Long Adagio Poems
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Where I live, the people know my name.
Where I walk, the moon knows my heart.
Where I run, where I watch, where I think;
where I really live, where I truly am;
there, the rain, its sight, its silence, and its music know my soul.
Its melody drums on, patters through my musing mind.
Its melody thunders o'er the tundras where I reside.
Its melody cascades down the windshield of my emotions,
its melody showers me, ever on through this life;
all I need, at times, a stroll through a storm.
Do any eyes see, into the heart of this man?
Do any hearts beat, to the same rhythm as mine?
Do any feet dance, the same pensive adagio as I?
Do any spirits really know me, I always wonder;
yet when the deluge is upon me, the pondering stops.
I know it knows me.
I know how I feel when underneath its misty sheets.
I know what it means when it comes to visit;
I know the sweet taste of its droplets,
the caress of it and its sister, the wind, on my cheek.
When I'm full of thoughts, and need release; it knows.
When I address it as a stranger, miss its company; it knows.
When I need; it knows.
When I feel its harmonies resonating within,
and call upon its half of this transcendent duo; it knows.
I can be anywhere, and feel a twang
on the strings of my heart; and it will know.
I can be doing anything, and if my soul sends a cry,
one that I rarely know anything of; it will know.
Somehow, it's there for me.
I am keenly grateful for its vigilance,
aware of how much it's done for me;
and I can do nothing for it.
What does the rain need, desire, miss?
Only the rain knows.
Whatever its reasons for remaining with me,
whatever its reasons for so constantly soothing my soul;
I will forever be in its debt,
forever beholden to all it's done -
I hope the rain knows.
I don't understand this trend
I don't like where we're going
In.
Somebody who don't like me and
Never did
Wanna see me baffled when she
has her first kid
To be the there common ground
To be in luxury when I am unwhined
Don't wanna be the bruint of your
Jokes
At least with her I have hope
Babe ain't no dispute when I am with you
Adagio Bassia see-ah
There ain't no dispute
Tell that puke-fool of yours to leave me alone
Like the Dells said when all the Goodies Gone
Is it shame on me
Want you in my corner
That's how a true love should be
Nah but you got them phrases
Like I am a ho
It like this
I that and simple
Get it right to app the oah
Let your ex be your coach
Let say it's so like it's ah movie
Got your grooving stufguess you tryna groove me
To marry me takes
Ah thyme o fair
Couple shall we
Groove me if you dare
I want your baby
Cum inside me
Don't that sound real crazy
Spent my thyme wiff you
Tell me what's next
Tell me what we going do
He saw several loving what they heard and it bothered him.
They were dancing and having a grand ole
thyme. People clapping, dancing, getting along and singing along with the music.
It bothered him , I mean it really really bothered him.
See he had been a musician; he had albums, the were musical master peices. Some even were remixed to be dance songs. But one day people just stopped requesting his songs. They bought some albums : but ales were low and remained low even when his releases were new and fresh. He never changed his style, instead he'd tag-up with different people to intro interest in his sound. The did do some culturally different things, like fusing genres and sounds ,but keeping it collectively interesting using, tones, grooves, harmonic interludes, never being depressed alway optimistic. One reporter told his I love your style: because I never hear anything gossipy in the lyrics, they are one point directed right to the audience it's catering to. I do like those universal groove that compliments the beauty of love. I reaches ever audience with out insult or tease. I love your music!"Allegro to adagio and even the andante!" I really love your sound, creativity and songs!" All I could do was say thanks! But not being included in the place I wanted to be: at the time I wanted to be there: just bothered me!
Written by:
Sonata Fugue Aria
Toggy Journalistic Groover
Me Sore Parts of Monday
Dancing Friday night
music Extraordinaire
The Cattle Coat Diplomate
Mutilated mind constructs the precinct of recluse
Encasing the stifling loneliness of sad prison
Languishes there the surrendered psyche.
Agony unsurmountable relentlessly
Negates the positive perspective of hope
Cauldron of dissonance remote from the rhythm of the outside
Hollowness inside filled with drops of depression in adagio
Obdurately prolonged as untiring mental affliction.
Latent desires are demolished and the malleable mind
Yields to nostalgia, the melancholic remnant of yearning.
___________
(I chose to use Acrostic form to dissect melancholy to
discern its anatomy)
May 9, 2023
Contest : Anatomy Of Melancholy
Sponsored by : Craig Cornish
*** TOMORROWS ***
These thoughts begin composed
(“adagio ma non troppo”)
With a happy, a peaceful heart’s tempo,
Assured the nature of
Imminent or distant tomorrows,
Is woven in vibrant colors to allure
— Very like inspired verses,
With a soul’s knowing, a soul’s melody…
For even God,
The holy I AM
Kept His days —
His proceding creativity’s paced plan
…With its tomorrows held
Open for His any needed intervening
Powers and graces
(“allegro”)
Behold!
The days come. They come
Over horizons
We live and witness
(“allegro”)
……..Thence, too,
According to God
— By many miracles and through
His covenant concluding
The Great Flood….Showing
His promises in a rainbow’s arched reach
Across the sky…And,as in our time,
(“crescendo”)
A thousand ravens hover
And we imagine they wait to prey o’er each
Of our tomorrows, but they stay distant,
Unseen.
