Best Midi Poems


Premium Member Pride of Place - My Mother's Piano

Pride of Place - My Mother's Piano

My mother’s hands on ivory keys wove enchanted runes
Then flew across the keyboard in musical monsoons
Notes of black and white in song serenades communed
She coaxed the claviature to plaintive and musical cartoons.

Eighty-eight keys remember days of Claire de Lune,
Sonatas lyrical shimmers recall enchantments of the moon,
Bewitching notes that bloomed in l’apres midi afternoons
Reminisce now that her treasured piano graces my front room.

2-7-22
Contest: Pride of Place
Sponsor: Julie Ward
Categories: midi, appreciation, mother, music,
Form: Monorhyme

No More

no more ringing
in my ears always
being Quasimodo
screaming about
the bells

i set my house
phone ring tone
to play a MIDI
Wagner Ride
of the Valkyries

and my cellphone
wake up alarm tone
is Bach's cello
bourree which
peacefully draws

me from my sleep
but the machines
at work later take
over so yelling
becomes

the norm for 
speaking so
now i adorn
headphones
after work

to muffle
the rapid
discharge
of shots
at the shooting

range
Categories: midi, muse,
Form:

Premium Member Persian Trilogy

Kei behem nameh midi


Poem 1)     Kheili khosh geli
Poem 2)     Ou cheshaye ghashangi dareh
Poem 3)     jeegareto bokhoram

Even the Titles are in Persian, the actual poems are in English.
Categories: midi, appreciation, emotions, imagery, wine,
Form: Free verse

Book: Radiant Verses: A Journey Through Inspiring Poetry


The Master's Piece

The ungentle wind
breezes in through the window,
cooling an afternoon lust
that was widely soaked
in a summer haze, blending
with the sweet aroma of
a great Africa,
whose erotic craving was
painted in her big, round eyes;
only unearthed by
the master’s naked body
through her hot, darken coffee


--

The Master’s Piece, inspired by B.S. Picture Poems Contest 
and it was based on Paul Cézanne’s  «L'Après-midi à Naples» . 
 
http://www.nga.gov.au/International/Catalogue/Detail.cfm?
IRN=98698&ViewID=2&GalID=ALL&MnuID=1
Categories: midi, art, history, love
Form: Choka

Zeirgeist

Zeitgeist - My 1960s - Liz Walsh

Kaftans, mini-skirts, Carnaby Street fashions.
Angel Delight, Hirondelle wine and that sheepskin rug.
"The price of round steak on a Saturday" while
Magdalen Laundries kept dark, dark secrets!
Nylon socks, Cuban heeled boots, body odour -
"it's always the girl's fault - she led him on!-
Button-down collars, civil Rights Marches,
Suspender belts old fashioned, false eye-lashes black -
Excitment, tights, "parents afraid of the new".
Stilletto heels crucifying, Rosary beads grumbling -
"Oh Sacred Heart of Jesus I place all my trust in thee"
Hamburgers, Fleetwood Mac, Anoraks - guilty! remember
Archbishop McQuaid! Bishop Lucey bullying Father Good!
"Wimpey Take-away" - meet a fella - womans lib!
Vietnam War, Albert Hall and Wilson Pickett.
"Would you kiss a boy on the first date?
Drip dry nylon, Dickie Rock gyrating
"Plastics are the future” the graduate said.
"Would you take the pill?"
Tayto crisps - "cheese and onion" munching in the dark.
Che Guevara, Mao Tse Tung and that little red book
In an empire line dress.
Church domination, contraception and major cigarettes
"Back-combing" Vesta Curries and a packet of smash
Maxi, mini, midi-dresses - pan-stick
Mary Quant, Twiggy and the Film Society party.
Flirting innocently, terrified hope - guilt ridden thoughts.
Surges of males, females standing
Eyes scanning, high pitched laughing
"Would you like to dance?"
Free love, flower power, heart thumping
Expensive shoes, a relic of St. Imelda and a chain-store dress -
"She will only get married” Miss Brigid Hayes said!
Afraid of the future, afraid of corruption
Brain exploding - ALL MIXED UP -
© Liz Walsh  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: midi, nostalgiaheart, heart,
Form:

