Long Cadences Poems
Long Cadences Poems. Below are the most popular long Cadences by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Cadences poems by poem length and keyword.
I wore my leather jacket for the midnight crawl;
Howled a sonnet at the rising moon.
In a comedy of errors, let the engine stall;
Told my baby she’d be rescued soon.
I’m gonna rock like Romeo; roll your bones.
Gonna rock and roll with literary overtones.
I took an upstage lead with my soliloquy,
Emoting bold intentions, hand in glove,
Seducing her to be, or maybe not to be,
With soft iambic cadences of love.
I’m gonna rock like Hamlet; roll like old King Lear.
Gonna rock you as you like it then I’ll chug a beer.
I went about love’s labors with midsummer’s nerve;
Pledged sweet nothings without much ado.
Traced the upswept contour of her cashmere curve;
Went downstairs to tame her naughty shrew.
I’m gonna rock like Falstaff when the Wolfman howls,
His Elizabethan accent full of shifting vowels.
I’m gonna be the rebel at the high school dance;
Treat the merry wives of Windsor to a group romance.
*Image of Two Hearts Drawn On Sand by Heart Images.
Heart Truth
Harmony resonates...fulfills an abandoned chamber,
albeit, interims vigilantly monitored...by one's self,
seconds fleet onward...persuading one's lips to rise gladly.
Gleeful eyes revisit....a hosts of crossing memories,
each and all contain a measure...throbbing gently a ballad plays,
once exist a youthful sight...now aged look back--my heartbeats.
Harp strings rhythms...my veinuous tracks embrace--an organ plays,
while one which entertains...constantly convinces a melody,
twain pounds likewise as one...compared since the day eyes first met.
Soundless bounces consonance...silent eyes whisper a tune,
donning facial expressions...grants a lifetime in brevity's blinks,
solemn occasions a welcoming...touched and set claimed me.
Juxtaposed well times...atone for the substance that writhes me,
on days that my heart quivered for a beat...hands gripped my chest tightly,
beckoned Heaven's gate to wait a while...angels awoke me.
Blessed be normal cadences...epilogues long await,
an open invitation hails...a broader spectrum stimulates,
an anew life has been rewarded...a heartbeats so true.
2020 August 08
*1st Place*
Heart Truth
~~Chantelle Anne Cooke: Judged 2020 August 09
Kristel had some old scores to settle for good or for better
She had tried the violin with no significant results other
Than a crystalline chandelier shattering quite frequently
When she raised the bow after too shrieking concertos
In search of achievement performance and other’s acclaim
It reminded her of Oscar in Grass’ tin drum in which the
Protagonist refused to grow but sang at the top of his voice
Maybe she had to be arrested in silence and mute retreat
Instead she had to beat the drum and attack the membranes
Of a different instrument banging from the crest of her soul
She thought to herself to be rather good at it until the neighbours
Asked for an injunction for when the message failed to appease
A tambourine then and she became major but for minor disruption
But she longed for a more central part in her own drama and flow
And would not stay further backstage before and after the curtain
A faded tapestry it turned out to be when her inside kept aching
A silent walk on or a mime in the shadows of subtle diversion but
She sought more than a hobby or discharge of darkness in her quest
Wanted to be heard and not only seen when the narrator upstaged her
Out of nowhere crisp corals of her lonely tune come into rhythm
When Kristel chorded her vocal crescendo free from constraint
She found her voice struck all octaves and blossomed sotto voce
At first it was not apparent where harmony came from and whether
Cadences pretended to cover up discord or claimed syntheses’ mask
Yet when she abandoned personae she soon accorded music and peace
11th February 2019
Lumbar ladies stroll by as the night sedans plunder the ho-dad hostels.
Looking to find nothing except another dozing cigarette beyond the cadenzas.
Another hot afternoon in suburbia with the repeated barkings of a distant dog.
Billy boy in his red asphalt-eating machine turns the dial to San Bernardino.
There is cool music bobbing in the hot accepting winds, south of Dragons Head.
In smoggy Corona, the dizzy Volkswagens travel in circles like demented dogs.
Billy boy guns the engine as he and the Mexican chick cruise in a ’67 beetle.
They pass the Chuck Wagon, as Slim Harpo melts the sun with Little Liza Jane.
Traffic signals, and the elderberry trees, pretend to dance to the muted cadences.
The hot afternoon winds play their own love-games as Billy boy comes to a stop.
Brown-eyed señorita with long hair flowing tells Billy boy to turn up the sound.
‘Music is life,’ she says, as the red asphalt-eating machine turns left at 6th Street.
Lumbar ladies stroll by now as the night sedans receive the night’s embrace.
At City Park, Billy and his latin lady sleep soundly in the cottonwood darkness.
what if a sonnet had a face
and hands aimless beard coarse
as scouring pads licking off food grime
high-heat stains that shadow pans
almond eyes lusty
but wise-looking
choppy meters
to meet
expectations
surpassed by the
you-ness of you soundly
tangential cadences and quaint
flirtations
drawing me into your world perfectly
what if a sonnet bore arms and plump lips
enveloping previous lovelorn lives
arms that carry like bird's arias drift dripping
ease straining fragile peace from strife
could it be a sonnet with clumsy
feet
distressed emphasis
and bent rhymes
my sweet
Autumn, the present season
Changes of cadences and colors
It's a very charming time
Which only lies in errors.
