Long Clefs Poems
Long Clefs Poems. Below are the most popular long Clefs by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Clefs poems by poem length and keyword.
Butterflies of quavers and trebles and clefs,
Flutter all over her breast,
Creating a gentle, melodious hum,
Whenever she’s completely undressed,
Filling the room with a shade of her soul,
Becoming a beautiful dance,
A dance that sways and floats and wafts,
Seducing me in a love trance,
As her finger nails shine, painted in black,
Wash her lips in dark red,
And the words to her music talk to my heart,
Pulling me onto her bed,
Where we continue to tango in a Latin of lust,
Dancing every single desire,
Throughout the dark night, in a passion of love,
Our passionate love burning fire.
These tiny hands. Black and White hands twirl. Vibrant palms ripple the Flower-land. Dancing onto the rainbowous piano. Music permeates the thirsty airs. Notes float upon the multi-hued keys –
Red
Orange
Yellow
Green
Blue
Indigo
Violet.
Black and White Hands on colorful keys. Magical hands whirling into aural anthems. Fists and fingers allure the dry, solid airs.
A melodic tune touches the soul of each flower. Turn by turn their chemistry churns. Juicing the chords of the roots in the damp soil. The stems curl and stretch calligraphing into clefs and altos. Petals strike classical beats. The rhythms of nature are awakened.
The fragrances of Roses lead the choir. Then play the violinic tune of Lavenders.
Gradually follows the oboe sounding waves of Jasmines. Then tumble into the song, the harmonious vibrations of Violets. The Magnolias infuse their trumpeting energies. The flow has begun.
Roses
Lavenders
Jasmines
Violets
Magnolias
Lilies
Chocolate Cosmos.
All shades and tones of lyrical perfumes tie Flower-land into a charming, irresistible atmospheric bouquet.
These tiny hands. The phenomenal fists decorate the spectrums of Flower-land. These black and white hands. These multi-coloured keys. These fragrances now adorn the dry airs and garland them with their musical aromas.
Thank You for the Music - Coda
Companion on my journey
Abided with me
In the anthems of delicate dawn -
Mornings of mauve and lilac light,
Octaves of afternoons in amber reflection,
Serenades of slumber’s silver reveries -
The melody embraced me
Asking only breath
For clefs of choruses –
Sung like new paeans or a psalm –
Scales of rhythms and in rhymes -
Written with the staff of life;
Remembering the reason
In slowly marching meter
The verses of this vocal symphony
Healing, then renewing,
My ballad of blues,
That gathered together
Quivering questions –
Why?!
Reverberating into Heaven’s waiting echoes
When my lopsided spinning world
Crawled all over itself
Losing its pitch
Then bounced off walls
In dark descending atonal discord;
Turning – then re-tuning -
Shouting in the cadence of celebration
A wounded gift restored – a carillon of blessing ascending -
A marvelous thing –no toy – winking at me -
Welcomed back my heart
To beat in time - to sing with one voice
My theme song never stilled
When vocal nodes
Stilled my song to a whisper;
Gratitude, my refrain, for this music -
Surrounded me -
Life giving as caressing rains,
Ocean waves or cricket concerts -
A chant in crescendo harmony, con brio,
With the eternal fire of melody again.
In gratitude to Abba for their song - Thank You for the Music – My theme song that carried me through two vocal node surgeries when I thought I might never sing again
The chartreuse pearls hung on the pregnant vine
as whispered jade of leaves in autumn breeze.
The necklaces of trellis did entwine
like clefs of absinthe notes in verdant keys.
Limes envied grapes reflecting fervent sun,
bright clusters for musicians then to splay
in shamrock fields with fables to be spun
of emeralds and pears in harvest play.
Cerulean spread 'cross effulgent sky
when came the time for plucking of the harp.
Lithe fingers did each picker then apply
and place with grace refrains upon the tarp.
In peridot the countryside rejoiced
while to reprise fruition gave a voice.
NOT BASELESS IS
Not baseless is the ocean’s roar, the build up to that bass before
it all comes crashing into shore, foaming it draws back for more
I’m sure that there are high notes too, perhaps too high for our purview
but to the sound of rock and roll, I find that sea has taken soul
By Aaron Davis
Not voiceless is the ocean's roar, crescendo notes rise off the floor
it all comes waving on the shore, rising up to meet me at the door
I'm sure that there are treble clefs and flats but heh! what I adore,
is when Maestro strikes a pose, it makes my soul, begin to roar.
By Mystic Rose
abecedarian poem
The fudge! The fudge!
A mnemonic device
some good acronyms to
remember for the clefs
Early: Gregarious:Blissfull Days Fatuous
Equivocate Garrulous Bouis Dampen Fervor
Egotistical Gaffe Balafon De-esser Fortissimo
abstract or impersonal information Vandoren
spoke the reed-member.
The fudge: the fudge 'The fudge!
Lady what are you talking about:
I hunger; in deeds I do!
egg;grits;bacon;Daikon: Fudge!
The fudge! the Fudge The Fudge!
Exotic:Gracful:Boxum:Devotion: Flirtatious
These are some acronyms!
Eating Green Bok choy Discorages Farts
eating feta bought Dence farts
Electronic Drums: Ground :Bees: disperse: Fiddlers
Eager: Gizzers:Bizzentine's:Dungeoneers:Fancy
Eager:Glammers:Bet:Down:Folly
Either:Gerund,Beat;Dark-match: first
Every:Grappler:Brings:Dirty-finsh:
Edakka.Gandingan,Bassoon:didgeridoo:Flageolet!
puzzled what to say
things aint going the way
the strings are supossed to be here
the strings should be here
there they are ,there they are
it needs something else
how you'd like being by yourself
there it is
hmmmmmm
ooh
ooh
the way it needs to be
got me feeling thangs
maybe it's the strangs
I like the way the basy groove is
that's the way it's gotta be
"le corna cornee" (kiss-kiss) marvelous
like it when they do that there
put it on
take it off
make it hard
it's way to soft
put itin
grind it down
you got get down
you gotta get down
it's the groove to make you move
it's that doubt that makes you shout
get in line
there's a doo-wee-doo thang
going on right here
ooh
I just wanna say
before you have it your way
I like it this way
you did all this for me
-------------------------------------------
dah- bow we bow why
stanza behind the clefs
you are
you are
whoomp;whoomp;whoomp
dah- yo doo we ah ooh ah
say that we ah-ooh ah
dah-say we
ah-ooh-ah
ooh ah-!
ooh-ah!
Whoomp;whoomp;whoomp;whoomp!
His piano is not played often
as yesterday was, and when it does, the happy sound of Yamaha
lets him enter a fascinating world made up of time clefs, of notes
and chords that imagination
creates on instant thought...
while he contemplates Nature!
If his body is old, his spirit is young
and it can go on until those weary fingers
won't or can't play anymore;
and doesn't desire palpitate in his anxious heart...
leading it where it wants to go as an eagle soaring
past the hills of a radiant sunrise?
On February the sixth, another year will be added
to the calendar of that man engulfed by loneliness,
but he despairs not when he plays his piano
that soothes his pain, comforting him with hope,
allowing his senses to invigorate as morning
greets the happy sound of Yamaha!
AT THE CROSSROADS OF CHANGE
On the wings of time, we’ve soared
From the canyons of history to the horizon
That has become ourstory’s beginnings:-
From the clefs of struggle, was heard
A creak in the door of time; was seen,
A spiraling light splitting the darkness;
A liberty coming since the foundation of the world—
Nothing can stop the coming of a new dawn;
Nor hold the night in suspended animation:-
Here at the crossroads of change, we stand;
Evolutionary evidence of strong steadfastness:
No longer chained, but survivors of life’s vicissitudes.
Long and arduous has been the treacherous journey;
Blood debts remain and new generations must rise
To discover the waistline beginning of their rising—
Least they fail to realize who and whose they are:-
Were not our kingdoms beyond all human measures?
Were we not in the beginning as was the Garden Of Eden?
Do not keloid memories speak volumes of our Ancestors' feats?
No longer should we fear who and whose we are:
From Creation’s womb—body and soul—we have spewed;
Marvelously made, riding on the frothing waves of change;
Our liberating journey coming to destiny’s culminating end:-
In this land of promise, we will be the legacy of our Ancestors;
Seeds sown and watered with their blood; giving birth to new roots:-
So let the blood flow of our remembrance cover the historical stage—
Ourstory’s real life scenes having no Shakespearian Othello-like tragedy;
Its horizon saturated with echoing applauses of how far we have overcome:-
The longest shadows start and end the day
like thoughts that creep from embryo to grave
so here within the midday sun we pray
to not be where the shadows misbehave.
But even in the bliss of summer highs,
bold thunder clouds roll in to snap and sneer.
When daunting lightning fractures purple skies,
its striking beauty slays instinctive fear.
A child has dreams of what life may become,
as elders wish they'd captured all those dreams,
but in the midst of life we all succumb
to fate and its bizarre unwritten schemes.
Yet in the face of unexpected pain,
we have the strength to confiscate the quill,
to change the tune of fate's unsung refrain.
Then, from our daring hearts, the ink will spill.
It drips on clefs that show us what to sing:
a world of notes that paint eternal spring.
This is a heroic sonnet that I wrote with Craig Cornish, one of my favourite gents here on PS!
I wrote verses 2&4 and line 2 of the couplet
Craig wrote verses 1&3 and the first line of the couplet