Premium Member A Sunday Afternoon Footle

Sunday
fun day

elders
brothers

from church
they search

warm place
wide space

for folks
need jokes

chill out
burnt-out

tired knees
'neath trees


19 April 2022

A Brian Strand Premiere Choice Poetry Contest 
2nd place


Notes: A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte (French: Un dimanche après-midi à l'Île de la Grande Jatte) was painted from 1884 to 1886 and is Georges Seurat's most famous work. A leading example of pointillist technique, executed on a large canvas, it is a founding work of the neo-impressionist movement. Seurat's composition includes a number of Parisians at a park on the banks of the River Seine. It is in the collection of the Art Institute of Chicago.(Credits: Wikimedia and Wikipedia).
© JCB Brul  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: midi, appreciation, art,
Form: Footle


Rise Up Black and White Children

Rise up  child, 
Rise high.
It is time to ignore the existence of racism  discrimination , antagonism,  tribalism and  xenophobia on earth. 
As It is hard for you to change some people who hate the truth. 
Stop playing victim to favour others, 
Correct your small mistakes and challenge them face to face with truth. 
There are no big liars who can stand when their lies are exposed by the truth. 
Focus on your heavenly duties and ignore  the intimidation of demonic spirits which are surrounding you. 
Uplift the neutral golden flag higher, 
Play neutral between the nations  of ancient conficts which turned to racial silent wars on earth. 

It is time to expose lies, 
Time to wipe out tears of millions of people who continue living in fear , 
                                      With pains, 
                                     traumatised. 
The sun is shining bright from  high place
Look at the  sun morning, midi and the  evening 
You will understand your mission on earth.  
It is a hard  task reason why  you continue witnessing many  challengers here and there. 
Just go, 
Keep going, 
Going on the  earth 
It is  hard to get  credit  from some people who made you their enemies because of  their secret agenders. 
Your being so good and  kind will always sound bad to them,  as their final decision  is to always  see you under their feet. 
Fire and Water are not friends but both two can kill their innocent  people whenever they want to prove their powers. 
When you visit the territory  of carnivores,  do not knock for six when you find the skeletons of their love ones. 
When you go to any  graveyard,  do not flabbergast to find the graves of some people who were killed by some friends, relatives , neighbours and colleagues innocently. 
Majority of the  world politicians and business people dont have  mercy whenever they feel  money or  powers disturb   " interesting  deals interrupt ." 
It is so sad to tell you that but it is the naked truth about some systems of this  cruel World. 
Carnivores eat herbivores and other carnivores . 
It is none of your business,  
Don't interfere their businesses, 
Continue to speak the truth to help them change in the future.
I thank you. 

March 17/2023
By Alfonso Warally Ngengethe Mussabwa Chris
Categories: midi, 12th grade, death of
Form: Prose

Arranging On My Canvas, Colors Inhabited

-
The window opens on our secret travels

Mist of saline uproar raids on the space

What keeps us awake and makes us sagacious

Under this afternoon luxuriously blended,

 

The addition and ebb, mineral materials

To leave the sea , invade us of yesterday:

The small square of ocher resists , without thoughts

But in colors, only expended

 

Without words, without wetness intruse of summer lands

Evasive shade of olive trees, in this unique moment,

Witnesses of thousand years, of Italy close to Sicily

A look,put in mythological world, and islands …

 

Still yet, under the wind jerks

Witness of our way,  and our instant

Without risking me to invite eternity

Arranging on my canvas, colors inhabited ….

 -


own translation from  french--- (see original below )

-



La fenêtre s’ouvre sur nos voyages secrets

Buées du vacarme salin des rafles sur l’espace

Ce qui nous tient éveillés, et rend sagaces

Sous cet après-midi luxueusement malaxés,

 

L’ajout et le reflux, matières minières

À laisser la mer nous envahir d’hier :

Le petit carré d’ocre résiste sans pensées

Mais en couleurs seulement dépensées

 

Sans paroles, et sans la moiteur intruse des terres d’été

En cet instant unique, à l’ombre évasive des oliviers,

Témoins millénaires de l’Italie proche de Sicile,

Du monde en regard mythologique, et en îles…

 

Immobile encore, sous les saccades du vent

Témoin de notre passage et notre instant

Sans pour autant me risquer à convier l’éternité

Disposant sur ma toile, des couleurs habitées…
--

RC  2012

(avaible  on http://ecritscrisdotcom.wordpress.com/2012/03/13/disposant-sur-ma-toile-des-couleurs-habitees-rc-2/    with a painting  I've  done )

