Long Cello Poems
Long Cello Poems. Below are the most popular long Cello by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Cello poems by poem length and keyword.
Nature's divided into four seasons
each eye-catching in a similar way
and yet, different for many reasons.
Winter's crystalline beauty carries sway
but She is both barren and deathly cold
with a hollowed-out heart of papier-mache.
Spring’s spectacle slowly breaks Winter’s hold
accompanied by a moist April breeze
She showers snowdrops as petals unfold.
Summer is known for Her emerald trees
dandelions, coleslaw, a picnic spread
grasshoppers, hummingbirds, and honeybees.
Autumn colors the leaves in shades of red
scarlet, crimson, puce, orange, and yellow
weaving a fitting shroud for Summer’s dead.
Together they keep the planet mellow
each a fine-tuned string on Nature's cello.
10/12/2019
(An interpretation of what someone could be feeling writing the song above: called: 'Until Then')
The keys play of my loneliness
The cello echoes the flow of my call
As I am lifted with pleas of what I need
From all I can or cannot do
Near or not, you are my home
I hold on tightly from afar
Your face touches my skin in the breeze
Wait for me, for I will be there
Hear my voice, as I ride the keys
I am on my way to you
Nothing is the same without you
My friend, my breath is yours
I am playing these keys to be carried
On the very same breeze back to you
Feel it on your skin, as it reaches you softly
Feel it in this song, as I sing my way to you
My soul cries for how lost I am without you
I am waiting and ready to join you
With every wave of this melody
To rise above everything with you
The strings carry us where we are meant to be
In the home of our hearts, in the home of our souls
Where our love never parts, from the past to future
For eternity to come, time will then, bring me home
Heidi Sands
11/21/17
In a dream world, where shadows dance silently at dusk,
My thoughts wander like a whispering wind,
Golden tears flow as the sky's cello weeps,
My heart, a labyrinth of echoes, struggles in whispered harmonies.
Memories unravel, petals of time scattered in the wind,
Extinguished stars, dreams are an ocean of paradoxical silences,
In the mirror of the sky, the moon hides its face from memories,
I float like a leaf burned by the longing for a setting sun.
My soul, a bird of smoke, gets lost among clouds of mist,
When the clock chimes, I close my eyes and let silence carry me,
Into the depths of thoughts, where light and darkness embrace,
I find myself, lost in the eternal dance of time, immortal.
In this dream universe, where paradoxes give birth to magic,
I melt into the silent music of a beginning without end,
And rise like a dead leaf toward the sky that calls me,
Waiting for the wind to carry me to the forgotten light of dawn.
My thoughts wander like a whispering wind,
Golden tears flow as the sky's cello weeps,
My heart, a labyrinth of echoes, struggles in whispered harmonies.
Memories unravel, petals of time scattered in the wind,
Extinguished stars, dreams are an ocean of paradoxical silences,
In the mirror of the sky, the moon hides its face from memories,
I float like a leaf burned by the longing for a setting sun.
My soul, a bird of smoke, gets lost among clouds of mist,
When the clock chimes, I close my eyes and let silence carry me,
Into the depths of thoughts, where light and darkness embrace,
I find myself, lost in the eternal dance of time, immortal.
In this dream universe, where paradoxes give birth to magic,
I melt into the silent music of a beginning without end,
And rise like a dead leaf toward the sky that calls me,
Waiting for the wind to carry me to the forgotten light of dawn.
If one scene upon a screen could chill the spine
The rare and raw emotion soars the mind
It crawls into the skin of Andrew Beckett
Gaunt, pale, a shell, by thread he clings
A man betrayed my those who lack compassion
In a world that slithers cold and lusts with hate
Inside his private world lives grace unfolding
Although such mortal fate breathes deathly close
While living each moment tethered to a pole
He shares beloved music from his soul
And hopes he helps a new deaf friend to hear
With such beauty, the essence...he hopes to share
Open his heart to what is perfect and pure?
