Glockenspiel Poems | Examples


List of Member Poems

glockenspiel and, marimbas

The mole of a substance
Avogadro Constant
Molar mass
borax and colemanite
boron is derived
from these bornite
minerals
volcanic springs
orthoboric acid 
the most important of these is
rasorite
naturally occurrence
from the weathering of
rock material
sourced from
air, soil and water
 mass number of 11 
and containing 5 protons
 and 6 neutrons. 
full-scale fusion
B-111

Premium Member Xylophone

X marks the spot - teeny fingers tap colors.
Youngster’s attentive to the rainbow bars.
Language of a rambunctious or prissy toddler.
Oscar music songbook exalts experience.
Potent stick and head, of a kinetic hammer,
Hones in on the eight tones, piercing the eardrum
Of the voracious student sounding the glockenspiel.
Newness of counting, colors, pounding, music;
Eyes, ears, and fine motor skills titillated.

4/28/2023
Contest: Writing Challenge - Words with 'X'
Sponsor: Constance La France

The Trouble With Poets

If by accident, they occasionally
come near to any kind of truth
they tend to breakout in hives,
or shake uncontrollably.

We shouldn’t expect them to be truthful,
it’s asking too much.
Would we demand a dog
cook its own dinner,
or a pickpocket play a glockenspiel
while lifting a wallet?

Mostly and quite contrarily,
we condemn the author
for having lied
a whole lot better
than we ever could have.


Premium Member Der Glockenspiel

there are small pieces in time 
that brings us closer to who 
we truly are separating us from 
who we've been why we simply 

cannot have both the time we spend 
with loved ones co workers thee 
everyday people wandering about 
the super markets libraries schools 

and shopping mall time stands still
outside the doors outside of ourselves
waiting on us to presume the time 
we have left the time we've stored 

within this lifetime quieting emotions 
of time lost with family and friends whom
has passed on to complete another energy 
source of time pieces that we the living 

hope to someday experience at a 
latter time day by day we consume 
more time processing large amounts 
then dividing time with short comings
 
illnesses or mere failure to use time wisely 
in order to hold on to more time the pendulum 
swings with amazement the coo coo sounds
the cock crows the bell chime as we lose time

      Spasebo Dasvidaniya Da Kremlin

Premium Member Pray the Lord My Soul To Keep

My soul is classy sassy and brave 
it does just as it please leaving me 

To apologize for being so blunt at times 
my soul requires lots of attention admiring 

thee unforgettable James bond blocks 
tattered thoughts tender moments carry me 

throughout this time and space clinging to 
sorted memories my soul leaves behind

landing upon der glockenspiel fondly
overlooking der crowded Marienplatz 

after it travels to unknown uncharted lands 
bringing me back souvenir to simple die for..

Premium Member Grands of Glockenspiel

GRANDS OF GLOCKENSPIEL 

O beloved grands of glockenspiel,
a mallet never gave such pleasure,
as when those filled with innocence
expound a bell-like sound, the ring of laughter
caught between the door and walls.

A magical metallophone of minds,
curious with over the rainbow octaves,
living in a harmonious fantasy, of which
g-rents are glad to occupy,
though less spry then when 29.

O beloved children of glockenspiel,
you are a treasure of keys,
at first rehearsed of xylophone, but
then you rise on knees and toes,
with roses of sweet overtures.

3/9/2020


Premium Member Parade of Silver Roses

"You will come to the grave in full vigor, Like the stacking of grain in its season.
               — Job 5:26

Abraham breathed his last and died in a ripe old age, an old man and satisfied with life; and he was gathered to his people.
                — Genesis 25:8

PARADE OF SILVER ROSES

Ripened with wrinkles and jowls of joy,
why cry over fallowed days, 
when the brightness of youth
squeezes you tighter than foremost days.

Giggling, kicking at the mound of enjoyment,
the parade of silver roses laid at the grave —
that’s how the whippersnappers see you,
those tug-a-war children that hound at the heel
of your beloved grands of glockenspiel.

Supercilious satisfaction as you tether your cane
to tenderness and affection, aggressively pointing
only at those crooks who choose to lambast insane,
ruin your days and keep at arm's length the babes.

Silver in your hair, spun by hands with stigmata holes,
and you’ll breathe your last and first breath all the same.
With seasoned wheat, such golden beauty,
ecstatic at heaven’s attraction, standing in frame.

3/9/2020

The Trouble With Poets

is that they never tell the truth,
and if by accident, they occasionally 
come near to any kind of truth
they tend to get hives, 
or shake uncontrollably.

We shouldn’t expect them to be truthful,
it’s asking too much. 
Would we demand a dog 
cook its own dinner,
or a pickpocket play a glockenspiel
while lifting a wallet?

We who collect words like seashells
must turn them over 
and listen to see if they are hollow
or really full of oceanic whispers.
The shell of course, (being an almost 
too perfect poetic metaphor),
will then lie to our ear.

Mostly and quite contrarily,
we condemn the author
for having lied 
a whole lot better 
than we ever could have.

Premium Member I Drove With the Top Down On the Highway of Death

Faster than you can say Professor Heinrich Graf Von Glockenspiel
A friendship is gone
That’s what I called that joint experiment of ours
A friendship
I don’t know what you called it
I never had the honor of being called your friend
I didn't make it past colleague
Epilogue
I was that man who was kind 
You were that woman who was indifferent

Premium Member The Harvest

Jeff gets his hair cut for $20.00. The average human has 100,000 hairs on his/her head. How much does Jeff pay to get his hair cut?

a. A whole lot of money
b. Jeff isn’t the average human
c. It was the gardener
d. No, wait, it was Professor Glockenspiel

Stopping a Flow

When the chequered pattern of plain wallpaper catches your eye a budgie can perform a backflip whilst eating a cucumber. It is wise to use a stapler to fasten a knot in a ceiling beam. Buttered bottomless baskets balance bananas beautifully. Which creates an aria in an artificial attic. Strings on a glockenspiel are wound tightly to enable the caterpillar to crawl sideways. Evading the usual pattern then. Good. If half a heifer is twice a pig then surely the snail is dominant. So speaks the timeless meaninglessness chatter of a time lord who is trampling a path over the patio. The upward flowing river on the downward slope of pies is indicative of a sandwich of curry. Relay racing with sauces to escape the cheers of chillies arriving in a box with a lid. But the backwards swimming whale never marries an ox. Parsnips painting petunias prettily. Personification not dwelling in a mystic flair in a class of bees on seats. Barking baking bison bringing bacon back. How quite magical. Weaving a coat then. Hahahaha day of a giant jar of healthy green juice and arranged gherkins grin. Xxxx cauterisation z.

The Vortex

The firmament's still calm rescinds.
Thrashes out gloomy storm whirlwinds.
Lightening flashes striking on high.
Ring out wild bells to the wild sky.

A funnel forms, living peril.
The atmosphere going feral,
Horrific whirring sings its cry.
Ring out wild bells to the wild sky.

No glockenspiel or carillon 
Chimes to calm winds blowing on. 
The heavens fiercely gone awry
Ring out wild bells to the wild sky.

Devastation claiming its course,
Havoc wrecked with horrible force.
The vortex passed; some men sigh. 
Ring out wild bells to the wild sky.

Man, soon, rebuilds destructions path.
Forgiving nature of its wrath.
And celebrates each hope's outcry.
Ring out wild bells to the wild sky.

Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.

Get a Premium Membership
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a Premium Membership.
Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace