Best Harpsichord Poems
Angels come in a variety of sizes,
often unexpected, full of surprises.
Times when we’re in direst need,
without fanfare or showy parade,
they’ll comfort us with timely aid,
being sympathetic, they pay heed.
Possessing no halo that can be seen,
they’re often someone who has been
a familiar face in the neighbourhood.
Maybe an acquaintance living near
who helps us vanquish doubt and fear.
At the onset, it is clearly understood
they seek no reward nor compensation.
Showing no bias or dogmatic persuasion,
Angels are there when ill fortune overtakes,
and we feel cornered; the future bleak.
Bolstering our resolve, they’ll quietly speak
to restore optimism, and relieve heartbreaks.
But to see Angels we must first open our eyes,
as they favour no stereotype. We must recognise
they come in varied sizes and temperaments,
displaying no signs, such as halo and wings,
nor playing harpsichord, as a heavenly choir sings,
being plain folks, without musical instruments.
Nonetheless, they restore our peace of mind
when our need is greatest. Ever welcome, we find
their presence alone, exerts a becalming effect.
Without Angels to ease times of deep despair,
our burden, could prove impossible to bear.
Such Angels are ones we love and respect!
Rhymer. June 1st, 2016
I walk the lane 'neath giant oaks,
vast canopies of green,
and view the mansion at path's end,
a sight I've never seen.
My mind begins to picture
those precious days of old,
the owner of this grand house
with history yet foretold.
Of Southern Belles in ball gowns,
young men in dapper dress,
music of the harpsichord
as folks poseur their best.
Dancing, singing, merriment
revere lives without care
as servants carry laden trays
of fancy food and fare.
But all the glories of this time
were soon to be forgot
with civil war uprisings,
and horrors that men wrought.
Land was scourged, mansions burned,
or plundered of their ware,
soldiers stripped the wealth from them
and pillaged without care.
"The black man needs his freedom,"
was the battle cry,
and thousands chose to take a side
for which they'd surely die.
Brother fought 'gainst brother,
father against son,
I wonder if they felt for naught
when the war was done.
Now standing 'neath the foliage
at this mansion tall and grand,
I question, "Was it worth it,
for them to take a stand?"
Guess we'll never know the answer,
today it seems too late,
but let us long remember
what happens when men hate.
I
"Gotta job as a nanny!"
"Maybe they'll hire me as a butler"
"Butler and nanny always live
in close quarters"
She winks
He raises and eyebrow suggestively
II
"I love flirting with poets
so...
palpable"
"Indeed my dear, indeed.
We are a flirtatious, passionate creature"
"But we're also dramatists
adulterers
alcoholics
and prone to murder and suicide"
"Yes, some may look down on our kind,
but goddamn, we ain't boring"
III
"The first time I read Bukowski,
it was like I rediscovered
some part of myself
that was missing
or that I'd hidden away
either consciously or subconsciously
years ago.
I might have to write that down.
New freeverse."
"Love when that happens"
"Me too.
That's one thing i love about talking to poets.
Conversations often turn into writing"
"Simple Ideas morph into insolent dreams.
There's my freeverse snippet of the day"
IV
"A good poet may exaggerate,
but is no liar"
"True;
and exaggeration is like getting high,
makes everything better.
Possible Haiku?"
V
"Love is our strongest muse"
"Absolutely.
It's the most vital element to human life;
brings our greatest highs and deepest lows"
VI
"The cool thing about dating poets
is that they don't give a care
if you get
caught up with someone else
and by caught up
I mean
hopelessly
carelessly
seeexually
entangled."
VII
"The white gown
drapes over your succulent frame
like a dress of beauty.
Your hair, rusty orchid
in the shade of the picture,
cascades down smooth cheeks
the hand can die happy
having once caressed."
"That was my mom's wedding dress.
I like rusty orchids,
and the Shakespearian ending
was a harpsichord
resonant
a saunter around my affection for the dead
living
doll
I once was
came again to the meter of memory
an escapist serenade"
VIII
"Where does time go
when poets commerce?"