The magnificence!! Oh how it speaks of tragedy's past
Such brilliance! Her voice....that captures the fire!
"Listen....as she cries out in anguish and pain!
Hear how the strings bring forth the feeling of rain
And that cello so sacred...Oh! hear the spirit of sorrow!"
"Does your heart become swollen, as the music unfolds?
Close your eyes, did you hear it?? Ahh...yes...I see in your eyes
Oh! How life is divine.... you are witness to mine...
Oh the lyrics..."La Mamma Morta"....oh, the rapture unwinds...."
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Tom Hanks performance in "PHILADELPHIA"
(My favorite scene of all time...with Denzel Washington
as they listen to Maria Calas sing "La mamma morta". Check it out on You Tube...
(you tube site: Philadelphia..La Mamma Morta)
_______________________________________________________________________
*Image of Mom Playing at the Church by Family Photo
Pride of Place
Our matriarch, a great musician of sorts,
The piano, her centerpiece, she supports,
Coaching youthful kids even kids in shorts,
Performing at nights at resplendent resorts.
~0~ ~0~ ~0~
She taught the well-to-do to fund her trade,
Still, the piano, the cornerstone she made,
Training those destitute who hadn't paid,
My mom's piano she loved and played.
2022 January 29
*2nd Place*
Pride of Place
~~Julia Ward: Judged 2022 February 09
*Mom was a truly talented virtuoso on a guitar/rivaled Spanish strummers, ukelele and cello, drums, trumpet, flute, horn, tambourine, organ, and YES piano ... to name a few and composer of thousands of compositions.
Women are gathering,
collectively moving
in ever narrowing circles
around the cloudy orbit
of my psyche.
Both ghosts and the living
revolve ever nearer
all intent upon one purpose.
Never much the womanizer
I allowed women in.
Some played me
on the shoulder of a dark cello,
some loved me as best they could.
White flags and red flags
waved on a common field
leading inevitably
to disorderly retreats.
Toads evolved
into eagles and flamingos,
then regressed back to tadpoles.
Loathing could easily melt
to obsession,
sometimes appearing
as that opaque moonglow
often mistaken for love
at a distance.
Now the women
circle my life closer and closer,
not to menace
or forgive, or renew a romance,
but to close those broken circles
love makes
when it breaks up with itself.
It starts as a treble~
a low, warm note
curling in the hollow of my ribs,
soft as a cello waking
to its first intention.
My heart keeps time~
a quiet strum,
steady as fingers tapping
on a wooden table.
Each beat is a downstroke,
each breath a lift,
my body becoming
its own metronome.
Then the melody stirs.
Not loud~
a ribbon of subtle sound
threading through my bloodstream,
gathering color
as it rises.
I walk,
and the world joins in:
gravel clicking like castanets,
wind caressing my ear
with brushed-snare softness,
light chiming off leaves
in tiny silver bells.
The page waits~
white, expectant,
a silent staff
ready for whatever music
dares to cross it.
I lower my pen.
The first phrase drops~
a bright, ringing note
cutting through the hush,
its echo widening
until the stanza
begins its slow, sure sway.
Ink becomes tempo.
Syllables become intervals.
Emotion becomes tone~
a warm, resonant thrum
vibrating through the margins
long after the music
has settled.
When the poem finishes
and the last note fades
into the softness of the page,
the chorus loosens~
this is the chorus a poet bleeds:
the music beneath thought,
the pulse beneath language,
the quiet, persistent song
that keeps singing
even when the mouth
is still.
.
I can feel the breath of violin, upon my face
~
The fluttering wings of fingers playing, 'A Lark Ascending'
In sweet release, I close my eyes, and drift away to inner peace
~
All strife takes flight, the music takes me to a meadow growing….
