Best Libretto Poems
Less than twenty-four hours after dashing off a poem
explaining why i wanted to die
found me experiencing physical duress vis a vis,
a bowel movement wherein waste unable to expel
from the anus of this guy
which bout with rectal obstruction
found me doubled over with lower abdominal distress
whereby comfort found me unable to lie
down nor sit upright (with back padded with pillows
against the cellar brick wall),
thus severe bloating a bonus well nigh
and managed to muster the means to bare
frigid arctic vortex aire to purchase
the Acme brand Metamucil, which akin to Drano doth ply
thru the excretory tract supposedly loosening the stools,
which optimism (product didst earn claim to fame) generated a sigh
if that expressed intent to cease LivingSocial would try
humph enjoining this lvii year old married male
to cede victory to the grim reaper, who would vie
as winner de jure to this common fellow invoking libretto
ohm resistant understudy waste not want not
allowing, enabling and providing relief,
without successful defecation
despite the oppressive urge to bolster this Uriah
heap of balled up and tuckered out five foot and ten inches of lovely bones
thence mouthing retraction of former thought to cease existing
though a non-bull lever in any power broker qua mankind
relief at long last provided posterior answered prayer
yet, this scrivener scrutinizes his recurring pain in the ass jagged torture
and asks a rhetorical one word question "WHY"?
Categories:
libretto, angst, anxiety, blessing, conflict,
Form:
It is our bard's day
The eighth of May
Nay, actually
The world’s day for the second bard
For the subtle web of light and shade
Blades of grass for our mind’s eyes
The boundless sky of our psyche
Sort of haikus from the sparks
Of pains and pleasure
Of the everyday life
In amity and strife
That Rabindranath Tagore served
In a tremendous verve
Through his lyrics and libretto
Are intense and touching to any sensitive mind
The coloured bubbles made everlasting
The supple music enchanting
And all dappled in cultured sentiments
Of sorrows and merriment
Of rain and sun
Of tales done and undone
Of days begun and gone
Every nuance finding aesthetic expression
In rhythmic dance of words and phrases
From the blue water
To our dear ledges
To be enjoyed by all perceptive intellect
And in effect
Regardless of nation and culture
Loving freedom from bondage of habits and beliefs
Relief from boredom into what is handsome
With its sun-lit door
Always open towards the river
And from there
Leading you back to the shore
___________________________
May 8, 2016, Kolkata
Categories:
libretto, beauty, dance, life, poems,
Form:
Free verse
Poetry is the song unwritten;
the libretto, yet to hear its applause
blossoms before their budding,
petals wondering to unfold
breezes anticipating, – wafts at
their fragrant ready, to lift and
charmingly hold
It is the thought, before the thinking
words before their form – a pulse
of lyrical projection, sweet exhale
moving us fondly along;
man's soul inspired dearly, for God's hand
the contour of each endearing phrase –
it is God's inflection highlighted
by the Poet's illustrious glaze....
Categories:
libretto, poems, poetess, poetry, poets,
Form:
Free verse
The monsoonal matriarch cradles her pregnant belly
Delirious with life giving blood from the womb of all nature’s gifts
As she lays distended, expectant and grey
Upon the craggy summits
Her breath billows above the bloated forests
Nurturing ominous notes as she sweeps through the trees
Like the phantom of the opera
Tuning her timbre, yet masking her desire
And now
Her contralto; it begins…
Her song breathes across the valley in rhythmical sheets
A symphonic auditorium of liquid splendour
Inciting a libretto of Lyre birds to concert in the mist
A monsoonal medley
Enticing insects to assemble in an ensemble
Their raucous chorus imploring the humid madness
Through a cacophonous chorale
Teasing the tempo from the maestro
As the crescendo climaxes to thunderous applause
Her encore; a sweeping army of waterfalls
Advance upon the sodden valley
Roaring to deafness over
Exploding banks and streams that gouge and tear
And then
It all stops
To a breath of drops…
Leonora Galinta’s contest: Rainy Days
12 September 2014
Categories:
libretto, rain, rainforest, storm,
Form:
Free verse
LEADING VIOLIN
The maiden's euphoric fugue
The arrogant stretched notes of the violin plague
Lightening and softening rough edges mark
Blues and browns duet with the sways
of thick auburn hair and round voluptuous behind. . .
