorales crescendo concordantly
Dancers delight to dizzying drums and delectable dynamics
Ensemble eloquently emotes euphonic etudes and elegies
Flautist fluttertongues flute in frenzied fantasia or fantastic fugue
Guitar gallivants through gavotte, graced by glockenspiel glissandos
Heavenly hymns, happily harmonized, hearkening hearty hallelujahs
Improvising instruments inspiring in impromptu inventions,
Jovial jazz juxtaposition of jubilant, jamming jitterbugs
Kalimba keeps count as keyboardist kinetically caresses keys
Love song lullabys - lilting, legato lines of luxuriant, longing lyrics
Minuet melodies and madrigals marking mellifluous motifs
Nutcracker's necklace of nourishing notes: a nighttime nocturne
Orchestra's opulent overture opus, oratorio's operatic octet
Pianist plays presto pianissimo pitches in pulsing pizzicato perfection
Quartets and quintets on a quest for quality quiescent quarter notes
Romantic rhapsody rhythms resonate as rock 'n roll reverberates
Symphonies and sonatas send spine shivers, saxophone solos soar
Tenor troubadours tremolo in tempo as trumpet thrills with trills
Utopia of unassuming ukuleles unwinding in unison
Voluptuous violin vibrato, virtuoso vocalist, vivace vintage vibraphone
Well-tempered woodwinds wield wonderful waltzes worth whistling
Xylophone eXudes eXcitement in eXquisite eXtemporaneity
Yearning for youthfulness, you yodel "Yesterday"
Zesty zither anyone?
© John Watt  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: flautist, appreciation, blessing, music,
Form: Abecedarian

Flute

sound cuts 
through the midsummer air
like a sharp knife 
    cutting a cucumber
the chanting begins 
     Sitting here on 
the Lower East Side 
  I listen to a mystical recording 
Peace in the urban 
scene is not always easy 
   to find 
But with the sound of 
a flute and a nice volume of verse 
I have made this evening 
   in the asphalt homeland 
something to remember 
Some days are like exploding fireworks 
Some are like dripping molasses 
This evening the sound from my stereo 
reaches outside my window 
   A stranger passing
by
   may pause for a moment 
and be taken away by the power of the flautist.
Categories: flautist, beauty, music, urban,
Form: Free verse

The Wooden Floor and the Wet Summer Night

The wooden floor creaked as I lay on it.
My eyes narrowed, slowly, into slits
As I stared at the half-drawn blinds,
As my limbs, lazily
Throbbed with dull persistency
After the long,
Enervating bus journey.


Not much had changed over the years.
The same wooden houses and paddy fields;
Farmers toiling, indefatigably.
Children playing with perpetual felicity.
The village still was as I had known
Six years ago.


The sweet smell of the incense sticks
From the tiny shrine
 In the damp alcove
Filled my little room .
Mingled ,gently with the wooden floor.


Not much had changed over the years.
The same wooden houses and paddy fields;
Farmers toiling, indefatigably.
Children playing with perpetual felicity.
The village still was as I had known
Six years ago.


Like every night, the flautist did come.
Beside the same gnarled tree, he seated himself.
Under the lunar spotlight, he rose
Far beyond the temporal world.
The ineffable melody and its ungodly pulchritude 
In esoteric harmony with the quietude
Accompanied the miners
In their lonesome journey
Back home.

Not much had changed over the years.
The village still was as I had known
Six years ago.
-	Amy Angom (16)
© Amy Angom  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: flautist, home, nostalgia, summer,
Form: Free verse

Free Cee This Poem Contains Anthrax So Do Not Read

INSTRUMENTAL INFATURATION

The piano man stopped playing when you walked in
And that’s when I heard the brass begin
The flautist was taken aback by your grin
And then I heard the voice of a violin

The drummer stumbled over his beat
As I bumbled over my feet
Then a sax and the trumpet came to meet
And suddenly the syncopation was complete

I heard the shrill of a single piccolo
Played sweetly and haltingly low
The mellowness of a melody began to flow
As the band put on a thrilling show

You were a bigger star than the guitar
As the bass and bassoon began to spar
The rhythm was hotter than steaming tar
As you and I made our way to the bar

Your sashay got an okay from the crowd
And the singer’s song was not too loud
Dancing with you made me so damned proud
Pride born of the beauty with which you are endowed

Suddenly the song was over and done
As you smiled brighter than the summer’s sun
The story of a song had, at once, been spun
And even the band knew I love you more than anyone  
       © 2012…..PHREEPOETREE ~free cee!~
Categories: flautist, music, song, song, i
Form: Quatrain

Hollow Barge-A Requiem and Other Poems

Hollow barge
A requiem.

Fire inside
Volcano.

White wolves
red snow.

Mountain
Swirling wind.

