Long Allegro Poems
Long Allegro Poems. Below are the most popular long Allegro by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Allegro poems by poem length and keyword.
Enchanted was I with a cloying scent...
whiffs of wild magnolia
mingled with the woodsy tang
of her lemon verbena perfuming the air
Like Samson's strength, the sun's threads of gold
were clipped by silver shears
of an ascending pearlescent moon
How sweet the bloom of love ~
We slowly walked around the lake
By the zenith of eventide
we were serenaded by a cicada symphony
in rhythmic allegro thrum...
In the distance... howling of a feral creature
crying with need of a mate
How wild the passion of love ~
She tensed at his wailing call
soothed with murmurs and kisses
Her heart beat in sync with my own...
tympani drums keeping time
like the pendulum of a metronome
How musical the lyrics of love ~
Her eyes met mine...
mirroring myriads of sparkling stars
gleaming as bright as a prismed diamond
I would pledge my troth tonight...
Here, beneath a celestial bower
How heavenly the gift of love ~
A tendril of long wavy hair
blew across her cheek
I crimped it around my finger
then released a raven curl
My lips whispered softly...
I bent to her like a willow to the shore
How eager the need of love ~
When I knelt
she trembled at my intent...
Bodies clinging, we swam fathoms deep
surrendering to each other as eternal lovers
passionately torrid... reverently tender
How plumb the depth of love ~
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
March 23, 2021
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Sponsored by John Hamilton
Allegro
Crystal decanter, wine in a glass.
Tabletop woodwinds court candlestick brass.
Fine sterling service, stems in a vase.
High-tone enamel meets low double bass.
Pale yellow roses, peaches and grapes.
Clarinet colors tint saxophone shapes.
Citrus in concert, lemon and lime.
Echoes of summer in three-quarter time.
Adagio
There are brazen implications
In these muted, pulsing horns.
The strings are thick and creamy.
The bass line’s strewn with thorns.
Scherzo
Nail-tap percussion, tremolo drill.
Twelve o’clock whistle sounds cranky and shrill.
Shipping yard sunlight, loading dock shade.
Forklift holds pallet in mid-serenade.
Mustard-stained napkin, Styrofoam cup.
Strains of a power saw being tuned up,
Baritone belt sander wailing away.
White glove allegro turned grease monkey gray.
Rondo
Without darkness, there could be no light.
The sun would rise unnoticed.
Without silence, there could be no song
From either bird or locust.
Without winter, there could be no spring.
No flowers for your lover.
Without music, there could be no art.
They flatter one another.
Beethoven smashes one piano after another.
He shears through keyboards,
a peasant scything hay.
The composer's fingers don't grow deaf,
they become deeper, more blunted,
like mallets.
His apartment is disorderly,
tools and equipment
are hidden in Dresden figurines,
in elderly Delftware,
ball-peen hammers crammed
into the whittled stems of goose quills.
Augers, grinders and rotary tillers
are rendered into themes and motifs.
Wrecking crews hum and stamp,
tables thump out allegro dissonance.
Into this din and demolition
plows a heavy sonata
the hard-nosed 'Hammerklavier'
bulldozing its trenchant path
into the cramped streets;
where in the absence of safety barriers,
a defiant deconstruction
has begun.
Tomorrow’s Dawn
This concert-filled night thrums with slow-motion static.
No signal, no return, with no way of meeting you.
Our sense of consciousness has become an intermission,
On a winding road in the fog, as the night fades.
One moment before, when melancholy weaves an overturn
For part one.
Subconsciously, it orchestrates a Cassandra. Met with impediments, as this moment resonates.
You’ll find yourself in the scene,
As emotions rise and fall in the
Waves of our concerto.
That fades into limbo.
Only to part tremolo passages
through mirrors of moonlight, the lover’s duet
Adds a refreshing luminescence to the atmosphere.
Allegro vivace, rushing into,
Tomorrow’s dawn.
Across great plains and in rich soiled valleys
on tall and slender stalks, they dance.
