Best Oratorio 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
In The Repetition Of A Kiss
When I leave the house to follow traffic patterns
Tie and suitcase in my hand
Running through the door to find rush hour
I buy and sell gold bullion for a living
On the grand piano, the one my wife and I can’t play
I leave a hurried message
“My dear, I’ll be back soon.” “I love you so.”
“Please have the help clean the piano.”
“The one that you and I can’t play.”
“But if I make it rich, you and I can get some lessons.”
“We’ll play an Oratorio. Opera or an Anthem
Or perhaps a symphony or two one day.”
In between each number we will practice kissing
In the end, if we learn nothing, on this instrument
Our hearts and lips will follow every note in memory
In the repetition of a kiss
I leave you a kiss.
As always, I will miss you
In the repetition of a kiss
Created 9/08/14 by: Earl Schumacker - Theme- “Leave You A Kiss” The Poet II – Poetry Contest
Acoustic Shadows 4-8-26 Craig Cornish
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Acoustic Shadows
As screen doors slam an audible footprint of sound
Echoes in phonics of ice in glasses
And tinkling bells of ice cream trucks.
The solstice ripens
Growing large in the splash of rainbirds
And telltale whirr of hummingbirds at feeders
As humidity buzzes, the breath of summer’s envoys
Sound out a boneless resonance
With chords that tease and tantalize
Alluring in fleeting notes hatching hazy inklings.
Haunting memories of a solstice oratorio renewed,
Veiled in the caress of a mirage,
Reverberate in noisy shimmers of Luna’s fullness.
Ripples of ghostly illusions speak in clues
Like bards of déjà vu
When sounds trickle down furrows of skin and soil
Leaving hints that foreshadow dusky shades
Recalling the hum of warmth in cold bones
And cues that foretell of the season of crickets.
"Oratorio"
Another angel
hums towards
another
otherworldly
Xanadu
bathed in choirs
its mystery calls in
the golden aria
the zephyr light
glistens upwards
breath on a new breeze
to lift feathery wings
to soar past Leo moon
breaking through immortal
in time
destined perfection
the curtain never falls
divesting earth-bound silks
leaving behind in wake
the chrysalis breaks
applause
a fragile moment
triumphant
8 in the month of 8
an indigo blue night
echoes forever the angel's wake
towards a lighter realm
there the brightest
constant Blue Sky waits
majesty calls the singing in,
baptises angels
in higher divine tones
crystal clear
as
reigning diamonds
tears in the
fabric of a veil
were never so beautiful torn
Calliope progresses
singing royal borne
dancing in the ultra violet
taken up as a song lifted,
embraced
by the strongest
arms
of Love
here, one with one
the prelude
singular
now at home
but never alone
among
other celestial muses
the message
given and received
sing, glorious as ever
in Eternity
we
still hear you
shining
magic
Oratorio
(LadyLabyrinth / 2022)
for Olivia Newton-John
b. 26.9.48 – d. 8.8.22
"Magic"/Olivia Newton John
https://youtu.be/91YgAIVSfbs
"Magic"/Olivia Newton John
https://youtu.be/MppQUZeBeDA
"Magic" (Extended), Xanadu / Olivia Newton John
https://youtu.be/HbFniua36Lw
https://www.reuters.com/world/europe/pop-music-grease-star-olivia-newton-john-dead-age-73-2022-08-08/
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Olivia_Newton-John
I loved Christmas. Every year
Bach’s oratorio filled the church,
the boys’ voices soaring skyward. We drank
mulled wine at the market, lighted
candles on the wooden pyramids,
carefully set up mom’s collection of nutcrackers, carved
by hand in small villages in the ore mountains.
We baked Grandma’s cookies,
smelled the incense in the wooden smokermen,
and sang the old carols, mom at the piano,
we all perfectly harmonizing. Gathered
around the big table, extended to fit everybody,
we shared meals and love.
All this is decades
and an ocean away. Now Christmas
means loneliness
in a land that is still
foreign, when the homesickness,
held at bay during the year,
flares
and distance bites
like a bitter wind.
Date: 11/18/2018
Contest: CHRISTMAS MOURNING
Sponsor: PS Awtry
Sails gliding on the shimmering sea,
don't be hasty to engulf silence
as the chapel's choir engages in a spiritual oratorio praising Him;
an octave higher or lower brings
their inspirational hymn to a desired sound of felicity...
those tones that the loud organ makes!
We, as they, are lifted by the sustenance of faith,
too pure and orthodox to extinguish our oneness of spirit;
adhering to rigid standards and beliefs...forbidding sin
to feed on its vain opprobrium and oppress purity!
We, as they, dwell in this oracle to outshine indefinitely,
and outreach every unreachable and unconquerable limit!
Sails gliding on the shimmering sea,
watch the advancing sunrays osculate the waves of the harbor,
and the optical images that reality conveys!
See the ospreys which learn their skill by osmosis...
that even the ovenbirds can't acquire;
hear the believers's proclamation presaging and predicating unity!
Irreverent and doubtful soul, don't pursue vanity:
don't be similar to a prancing horse that surprises the rider;
don't prattle when foolishness becomes a hangover!
You have put too much effort into exhibiting your valor...
hardly serving a purpose and be totally useful;
be like the sails gliding on the shimmering sea!
Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci
vignette-ROCK 'N ROLL (repost of my 2008) poem)
Fame may not buy love
Or hold its hand
On a hard day's night-
Yesterday's in the past
Ecce Cor Meum maybe the one to last.
