Long Adagio Poems
Long Adagio Poems. Below are the most popular long Adagio by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Adagio poems by poem length and keyword.
lacking inspiration
I gave up trying
put it down left it alone
thought I could come up with come thing on my own
then I sat down
said that's what I would do
but when I got comfortable
I started thinking of you
if love would spared us
and we were left alone
We could have made it on our own
the Twelfe Violinist
was to solo between the change
the piece was rearranged
some found it crazy
but we had tweaked and trammeled
sorted and scrambled
until we got something smooth
it was same but different
we thought folk would say we were looking for
attention
and after all wasn't that what we were doing
"the sound of unity"
comes with endurance and great arrangements
"every gifted person: is again regifted
by being involved with great arrangements"
that's what we are trying to do.
changing the jalapeno to pot primo will
get a response but is the one you're looking for.
making a relationship storied isn't always good for the
condition of the relationship or the conditions of those
involved.Expressions of emotions often change the way you view
the subject matter from bland to bpld and strong sounds
comfronting the "who Did Bah's" meeting the challenge
with the idea of successfully honoring your gift
with our sound!
Brahmns Waltz)A flat Major,Op
39 No.15
Steel Ruler
My steel ruler, Mr I Will
Toy With Your
Affections, passed away
last Wednesday. The doctor said it was a
severe, sudden disease that
was going around that got her. At her funeral in
the backyard I sung to
her her favourite vowels i and v, then I
confessed for her to be the
Cheese Stick snatcher. My stationary wept, then I
supervised, judged, a
celebration adagio that was
secretly a
competition. Of course, the ones whom didn’t move
slowly were
automatically OUT! And the winner was:
Mr Hole Puncher. No prize was given. Who placed
2nd? Well, in
my mind there’s
no 2nd.
Ain't that
What ah-man
Supposed to do
Treat you right and
Take care of you
Be there
And love you too
Baby
I'll take care of you
Some people believe
In loving the one you're
With
I ain't down on that shift
Making you laugh til
Your moodiness is gone
Maybe it right
Maybe its wrong
Ain't gone change the lyrics
To the song
What you did when we were
There darling act
Like you care
Remember me
I am the one
Who loves you
Remember me I am
The one who adores you
Keep me first and
Far most in your mind
Love is a little more
Than just being kind
Baby
Baby
I will take care
Of you
Song of the Four Seasons 2-16-24
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Song of the Four Seasons
Jagged steel gray skies
Compose barren bough sculptures
Midnight days, Orion nights
White fire crystal symphonies.
Spring wriggles adagio toes,
Sunbeams thaw tuneless meadows,
Daffodils dream yellow melodies
Blossoms burst fragrant ballads.
Downbeats of summer rainstorms
Silver sonatas of moonlight
Heat rises in crescendos,
Cool waves soothe sunburns.
Scarlet scatters leafy notes,
Crisp sapphire skies motifs,
Harvest chorales of harmonies
Harbingers in orange transitions.
I fail to hear musical notes playing upon the breeze,
but I can see golden leaves rhythmically swaying.
It must be a winter sonata making snowflakes tumble
on this cold night meant for sleigh rides and romance.
Emotions flow in melodies on a magical night like this
for those in love, those who discern lyrics and chorus.
Moonlight's glow rests softly on the heads of lovers
as they kiss beneath myriads of twinkling celestial stars.
The sonata builds from a slow adagio to an allegro beat.
It's a symphony played on the wind no piano can match.
No stringed instruments. It's not a cantata written for
voices singing of love and what the future may hold,
but it's as picturesque as a snow globe winter scene.
There are silhouettes of pine trees dancing in firelight,
as embers spark inside of those who hold on to each other.
Like fluttering butterflies, they feel love within their hearts.
Once the music starts beneath snow draped branches,
they hear the rhythmic beat of their own kind of music,
and the emptiness of solitude no longer saddens their souls.
Each completely aware and content with Winter's Sonata.
You carry the thread of red sentiment, a cord bleeding.
Each Volta you make is measured by its expanse,
and the walls elicit remembrance of the hurt,
reflecting your possessed pastel face.
This passage is not a labyrinth of pebbles,
but one of piercing rumors and cob-webbed roots,
and every step you take, you are drawn in place.
The features you embrace are impotent here,
sketched with ancient haunts and a legend of what was spoken for.
It is a point, not a principle.
The only winning way to move is not ahead, but to fall,
to the heart of the Minotaur that plagues your caverns,
the one you posit and feed with resentful meals.