They sway to the tunes as Mariah plays,
Her flute whistling notes in wind songs.
They bend and dip in choreographed allegro.
Amber cobra's hypnotized by gentle breezes.
Mighty Sun, Ra, smiles down upon them.
They praise him for his fatherly warmth,
helping them develop to maturity.
Deeply rooted children, fed by the soil
Elements blend to nourish the golden crops,
nursed at the breasts of the Goddess, Rain.
Harvest reaped and grains thrashed
sacrificed as staples for mankind's need.
Now the plains and valleys lay bare,
replenishing their cupboards
to feed the next seedlings
implanted and given in to their care.
He knew he had rubbed against some big shoulders.
Some like him and other were anoyed. What bothered him was they all existing relationships of there own. Some were ones you didn't wanna get involved with, some were brotherish, some were fools who aligned for fun and entertaining the boss. The one where you were instructed to stroke the ego, of top ranked superstars often meant learning a something that detailed your place in the company. some of these relationships were real, these guys almost lived together. I remember one friday night the camera guy told me that saturday starts after friday, I thought he was helping me with being on time. But this jerk drank a six pack in my locker room knowing the boss uses the new guys lockerroom as his office, to help the new guys get instruction. Five members of the staff were in this large lockerroom with me and two new guys, and we separated to get dressed, well we had private roomes and showers,I showered and came out, and the boss asked me if i had a problem. I said know, he pulled up a bag and asked whats this? I said it aint mine. He leaned over to sniff me. And then the jerk came in and said it mine. It didn't do me any favors, later the Boss told me I should have told him it was the camera guys' what's up with that Jerk or something. Then I realized, they was positioning me. He stuck me in With Giant Crusha, the big guy who doesn't understand his own strenght. I was bruised, banged up and the next night he booked me againstSwainson Thrush and Marsh Wren, they tossed me out the ring in that handicap match, and dove down on me from every angle.
I looked up and masked men were flying everywhere. Man dude got me cornered and his elbow busted up me mouth. I had to get a manager man. I thought my mind and soul was solid enough
to get me through changes, but man dealing with people and taking care of contractual deals man: swamp aint big enough for the fox and the grouse.: croons the mockingbird. Sometimes the fox needs a little guidance. Thats why I hired the Services of Super Acco. Make the swamp into a lake let me do my thang! Factors of Producing a World Class Where to be admired. I'm the best Where anybody have ever seen! Kayfade, or starred I am the where: where they all wanna be!
Dusk fell like dust.
And in the hush of the night
Stars twinkle in splendid formation:
There an Orion, or a Little Bear
Or the famous Pleiades.
So many glitters that dot the vast sky,
In essence a melody superbly charged,
Like magic fingers on an enormous scale,
Delightful arpeggio eliciting occasional sounds
Into an allegro that has one great maestro:
The silver moon that directs all
Into a masterful sonata as its rays
Penetrate on lovers as they dream
Or make love in their various restful places.
Hush, I see many on their sailing boats
Their sail cloth glimmering in silver hues
Upon the vast calm waves of the ocean
With movements of contrasting moods,
A waltz that is so refined in splendid silver sonata.
Of beauty and dreams that fade on sunrise.
"Such comfort in precise chaos. Waiting for the unexpected, I join Beethoven to immerse myself in wonder when thunder and lightning unite." Quote by the poet.
Boldly dark and pure as the cold night's stormy throng.
Thunder has begun it’s familiar fifth symphony song.
Leaving the listener unsure what to expect all alone.
Beethoven switches to a lighter tune instead of his dark tone.
A tinkling as the rain begins, he uses spiccato to give perfect light.
A less grand repetition of the original notes as winds take flight.
Building in anticipation until the climax of the first theme.
A solo of horns, a transition with the loss of the sun’s beam.
The sky produces an aqua hue by each blinding lightning flash.
Thunder roars, the sky now a soft pastel hue as wind and hail crash.
Beethoven offers bridges to weld the grandeur of his blizzard prone play.