What message she wants to rain?
What joy she wants to fire?
Or is it wrath she wants to spill?
Her libretto casts a paint of dullness around
yet, it resurrects her curves to swing...
Bareback moans a prudent chaste appeal
Vibrato runs along the brush of Sotskova
________________________________________
Inspired by: "LEADING VIOLIN" painting of Lena Sotskova
8:07pm, January 16,2015
Categories:
libretto, art, beautiful, image, music,
Form:
Ekphrasis
The monsoonal matriarch cradles her pregnant belly
Delirious with life giving blood from the womb of all nature’s gifts
As she lays distended, expectant and grey
Upon the craggy summits
Her breath billows above the bloated forests
Nurturing ominous notes as she sweeps through the trees
Like the phantom of the opera
Tuning her timbre, yet masking her desire
And now
Her contralto; it begins…
Her song breathes across the valley in rhythmical sheets
A symphonic auditorium of liquid splendour
Inciting a libretto of Lyre birds to concert in the mist
A monsoonal medley
Enticing insects to assemble in an ensemble
Their raucous chorus imploring the humid madness
Through a cacophonous chorale
Teasing the tempo from the maestro
As the crescendo climaxes to thunderous applause
Her encore; a sweeping army of waterfalls
Advance upon the sodden valley
Roaring to deafness over
Exploding banks and streams that gouge and tear
And then
It all stops
To a breath of drops…
Leonora Galinta’s contest: Rainy Days
12 September 2014
Categories:
libretto, rain, rainforest,
Form:
Free verse
TALKING TO AN ELEPHANT IN A TREE
by
JOHN M. ARRIBAS
I was stunned this morning saw an elephant in a tree
Motioning, trumpeting, hey, please come talk with me
Tell me please, how in the world did you get up there ?
You sentenced me to this place since you don’t care
About the poor, disabled, aged and the mentally ill
As long as your coffers are to the brim filled
What are you doing sitting in a tree all alone ?
Observing the madness that mans greed has sown
So tell me, how long have you sat there all alone ?
Been in this tree, lets see, since man started to own
He started out, simply gathering a few pretty stones
Then others joined causing clashes and undertones
Accumulations of objects brought about some envy
Then suddenly another accumulator became an enemy
The possession of objects then became an addiction
To own n amass fortunes was the common ambition
You haven’t progressed much since those early days
Accumulating, not letting anything, escape your gaze
Initially you were crude, a quick strike to the head
Now more sophisticated: you lend money instead
The strong rule the weak, the smart run the show
It’s the same tunes and libretto where ever you go
Crescendoes will be reached then the bubble pops
Chaos will ensue, when the music stops
I see more and more elephants sitting in trees
Dominating the landscapes causing sages ill ease
Elephants becoming impatient, angry, sitting in trees
Malcontention has no remedy, with which to appease
I noticed each time I visit; the elephant gets bigger
His continued bloating will eventually trigger
A destructive insurrection against the status quo
Possessions, worthless, when there’s no place to go
Categories:
libretto, angst, corruption, history, humanity,
Form:
Rhyme
Here I rest upon the smooth rivers bank
Resting under the protection of white birch
Tasting the scent of spring on old Cape Ann
As if being reborn in the late April sunshine
Here thoughts and memoirs drift on the current
Washing away on coppery green wave crests
Watched by Snapdragon eyes gently drifting
Wafting in the sweetness of a juniper breeze
A brushed sedate glow of dusk mirroring light
Painting the currents of the Annisquam River
Lying in the peaceful and intrepid stillness
I wonder if I’ve found a moment of perfection
Softly baptized by the tepid evening drizzle
I see the silvery notes fall to break the surface
Playing the sweet libretto of rain and river
A rising crescendo of new life awakening
Here I find peace upon the placid rivers bank
Lost in memory amidst honeysuckle moments
It’s here that my spirit remains eternally young
Ever blossoming in the late April moonlight
Categories:
libretto, inspirational, life, nature, passion,
Form:
Free verse
It was her poise and grace
that set her apart;
a gentle rhythmic walk.