— For humanity, as time continues…
With its tempos’ flowing
Of rising sun by day and moon
By night…The dawns stir
Fully into tomorrows.
In Asia, “tempos” may mean,
“(brought or gone via) 3-legged carts,”
(“largo”)
Which might well define
My own aged years’ decline
As I greet
Tomorrows: with
Breath by faith…
And new days with actions of meaning.
————————————————————
Matthew 6:25 “…Is life not more than food. and the body more than clothing?”————————-
*** Written inspired to pen my annual Birthday Poem, as i age & i am more thankful, while much more challenged.
(c) sally young eslinger 1/5/2023
Thanks be to God…
Rosco Adagio, aka for the Cross Promotional
event that was secretly planned to get
rid of reporter hype and fakenews.
Dance floor records was named the
place for the secet meetings.
Due to the lack of cooperation between
several minor league promotions: meaning
their unwillingness to unite and promote matches together
to up there numbers and gain more media
attention, several larger promotions
started turning there back to these smaller
companies urging them to
cooperate and get along. This mean forming
alliances and unting titles and communicating
before they made attempts
to talk to the bigger promotions. The term "Users"
came up talking about
one promoter who refused to do business with
other promoters in there area and even his own
brother ( also a promoter). we heard an angry
Mad Sabian say he had enough trouble finding sponsors
for some of the rag work his guys did, letting
SOO-Soo (unnamed)
get in on the action
would require an investment!
we'll let you know whats going on!
Bassoon Mandellain Report!
I.
In the hush of the first movement,
Silent snowfall plays a soft overture.
Each flake a note, descending gently,
A white serenade to quiet streets.
Nature's breath slows, like a pianissimo,
And the world finds refuge in the stillness.
II.
The allegro of frostnip,
A brisk dance of biting winds.
Trees, skeletal and stark, bow in unison,
Their frozen limbs, a winter waltz.
Here, shadows wrap around the day,
A protective shroud from the harsh glare.
III.
Andante, the pace of chilled introspection,
As daylight wanes, and darkness ascends.
Winter's cloak, a shield from the revealing sun,
A sanctuary for those who seek solace.
A silent sonata of solitudinal echoes,
Footprints muffled in the snow's embrace.
IV.
Adagio, the languid drift of snowflakes,
A delicate descent, like feathers from the sky.
Time stretches, as if caught in a frozen dream,
And the world slips into a quiet reverie.
In winter's arms, a clandestine asylum,
Hidden from the stark exposure of summer.
V.
Rallentando, the gradual deceleration,
As winter's sonata reaches its conclusion.
The landscape, a canvas of muted hues,
Soft whispers of a fading symphony.
Yet, in the cold, a warmth is found,
A paradoxical embrace of winter's serenade.
It’s a place I feel off—
not wedded to anything.
Truculent.
I think in riddles
and answer in metaphors.
I dance on my tiptoes—
an adagio of agony.
Passion pirouettes
out of sight.
Tethered.
Bound by grief.
Temptation forgotten,
tempered.
It no longer exists.
It was a pas de deux,
now it’s just a deuce—
a petulant penitent,
an unwanted pardon.
The dancer stirs.
The pulse quickens
to a tango.
Recalcitrant and longing.
Unable to follow the white line
unless it’s condemned.
So the path ahead is delusional—
felt, not seen.
When will the blocks of life
build up
and make me feel safe?
I feel like I’m
in a correctional facility.
I am my own door.
I am my own jailor.
I realise I have the key.
I bury it
under the pile of shame
in the corner.
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.
"The Colour of the Breeze"
Star Jasmine,
orange blossom,
pine leaves, and
floating cymbidium
dipping oars
into purple and white
Agapanthus, drip off
a lid on that day
exotic Nile lilies
with lips of mead
drip potency
singing only
the sweetest
memories
the tiger lilies roar,
in silence, cut up, bittersweet,
they are sitting
torn fresh in the pew,
in front of me
watching and waiting
for what?
gravity in the moment
just, being
colour me cryptic
Agapanthas purr
through closed
jade mysteries
on that day indigo
blue ... a date with
destiny,
a winsome crew
each with their secrets
renewed, knew
they try to sing hymns
whispering, thinking
I could never do this
such singing
ridiculous
they try to sing hymns
whispering, thinking
I am not near them
but I am all the
colours miraculous
surrounding them
speaking
in different tongues
I lean into them, listening
leaves
floating like notes
to remember
found in
the colour of the breeze
lifting potent memories
freedom then,
nothing stopping me
(Ladylabyrinth / 2022)
klb, mlb
gvlm
"Serpentskirt" / Cocteau Twins
https://youtu.be/ZkaDFYVOUDs
"Whales Tails"/ Cocteau Twins
https://youtu.be/0LVyIJsigXU
"Bluebell Knoll" / Cocteau Twins
https://youtu.be/ZpqaNjtaU6o
Requiem, Tractus (Johannes Ockeghem) - Miroslav Venhoda; Prager Madrigalisten 1966
https://youtu.be/AnYOWMrrkIU
Requiem Mass.
I prefer this -
intro
Samuel Barber - Adagio for Strings
https://youtu.be/izQsgE0L450
outro
Hymn of the Cherubim - Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky - Extended
https://youtu.be/y9p0-NSirQA