Frost is forming turning the sapphire hue fading to a pastel bouquet.
Following, suspense of his opening the piano takes us to strings.
Full orchestra, Da Darrr Da -Darrr Da Darrr Da -Darrr it springs.
Tempo lighter, airier which is juxtaposed with the timpani drums.
The soft gentle snow, now hurtled by deafening wind, silence comes.
For the second stream of Beethoven’s sonata allegro its making way.
Cyan-tinged icicles decorate the surroundings, peace resumes her sway
Season’s storm has freshened the landscape with her blanket now warm.
Yet nothing can compare with the brilliance of the raging thunder storm.
Musicianship
(3 May 2014; For my son Steven, an ACCOMPLISHED guitarist)
Real musicianship can truly drive you nuts—
There really are no “ifs”, “ands”, or “buts”.
Practice, study, memorize, then more practice--
Is this just an obsession or complete madness?
Learning chord inversions, arpeggios, and scales
Is like reaching Heaven by crossing through seven Hells.
It wouldn’t be bad if there were only a dozen majors,
But there’s also those other dozen minors.
What’s worse, it seems we’re never finished
Because there’s also augmented and diminished,
The major/minor/augmented/dominant sevenths.
And symmetrical double-flatted diminished sevenths,
And if this harmonic mess is not enough,
All those dissonant Jazz chords get really tough…
Such as the sustained seconds and fourths,
The sevenths add nines, sixths, blah-blah-blah, elevenths.
And if learning all this isn’t already extraordinary,
There’s music theory and music vocabulary.
Instead of just saying “get louder”, you have to “crescendo”,
Or for “fast” or “slow” you say “allegro” or “lento”.
Then there are names like Ionian, Dorian, Phrygian,
Lydian, Mixolydian, Aeolian, and Locrian.
(All being modes derived from scale C-major,
Plus each major scale also has a relative minor)
Multiple pattern exercises on guitar fretboards
Are even worse than finger drills on piano keyboards.
Worse, the string tuning on a six-string acoustic guitar
Is not quite the same as on a 4/5/6/7-string bass guitar.
It’s hard to get up on stage and routinely play
That same song, for the umpteenth time, in an inspiring way.
No wonder musicians seem to all suffer manic-depression,
From trying to play a full sets with unique expression.
All the advances in music equipment and technology
Bless and curse musicians like two-edged swords, you see,
Because all this work they do to sound like a maestro or genius
Can be counterfeited on a computer by a musical ignoramus.
But computer geeks won’t ever find that special place,
That fugue-like subtle sacred state of grace,
Which for brief moments is like deep meditation.
No, that’s the forbidden domain of the real musician.
To suggest that musicians all are just “gifted” naturally,
Is the absolute superlative worst insulting irony.
Truly, real musicianship can drive you nuts—
No, there really are no “ifs”, “ands”, or “buts”.
Ballet for Vowels
No eyes watch the vowel’s ballet
A masquerade dance for a, e, o or u
Graceful jettes, a happy heart chasses
To celebrate words for entrechat tendu.
Devant at the door an outcast of pas de deux
Begs for entrance to the ball ouvert -
As measured pas de chat leap on a terre blue
Waltz melody coupes the sad allegro heart.
Unseen the small graceful slender shape
Wears echappe dot for a hat
Ecarte and alone to speak of penche
All dressed up – ready to arabesque
Common dancers e, o, u and a eleve
Need new eyes to speak in releve!
Arabesque – a leap
A Terre – movement on the floor
Chasses – to chase
Coupe – to cut
Devant – in front of
Ecart - separated
Echapee o –escaped
Eleve – look up
Entrechat – weave
Jette – a leap
Ouvert – open
Pas de chat – leap like a cat
Pas de deux – a solo dance with two people
Penche – longing, inclination
Releve – Rise up
Tendu – stretch
Born out of twelve + years of dancing
6-8-21
Contest: Lipogram
Sponsor: Emile Pinet