Best Legato Poems
Your face
is a love song
of exquisite and matchless appeal
Your eyes
a duet of violin and cello
sonorous, deep
Your hair
an orchestra of euphonious instruments
playing in cohesive harmony
Your smile
a fantasia
of unearthly delight
Your teeth
a legato line of 32nd notes
in a concerto played to perfection
Your hands
a conductor’s baton
emoting wordlessly
Your voice
a rhapsody
of supernal joy
Your heart
a sumptuous lyric
a poetic paragon
Your soul
a sacred oratorio
set apart and holy
You are a sinuous melody
I can’t get out of my head
…nor will I ever wish to
Written 1 Mar 2020
Categories:
legato, love, music,
Form:
Free verse
If languages were instruments,
English, the language of my own America,
Would be something like a piano.
Each word is clear and sharp-
When we sing, the note does not waver.
But I suppose it's more fair to say that
English is something like an electronic keyboard
With two hundred different modes because English
Has so many different versions,
Adaptations of other instruments,
Emulations, or imitations, however you want
To think of it; there is no accent that cannot
Be reconfigured to be
Played on keys in distinct shades
Of black or white.
Arabic though...
Arabic is more like a violin.
The sound of Arabic
Flies up and down the scale
In deliciously smooth legato,
Stopping to linger on vibrato;
Poignant
Categories:
legato, arabic, international, language, music,
Form:
Free verse
On Tour
To dive into the world of the great barrier reef would be enough
assimilating into the tranquil environment somewhere in the Capricorn
looking below while leaping merrily from a bluff
Like a babe in earth's womb, I am reborn.
Like a dart thrown on a map, may it land in the Atlas Mountains of Morocco
Among the snow-capped peaks, I'd breathe the air of eagles, frozen in awe
Wind whistling with legato, birds beneath quietly chirping their song in pizzicato
I would like nothing more than to remain here in this place, a place to withdraw.
Before I bounced from this terrestrial ball I'd have to party in Spain
One last hurrah flying first class to Ibiza
One last adrenaline rush, amped with red bull, taunting bulls with eyes bloodstained
One last expression from this American, perhaps a spending spree with a visa.
When the night has come and I should travel no more
Take me back home and bury me in earth's floor
16th March 2017 -Where I Want to Go contest entry
Categories:
legato, adventure, nature, travel, vacation,
Form:
Sonnet
Dissonance is delegating the intensity in my eyes
Minor chords unveil the passion my body can’t belie
Eighth notes are lightning sparks that burn my finger tips
And when you play Fminor7 I tend to bite my lips.
I want you to scale my thighs
the way you play A minor harmonic
Deftly wrenching haunting moans
Experiences anything but platonic
Allegro Legato Crescendo Vibrato
Sing to me in Italian and tell me to hold my tongue
But if anyone interrupts the music …
a piano's lid comes crashing down--the last note never sung.
Categories:
legato, love, musicme,
Form:
Rhyme
SONATA FOR CHRISTMAS EVE RAIN
I. I sit in my friend’s armchair,
waiting for her to get ready for church.
Pianissimo, the raindrops fall in quick, staccato rhythm
on the windows, the roof, and the pool.
I imagine the circles they make on the water.
expanding in echoes only angels can hear.
II. We drive through the valley’s empty green pastures,
to the old country church in Academy.
The raindrops run down the windshield
like notes connecting in smooth legato phrases
made by a piano’s pedal.
III. A fire crackles in the church’s ancient woodstove,
joining the outside rain in an animated duet.
Lead by the antique pump organ,
we stand to sing, becoming part
of their Christmas carol.
Published in Song of the San Joaquin, Winter 2018
Categories:
legato, christmas, music, nature,
Form:
Free verse
summer symphony serenade song
cricket concertos
cicadas in choruses~
summer serenades
bullfrogs beat bass lines
barn owls hoot bluesy ballads ~
bars of broken chords
lightning bugs light up
legato lines of lyrics ~
lento lullabies
fireflies flit fuoco
in festivals of folksongs ~
firelight fantasies
katydids croon classics
contemporary chirping
summer symphonies
Categories:
legato, song, summer,
Form:
Haiku
The words in my head are beautiful.
