Long Arpeggio Poems
Long Arpeggio Poems. Below are the most popular long Arpeggio by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Arpeggio poems by poem length and keyword.
The old man was no longer a hunter,
But he would not stoop to women’s chores.
A storm was brewing as he sought
Shelter in a round cave.
Soon he had a fire going but he preferred
To stay near the entrance and listen.
He did not know yet what music was
But he could tell the difference
Between each sound that echoed outside.
The wind was strong that began like a rigadoon
But reached its forte in tone and pitch,
A crescendo that reached its apex as it climbed the hills.
There it hit stones and sent them down crashing
Like the sound of synchronized drums.
Slowly the wind lost its force and vibrated into a cadence,
Leading to an herbaceous plain as it wandered off
Like a soft funeral march.
The old man heard all and knew what was to come.
Promptly a bird began to sing to the now calm night,
A mellifluous sonata and then subliminal silence.
A breeze whipped up, a silky serenade that like an arpeggio
It grew ductile but strong as it flew amongst the trees,
Leaves replying with a trill till the moon came up,
Shadows dancing on the now calm groove.
All was at peace.
The old man picked up his reed. Someday he will learn
And emulate the sounds around into a coherent aria.
18 December 2020
Soothing, lissome; render the facsimile of its
Heart; Such a spright with adore imbued.
‘Er pelt’s so sleek; as petite fry’s
In its nurse’s, gentle and suckling:
The only Cutie-pie on my heart.
Realism in its mettle glints joie de vivre,
As doeth molten chaste gold in the forge; a
Knoll of whose acme other inamoratas feign. Such
An Alkebulan nymph of finest of lustre imagined:
The one and only on the heart.
Nymph of great splendor so priced,
Guarantees anew that adoring even more I stay;
Or peril I at rivals shameful losses, awaiting
My heart’s intensely pricked – broken:
As if it weren’t the only Cutie-pie on my heart.
Beauty as embossed on it and in
Every milieu envisioned, of itself no ill utters;
Making it the solo etch on this conquered heart,
And of those who in split or full, fray pro-reign
Over the one and only on the heart.
Hells all abhorrence merited, it deters!
Anti-doting each time desolation's endured,
Thus, it insures my glee agst perils viable;
Agst rivals in places – a reassuring haven:
The only Cutie-pie on my heart.
In its blissful eye’s such an unfaked
Love that soothes like no cool draft does;
Optically reassuring in such ways it’s my
Venus, the finest of icons in the realms of adore:
The one and only on the heart.
Every songbird that hums its tune,
Yens for the arpeggio worthy the hymn for
One sylph in a million – for its admirers reverie;
‘Until fatality do us part’, in their self-deceited yen
For the only Cutie-pie on my heart.
My steps sketch themselves in charcoal on this sunlit path.
My brushes lose their way upon the open canvas of life.
Shadows are rare this morning, and yet still awaited.
A white merges with the vast blue of the sky in a blessed instant.
Creation is an alchemy that opens the gates of paradise.
The palette, a deep breath unfolding its wings of color.
Poetry, the blender of life’s hues, shapes a shelter.
Letting these sparks of brightness slip away warms the heart.
Feeling a breeze of emotions invade us then fade.
Performing a light and steady gesture that touches the heart.
Weaving a cloth of colors to finally watch it soar.
Opening the sky to the vibrations of the purest sounds is flattering.
Perceiving a silence laying its imprint as it withdraws.
Watching this universe of tones glide quietly toward the invisible.
Sensing this lesson unfold in a hesitant gesture.
To the arpeggio of light is bound what is born unspeakable.
— Joël Charvillat
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.
Bereft..
tingles and sway
deserted
heartstrings bestilled..
I yearn
for the thrill of the dance
and for ravishing trills of arpeggio moments..
widowed..
the capriccio
has died;
lifeless in swoon-less inertia
I pine
for zealous zephyrs to float my cloudless notes
and kiss me aquiver -
to shiver my craving broken chords
in the lusty bluster of his imaginative airs
and the lively magic of his lyrical lovemaking
wistful
without whispers
blue
without wind-songs
chant-less..
I suffer in silence -
awaiting
my escapade
in the windy caprices
of his mind-blowing dalliances..
for neither of us can sing without the other.
Susan Ashley
September 14, 2018
~ Third Place ~
Best Free Verse July 1 - October 1, 2018
John Hamilton
*Capriccio: 1. Music; a lively piece composed freely and without adhering to the rules of any specific musical form. 2. A whim; caprice.*
*Caprice: 1. A sudden, unpredictable change, as of one’s mind or the weather. 2. A sudden, unpredictable change in attitude, behavior, etc; whim. 3. Another word for capriccio.*
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She was not beautiful like the sirens sharing their luster on pages,
But she was beautiful in how her thoughts gracefully floated through worlds.