Soft velvet tones of
gracefulness as she talked.
Her voice danced as she spoke.
Her eyes glistened in animated
interest as she listened,
focused, undeviating from
the intense conversation
she was involved in.
Expressive, long-fingered hands.
Gesticulating with the ebb
and flow of torrid words.
Stopping only to smooth a
straying hair back to perfection.
Interjection of soft salsa
verbal rocking, picking up
the tempo to tangoed crescendo,
waltzing in three time,
quick stepping to conversational conclusion.
As she stood to leave,
long legs unravelled, rising
to pose in balletic stance,
her bar a chair back, a smile,
a graceful backward glance....
Drifting on a cloud of chiffon
she floats away. Willowy limbs
carrying her noiselessly,
stunning her audience as heads
all crane to admire her as she leaves.
Always a dancer. Her life her stage.
Carefully choreographed.
Her earthly progress mapped
in song and dance on every page
of score and libretto....
Disciplined.
Majestic movement from head
to tiny tapped toe.
Always a dancer.
Applaud her as she goes.
Categories:
libretto, art,
Form:
Free verse
They move in secret, cautiously,
these people of only one way.
Trusting in the blinding dark suspiciously
defiling the hopes and dreams of yesterday.
Detours they avoid abruptly
retracing every step, too fearful of today.
People of darkness live secret and alone,
what are they afraid of?
Trembling at discovery and being found and known
they chose a path different than our own.
Whispering from displaced forgotten ghettos
hiding truth in an unrecognized libretto.
Their fears are all they have.
They breathe quietly, as lost and angry old and young,
devourers of life while on the run.
Speaking cryptic radical determined thoughts
as in their minds, the world's battles are fought.
Agony,distorted faith, they claimed they’ve turned it on
and when least expected, they are in hiding ,gone.
They are the lost and found in every town.
They plan and scheme in their restrictive silence
not saying aloud but veil what they really mean
Resting only of necessity to remain alone and hidden
as they cry and shout hypocrisy but spread inhumanity,
A condemnation for all eternity
drifting on the seas of ideological emptiness and deeper lies.
Categories:
libretto, dark, people,
Form:
Elegy
A Trip to the Opera
By Elton Camp
According to what I very often hear related,
Opera you should attend to be sophisticated
Just the same, it’s nothing I’ve known about
But I finally decided I would give it a tryout
How much different from a movie could it be
So I picked out one at random that I’d go to see
The very first thing that caused me some dismay
Was how much for the ticket I was forced to pay
I decided to go early so it’d be easy to find my seat
And what a bunch of snobs there were to meet
I figured tank top and shorts would be a disgrace
But you should see how they dressed at that place
Man with tux and woman dressed in a long grown
In my suit, uneasily it was that I looked around
Except for being old folks, I’d think they come from
Dancing at the very most fancy high school prom
I went in and found my seat to keep out of the way
As others came in, I listened to what they had to say
They spoke of libretto, aria, cadenza, and verismo
I hadn’t any idea what those words meant, though
But finally the curtain went up and the opera underway
Then I found I couldn’t understand a word they say
It seemed like some foreign language they were using
Ones who speak English they should’ve been choosing
Other folks there seemed to thing that it was just fine
But I wondered why they had to sing every single line
Not that I had anything against hearing a good song
But hours and hours of it was, for me, much too long
The story they were telling seemed awful complicated
That I had spent my money to come I certainly hated
And I wished that I’d eaten supper before I went there
But none of the others about any food seemed to care
I began to wonder when there would be an intermission
I need to go to the restroom, but did I need permission?
Finally I decided that about going I no longer could stall
Then found the restroom line extended plum to the wall
When the opera was finally over I’ll admit that I was glad
Because I never had expected it to be anything like that bad
I guess it’s because I’m a country hick brought up in the hills
But I sure found that going to the opera didn’t give me thrills
Categories:
libretto, funnyme, high school,
Form:
Rhyme
OPENING scene, A brush of a chill signalled the start of this overture
each plant howling for attention through the hue of its leaves
warming, inviting, seducing us with this libretto
The change was AN infection OF the air
as the heat was slowly enveloped by Mother Earth
only to leave the deep, gradual smell of mossy-manure
and the predictable
The applause of this Opera was fading in snow
as the chirp of these birds became chitter and peep
An Aria of the night that faded with the rising of the dawn,
much to signal these skating changes
Ode to our protagonist, Jack Frost!
