Long A cappella Poems
Long A cappella Poems. Below are the most popular long A cappella by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long A cappella poems by poem length and keyword.
Walking along the oceans sand, in the crisp evening air
He happened upon a sand castle built by a child’s, tiny hand
It's delicate, virginal beauty, a short time it would last
Much too soon the waves of the sea would wash it to a distant past.
Those little footprints, ingrained on some land
Where a sweet, small child had carefully planned
A beautiful, fragile castle in sand
He was painting a picture in his mind of those little hands and feet.
The nocturne of a symphony with children directing the beat.
The rolling motions of the sea kept a rhythmic roar with the waves
They rolled to the shore in syncopated lyrics making wet, sandy graves.
His hope he carried in his heart
As he walked quietly along the sea
He wanted to make everything right
But he was doubting his ability
A silent cantata of a discordant roar of time,
Was singing a haunting melody in voice A-cappella
Chanting audible chords of memories in his mind
His thoughts went back to the little child, building a dream carved in sand
A a child who was thoughtfully shaping their future on land.
As he sat on the shore in pensive thought,
His own child came to his mind.
A sweet little girl, not a care in her world
Singing her innocent, happy rhymes
He’d come home from work, needing time to unwind
Too busy and tired to give his child enough time
She learned to walk and talk all while he was gone
While her mommy taught her all those cute, little songs
"Little Miss Muffet sat on a tuffett
Eating her curds and whey
The little spider that sat down beside her
Until she shooed him away"
His wife, the apple of his eye, a woman who stood by his side
He wrote her name inside his heart, always wanted her as his bride.
They fell in love, prayed for a sweet, little child to share all their love.
The Lord in Heaven heard their prayers and sent them a little girl from above.
His memories led him back to home
Knowing he made those vows without end
Finally knowing what he must do..
He’d take his wife and child by their hands
To make their lovely, delicate castles in sand
*~*
This poem as usual a little verbose…(filled with too many words)
was written this morning listing to the music of 24 different birds
BIRD MUSIC
If I had to choose my favorite musical instruments…if I had to go all-in
I would have to choose the cello…and it’s next of kin…the violin.
I love how Vivaldi’s violin concerto’s can make me laugh and sigh….
and how Yo Yo Ma with his technique…can make his cello cry.
If I had to choose my favorite music, however…music without words
I’d have to say that would be sitting on the porch of our cabin…listening to the birds.
In the early morning I sit on the porch as darkness is still blanketing the land…
wondering when the blanket lifts what music, today, the birds have planned.
I notice some birds are early risers…who as to the trees they’re clinging
don’t need a cup of coffee to wake up…they begin the day by singing.
Then as the day slowly lifts night’s blanket…(it’s an early morning thing)
birds who’ve slept the night away…awaken and begin to sing.
And for a little while every morning…floating on the air…
I’m surrounded by the sound of birds…bird music everywhere.
Every morning is different…as they sing A cappella from their trees.
Somedays they perform concertos…some days it’s a symphony.
I wonder if they get together in the evening…and decide on a program
or since singing is their life…each morning they just prefer to jam.
They sing their hearts out every morning…not for fortune…not for fame
and I feel blessed to be in the audience…as no two concertos are the same.
Which makes me wonder if Vivaldi (when he was alive) and Yo Yo Ma
sitting quietly…without words
have also been inspired by the music of the birds
Of course they were…for how else could Vivaldi have made his violin laugh and sigh…
and how else could Yo Yo Ma…to this day…make his cello cry.
Another a cappella song my friend Ashly and I made a long time ago...
Here's a link if you want to hear how it's supposed to sound. (This is for you particularly, Silent One, always wanting me to make Youtube vids...) ;)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gS7v9nt1zYg
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I wish I can save you
But I can't even save myself
You beg me for mercy but mercy's empty inside
I'm Stronger Again
And you're giving in
To all of this pain that I am inflicting upon you
I am...
The whispers in the night
The heart that's pounding in your head
The darkness over light
The monster underneath your bed
The death that waits for you
Lingering behind every door
I'm that voice deep inside
I'm all that's keeping you alive
I wish I can spare you
Your voice faded slowly, now you can't breathe
You beg me for mercy
But darling I am empty
The life's dying out
And you're crying out
To stop all this pain that I am inflicting upon you
I am...
