Best Glissandos Poems

I am to him a Stradivarius, a treasured violin
His bow expertly caresses my supple strings
My body moans when tucked beneath his chin
Revving to his rhythmic pulse, my heart sings

I am the delicate ivory he strokes on his keyboard
his adventurous fingers roam over me in staccato
Those...

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I looked out on the gloom of one dark day

as rain poured down. Glissandos my ear caught!

What joy streamed forth from sweet chords I heard play.

The source of them excitedly I sought.


My searching eyes at last beheld a sight

most marvelous! Amidst loud thundering,

two angels strummed...

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Walls breathe insistent hunger,
red as the inside of a split pomegranate,
richer still where the tallow has melted,
slick as the fat from a burnt offering. 

Scarpia does not eat.
He savors—sounds of gristle 
snapping in the next room—
—low, wet gasps—
body writhing beneath unseen hands,
a melody of muscle...

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Viola Fuller

1879 – 1909

For it is written in solemn Chinese ideography,
That two women under one roof spells trouble.
For indeed my life found trouble
And death quite early due to influenza.
I spent my leisure hours in China Town
16 miles to the west in old Los Angeles.
Spent hours...

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Can We “Feel” Music?
By Carol Geyer


Can we “feel” music? Can the notes cool or warm us?
Soothing like green aloe balm, or warm as flaming Yule logs,
 or as majestic as a fully leafed oak?
  Lovely and diverse as an overgrown garden,
 mysterious as a...

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// 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...

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Carefully her inner eyes glistened
As the music proceeded with utmost preference
The swift glissandos had cured and decorated her existence bare
Naked, she looked all alone
Beautifully stunned in awe appreciation of the “musical dew of silence”
The food of renewal for the soul

And as the chords rose
She was...

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In

after going all night off the map to dawn
on the newly opened Metaphysical Gridway
I am awakened by the black buzz of flies
and a persistent hiss of escaping steam
in my chest a hole where the piston went
misfire specialists been at it all night
looks like it is...

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Like tremolos and glissandos in music,
those crescendos and decrescendos in volume;
there’s observance of discipline and yet,
at the same time, there’s sense of freedom.
similar to life how it’s gonna be lived, so far.

Inroads within the wake of comfort zone
a melange of options shown for actions;
it gives...

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AntiPoem 31 “Rita Montero”

(Poet’s instruction: Kindly play “Ay, Mama Inez” 
by Rita Montero while reading this AntiPoem)

a red trolley finds Ebbets Field behind a pigtown ditch
significant hotdogs and burnt singles melt into the pitch
Jackie Robinson squares off with an ash tree riding the sky 
the...

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Emilia In Romagna

Somewhere a lost little girl
Is crying in her bedroom closet
Because she can’t hear
Her mama
Moving about anymore
She can see dim shapes
Mama stored stuff in here
Luggage scarfs tennis racquets
Croquet mallets 
Boxes of old photographs
Useless 
Rubbish
Apparently not water or food
She can hear the ancient
Transistor radio
Mama always...

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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...

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Do you gurgle, grunt, and gripe,
grind the soft bones of thought dry?

You need some orchestration,
some instrumental tuning.
Play with those ad hoc glottalized vibes,
harmonize.

The body, that geomungos collection
of agrarian earth animalcules
which work for themselves alone,
tilling mud, repairing dykes
& ditches,
that biological chain gang
that works on robotically
within a...

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Microtonal mayhem
Triple concerto for sirens, drones & bullets
groaning ghosts pluck piano strings
extramusical praise: present (& past/future)
we're going around & round (sings the flute)
0:00 constant vivace
Alcotts double IV. played
corrupt chaotic fourth (9?)
Ives=crusty old coot
percussive violence
stimulus: introductory movement
his syncopated strings: 
meditative ice forms

The Title: moody barlines
741 ideas...

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