-
Categories: midi, art, mythology, sea, summer,
Form: Quatrain

Premium Member The Sibyl - Zeus

Midi bright October night,
In the sky-eyed clouds,
Gold and silver    then    my Lord
Did radiate thy wondrous light.
At each few steps I paused,
Turned my face upward
To bathe in your suspended strength -
Bearded Zeus,
Thy razor-sharp nose, 
Square-cut head,
Ulotrichous beard,
Blazing away    so near above -
Old Zeus
Cloud gatherer.
Categories: midi, fantasy, history, imagination
Form: Free verse

Daguerre's Lunch

Louis came to the café around one,
set his wooden boxes beside a table 
and looked at the chalk board menu as 
he felt through his pants for money

He decided he could afford a 
baguette, a small slice of 
Brie de Meaux, and a pear 

He told the waiter his order
and began to expose the copper plate
of the menu sitting on the next table

The waiter returned with lunch and 
said "quatre francs s'il vous plaît" as
Louis dug his pants and handed payment

Then Louis began to eat while
time took in, the cost of capturing 
the world in a whole new way

Popping the last of the Brie to mouth
he closed the aperture, put on his bowler
and said "bon monsieur l'après-midi" 
and walked down the afternoon avenue

© Goode Guy 2013-11-18

ekphrastic for 2013-11-24 at 
the Charles Taylor Art Museum of 
"Pinhole Paris II: Café"
pinhole photograph by Cece Wheeler

Louis Daguerre, born just outside of Paris, France (1789-11-18)
© Goode Guy  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: midi, art, history, people,
Form: Ekphrasis

A NOTE FROM MALCOLM

A NOTE FROM MALCOLM

My advice is free, and time’s not billable
Try speaking French and I will soon know
Don’t claim a local or a provincial accent
It really does not sound as if heaven-sent
Nor a comment heard such as il fait beau
As the accent is always on the last syllable

As a teacher, these things do really matter
One must develop that Gallic look as well
Sometimes that simple shrug just says it all
From Southern Pyrenees up North to Gaul
Whether from Paris or le Midi, one can tell
In some regions, the vowels do sound fatter

So, let us practice the deep grunting sounds
And don’t forget all those hand gestures too
But accents can apply to letters when written
Cedillas, acute or grave never seen in Britain
Where just the plain and simple words will do
Whilst pretty perfume accents do the rounds
Categories: midi, language, rude,
Form: Rhyme

writing poetry is my mistake

Sometimes writing poetry is my mistake,
Better to embark on a large cargo ship,
Which will take you to Tahiti or Honolulu,
Better give candy to a blue-eyed schoolgirl,

Sometimes writing poetry is my mistake,
Better to cook a chicken with lime,
Better to read the confessions of Saint Augustine
Or spend the afternoon at the movies with people,

Sometimes writing poetry is a strange mistake,
Especially never think that we have talent, genius,
Better to visit Lisbon or Patagonia,
Listen to fado with the Big Dipper.





Parfois, écrire de la poésie est une erreur,
Mieux vaut embarquer sur un grand cargo,
Qui vous conduira jusqu’à Tahiti ou Honolulu,
Mieux vaut offrir des bonbons à une écolière aux yeux bleus,

Parfois écrire de la poésie est une erreur,
Mieux vaut cuisiner un poulet au citron vert,
Mieux vaut lire les confessions de Saint Augustin
Ou passer son après-midi au cinéma avec des gens,

Parfois écrire de la poésie est une erreur bizarre,,
Surtout ne jamais penser que l’on a du talent, du génie,
Mieux vaut visiter Lisbonne ou la Patagonie,
Écouter du fado en compagnie de la Grande Ourse.
Categories: midi, appreciation, missing, poetry,
Form: Free verse

Premium Member Nobody Gonna Stop Me From Praising His Name

One
Two
Three
Four, who are ya going fer
Two
Four
Six
Eight who ya gonna inshe-ate
Nobody the public schools, the government
Just one day U all haf-ta rep-present
Not politics just hi-Ocrets
ReachN out gleanin warfare chexs
Nobody, nobody, nobody, nobody
Nobody, nobody, nobody, nobody
GONNA STOP ME FROM
Nobody, nobody, nobody, nobody
Nobody, nobody, nobody, nobody
GONNA STOP ME FROM GITTING MY PRAISE ONZ
No devil in hell
No evil or good men
gonna stop me from gitting my praise onz
No one on earth
Can stop my worth
No scantly clothed model in a midi skirt
the antichrist will rise
You have to take the mark or die
I'll fast and pray
I'll be here on judgement day
to the glory to God and I
Nobody, nobody, nobody, nobody
Nobody, nobody, nobody, nobody
GONNA STOP ME FROM
Nobody, nobody, nobody, nobody
Nobody, nobody, nobody, nobody
GONNA STOP ME FROM GITTING MY PRAISE ONZ
No devil in hell
No evil or good men
gonna stop me from gitting my praise onz
No villages, no sins
I won't pass out they won't win
You have to take the mark or die
I'll fast and pray
I'll be here on judgement day
Nobody gonna stop me from praising His name
Nobody gonna stop me from praising His name
No boss on the job
No camper cutting logs
Not my government
No one can stop me yet
Nobody gonna stop me from praising His name
Nobody gonna stop me from praising His name
Nobody gonna stop me from praising His name
Nobody gonna stop me from praising His name
to the glory to God and I
Nobody, nobody, nobody, nobody
Nobody, nobody, nobody, nobody
GONNA STOP ME FROM
Nobody, nobody, nobody, nobody
Nobody, nobody, nobody, nobody
GONNA STOP ME FROM GITTING MY PRAISE ONZ
Nobody gonna stop me from praising His name

Written by
The Corinthian & James Edward Lee Sr.
Music by
Lafonzo Thomas & James Edward Lee Sr.
Categories: midi, appreciation, assonance, blessing, celebration,
Form: Lyric

in the head of Claude Debussy

I would have liked to be in the head of Claude Debussy,
write the “afternoon prelude of a faunal”,
Or "the toy box", or "Bergamasque suite", "La mer",
be a musician, a seer, and invent new music,
I would have liked to know all the images of the gardens,

I would have liked to write for clarinet, triangle
Or the piano in its case,
I would have liked to be in the head of Claude Debussy,
write a “Scottish walk”, a “moonlight”,
Playing the piano, in a garden filled with purple lilacs,

No doubt that leaving a footprint is giving
the best in the world
I would have left for my daughter a «tribute to Haydn»
And the «children’s corner», something to dream about at night,
I would have liked to be in the head of Claude Debussy.

(Two ducks on the sea, bring me back to reality,
They don’t need me, or Claude Debussy.
I would never be in the head of genius. )

J’aurais aimé être dans la tête de Claude Debussy,
écrire le « prélude à l’après midi d’un faune »,
Ou « la boite à joujoux », ou « suite bergamasque », « La mer »,
être musicien, voyant, et inventer une musique nouvelle,
J’aurais aimé connaître toutes les images des jardins,

J’aurais aimé écrire pour la clarinette, le triangle
Ou le piano dans son écrin,
J’aurais aimé être dans la tête de Claude Debussy,
écrire une « marche écossaise », un « clair de lune »,
Jouer du piano, dans un jardin rempli de lilas mauves,

Sans doute que laisser une empreinte, c’est donner
le meilleur au monde,
J’aurais laissé pour ma fille un « hommage à Haydn »
Et le « children’s corner », de quoi rêver la nuit,
J’aurais aimé être dans la tête de Claude Debussy

(Deux canards sur la mer, me ramènent à la réalité,
Ils n’ont pas besoin de moi, ni de Claude Debussy.
Jamais je ne serais dans la tête du génie.)
Categories: midi, art, inspirational, music,
Form: Free verse

Premium Member Cliff

Cliff
On sea cliffs walks a breath of grace
Windswept wonder splashed on her face
Sun shadows dance around her feet,
Delight in this sandy retreat,
Green parasol, like flower blooms
Floral scents and ocean perfumes,
Flowing spice of the salty air,
Carefree breeze tugs curls in her hair.

Wind song of the sea sings in riffs
From hiding places runs up cliffs
Chases sunlight - l’apres midi –
Sea shanty chorus, whimsy free,
Ruffles chaste lace of petticoats
Playful whiffs ‘round her bonnet float
Bluffs of pink granite precipice
Sports wild poppies, crinolines crisp.

Palisade crags – coast of flowers -
Begs delight from her leisure hours
Spreads her a cape of boutons d’or,
Golden bouquet – beauty implores -
Playful cloud shadows, like sea drift,
Hug windy paths upon the cliff
Grace strolls in afternoon’s repose
Blossom of the Fleurie Coast rose.

1-25-22
Contest: C Form - Couplet
Sponsor: Constance La France

Based on Monet’s painting of Madame Monet at Trouville France.  Trouville is a resort city in Normandy that is part of the Fleurie Coast – Coast of Flowers.
Categories: midi, beauty, flower, sea, summer,
Form: Couplet
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