Long Clef Poems
Long Clef Poems. Below are the most popular long Clef by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Clef poems by poem length and keyword.
Roman à clef tragicomedy...
overlaid with façade of fiction = Mein Kampf
No need for yours truly to dig deep,
(albeit bonafide figuratively)
by Dickens thru mine Uriah Heep,
a gnarled mass creep
ping, comprising, encompassing, glomming
abysmal existence strewn with hard times,
such that I wanna leap
out this metaphorical bleak house,
a black hole in the wall swallowing
i.e. disallowing any peep
ordinarily yawping, proliferating, flirting...
now fumfering lamely issued by keep
ping low profile super tramping cheap
trickster, our mutual
friend Matthew Scott Harris,
where lack of functioning heating unit
(think male organ if ye will)
upended, rendered, discombobulated...
scrappy body electric hominid
to experience quality sleep.
Principal reason I write
to balance and aright
unexpected largesse
(thank you dad), where
eyes suddenly got bright
and bushy tail incessantly
wagged day and night,
a sensible palliative temporarily
eased penury plight,
which cash equivalent,
viz four Benjamins alleviated quite
helpful thwarting necessity to fight
off bill collectors brandishing
armstrong lance's compelling me
to summon black knight
in shining armor lodged within white
castle amidst prickly bishop
obviously one prone easily to excite
amusing little lord Fauntleroy
groomed as heir to throne,
enthusiasm since his birth did ignite
(Aesop pose) storybook life,
where fanciful elation did take flight
buzzfeeding, droning, feasting
on par with Mister
Bumble bee in flight
sweet nectar amidst lilies of the field
analogous to stripling Adam - fine lad
eve vent chilly seeking delight.
Ah to gather rose while ye may
tis futile wishful thinking,
now at mine three
score orbitz round sun,
which libido far out at bay
prurient predilections once
spawn time wracked to lay
waste vestal virgin such as... Little Dorrit,
now... raging hormones stagnant clay
hardened, atrophied, eutrophied,
jackknifed limp bizkit
long bereft testy tickle
yar seaman quizzical,
slack jawed, and sullen at
deserted abandoned cobwebbed quay
ignored do not enter, keep out,
private property signals desiccated,
no place for Peter to take holiday
barring ingress to ply skin flute
amidst hollerin hootenanny,
perhaps convincingly explaining
welcoming Voldemort without delay.
Those trademark circular elements of style in vogue every four years
When the crème de la crème of the athleticism
presents itself on the world stage
Suspending and transcending any present day internecine conflict
Allowing, enabling, and proffering the five continents
And gathering of top-notch mental, physical and spiritual prowess
Extant with adroit prolific curved arabesques on one corner of the globe
That (like Noah with his Ark kit) human techno wizardry
Bedazzles viewers charting unparalleled feats
Whereby the human body defies the laws of physics and challenges gravity
Fielding a hypnotic colorful tapestry
Whereby the woof and warp of any melancholy moody blue, mellow yellow
Gunmetal green, roman a clef real time red doth white out
The dark knight, temporarily sequestered in a bishopric
Of faux queenly royalty, where a pawn
out the parapet of her castle keep
She imbibes requiem toward protesting the limits of *****sapiens
Inherent parameters, where fluid dynamics
of each most supreme contestant
Sans his/her specialized arena
Further the prior leg holds with free from arm-twisting head lock
And make a mockery of invisible manacles
Purportedly and formerly believed to tether man/woman kind
With unbreakable hidebound genetic/ chromosomal restraints
But nay to those who professed impossibility against the reins
Boxed and fenced in by bow rings set by Mother Nature
Well nigh obsolete and superfluous
What with evident burlesque stellar performances
Leaving the spectators starry eyed with collective mouths agape
As polished prominent performers blithely offset previous milestone
Setting a new yardstick to measure the Olympian capacity
That Heracles and Zeus would most likely deem
as some sort of magic trick
Yet lo, the sensational and majestic pageantry absolutely serious
Lying to rest what used to be merely amateur games
Whereby most any novice could coax a charade, façade, travesty et cetera
Without fear of getting flagged, but phenomenal exhibitors of today
Can nearly bank on netting a truckload of worldly wide wealth
Whereby a hand-made Scottish tartan Harris Tweed welcome mat
Ushers August men and exuding mettle and iron clad dedication
With pomp and circumstance into pantheon of future legends!