Pardon is not the killing of the beast,
but the loosening of the blood.
It is the preference to look away from the features,
to feel the phantom weight lift from your embodiment.
It is the deed of offering that red cord an absolute, genteel tug,
not to drag them back, but to appoint yourself free.
And then, in the quiet of the freed realm,
you can listen to the fiction of a novel path.
Not a way alfresco, but a way through adagio,
where the walls dissolve into a horizon of spectral light,
and the labyrinth itself becomes a garden grown with gratuity, of staying alive,
for that is the only way out of the labyrinth of suffering, is to forgive.
slower
then her
adagio i
follow
her rhythm
and then begin
to resurrect
not forgetting
that this requiem
is not
hers but
perhaps mine
so before
me lays naked
a blank page
but not
table rosa
she's not a blank
slate that i'm
some kind
of
ubermind
but yet so
sublime
passively
shooshing
off Nietzsche
if he
was true
then shouldn't
he be
stronger
yet he's dead
so in turn
i turned to
myself and said
let this
proper fifth
chord go back to...
here we are again
with a composition
of her and him yet seems
i lost
herself
in the chor us
Form:
Afosa Adagio
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
He described her as mean
someone caring she demanded more
than she gave
someone that is only
politely spoken of in a gesturing
of description. The first AACT spoke of
her speaking to her lover who only spoken Italian.
Moments later she is said
to be speaking to her lover
in Portuguese..
We learn later both are separate entities neither
wise to the other.
Act Four speak of him finding
Pantaloni senza cavallo, in his bedroom.
He reflected the days and nights remember nothing
of their where abouts. He knew they fit her and the
smell he knew they were worn.
"Pantaloni senza cavallo!
Pantaloni senza cavallo!"
he was heard crying through the door
the maid rushed to tell her: they stood
doors away giggling about the scene.
" the maid saying in italian " he wished her
to be less desirable
mine he handle her"
The Woman spoke" and more common that
she should be submissive"
Maybe the sarcasm of words
can be expressed in the desire
to undermined him.
It couldn't happened to a nicer
guy: you know!
"Creating monsters are the ways of
cornata women
are we then either as evil as he
or wiser and untrue
la canzone sfacciata intrigante
complotto è stata scritta per questo"
She loved neither and was believed
to have been in love with anyone
whom henear to.
Storing his past and sleeping with
those he hired.
He knew of one affair, then learned of the many ones
she had had. Once he was sleeping
and she woke him to have him drunk
she pretended to be "gobby with him" wearing a scorff.
It was the stable man from afar unshaved and paid by her
to do so. When he learned of this
she had been sent to an undisclosed place
and a letter written by her
detailed the event. she stayed away for weeks.
returning he just eye balle her
while the staff tryed to hold in their laughter.
Fictional Depiction of an Italain Contessa and her
Inperatore Husband. Opera of Frustration and Love.
Bassoon solo: number twenty four is a
bass lovers dream! The staff nicknamed her "Gobby Il Lupo"
a term that was unkind but true!
I missed my chello
you look like an talented fella
can I use your
horn
I want you to hear this song
I missed placed the flute
Do you like his suit
the strangs on that chello
are strumming though
The people in music-area
want to compare ya
say it's find
when this was so unkind
Tempo adagio: all ya had to do
was sayt so, could made the beat
more rhythmic by waving
my music stick
I missed placed my Chello
please no a'cappella I wanna
hear some strings
let the music man make
the horns sing
Stresses in the line
where the bass and trembles
meet
Need ah problemsolver
to come and help me
I missed placed my chello
can I use your double bass
to make a pretty song
put ah smile on your face
From
Sono Una Puttana
Ingannero
Quest'uomo
( Human have alway had the Power to create life)
Her part was to be lip synced
with a live orchestra
the music had to be perfect
or the camera would
catch the
offset of audio.
The fella who was producing
the show losted his chello
somewhere B'Tween the
sound area and the theater
making him someone had
moved it.
Rest, ye now.
In final sleep.
You see us now?
How we weep!
You, gone, to be
with the Lord.
For those close
to you~
It feels like a
mighty sword.
Your Words are
imprinted upon
our hearts.
Thus, a bond formed!
You shall never ever
be scorned!
Wrap us in peace, to
face our tomorrows.
To go on, bearing our
fresh, aching sorrow!
8/8/2021
~2~
In Memory of Carolyn Devonshire
8/8/2021
~2~