Who has conquered the beast yet coward under the settling freeze
To slay but now to sorrow was the tenor of this scene
FINALE, these Days crept-on in silent undertones,
the rivers preparing to hibernate
From the subtle flirting snowflakes,
to the clear and chill of crystals
So too, the blizzard awaits
in eager JAWS, agape.
2016/08/26
Categories:
libretto, autumn, metaphor, seasons, winter,
Form:
Personification
Lord bless the nihility
of spirit and entity
'cause my mind is pallid
like a deaf actor
in a silent film
but I'm not craven
just frowned and mortal
antique in the name
of a poetic justice
hesitating no more
sleepwalking in time
one of the nervous eaters
I'm the oxygen moron
joining the armies
of heavenly damned
to luminize the libretto
at vanishing point
wounded and mesmeric
never mind the bollocks
whatever they say
I'll always complain
Categories:
libretto, dream, imagery, surreal,
Form:
Free verse
The secret's out,
denial's done,
the play's begun
and everyone
who's bought
a ticket,
now must know
the sordid truth
A shameful story
for all to see,
what once was sacred
to you and me,
an intermission
and two acts there'll be,
libretto begins upon page three
In your program you will note
the names of us, the ones who wrote
this tragic tale,
they're now on sale
for two dollars til
the curtain's set to rise
Pull them wide now
for act one,
allow the patrons
to enjoy the run,
the playwright's dream's
upon this stage where
life's not fair
and all's not as it seems
Now at last,
the curtain parts
to show two sadly broken hearts,
an overture of sadness starts
conducted from the tear stained charts
The stage is bathed in softest light
a tragic yet,
engaging sight
the players enter from stage right,
the play begins at last,
tonight
What once was treasured
now'll be measured,
we open the curtains
and welcome you in,
now through two lives
you're free to trudge
to poke and prod and jeer and judge
for once the exposition's begun
the secret's out , so let the fun
begin
The action will begin to rise
a tragedy, it's no surprise
that pain comes even to the wise
the climax of the story's nigh
the audience let's out a sigh
as our two doomed lovers, love,
then dies
Our story's coming to a close,
denouement's near and clear to those
who've understood the complex plot's
that sometime's pain is all we've got
and the losing then,
is what must be sought
The lights go down,
the curtain falls,
no bows, no cheers,
no curtain calls
for now we say
good night to one and all
Remember this,
on closing night
as the cast and crew
fade from your sight,
this work was never done for you
their story of love and broken hearts
belongs in truth, to an audience of two
Categories:
libretto, break up, dark,
Form:
Free verse
less than twenty four hours after dashing off a poem
explaining why i wanted to die
found me experiencing physical duress vis a vis,
a bowel movement wherein waste unable to expel
from the anus of this guy
which bout with rectal obstruction
found me doubled over
with lower abdominal distress
whereby comfort found me unable to lie
down nor sit upright (with back padded with pillows
against the cellar brick wall),
thus severe bloating a bonus well nigh
and managed to muster the means to bare
frigid arctic vortex aire to purchase
the Acme brand Metamucil,
which akin to drano doth ply
thru the excretory tract
supposedly loosening the stools,
which optimism (product
didst earn claim to fame) generated a sigh
if that expressed intent
to cease livingsocial would try
humph enjoining
this lvii year old married male
to cede victory
to the grim reaper, who would vie
as winner de jure
to this common fellow invoking libretto
ohm resistant understudy waste not want not
allowing, enabling and providing relief,
without successful defecation
despite the oppressive urge to bolster this uriah
heap of balled up and tuckered i.e. pooped out
five foot and ten inches of lovely bones
thence mouthing retraction
of former thought to cease existing,
though a non-bull lever
in any power broker qua mankind
relief at long last
provided posterior answered prayer
yet, this scrivener scrutinizes
his recurring pain in the ass jagged torture
and asks
a rhetorical one word question "WHY"?
Categories:
libretto, 10th grade, 11th grade,
Form:
Concrete