A spark in her gaze when she spoke passionately of her love,
Splendor that, beyond voice, awakens new stars in the heavens.
Beautiful in a smile that gathers springs within another soul,
Even though from her lips flowed rivers of silent melancholy,
Her beauty did not lie in flesh, but in sacred mysteries,
That from the depths of hearts, like from deep wells are drawn.
Like the dawn that dresses the day in sapphire garments,
Not for the light it casts, but for the promise of tomorrow,
Beautiful were her roots which had stealthily dug into the being's soil,
Beneath each shimmer, a vast soul that harbors harmony within.
And thus, she found silver paths to walk at least once more,
Even when life's threatening storms swirled around her,
One who looks beyond the curtain that time weaves laboriously,
Could see how through her, the universe borrowed a piece of heaven on earth.
Her beauty was not built on moments that come and then fade away,
It was the very eternal song of life, building castles in her arpeggio.
She was beautiful, free and pure, beyond masks and shyness,
She was beautiful... not with an alabaster beauty, but in the depths of the soul.
Hard FOOT SOFT SOUL Dedicated VERSE FOR SHASTA SIMMS ANTHOLOGY #2
Hard foot soft soul
Oh, you gotta go
Hot foot soft soul dance
Hot axe bop step in chance
Hard foot soft soul
Plays as you step cool jazz
Hard foot hot soul
Man seize the night play the axe
Cool is the jazz
Setting episode of the angel dance
Drumming beats
Percussion sweet
Pirouette quick turn and run
Man in the corner blowin the horn
Bridge fusion beat music arpeggio (give me some)
Hard foot soft soul
Oh, you gotta go
Hot foot soft soul dance
Hot axe bop step in chance
Hard foot soft soul
Plays as you step cool jazz
Hard foot hot soul
Man seize the night play the axe
Hard FOOT SOFT SOUL
10/8/24
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2024©
Dedicated VERSE FOR SHASTA SIMMS ANTHOLOGY #2
The labyrinth of the mind transforms into a somber temple, where glyphs of thought intertwine,
And beneath the dome of the nocturnal sky, hearts like ancient scrolls unfold and burn in incantations.
The only enclosure where man erects his biography is a veritable menagerie of dreams,
A pantheon of thoughts and phantasms, with the altar of bitter desires.
With fingers of transparent dreams, he stretches his wanderings across the inner frescoes,
Where colors blend into palimpsests, and pigment is born only when summoned.
But the depths hide the fog, unleashing sphinxes that roam the corridors of wise chaos,
And the shadows come, the night's responsory, to absorb his light, to fashion his coffin of shadows.
In this labyrinth of the self, celestial wolves and crystal deer spin round the roundel of forgetfulness,
And in the corners of darkness, basilisks nest, dreadlocks of darkness weave the feverish tapestry.
Demons silently ringing at the gate of essence, demand the toll to be freed and transfigured,
And all this reverberation, each turmoil, is an unwritten palimpsest, a silent carol.
Every breath, every tremble of the lip, is an undeciphered libretto, an unsung chord,
In the crypt of his heart, dungeons of unfulfilled passions,
Wandering on a melancholic arpeggio, on strings of a sealed and closed wasteland.
But from the darkness resists, a phoenix of thought, a leaf of hope, an unexpected flight of light,
And man deciphers that in his own labyrinth,
He is the master, the musician, and the sculptor of his boundless life.
Thus, crossing the threshold of flesh, he surrenders to the wave of dreams,
Flying on the rainbow of imagination, in his most sacred sanctuary,
Where his imprisonment is the heart of a living temple,
And he is the hidden angel, in the eternal saga of his own light.
Fluttering fingertips
on ebony and ivory
gently ascending
like the wings of
a white butterfly~
then gradually descending~
fading like a sleepy sun.
Tender instrumental pauses ~
transposing into heart beats
like the silence between I
and LOVE~ and YOU
when you utter them
in our nocturnal tryst.
Dulcet moonlight melodies ~
in shifting harmonies of arpeggio;
Lingering like the touch of your fingertips
on my cheeks as you kiss me goodnight.
14 February 2021
Notes: Liebesträume (German for Dreams of Love) is a set of three solo piano works (S. 541/R. 211) by Franz Liszt, published in 1850. Originally the three Liebesträume were conceived as lieder after poems by Ludwig Uhland and Ferdinand Freiligrath. (Source: Wikipedia)
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