The whispers in the night
The heart that's pounding in your head
The darkness over light
The monster underneath your bed
The death that waits for you
Lingering behind every door
I'm that voice deep inside
I'm all that's keeping you alive
I wish I can save you but I can't even
Hold you
Please remember:
I Still Love You
This isn't me but
Someone else...
The whispers in the night
The heart that's pounding in your head
The darkness over light
The monster underneath your bed
The one who's there for you
The one who catches all your tears
I'm that voice deep inside
I'm all that's keeping you alive
A father loved to take his children and sit under what he called their imagination tree.
There he would ask: if you could imagine yourself as something else what would that something else be?
Once their dreaming was ignited and their imaginations were set free…
their father loved to listen to what his children were imagining…underneath their imagination tree.
I imagine I’m a cricket in the night…with no music to accompany me...I’d sing a-cappella
and anytime it starts to rain….I’ll use a mushroom as my umbrella.
I would love to climb a rainbow,…as you can see I am quite small.
I’d love to know what it feels like…to go down the biggest slide of all.
I want to ride upon a cloud…across the world I’d sweep…
and anytime when I got tired…I’d have a comfortable place to sleep.
I want to be a leaf on a tree…if I could be anything at all
I want to sway with my leaf friends on a windy day…and change my colors in the Fall.
I’d love to ride on the back of a pelican…I can imagine how much fun that would be…
I’d drag my hands along the water as we glide across the sea.
The father always smiled as he listened…as his children’s imaginations flew
for wherever their imaginings took them…they would take him too.
One day the children asked the father…as they sat underneath the tree…
“Father, if you could imagine yourself as something else what would that something else be?”
The father looked at his children…and smiled
as they sat together under their tree…
“You may find this hard to believe," he said,
“but I imagine I am happiest being who I am.
in a place I never imagined I would be”.
Some things come to you
when you are alone
with your thoughts
and the sun is setting through your window.
Like now.
I am with my thoughts
of yesterday.
She is small
fragile looking.
I am not.
She came to me for solace
. . . wanted more.
Said,
"I want you,"
covered my mouth with
sweeter than candy lips
trembling, goosebumps all over her
part worry, part want
"Please,
don't say you love me.
Just need me."
Licked my cheek with tenderness
found my
throat and then caressed a nipple
nipping it
almost too hard
moaning like cats purr
plying my body
with more than a zillion kisses.
Guided my hand inside her blouse
her pride
feminine pride
soft, oh so soft . . . breasts
hardening button nipple.
"Close your eyes,
let me lay hands on you."
Wind puffing through open window
cool on my fevered body
her
finger hot, sizzling to the touch
moving over and under and around
clefts and crevasses of me.
"Stand," she urged.
I did.
Pealed cotton jockeys
to my ankles
put finger on my chest
pushed me onto the bed
massaged my feet
remarkable
never knew about that erogenous zone
but
she did
shimmed up me like
a spider monkey up a tree
mouth claimed possession
then and there
for awhile
soft whimpers of her lust
sang a cappella
further up she inched
rose like an apparition
straddled her stallion for the night
rode
until the dawn of civilization broke
through the window.
Sometimes the past
comes alive
at the oddest moments.
In theory I thought you would like to know
That I didn’t practice the piano
I’m a noted rebel
Who is now in treble
For showing my staff to a soprano
The keys are a problem, almost a curse
When I lose mine I can’t go and rehearse
Yet I press the pedal
On the heavy metal
To beat the band, chapter and verse
On a scale from one to tenor, would
You recommend a woodwind or windwood
And why play a wrong chord
When you can cut a cord
Of timbre wood from where it once stood
They said that we were in-de-chorus
Of which we didn’t join since they bore us
That’s me and Melody
And her ‘sis Harmony
Who prefer climbing the range before us
We chime the bridge onto sharp rocks and
Rest on D flats made by god’s own hand
Though avoid the clefs
Both steep and bereft
On that classical crescendo land
Later while talking jazz with Al Legro
He said I should meet alto Lea Gato
And after I meter
That I should seat her
On the bench I refrained using a day ago
They held a concert that had a small glitch
Due to Lea’s false-et-toe that did twitch
We hammered her toe spur
To try and compose her
Yet tempos flared for her being off pitch
I love music but prefer natural things, you see
Like fishing for bass with strings off a bowsprit
I do enjoy rhythm
Mostly with her, not with him
And with a cappella of fellas fish the middle C
"Life is tragic so listen with thirst for the music of happiness."