They are dancing cheek to cheek
with Southern legato or London staccato
with Chinese tunes and Xhosa clicks,
with native Dutch, straight from the heart.
The words in my head are reluctant
to stand in line. They like
to dance and play. They like
to echo inside the skull, infinite
Ping-Pong straight from the heart.
The words in my head come alive,
naked at the stroke of a key.
Ribbons of red and green show
who’s been good and who’s been bad.
Dots on the screen, straight from the heart.
The words in my head are ready
to face the world. I comb their hair
and clean their nose and wave goodbye
until they disappear around the bend.
One day they will be back, straight to the heart
Categories:
legato, allegory, art, inspirational, introspection,
Form:
Personification
Music, music, it’s in the air,
Here is a list of what I hear:
A B C D E F G
(1 e & a) (1 2 3)
Rhythm, beat, timing, and tempo,
Fermata, rest, and accelerando,
Forte, piano, half, and whole,
Quarter, dotted, and staccato,
Sharp, flat, and natural, too,
4/4, 3/4, 6/8, and 2/2,
Measure, scale, and arpeggio,
Chord, seventh, and legato,
Major, minor, and decrescendo,
Crescendo, seventh, and ritardando,
Staff, spaces, lines, and strings,
Sixteenth, in-tune, and fingering,
Woodwind, brass, position, and trill,
Treble, bass, mellow, and shrill,
Percussion, composer, style, and key,
Quickly, lively, somber, and freely,
Triplet, tone, tied, and up-beat,
Pick-up, slur, eight, and down-beat.
You may hear music here and there,
But I hear music everywhere.
Categories:
legato, appreciation, art, music, song,
Form:
Couplet
Long time in the agricultural field , working under the rising sun ,
counting the amount of time , to lead a lax time with my wife and son ,
the time never came , but I passed a dozen of month ,
where my master stopped me , leering at me like a beast of hunt .
I heard the legato of my wife - flowing with the midnight winds ,
working continuously with no rest , logging all the work of my master - who is malign ,
he - such a maniac , who stopped me from having sufficient food ,
coming from the dark lands of Mombasa , never came to know their kind of manhood .
Oh my dearest wife and son , I wish you knew the worst state of mine ,
I cried and prayed to my almighty Lord , - "When would I get rid of this worst - twinge ! ,"
I cried and cried till it became dawn , where the soil cried too - for thirst on and on ,
my eyes began remembering of the majestic "Magpie" , crying for nights in the native land of mine .
I kept on thinking for you my love , but my sinew grew weedy and frail ,
never think for your frailty , for I have left you with nothing - but personality ,
the world is a stage which is too callous , no place for us , but only devilry ,
say no to your failure , keep inviting your success - for there is no time for me to exhale .
Now, there is no time for me to seek success , for my body is completely useless ,
I have no pain, no fear, no joy , for I have left the stage fearless ,
I defeated my fiendish owner ,who kept me far from my wife and son ,
that comes the end of my life , the setting period of my sun ... .
Categories:
legato, abuse, culture, day, death,
Form:
Rondeau
Erstwhile his skin was beautiful as an obsidian, with great markings alongside his face, as was the likeness of the Benin people; an imagery so poignant and meaningful.
His shoulders were wide, his back strong and his mind resourceful.
In his quondam years, the mystery of the Niger River had captured his inquisitive soul and inspired his longings to ride the smooth waves in a Pirogue.
A tale far from the likes of any mythical apologue.
The spirit of his graceful and modest mother, who lovingly called him Baako, once hunted his dreams.
On his hard days and nights, his body cried out from pain and his cheeks were forced upon by relentless water streams.
His memory of his proud father of great strength and wisdom once pounded against his brain.
In an everlasting refrain.
Once, with recapturing flashbacks his mind was flooded with the taunting sounds of the water drums and sticcado.
Fast and sweeping rhythmic legato.
And his mind automatically reclaimed images of his village, with its thatched roof huts and rows of lifted cultured soils with beans and yams bedded deep, and grass of deeper green.