Form:
I am writing a song with a familiar rhythm busting in my vein .I am writing a song with a familiar rhythm planted in the violin strings, and the base line is running thousand miles with ashes, rum and pie and message to come and see me before I “die.”
It is riding high on the musical scale and the punch line is found at the end of the tail. I have been writing this music for the past five years but the sound keeps floating in the air and the beat is walking around in the street with the violin dancing passionately to the rhythm in my feet.
I just cannot get this music out of my head I will live with it until I am “dead”. It resides around the sun with honey quoted on the bun and the drum with it miraculous beat is playing ping pong in the street.
It keeps playing this relenting rhythm and a stronger sound keeps chiming in, I kept balancing the sound but it keeps forcing a stronger rhythm.
The rhythm keeps surfacing on my brain but the arrangement is not quite the same. It’s A, B, C, D, E,F, G, A with the treble clef descending on A major scale. If I could just get this right this time, it will end the musical fight.
The lyrics are clean but I cannot capture the big dream because the coordination is not stable and D major scale ascending in the treble clef is forcing me out of breath and the crown is marching around the throne asking for more.
The piano keys are jumping up and down the town and the tone kept shifting and the lyrics keep shouting so the tenor and the base join the big race. D, E, F, G, H, B, C, D, when carefully arranged will bring luck for you and thee.
I have been writing this song for five years and the sound keeps rumbling I my ears. It keeps going around searching for a stable ground but destiny will produce the right sound before ambition sinks into the ground.
I began with the C major scale descending in the treble clef; C, B, A,G, F, E, D, C, you don’t have much time left, you need a producer and a digital designer to put it all together .
This will be your best piece made out of concrete and steel, you will be the best seller when all the notes come rocking together and the heaven will be pleased.
While rummaging thru papers to shred...
Earlier this November fourth
two thousand and nineteen
your truly long in the tooth
(er...in dentured) wordsmith
rifled thru miscellaneous papers to shred
unwittingly chancing upon
report cards enlightening me,
academic, emotional, social...
characteristics, née significant
figurative "red flags,"
(no not signifying me being blacklisted
re: guarding Communism taking root)
rather teacher's comments
signaled moderate behavioral crisis,
where bass and treble clef acronyms
“Good Boys Do Fine Always”
"every good boy does fine"
respectively analogously noteworthy
(namesake Matthew Scott Harris)
because a lad (in) attendance at:
following primary grade schools:
Audubon Elementary, Eagleville,
and Henry Kline Boyer)
exhibited crushing arduousness
nsync with chronically
profound inability to
acclimate, integrate, participate...
spelling academic difficulty,
alienation, isolation, resignation...
said pronounced mental, physical,
and social perturbations
compounded manifold when promoted
regardless abysmal failing marks
most likely congenital,
vital intervention absent
absolute zero doubt
developmental delay debuted,
since youngest daughter
twenty one February 4th, 2020
diagnosed soon after birth
within autistic spectrum
intervention luckily bridged
yawning, looming, gaping... cleft
less apparent to non family,
she functions admirably
employed at World Market
while enrolled at Bend, Oregon
Community College
relieved healthy maturation
courtesy ability appropriate
custom tailored, (not necessarily swiftly,
nor styled harriedly)
confidence building academic assignments
need based (cost free) tutoring
wrap around at our home,
based speech pathology,
Montgomery County Hospital,
acquiring driver's license,
progressing positively (think)
chronological milestones achieved
mostly on target
boosting self esteem, worthiness
validating benefits, viz palliative care
side stepping severe suicidal
tendency unlike her papa
who permanently stunted his growth.
