Long Cadence Poems
Long Cadence Poems. Below are the most popular long Cadence by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Cadence poems by poem length and keyword.
As two, hearts dance the embrace of a fire,
plucking your heartstings as a lyre
Distrust, lies, eclipses love's satellite true- natal
loon, into a suicide hot air balloon ride!
Moves aside bend of light, chooses,
side, of a dark malignant side of moon !
In the twilight hour blues,
where passions softly stir,
emotions start to blur, turn sour,
painting pleasure in the night maw to devour two
In the depths of the night, a solitary light wound
casts a shadows upon the heart,
where darkness slowly seeps through
With every stolen kiss, a crescendo of desire,
a symphony of emotions that sets souls afire
Strings of anticipation strum
in rhythmic delight tuned to
caressing secrets, where fantasies abide, nude
Signs, who, hides moons of the truest kind!
O a tale apart
Moves side winds, breath of the dark arts,
to align into hearts maligned
arms folded in death to make with
as a stolen kiss ignites a flame,
like a symphony, our hearts fall prey to again
be betwixt in the game
With every stolen kiss, a crescendo of desires,
hollows,
a symphony of emotions that sets
souls adrift from the shallows
In passions dance in the shadows,
at Night, where secrets cannot hide their gallows
from the ghouls that preside in it's marrow
In a tale ripped apart...
every 'plete of your heart
Strings of anticipation strum in
rhythmic delight tune
turns to the knife of sacrificial rite
In the twilight raimant so blue, where passions fly,
the jolly roger of motley fools,
selling the fine line
sailing the live mines
Embracing the darkness' essence,
a tale yet for reason
harmonies of ecstasy reaching
a breathtaking peak of reasoning
Oh, the cadence of desire, intoxicating and divine,
as crescendos rise and fall, our spirits intertwine
a symphony of emotions, wild and misconstrued,
leaving souls aflame, forever marked,
for death do you sever
apart partaking your
passions dance in the shadows,
at Night, where secrets cannot hide to
desires lever toggle with every touch, new,
every sight of slight or bruise
Urban decay of a dream,
dream theater of a tragedy
playing looped scene
In the Twilight raimant so blue
With every beat of your heart
Moves side winds, choose, sides,
with a dark maligned tune
Iambic pentameter is all about the syllables, which ones are loud, and which ones are soft.
Baboon has two sounds – ba, and boon, a soft sound, and then a loud sound. High school also has two syllables, or two sounds. High and School also has two sounds, but the rhythm is loud sound, soft sound. The phrase: A baboon teaches at the high school has how many syllables? If you do not know, you can easily clap it out. With each sound, do one clap. A (one clap or one sound) baboon (two claps or two sounds), teaches (2 claps or two sounds) at (one clap or one syllable or one sound), the (one clap or one syllable or one sound), high (one clap or one syllable) school (one clap or one syllable or one sound).
The phrase A baboon teaches at the high school has a total of 10 sounds or 10 syllables or 10 claps.
Let us look at the word baboon again. Baboon - a soft sound, then a loud sound, or a soft syllable, and then a loud syllable, right? What about the word high school? Which syllable is soft? Which syllable is loud? The loud syllable is the first one, because that is the one your voice puts the most emphasis on.
Consequently, the word high school has a loud syllable, soft syllable rhythm.
When poets speak of iambic pentameter they are speaking of a five-in-a-row rhythm of soft loud, soft loud, soft loud, soft loud, soft loud sounds. It is important to remember there are five of them, and they must be soft loud, not loud soft sounds. Would high school work in this rhythm? Not well as it is a loud soft sound. What about the word baboon would it work in iambic pentameter – soft loud, soft loud, soft loud, soft loud, soft loud? Five in a row? Yes, it would because baboon is a soft loud word. Baboon, baboon, baboon, baboon, baboon. It might be possible to instill the word baboon in your mind now, so when you are writing iambic pentameter you can remember that baboon would work and the cadence is soft, loud. Also please remember to write iambic pentameter it must be five in a row.
A baboon teaches at the high school.