And the days long, and the sun harsh and the nights with brilliant white stars that convene.
There, he now lay face down on foreign land with its first winters snow.
With his life source seeping deep and wide into soft crystals giving it a crimson glow.
Tattered clothes revealed his back; etched with brutal markings liking that of an old twisted and leafless tree.
His calloused feet a grayish-blue as the Adriatic sea.
His last breath was a moan for his native land.
The Mother Land.
The harmony of his innate love for his country, his people, and his latent genius and powerful will has been dispersed, wasted and erased.
Categories:
legato, death,
Form:
Prose
Legato. Smooth, slow jazz ballads.
The type where you play each note as late as possible.
The type that holds beautiful memories.
The type that will have you unaware that
Your foot is tapping to the beat of the soft drums,
The connected sound of the melody, and easy tone.
Before you know it, the beautiful sound will bring a tear to your eye,
Making your subconscious softly whisper,
“Encore, Encore”.
This is the type that lets you sit back
On a cold winter’s night, sipping on a rich
Chocolatey cup of hot cocoa, listening to the
Sweet sound of a jazz band playing a ballad
That brings so many wonderful memories back to you.
Legato. Smooth, slow jazz ballads.
The type where you play each New York rooftop as full
And as powerful as possible, but as quiet as a mouse.
Imagine sitting close to a lit fire place.
It’s snowing outside and the house smells of gingerbread cookies.
You’re all snuggled up in your favorite blanket
Reading your favorite book.
As you’re sipping on your hot chocolate, a song comes on.
A special song.
A song that makes you cry as it plays.
It’s called Bye Bye Blackbird.
As it finishes, you stare into your mug and see your reflection.
You see someone full of tears and you realized it’s yourself.
You’ve never felt so sad yet happy
At the same time.
It makes you wonder what life is really about
And whether or not you should continue to live in it.
But you quickly remember that as long as you have jazz,
Everything will be alright, and that’s a fact.
Most people can’t enjoy it. Most people don’t like it.
Most people say it’s outdated, but I guess that’s fine
Because my brother I’m telling you,
This is right here is jazz.
Categories:
legato, cheer up, chocolate, cry,
Form:
Free verse
// 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?
Categories:
legato, appreciation, blessing, music,
Form:
Abecedarian
Birdsong twitters
Sunlight flickers in and out of clouds
Weaving messages with light
You resonate with sound
Chirping virtuoso
Eco vibrato on a pleasing wind
A melody to serenade my ears
As wings glide legato
Wings flap staccato
From bird’s eye view
Your chorus chimes
I beg reprise ...
Categories:
legato, bird, feelings, inspirational, music,
Form:
Free verse
I have been sequestered amongst the desert sands
like the Israelites before they claimed Canaan
Wandering about right beside my homeland
All for some kind of cosmic lesson or training
The unsatisfying, brackish water of this cactus
Has given me just enough energy to walk a little more
Yet I feel this is all prologue; it is merely practice
So I wave to Zacchaeus as I climb the sycamore
From such lofty heights I can see a formidable plateau
On which most men sit back and rest on their laurels
I hear the legato breaking the walls around Jericho
Likewise, I hear the Pharisees speaking about morals
I see a man scribbling something odd in the dirt
And abruptly everyone holding stones drops them and flees
I see freedom from bondage with but a few words
And I see myself rise above by dropping to my knees
Finally, I see all the world aflame and begging for another Flood
I see Two Lampstands standing before God and the earth
Many could have been saved if they had just washed in the Blood
But they new only of value and nothing of worth
Categories:
legato, bible, christian, death, forgiveness,
Form:
Elegy
As I fall asleep the delicate icy fingers legato up and down following the flowing countryside laying the crystal masterpiece a winter’s virtuoso with the shortening days and abundant harvest inside Awaking and shivering again I do wonder will I ever catch the lacy hoar frost in the act seems far away like the dreams of summer for wet days drown out the intricate icy track and the tickling ivory is overtaken by the light snow I’ve never seen a leaf changing or caught Jack playing
Categories:
legato, allegory, allusion, autumn, humor,
Form:
Rhyme