"Onto the paper"
When the world is cross and dreary
There’s a place to calm the weary
I find the secret door down under
To seek the land of purple thunder
On sands of time, the beach does lie
With ponds and castle frogs near by
Who serve the queen of hourglass
She chirps to let each hour pass
I see a harpsichord that sings
Just as I come upon my wings
A gliding sail on silver seas
I scale the mountain tops with ease
I’m greeted by some Flutterflies
And Stumblebees who grace the skies
I watch out for the flower sots
With whom a Tipsymoth now plots
I dine on Angel cake delight
As Psalm trees sway and chant good night
With Puffydogs, I join the crowds
Who ate too many puffy clouds
Then to rest with Maids of grass
In silken shade of summer sass
To dream of how I’ve spent my day
Inside this imagery parfait
In The Moment
Celtic music
I hear the music
Sweet,sweet, music
Soothes my body
The flow of the music, comely
Drums rum, rum beat
My body sways to the sweet beat
The flutes bounce around in tune
Body sways and swoons
The sound of the Drum, rum, rum
Harpsichord plays with the drum, rum, rum
The harp plucks the string with the drum beat
To a slow beat
Oh, how pleasant the sounds of Celtic music
I can hear music, sweet, sweet music
By Eve Roper 12/26/2014
Human or Humane – Zamreen Zarook
The precious creature of the divine lord,
One differ from other as the playings of harpsichord,
Every single was a pass chord,
So as to go for their fatal reward.
Muscular system is a part,
Nervous system is an art,
Skeleton system is again a handcraft,
Things matters on the beauty of the heart.
Showing kindness and sympathy,
You become a man of empathy,
This leads to be healthy and wealthy,
Where as it makes your life lengthy.
Dummy body is human,
Love and kindness within it is the humane,
decide and alter your membrane,
Before you reach the torture of the hurricane.
My dream shines brightly with ambitious gleam,
And in my heart, its vivid brilliance rivals even sunbeam.
I dream to be among the ranks of landowners,
To have thousands of acres and a hanseatic house,
Adorned with colorful feathered grouse,
And lush gardens fit for soirees and dinners,
Gazebos hosting bands and crooners,
And a view of a river as fair as the Great Ouse.
By day I shall paint,
And write prose and poetry
Lauding flora and fauna.
By night I shall play
Baroque tunes on a lute
Or Bach on a harpsichord.
All rights released into Public Domain
Sept. 26 2016
Three style II poetry contest
One of the greatest classical composers was a Prussian.
Herr Bach went by the name of Johann Sebastian.
Laboring at his harpsichord, his compositions were many.
He wrote a rather short tune that was quite pretty.
It had an upbeat, allegro type melody.
His famous piece was the “Minuet in G”.
Along came three young women in the twentieth century.
‘The Toys” would become this trio’s adopted name.
One hit song catapulted them all to fame.
With a small band, they entered a recording studio.
Their production became a hit nearly everyone would know.
They sold many recorded copies of “Lover’s Concerto”
If Johann Sebastian were alive today, he would be pissed.
He could not get a copyright, and all those royalties were missed.
Inspired by a video from You Tube
37 Jesus replied: “‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’[a] 38 This is the first and greatest commandment. 39 And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’[b] 40 All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments.” NIV.
Two Great Commandments
We must praise God with our total being;
With newfound faith in Him are believing;
Yourself forget;
In neighbors let;
Help those in need who will be grieving.