Two clarinets, in soft duet …..are timeless, ageless, knowing
I'm standing still, in waving grass, a cello plays a soft breeze blowing
I weave and sway…the music plays …a french horn makes sweet love to me
As if a lark, I leave the ground, upon the lilting sound, and fly away…
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Inspired by the Classical composition, "A Lark Ascending"
Composed by Vaughn Williams
using consistency as the motivating factor
position
of being her lover to him
it disappointed someone else
some who thought one way
only to have been faced with something
completely different
yet with opportunity we are faced with
what exsist from her want to
be known as a woman
that she in all her womanhood
can be socially excepted
and physically wanted
her motivation is she is a prize
for all of those who wish
to possess her
she believes in her way of thinking
that whats right for her
is rel and right for all of those who know her
meetings are beginnings for new
love affairs
might we all be loved!
FROM THE BOOK " GLAMOROUS" AUTHOR UNKNOWN..... SHE IS QUOTED AS SAYING, " YOU SHALL BE DISAPPOINTED, YOU'LL GET OVER-IT, BUT YOU CAN'T HAVE ME: YOU DON'T WANT A WORLD OF KINDSPRIRTS TO SUDDENLY BECOME MEAN SPIRTED, YOU WOULDN'T LIKE IT: YOU REALLY WOULDN'T!" RESEARCH DONE BY MISSYN THE POINT. MUSIC FOR THE FILM ARRANGED BY MIS GISSIE MISSIE DOWNDRIFT AND STRINGS CONTRACTED THRU THE SWELLS RICHARD, AND THE PULPLIPPED HUSSIE MUSIC COMPANY..... THE SONG " YOU CAN'T HAVE ME" WAS WRITTEN BY SWEET LOVE AND MUSIC SCORED BY THE GET-IT DONE SOUNDS OF FUNK MUSIC COMAPNY....PART TWO OF MEANIEST HAS BEEN USED BY PERMISSION FROM THE STRANGS AND WOODWIND GRIND PUBLISHING COMPANY. LECTRIX BASS, AND STANDING CELLO/ CARE OF"INSTRUCTIONS TO LOVE ME"
BASSASS GROOVELINE/SWEET BYTCHEZ!
"The Syballine"
Behind closed eyelids
the curtains of the mind
open to silent applause
Sun screens are slick and applied
shining bright Ultra Violet
a violent Light
all over a body
of work, unseen
words written
tattooed black
on smooth satin alabaster
beneath piercing opalescent lasers
frosty green
burning the tithed pages
of a rosy crucifixion
cast aside, palms raised
and speaking in secret tongues
whispering necromantic Psalms
fed open-handed to wailing seabirds
carrying songs of majesty
slow winged, powerful and heavy
towards a pregnant
waxing beguiling witches'
Black Sabbath moon
this doesn’t stop the burn
bare legs stretch open
a story being born
and somewhere
magnetised
nude feet
walk towards
the naked
Syballine
standing still
within the shallow
fire opal ocean
arms lifting
conjuring new powers
not humble,
in fierce supplication
raised upwards
now to pearly clouds
there beneath the
Too Soon,
a dawning golden orb,
stands Blue Sky
holding the Sun
her back
is turned
see the spine
fine boned
joints like a ladder
your fingers
like lightening
trace their course
silky seduction
they play her
tight strung
held in your arms
caressed like a cello
bow steaming
her keys turned
ignition
forgotten kisses
carried on the
slender shoulders
of life -
now see
the Sun rising
lips ripe
heart bleeding
black wings unfolding
fallen, no longer disguising
she turns
Journeying from the Deep
Expelled from the shallows
(LadyLabyrinth / 2020)
"And no one sings me lullabies
And no one makes me close my eyes
So I throw the windows wide
And call to you across the sky"
"And no one showed us to the land
And no one knows the where's or why's
But something stirs and something tries
And starts to climb towards the light"
"Overhead the albatross
Hangs motionless upon the air
And deep beneath the rolling waves
In labyrinths of coral caves
An echo of a distant time
Comes willowing across the sand
And everything is green and submarine..."