Fish
Vigilance.


A hen
call.


A girl
Wild fire.

Crow
Black astronaut.


Lizard on wall
Waiting.

Mosquito
blacklisted flautist.

Frogs
Deep sleep.


Five white roses
Touch.


Rock
A hermit.
Categories: flautist, allegory, allusion, analogy, fun,
Form: Footle

Serenade For Flute

No roof no mood flat affect
Glances empty no space for sorrow
Small rucksack to collect  
No tears to borrow

A sloppy flute
A black and white photo
Of a young boy now mute 
Carpe Diem his motto

Dreamy alone and in despair
Jonny the homeless lives there
By the Post Office stair
Some bags and a few rugs to wear

Ask for him and give him a penny
To play ‘Serenade’ by his son Tony
Died three years ago leaving alone Amy
If you aim to know a romantic story

“General Hospital, Leigh Valley
Room Number Five, Head Nurse Sally
Hippocastanum Alley
Floor 2, could remember hardly” 

Tony could gather 
His tunes from the storm
From the sun and from his father
Feverish nights since he was born

Holding dad’s hands 
To cope with his pain
Plagued by swollen glands 
Now saluted by a brittle rain

One night Darkness
Scuffling his noisy leaves 
Waving his branches
Knocked on his windows rims

It craved Tony during Fall 
Tormented by pain torn by malaise
Dad Jonny couldn’t hold him whole
Asking to docs for some delays

Then a cessation rainbow
A leaf fell with no array
Onto Tony’s window
It took him while floating away

 “Tony my Tony”…
Talented flautist with poisoned blood

It was when leaves are yellow and brown
General Hospital alley season’s stylish
Hippocastanum wrapping the road gown
You can hear leaves swish

Now Jonny plays Tony’s last tune
‘Serenade for flute’ by a leaf that has gone
Playing it for the kids that gather there in turn 
Rehearsing it whenever alone

He plays it for a few pennies 
To buy some food and cardboard beds
A lively melody in subways galleries
All he owned gone for staminal cells

Jonny the homeless in his little tent 
No tears to spend
Asking for a penny to lend
For some stars and for a grief to bend

At night he can hear the breeze
No one to talk no one to say
He looks at the stars and hears
Tony’s tunes sent for his dismay

Looking at the sky at South-South East
On Orion Belt the first three notes 
Serenade the only reason to feast
And the kids asking for Tony’s quotes

Fall again in the road
Breeze playing Serenade
To the trees by the wind towed
To the stars in a melodic cascade
Categories: flautist, art, bereavement, death, grief,
Form: Dramatic Verse

Premium Member Seven Footles

Star Sprayer

Twinkler
Sprinkler

Cleaning Freak

Hyper
Wiper

Flautist Pickpocket

Piper
Swiper

Complaining Hitman

Griper
Sniper

Test for Savant Autism

Rain Man
Brain Scan

Not Heard in France

Thank 'ee
Yankee

Capitalist Jerk

Wanker
Banker

Oct. 21, 2022
For A Brian Strand Premiere Choice Poetry Contest
Categories: flautist, people,
Form: Footle

Self of the World

The self of the world incarnates
   held by her flautist  charms,
gripped by the heels, slapped on the feet
   wrapped in a mother’s arms ;

now ‘ other ‘d , non existential -
   never a moment’s doubt,
weaned on a past and future tense,
   always the moment’s rout,

always the outward focus here
   reigning down from the top,
turning us round and round again
   until our pennies drop !

What need then, for magic mushrooms
   under our mother sun ?
The flute plays  on into the whole
   'til  the  millions are   one.
© Roy Austin  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: flautist, life, love, peace, philosophy,
Form: Enclosed Rhyme

Free Cee Instrumental Infatuation

INSTRUMENTAL INFATURATION

The piano man stopped playing when you walked in
And that’s when I heard the brass begin
The flautist was taken aback by your grin
And then I heard the voice of a violin

The drummer stumbled over his beat
As I bumbled over my feet
Then a sax and the trumpet came to meet
And suddenly the syncopation was complete

I heard the shrill of a single piccolo
Played sweetly and haltingly low
The mellowness of a melody began to flow
As the band put on a thrilling show

You were a bigger star than the guitar
As the bass and bassoon began to spar
The rhythm was hotter than steaming tar
As you and I made our way to the bar

Your sashay got an okay from the crowd
And the singer’s song was not too loud
Dancing with you made me so damned proud
Pride born of the beauty with which you are endowed

Suddenly the song was over and done
As you smiled brighter than the summer’s sun
The story of a song had, at once, been spun
eAnd the band knew I love you more than anyone  
       © 2012…..PHREEPOETREE ~free cee!~
Categories: flautist, angst, song, song, i
Form: Quatrain
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