Jim Horn
St. James Episcopal Church
Shallotte, NC
lord 127 End Rhymes
One-syllable rhymes
board
bored
chord
cord
cored
cured
fiord
fjord
floored
ford
gored
gourd
gourde
hoard
hord
horde
lord
moored
oared
pored
poured
roared
scored
shored
snored
soared
stored
sword
toured
ward
warred
whored
Two-syllable rhymes
abhorred
aboard
accord
adored
afford
award
backboard
baseboard
billboard
blackboard
breadboard
broadsword
buckboard
cardboard
chalkboard
chessboard
chipboard
clipboard
concord
contoured
corkboard
dashboard
deplored
discord
duckboard
explored
floorboard
footboard
freeboard
hardboard
headboard
highboard
ignored
implored
inboard
keyboard
landlord
lapboard
moldboard
outboard
outscored
pasteboard
pegboard
prescored
rancored
record
restored
reward
scoreboard
seaboard
shipboard
sideboard
signboard
skateboard
slumlord
soundboard
springboard
surfboard
switchboard
tagboard
toward
uncured
wallboard
warlord
washboard
whipcord
Three-syllable rhymes
aboveboard
centerboard
checkerboard
clavichord
coinsured
fiberboard
fingerboard
harpsichord
mortarboard
notochord
overboard
overlord
paperboard
pinafored
plasterboard
pompadoured
prerecord
reassured
shuffleboard
smorgasbord
stevedored
underscored
unexplored
unrestored
untoward
weatherboard
13 March 2010
Among The Creations
I am blessed for being a God’s creation
Along with the grown-up trees, I build my own foundation
And I whisper to the mighty wind
To bestow me a seed alike wunderkind
And in this soil, I will walk barefooted
That if Barkus is willing, my heart is embedded
I see many daybreaks and sunsets
Along flowers bloom and gaping at the night’s garnet
Luxuriate to the florid orchard
With jazzing up of the playing of harpsichord
I am falling between frustration and elation
Sighing out loud along the sea waves commotion
That in this world, I am not alone
I will thrive and shrivel among the other creations
A lively time it was in Heaven
Amid a clear and cloudless sky
The sound of music filled air
As angels sang and heavenly bells chimed
Praise and worship to Him they sang
For He alone is holy
Moses shook his silvery head
As he listened to the praise and glory
Peter and John hummed a tune
They wrote while in prison
Cherubims giggled as they listened
To the olden tunes sung in Heaven
Cymbals clashed trumpets blast
Flutes and lyres rippled too
Solomon strummed his harpsichord
creating a medley of rythm and blues
I sat and watched I nodded my head
Stamped my feet and clapped my hands
Then a voice in reverent tones called out
Prostrate yourselves my children
Here comes the great I AM.
Penny dropped circular clocks on carved out emblematic wisdom cones. Be careful if it rains coal dust as radioactive drones, mobile phones, and teapots too could all gather to form lines of imperialism. How rather interesting it is to count the snot flung out of the window. It often lands in a rather interesting pattern do you not think? And waiting for parcels is akin to waiting for a slug or a snail to travel sixteen times down and up a highway. Ok then. Great. Floors fathom first flinging fleeces. And the traditionalism is always at the number two position on a compass compressed clock canister. And one hour forty-five minutes in a pressure cooker is quite often akin to racing up a right angled hill. A salted mist is a skiing zone. Where lots of whales and dolphins play and make snowmen. And a snow go e is neither a pickled onion nor a jester playing a harpsichord. Ok then. That is the latest from the p y q. Z
Spring evening Scent of blossoms in the air
Blue ribbon in her hair wreath of lavender fair
Sandy hair grey eyes Bright room Kitchen fire
Long wooden tables Sunflower heads Gloves
Flowers + twigs hung in bunches from ceiling
Drawing paper Quills engaging conversations
Almond milk Barley water forget-me-nots Roses
Delicate angelic sweetness Fond of expression
Pale green walls Green striped satin Tea cake
Carved mantle fireplace Fine gilt framed mirror
Harpsichord brassy candles flickered on walls
Tutoring in drawing poetry + Gothic architecture
Figures carry spears,bows Musical instruments
Lightly washing watercolour outlines green blue
I hear my name being called in the night
Stephan, Stephan, Stephan
I wake in a sweat, knowing I belong here
Dead bodies trample upon me
As I begin to lose my mind
I hear my name being called
Stephan, Stephan
The ravens are here
To devour me whole
The bloody feast of holy knights
This insanity embraces me
Taking me away in clouds
Phantoms have pierced my eyes
The tears are bloody droplets upon my weary bones
As the stake is driven threw my heart
I am the poison hiding in the dark
A mask upon my face hides not my evil fate
Angels in virgin white, playing harpsichord
Looking down upon the beasts of burden
Knowing they too shall prey upon my soul
My mind has escaped this tormented earth
I am broken, and living on borrowed time
Love was the illusion of my youth
As the voices said overhead
Stephan Stephan Stephan
You can run from your mind
It will always capture your fear
Welcome to my nightmare
Forbidden dreams
Notes: Based on some songs written by a classically trained musician
reconised as one of the greatest harpsichordist
his sonates for flute and harpsichord remain
an attractive part of chamber music repertoire
with six string symphonies he had written for
baron von swieten and arbiter elegentium in vienna
music by cpe bach is often listed with a reference number
from the catalogue of his works by wotquenne {wq}
Bach, Carl Philipp Emanuel
1714-1788
Can find his works at
Classics online .com
Entry For Brian Strand's FanFare Contest