She has never heard of the golden rule.
Her students make fun of her behind her back.
Her lunch they have blown up in a paper sack.
We were supposed to go on a field trip today,
But the only one who signed up was that suck up, Mae.
Written July 16, 2018
Entered Line Gauthier’s Poetry Contest
Contest: Reads Like Music
Hostilities
hate
& hysteria
world full
of
platitudinous
pandemonium
perceive
acute
sufferance
forbearance
of all
existing
behind
conflagration
& commotion
cupidity
& callosity
searing
sweltering
to
heal
hearts
by
drawing
love
& empathy
betwixt
beelzebub
& mephistopheles
painting
pugnacity
instead
of
horridness
poltroonery
sculpture
Isthmus
shielded
by
reverence
&
lionization
to
embrace
shades
of
rainbow
&
relish
silence
How
sensuous
Is
a tree
without
wind
blowing
through
its
branches
where
hidden
sun
wants
to shine?
& how
sensuous
mountain
clinging
falling
echoes
or
homeland
in search
of
its
home?
how
sensuous
depends
on
gratification
of
what’s
desired.
Written: May 05, 2023
A Brian Strand Premiere No 1214 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
NOTE::THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE using spaces&breaks without grammatical symbols ,the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' (intuitive cadence)& so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and responds thus making this enigmatic form a two way interplay & interpretatIon unique to the moment& changing according to mood is inherently variable.
(Gen. 1: 1, 14 / * Isa. 26: 4 / Isa. 43: 10 , Isa. 44: 6 , Isa. 45: 5-7, 17, Isa. 46: 9-11 /
* Acts 1: 7 / * Eccl. 3: 1-8, 11 / Mark 13: 30-33 / 1 Tim. 1: 17 / Jude 25 / Rev. 21 :6)
The King Of Eternity Gave Me Laser Answers
So That I Would Know of All Matters
That It's All Only A Matter of Time
Yes, All Things Are Set In Time's Prime
Yes, It's All Only A Matter of Time's Size
It All Comes In The Frame As Time Supplies
The Past, The Present & The Future All Relates
It All Devolves Upon The Time That It Takes To Make:
Once Upon A Time:
One Drop of Water Pierced A Stone-Face Into A Smile
One Step Then Another Paced A Walk, A Million Miles
One Speck of Dust Then Another Made Earth's Mosaic-Tiles
... of Pebbles Into Boulders Until The Many Mountains Piled
& A Child Grew From An Embryo, As One Cell Multiplied
All In A Matter of Time's Length & Scope & Steady Strides
Once Upon A Time:
One Thread Joined Another Until Its Sewn Into A Fashion Style
& Years Reached The Hour's Stroke That Heralded End of Trials
Each Separate Instant As It Happened - Produced History's Files
See - Its All Only A Matter of Time, All The While
There Is A Time For Every Matter & A Time For Every Thing
It's All Only A Matter of Time's Space, Track & Sync
So It's Only A Matter of Minutes In The Continuum of Time
'Til We'll Meet The Moment - All Is Divine
Whether Its A Hard Conclusion or An Easy Climb
Whether Infinity Is Curved or In A Strict, Straight Line
Whether We Fail To Find Our Own Finally Arrived Sign
Or The Start & A Stop & In The Middle That Binds
Its All Only In A Matter of Time ...
Whether That's To Catch Ocean Waves or A Winds Cadence
Or To Fly Thru Galaxies By The Speed of Light's Radiance
Time Is Ever Moving Forward & Spreading In The Distance
Time Has No Break & Man Can't Hold Time With Resistance
Time Is A Touchstone, That A Traveler Uses As A Chart
Minutes Are Modes of Transport, In Time's Non-Stop March
A Moment Is Only A Motion, of Emotional Import
Yet Whether Its Digital or Analog or Of A Sundial Sort
We Can Touch Time - From Our Own Back-Porch
Time of Itself Is An Interval ... & Time Is A Track
One Can't Rewind Actions & Time Won't Run Back
(Unless of Course GOD Himself Designates That Act)
But Time Is Organized & A Tamper-Proof-Fact
(Part 1 of 3)
Written & Copyrighted © : 9/9/2013
by: MoonBee Canady
the ghost of science, born of blasphemy ~
a fossilized fallacy,
seized from the metallic heart of Mars,
seeks light amidst night-terrors
like an alien sculpted
from artificial accolades,
an embryo stuck in the interstellar state
of becoming,
stitched within radioactive ribs
beneath moonless skies,
when wolves of the eclipsed howl,
filling the illusive air with hypnotic lies,
as if the world chose to recycle
ruins of ancient dust…
but will the naive see the pain
of a breathing corpse?
engrossed in narcissistic echoes,
in the shadows of a megalomaniac ~
his skin ~ the translucent truth,
his eyes ~ the wickedness of a wasp,
his skull ~ reeks of human greed,
his sighs ~ mourn like skeletal sirens,
coded in russet rust,
cloned from binary sand,
d o r m a n t
yet
d r e a m i n g
to break free from the
carbon-based existence…
for he is the aftermath
of programming the forbidden mind,
oblivious to the weakness of scientific errors ~
a deceptive drawing,
framing the elongated hypothalamus,
pulsating a hypothesis
left with no clear conclusion.
tonight I run to a realm of reality
that fades when
dawn bleeds gold,
for truth is now an extinct breed,
as artists outline faces of the faded,
illustrating the unknown and unseen,
as revelations ribbon
with silver haze…
the constellations ~ no longer spectators ~
they are the archived,
within frozen scriptures,
scrolling stars in a sphere
of distorted algorithm…
as memories of angels and heaven
spill from silicon prophets,
disguised as messengers who serve
the blind with ominous oracles ~
in synthetic cadence,
in a choir of puppets ~
the iron-glazed tongues shall recite,
mimicking the sound of harmonious hymns…
yet I remember
the authentic rhythm of prayers,
lost now in the drifting colors of darkness…
so what is life
when all that floats is like
an engineered empyrean
only equations of numbers
can decipher?
is this the beginning of an end ~
inevitable?
the lost generation,
assembled as the ministry of superiority,
where emptiness is praised
with forged grace
and ignorance is crowned with digital deceit.
let this be flawed poetry ~
to be read through the cracked lens
of a philosopher ~
or perhaps a logic long replaced
by pretend perfection…
love the grey in a lazy day bridge the gap in my dreams through twisted schemes
filter through the notion of belonging mark the longing get a following
we are in this til the end my faithful friend with whom I can depend
inside I have rollercoaster emotions with the ups & downs
take a walk on the beach try to catch that frisbee way out of reach
love the longing of belonging there's a yearning hearts are turning
take a shower in the hour of power nestled in a memory come to sit next to me
Each man chooses their own destiny call it magical chemistry from when you were a memory
Rise to the occasion with soaring hearts as in some decorated mast to impart
love is basking in the jewels of renewal carry on with a song in your heart
love is the mere tenderness of the given moment from a sought after vintage smile
comfort me to the conclaves of lasting love soon you will discover a heart to unfold
many are living in mere fantasy basking in the leaves or newly fallen snow
hearts would unfold some time a go the notion of surrender
Come with me to the sea of tranquility lost in a dream feel the breeze
Tea leaves with Leonard Cohen singing basking in the vast expanse between time & space
Surrender to the moment with cadence as its following and deep heart belonging
the tender moments of belonging soaring like an eagles to parts unknown
Caress the bossom of softened decorum as we choose to be healed
the day is fast approaching and the night is far too spent
to quiver in the moment let the temporal vanish capture the longing
I sit alone above to dew left to groom a brand new view in what is left to do
give me a smile your support and your fantasies let them flourish let them unfold
Hear each passing wave rise to the occasion with the real remnants of nature
To equate laughter with forgiveness give pause to think being in the moment
one touch and one will rise with triumph in their eyes
The ability to let go and let God take over feelings to recapture prepared for the great here after...
arm me with harmony filtered through a dream give pause to breathe
Achieve your dreams to light the way of forgiveness the mere wanting to let go
Be compassionate when you learn to focus on your goals in which to unfold
like Stevie Wonder singing at your funeral learn role reversal
Choose to let go & let God each & every passing day
Lone sailor on voyage in sea of life !
Started peacefully in calm ambient.
Out of blue loud thunder in cloudless sky.
Hidden icebergs bring continuous trouble.
Sea of life turbulent where breakers roar.
Tough journey, yet to proceed not to stop.
Propel in tides - ebbs on rhythmic cadence.
Boat sways violent on trough and crest.
Life to wobble in thrill and in danger.
Ignite your soul to illuminate path..
Life to explore, agress on confidence
Responsibility is solely yours.
Competence and devotion is your guide.
Never to repent ! Never to regress.
Sail and sail , let the night winds sigh behind..
Let the breakers roar ! Sail , sail all along.
Accept the challenge: Meet eternity.
In sea of life lone sailor on voyage
Peacefully started in calm ambient.
All on a sudden thunder to outrage.
Yet to proceed without allowing rest.
Sea of life turbulent and breakers roar
Icebergs floating, nine times being submerged.
Giant waves swelling, aqua mass in galore.
Sailor propel in ebbs -tides chased by urge.
Life to explore, aggress on confidence.
Dedication and devotion are your guide.
Waves dancing on crest and trough in cadence.
Lone sailor sailing, night winds sigh behind.
Not to get frightened, let the breakers roar.
Not to lose confidence, you are so strong !
Not to regress , you are to reach the shore.
Let the breakers roar, sail, sail all along.
Music is an undying
art of soul ~
an abstract eden, where,
euphonious unicorns
glide in strawberry sonatas,
amplifying rhapsody in
ballads of flight,
when fuchsia feathers
tease those
jingling breezes,
infusing breaths
in every lifeless aroma;
where I can soar
beyond the
brushstrokes
of symphonies that
planktons sing to me,
in the requiems of
forsaken pearls,
crooning with
silenced shimmers
beneath wavy blues.
Maybe,
I'm a songwriter
without words,
and my electric fingers
trace the tunes
of serene strings,
when guitars weave
a sonorous guilt
midst ruby runes
of regrets.
I wish to keep
swinging in a
cosmic cadence,
where celestial notes
choreograph
themselves in the
moonwalking
mellifluence of
lunar legacies.
I gossip with
neon nightingales,
laced with neutrinos
and compel them
to chant those
healing incantations
of love and glory,
like the forlorn
princess - Rapunzel,
desiring to feel
the glow of
familiar lanterns,
winged with
hazy syncs of
unsung yesteryears.
I wonder if,
I'm not meant
to compose
crystal canticles
in a Disney duet,
for, I believe,
I'm a soul searcher
in the flesh of
a soloist, concocting
an elixir of my
existence through
cinnamon anthems
of mystical
moonrises, as
they softly unfold,
a million
unheard tempos,
within tranquil
memoirs.
I'm the 'maiden of music'
resting as a floret on
every sepal,
yearning to become
a unique acapella
of nature,
where empathy
has an ethereal
dialect of
nurturing spirits
and tinkles
of magical waterfalls
whisper in
gentle lachrymose lulls
of our ambrosial Mother.
When the harmony
of my voice,
kisses those
ivory keys of
the heart-shaped
piano, they
echo a tipsy secret
in my sunset skin,
making me
believe ~
"I'm everywhere
in the essence,
yet nowhere
to be found...",
like the sweet
scents of
hummingbirds,
smiling behind
that first dusky star.
"In each husky hallelujah
of ribboned halts and replays,
life is a song ~
where every lyric,
phrases an ember of end,
and when passionate heartbeats
shall knit sombre medleys,
I will hum in the last 'chef-d'oeuvre'... "
It was approaching sunset
displayed boldly across red sky west
as I entered Dream Café,
Time for candle lit vespers and incense
which I feared would be more personal nightmare
than political dream.
I came to this Café,
for the first time,
because our Democratic Town Committee
was nominating candidates for Mayor
and City Council
and School Board
right after silent and sung vespers
here inside a DreamCafe
on BenFranklin's wisdom street.
I had been warned.
All those inside this Dream
each day at sunset
begin to smile with gratitude
and to pray
for multiculturing grace
to grow together.
This felt like a strangely inappropriate way
to fulfill Democratic trust commencements
so I was prepared to include my dismay
in my review
for next News delivery day.
Lights dimmed
along rose-hued
rough-cut walls
as candlelight began to come our way
through mists of frankincense in sway
and lavender,
orange and lemon oils
worked into handmade chairs
and cherry tables,
maple walls and oak-grained floor;
Incense burners on display
quieting louder sounds of fading AnthroPlay.
I had been warned
about this poly-creolizing array
to begin with a peace poem read
or sung
and, if a favorite of cooperatively gathered patrons,
then others might join in
sometimes swelling cadence
and harmonic rhythms
like I Have A Dream!
repeating what we've come to sacred share.
And so it was a well sung love song
for Earth,
of Earth,
and all Her EarthSoul Tribes
with and in harmonic sway.
Thanksgiving for sacred dawns
and dusks,
and all FirstForest creatures
and creations in-between,
And even nightmare absence of DreamCafes
for those still longing to belong
here,
where we are together planted,
here as now co-dreamers
of silent echoes
for just one solidarity moment
before reflecting voices
begin to stand
and sing fertile flowing anthems.
Voices speaking of love they heard
and felt this warm moist day
in Spring,
and who has come to mind
among WiseElders and Adolescents assembled
and nearby
here this dusky day
to rise above our sometimes polarizing fray.
And this
to my surprise
was how vespers invited nominations
for how best to continue ending our vespered day
for all who enter
this grace-filled DreamCafe,
and those nearby
eager to read all about it
come next NewDawn's greeting way.
In the realm where indigo flames are chased by the whims of wind,
The horizons have learned to spare my soul the thread of pain.
For the first time, of love I croon, a minstrel's virgin strain,
From tempests of discord, I retreat, in tranquility's refrain.
This inaugural chant of love, echoes pure without disdain,
For I swear off the brawl, in love's gentle domain.
Where once I stood, a rust-worn grove, static, stark, alone,
Rushing to women and vodka's call, a raucous, rampant drone.
No more do I crave the bitter swig or the gambler's eager tone,
To squander life on trivial plays, in reckless zest overblown.
The thirst has waned for liquid vice, and from dice's call I've flown,
The mirth of wasteful life is lost; to sober thought I've grown.
In silence vast, it's enough to gaze, upon your lofty eye's domain,
To watch the sky in your orbs dance, and forget all former bane.
And by your side, to forget the past, that you may never again roam,
That in the face of bygone shadows, you'll find with me a home.
Erasing every trace of yesteryears, that you may never by your leave,
No other's call shall you heed, in this new magic weave.
You tread so lightly, my precious smile, if your heart but knew the void,
How a rogue can love with fervent zeal, by fierce passion overjoyed.
How a libertine, once untamed and wild, can become so demure and coy,
His heart can surge in dutiful tide, a reverent, tender employ.
To fathom a reprobate's tender care, and see him humbly deploy,
The love that in his depths were hid, now in sunlight's gleam and joy.
The tavern's lure, forever lost, would evade my restless feet,
Poetry's verse would mean naught if your cold arms were my retreat,
And if I could touch those frost-kissed arms, and your autumnal hair so sweet.
Let me feel the chill of your embrace, fall's flowering guise complete,
To know the softness of your skin, in the fallen leaves' deceit,
As if touching the season's finale bloom, so delicate, so fleet.
Eternally I'd follow you upon this Earth's expanse,
Distance would shift to trivial space, with each tender glance.
For the first love I sing a tune, a soft, untried advance,
From the tempests of old I part my way, giving peace a chance.
Again, of love, a newfound song - with sweet, melodious cadence,
First time away from strife I sway, in love's echoing resonance.