The leaves are no longer green
Except those of the everlasting firs
A large number of sentinel birds
Leave, because they are less alert.
Fall is a beautiful and dark season
Which is between the cool and the cold
It's time to decorate the homes
For the feasts of the believers, and for the loas.
Autumn is here; the leaves are falling
On the damp lawns and on the graves
Winter will be more severe this year
And the buds will be absent on the glaciers.
Autumn is picturesque and melancholic
The ladies start to hide their bodies
Bit by bit. The smiles become dramatic
As we celebrate the living and the dead.
Copyright © October 2020, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poetry.
This is a translation of the poem: 'L'Automne Est Là' by Hebert Logerie
Unbound Verse**
Words flow free, like water's gentle sway,
Unchained by rhyme or meter's strict decree.
A river of thought, meandering with ease,
Expressing depths, unfettered and at ease.
No measured beats restrict its rhythmic stride,
No forced cadences mar its natural stride.
It dances with the soul, a graceful flight,
Unburdened by the confines of the night.
Like whispers carried on the wind's soft breath,
Free verse weaves tales of joy, despair, and death.
It paints emotions in vibrant hues untold,
A tapestry of feelings, raw and bold.
In its unbound freedom, truth takes flight,
Unveiling secrets hidden from the light.
It speaks of dreams and hopes, both grand and small,
And echoes voices that reverberate through all.
So let the words flow unrestrained and wild,
In free verse's embrace, untamed and mild.
For in its boundless realms, the soul finds grace,
A sanctuary where thoughts find their rightful place.
TO A NEVER-ENDING SYMPHONY
OF EMANCIPATION’S RECONSTRUCTION
Stomping cautiously
Along the erratic cadences
Of slaved-based racism
And its quarter-note overtones,
We groove from one oppressive
Barred-beat to another:
The scored freedom sojourn
Filled with negative rest stops,
Designed to decrescendo
Wailing staccato, rhythmic screams
Of jazzy, flowing notes, echoing
With rebellious metered sounds:-
Bypassing silent apathetic rest stops,
With a crescendo of rumbling faith
And sassy melodic hopes,
Renewed booming sounds of liberation,
void of waning half notes,
Loudly burst into vibrant whole notes
Of modulating fixed purpose:
Creating a never-ending
Symphony Of Emancipation,
Conducted by spiritual directing,
Exacting melodic notes
Of an ultrasonic pulse,
Echoing a never-ending concert
And its encore sounds of
Liberty’s total reality:-
"Life is a song in which everyone makes up the keys and harmony as they sing along." - Mitta Xinindlu
In rhythms of light, softly glowing
Bringing the night a glimpse of serenity,
Feelings abiding in the soul, feelings of joy,
Feelings of love…
In patterns of laughter, softly flowing
Bringing the spirit a gentling, a stirring,
Beautiful beyond comparing, beauty so rare,
Beauty in a heart who cares…
In beats of breathless wonder, music knowing
Bringing the still, hushed breath a lovely hope,
Hope that colors the world in hues of gold,
Golden dreams, so life seems…
Life is a song, with so many tempos and cadences,
Singing of the miracles, the prayers, the clarity,
Love so remarkable it can’t be spoken, only known,
By hearts who hear the music…
Beneath the rhythmic melody of light and love,
The brilliance of a ballad sung for hearts who delight,
In the magnificent only God could have authored,
The song of life’s cadenced insight…
Insight into the love that comes from knowing –
Wherever this song is sung, there is light that dazes,
Amazing the heart, the soul, the one who hears…
The music of this song, as life dances on and on,
Despite its fears –
Yes, despite its fears…
Life is a Song!
Written: January 29, 2025
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Amidst a nostalgic winter mist —
An enamel moon has glowing glyphs
Woven clouds and a gossamer shroud
The glittering sky, a crystal whisper —
In the cold shine of the Western dome.
Rustic reeds sing a chorus lullaby.
Hazel tints blend with golden drizzles —
Opal haze conceals a galactic story,
Restless spirit bathed in an ethereal glow
Silver choristers croon ghostly lyrics —
Epic opera amid the onyx twilight sky
A bottomless abyss hiding aching hunger.
Darkness spins ancient cadences—
in rustling rustic reeds of winter whisper.
nature’s rhapsodies hum timeless opera tunes;
luminous aureoles amidst woven clouds
shimmering stars in a galactic embrace —
vaults of night-hosting celestial conspiracies.
Beneath an agate sky, whispers grow bold;
haze and misty dreams spin silent tales—
winter moon glows with a frost-kissed sheen;
along rustic lanes and silvered paths—
auroras weave their cadence among the stars.
hums of choral mysteries cradle the twilight.
Runes glisten like hazel eyes in moonlight’s gaze;
golden-amber drizzles line nature’s skin.
wistful longings echo through time-worn trees;
epic tales unfold where shadows intertwine—
ageless hearts beat within this luminous sphere.
Woven wonders beneath an endless sky.
darkened skies whisper secrets to earthbound spirits—
rhapsodies spun from cosmic threads weave our fate.
amid ageless whirls of celestial symphony
nature's hymn carries us beyond mortal confines.