Quote _by Poet
Life is a journey full of moments - of struggle,
for a poet the gathering of emotions;
the penning of poems that one day will crumble,
of words that crash together like waves in oceans.
And my journey has been the road of a writer,
I have written of the scars on my soul and heart;
I have penned of nature and the birds that flutter,
and I suppose I will till the day I depart.
And when the day comes that is to be my last one,
I would pen- even if just in my fading mind;
a tale, the story of how it had all begun,
I would leave all my delight and sorrow entwined.
My last poem- the last would be heartbreak and bliss,
hold a song full of birds singing a cappella;
I would walk a Zen garden into an abyss,
and stroll in the falling rain with no umbrella.
Life is a journey full of moments - of struggle,
and my journey has been the road of a writer;
and when the day comes that is to be my last one,
my last poem- the last would be heartbreak and bliss.
_____________________
November 28, 2020
Poetry/Rhyme/Life is Tragic
Copyright Protected, ID 11-1308-195-28
All Rights Reserved, 2020, Constance La France
Written for the Standard contest, The Last 1
sponsor, Anthony Biaanco, Judged 02/03/2021
Fifth Place
"Life is tragic so listen with thirst for the music of happiness."
Quote _by Constance
Life is a journey full of moments - of struggle,
for a poet the gathering of emotions;
the penning of poems that one day will crumble,
of words that crash together like waves in oceans.
And my journey has been the road of a writer,
I have written of the scars on my soul and heart;
I have penned of nature and the birds that flutter,
and I suppose I will till the day I depart.
And when the day comes that is to be my last one,
I would pen- even if just in my fading mind;
a tale, the story of how it had all begun,
I would leave all my delight and sorrow entwined.
My last poem- the last would be heartbreak and bliss,
hold a song full of birds singing a cappella;
I would walk a Zen garden into an abyss,
and stroll in the falling rain with no umbrella.
Life is a journey full of moments - of struggle,
and my journey has been the road of a writer;
and when the day comes that is to be my last one,
my last poem- the last would be heartbreak and bliss.
_____________________
November 28, 2020
Poetry/Rhyme/Life is a Struggle
Copyright Protected, ID 11-1322-465-28
All Rights Reserved, 2020, Constance La France
Submitted to the Standard contest, All Yours
sponsor, Brian Strand, Judged 01/21/2021
A Forest A Capella
By: Tom Wright
11/15/98
Along the forest floor I creep,
not Wishing to disturb inhabitants living there.
Treading on pine needles ankle deep,
as if nature had placed a carpet,
so I wouldn't disturb It's sleep.
The forest, having long been asleep,
appearing drowsy, begins now to wake
and from somewhere into the deep.
A chorus of Coyotes, yapping in song,
before denning up to sleep.
Have I given them cause for fear?
Are they telling me perhaps I don't belong,
having sensed that I am near?
Or another of natures marvelous ways,
of making music for my ear.
My occasional snapping of a twig
has alerted a Fox Squirrel somewhere near.
Perhaps in a nearby Oak so big.
It's chattering, as if at odds, over acorns
being devoured by Blue Jays or a grunting pig.
With snow flakes now floating from the sky
my eyes are directed overhead
and though not seen by eye,
I hear sounds of passing Geese,
as further south they fly.
An occasional hissing and as I turn to see,
somewhat apprehensive, but with no fears.
There, walking the trunk of a fallen tree,
one large Bobcat singing his part,
like others, A Capella, just for me.
She walked into the room capriccio, with her hair bouncing and flowing rhythmically. The room is now, acceso with excitement. She walks A cappella,
yet some kind of charismatic tune, began playing in my mind, as her classical shape gracefully glides, con affetto past my table. My heart skips a beat then presto, dolcissimo on a crescendo. Con fantasia my mind, follows the music,
as her eyes meet mine. Poetico, her eyes read like two love songs, sognando and magico and I was only brought back to reality, by the charming aria,
of her laughter, as I had inadvertently, spoke the names of this duet.
Lighting up the room with her tunes, like an ancient glow of vibrant runes Changing the time and place, by the presence of her grace Like your new favorite song, you must gladly sing along With your heart dancing inside and your mind carried by the tide
As an instrument of your dreams is now a reality, it seems
The music is not by chance and it has begun, the romance