Tribute to Paul McCartney & his oratorio
RE-posted to complement the misiing decade from Linda-Marie's recent poem
A soft rain taps,
On the surface of the leaves.
Soothing the forest to slumber,
From the cantata of rainfall.
Thunder accompanies the mood,
Relaxed winds caress the mist,
As the tapping is invigorated.
Harmonious drips resonate,
Trickling the movement’s ambiance.
With a balanced aria of sprinkles and pats.
The lightening flickers...sending,
The heavy splatter into a chorale
Of peaceful...gentle showers.
Fading the oratorio into a fresh finale.
He made the music world,aglow
With his dramatic oratorio,
In large anthems,fast & slow;
An anglo-german..all sort
Bringing opera to the royal court.
Tribute to Handel
The Art
The art of music reveals the soul's effigy
The overture that eternally imparts its recital
To amplify our harmony with ageless elegy
To Give....
To give the great crescendo to all that we can endure
Through tone, and pitch - notes from our melodious score
Saturating the beholding forte of the hearts core
To Share....
To share the unison of our lives in common
The Maestro lifts our spirit beyond the raindrops that fall
To shelter and lighten the load of us all
To Embrace....
To embrace the air we breathe, the sweat we engender
The times of our joy we muse to cheer
The sunless hours of despair and fear
To Become....
To become what we feel
What we know - who we are - why us
To play the cantata, the fugue, the opus
The Pinnacle....
The pinnacle star of our absolution is music
The worthiness of our quality
The celestial harmony of knowing our reality
The Music....
The music of our substance set us free
The Rondo of our song, the Tremolo of our Rubato
The Oratorio in the narrative of life's flow
Transposing....
Transposing ourselves
To be mingled as the fish to the sea
In the concert of life's great ocean so free
October 19, 2020
Completely Your Choice (29)
Sponsored by Brian Strand
Fame may not buy love
Or hold its hand
On a hard day's night-
Yesterday's in the past
Ecce Cor Meum maybe the one to last.
Tribute to Paul McCartney & his oratorio
The face is still,
the personhood a mask
and from outside, there is no door.
The world slows down,
its voice as if a worn down tape
devoid of presence, drifting,
lost in its pursuit of time;
it is a galaxy of strangeness
where a breath of lonesome melancholy
would relieve, but still the wind forgets.
How taciturn, outside,
how churning is the turmoil from within.
How resolute, the longing of the sperm
to tear into the heart
and liberate its glory or its agony,
its oratorio to God, its plaintive hope for love.
How curious indeed, upon its evanescent throne
is love, still innocent of thrusting light,
still hopelessly naive
before the pounding hooves that heroes ride;
how frangible its shell!
Millenia preserve their heroes very well,
although their colors bleed
upon the pages that we read,
upon our inner souls when we allow them,
though the face,
yes most certainly the face,
is cold and still.
~
OVERTURE
Overture is an opening and in music, it can be an
independent orchestral composition in one movement
or an introduction to an opera, extended musical
composition or oratorio, like Bach’s Christmas Oratorio.
Overture is a prelude that I added in my poem “Music”
every time I recite it in Poetry Open or Poetry Reading.
I sing the first two lines of the song “With A Little Help
From My Friends” and the next two lines for my intro.
The lines I rewrote and sing as “Lend me your ears
and I’ll read you a poem I wrote to share with you”.
My overture for my poem “Music” is not written as
part of the poem as it is meant to be sung for fun.
It is an opening move to warm up the audience
or draw in their attention and get them engaged.
And why not, they get two in one, a little song and
a poem, so dare to add an overture to your poems.
9/22/21 ''O" Contest, New Poems Poetry
Constance La France
Theme #4
The Greasy Saddle Resturant and Night Club!
I blushed as I conceeded: she wished to name her nightclub "The Greasey Saddle". I had been seduced and fell into exhaustion from her nights of neocations. Al talks with her seemed to end as they began. Just like the music she had likened: or pretended to like she often critised most of the artist to whom she favored. I ate the cusie and tasted the drinks. I was lefted moved by her willingfulness to plan. She look to morning only as breakfast and every evening was capped off with a dessert. Sweetness in the tenderness of it's having. The fruits of the feilds were inspiration enough. The Greasy Saddle would exsist because the woman who wanted it gained the support of her shareholders. And it would truly exsist because the had enough history to story an Orcastra. Making The ballroom a place I wanted to be.Magnify the sheet music to see if the scriber's pen used cheaap ink. We needed to be critical of something!
The chicken wire would be tacked to the poles. A foot of space would be filled with burnt oyster sheell. The would pour cement walls over that to satisy the people who wish thick walls. We called the ballroom " The Red Earth" and the dressing area "Green Earth" Combined the Area would be refurred to as Oratorio Aer's ! The Concert area!
Epaulets of schmaltzy eyes set to be so loose
Given a glass of rosewater, its perfect booze!
This cattish damsel in the planetary alignment of swank
Regularly chichi, sometimes bltchy
Never mind, always kind, two-up for a Blanc.
A scene isn’t required in this oratorio of vigorous clap,
Attend our burlesque all graceful, with a strap,
Ready for a striptease of the intellect
In the house of opaque ornaments and frill
No defence, for I've come to kneel
Before the throne thrown a bone
And over it like a dog I bog-in
Committing - a sin after sin.
Where to stop, when to cop?
Though if it is dead when all is said
In the endless abyss of frenzy and tears
I command the battle of no fears
Until the end of Act 1
Stay put, it’s not done!
You’ve moved, you’ve improved
It’s time! It’s time!