My friends say this magnificent rose
Gives off the most wonderful aroma of spring
I am catching a scent somewhat obscure
As yet no recognizable thing
For I'm losing the sense
Of smell in my nose
Perhaps what I'm smelling
Though peculiar and unselling
Is this lovely flower
This most fragrant rose
Most likely it's the pasture
Expelling natural gas
Which is nostalgic and familiar
With its hint of ammonia and pungent aroma
But, I fear, even this shall pass
There's the most angelic sound in the meadow nearby
That is what my lovely neighbor conveys
She jots down the melody with each bar and clef
For I cannot hear it
I am practically deaf
But I do hear the shrill voice
Of my neighbor's young lass
Which is nostalgic and familiar
Though disconcerting and frightful
And never delightful
I fear, even this shall pass
The most beautiful creature stops at my house
It arrives every day to feed
This is just what I've heard
To me it's all blurred
For a new pair of glasses I need
But I do see the glare
From a bonfire of grass
Which is nostalgic and familiar
Though odious and weedy
And noxiously seedy
I fear, even this shall pass
My neighbor is bringing a dinner she will baste
Which others around highly praise
The sensation for me is hardly a meal
I have lost the better part of my taste
But I savor the peppers
She always brings me in mass
Which are nostalgic and familiar
Though indigestible and spicy
And especially dicey
I fear, even this shall pass
I fondly remember my wife's gentle touch
But this sense too I now lack
If it weren't for the fall
I'd have no sensation at all
But, for these sharp piercing pains
Down my back - Alas! Alas!
While nostalgic and familiar
And though crippling and painful
It is nothing disdainful
And I fear, even this shall pass
Now when I'm gone all will be quite sublime
I will have transcended to the sixth sense
I will be free as a bird
Free from the limits of time
Reunited with the Lord of Providence
Under 65 degree starry, onyx blanket
Containment of quarter moon identity
A whimsically soothing song exuded
In muffled taps & Prohibition era lyric
In the distance,
Snow-capped mountains reflecting lunar clarity
Off its tips of freedom
As we lay on recycled steel hood,
Made in 1950s USA, when it mattered,
Her silhouetted fingertips released from my right arm
While insistently looking towards stratosphere’s vocal chord
“Can’t it be like this forever?
Oh, how I want to just make love to the stars.
Become one with Orion while riding
On Sagittarius’s arrow”
“What about our stars?”, he softly questioned.
“I’d like to be your never-ending shooting star.
To ride on blue moon’s comet, by your side”
Cricket whispers manhandled his romantic clef
Mother Nature’s afterglow, upon her ears, fallen deaf
Inherent waxy build-up from illicit tongue,
She pat his shoulders like a dog
Being taught his first lesson
Her eyes, still sky high.
“Sigh, I like how you think.
You’re such a nice friend.
You’re going to make a woman so happy one day.
I hope to meet a guy just like you.”
As her eyes sighed with a powerful lack of substance
Into the arms of Leo,
A slammed car door supplants the reverberation of the car’s V8 engine.
He confidently turns back the hands of time.
Reversal gears become his new tune
“If you get lost going home, follow the stars.”
As he pulls away with majestic, amplified lyrics
Of Whitesnake’s “Here I go Again”
Going down the only road he’s ever known
While she stands in fraudulent gasps of shock,
Looking back up to the stars in blank wonder
As he accelerates into a new page in his book
Closing his chapter with wondrous questions
“Why would I taste your starlight?
When you never believed in our constellation?”
©Drake J. Eszes
It’s good to gaze at the stars and make wishes. But, be careful what you wish for. For Earth has its own gifts…
The morning after
Is there any reality to ?, or is it just another Dream ?
Four AM, and again, I am awoken by a dream,
That dream tells a story, is that story a truth ?,
- a truth that came to light Valentines night –
as I came to visit you – your girlfriend is there –
our exchange of words are brief – you want to leave –
you walk out your door – your friend and I remain
behind – your decision – your friend begins to tell me
you are involved, in fact have been for a long time,
- I am nothing more than a filler for your empty hours –
then I awake with a pain in my heart and a knowledge of.
What ?, a premonition !
Monika :
Four AM, pen in hand, words begin to flow.
They speak of a beautiful Lady, I would love to know !
My heart ache, bleeds, - it is my desire for her – it doth show,
in a million tear drops that run wild through my veins
until the knowledge of, is absorbed and all that remains
are the memories, the moments ( good or sad ) of the pains
I have had to endure – your words “ be patent ”, “ be this ”,
“ do that ” – the implications ? – the dream is realized.
In all honesty Monika, - I thank – never from you will I
come to know your compassion, your passion, a closeness,
nor affection, love and desire – the things I desire to give,
to receive – or anything I wish to experience, to know.
I feel that I mean nothing more to you than the gift
- of Christmas Love ( those black and red lover entwined ).
A block of wood carved into – intimate – lovers twisted
around each other’s souls in a passionate kiss,
a sculpture that you saw as a musical symbol (Treble clef )
An item left on a shelf. looked at but never toughed.
As always – I am conflicted – living with uncertainties,
living in doubt of where I stand and what I mean to you.
Wm. J. Atfield Jr.
Love Bill .
B. J. “A ” 2
February 15th 2007
Near the northern end
Of the Tigris river valley
there's the beautiful city of duhok
Next to the boarder of turkey
A city of many fruit orchards
A very popular tourist destination
with a fruit canning plant
That supplies the whole nation
With palm tress on both sides
Of the streets in straight lines
And in this beautiful city Duhok
Lives a very good friend of mines
its the most peaceful city in Iraq
Where the grass are so green
With two chains of mountains
and a flowers valley in between
From the clef mountain gully zawita
Bamarny and suara tuga resorts
Modern casinos, in the middle of gardens
With a combination of culture and sports
with happy children playing in the park
In the majestic garden of dream city
To the AMADIYA ANTIQUE CASTLE
A place of so many things to see
There is a girl with a great smile
Going to buy candy and sweets
Shes a;ways so kind and friendly
Bringing joy to every one she meets
and she keeps my heart
in the city of Duhok with her
so i,m always close to her chest
although our distance are so far
i have never seen her in person
but i love her with my heart and soul
she the only one i want to be with
although we,re from different part of the world
everything about her is perfect
shes beautiful smart and clever
and one day i will be in her arms
and its why i will stay forever
i know one day i will meet her
In the heart of this Iraqi town
We will go and have ice cream
And talk until the sun goes down
In the city of duhok
A place of pure magical beauty
Lives the most beautiful girl
In the world to me
My face is in two halves
smashed together in flawed symmetry,
each half squirming to get supremacy,
Oh Two-Faced One!
Split so, halved down the middle,
which side are you on?
Do I see my better half
in the mirror?
Or in the shadowy silhouette,
devoid of details,
that follows me around,
like a faithful dog,
wagging its tail.
Which half-truth should
I believe when spoken from
a forked tongue protruding
half-way out,
from twin lips clenched,
to hide the split slivers
of tongue clef in two,
by honesty to skulduggery?
The beat of the heart
I hear and feel as one,
emanates from two chambers
left and right beating in harmony
but not together simultaneously.
One flows into the other,
and upper and lower halves
beat one after the other
two by two, two by two
a tango flamingo.
But each half, though never still,
feels the ache
of faking a one-beat heart,
halfheartedly, to listeners,
with one half beating memories,
the other longing legacies.
Is half a glass,
half full or empty in quenching thirst?
Is half-and-half ever a whole?
Is the half-light, a fade or surge to the coming?
It's half past the hour:
I'm late, I'm late!
Or too early for the shower?
Is a half-life, the life of those
poor folk on Bikini Atoll
must endure waiting for
their hell on earth to end,
something we all share,
living our
own half-lives,
halfheartedly!
Near the northern end
Of the Tigris river valley
Is the city of dahuk
Next to the boarder of turkey
A city of many fruit orchards
A popular tourist destination
Has a fruit canning plant
The supply the whole nation
With palm tress on both sides
Of the streets in straight lines
And in this beautiful city dahuk
Lives a very good friend of mines
The most peaceful city in Iraq
Where the grass are so green
With two chains of mountains
So many histories to be seen
From the clef mountain gully zawita
Bamarny and suara tuga resorts
Modern casino, in the middle of gardens
Wit a combination of culture and sports
To The happy children playing
In the garden of dream city
To the AMADIYA ANTIQUE CASTLE
A place of so many things to see
There is a girl with great smile
Going to but candy and sweets
She is so kind and friendly
Bringing joy to all she meets
And all her friends love her
From a round the world
She’s just the kindest person
With a real heart of gold
I have two friends from Iraq
They are beautiful smart and clever
I respect them like my sisters
And hope to be their friend forever
I hope one day to meet them
In the heart of an Iraqi town
We will go and have of ice cream
And talk until the sun goes down
In the city of dahuk
A place of pure magical beauty
Lives the most beautiful girl
In the world to me