Long Combines Poems
Long Combines Poems. Below are the most popular long Combines by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Combines poems by poem length and keyword.
Puttin’ it all together, no room for squares, ya dig/time slides into somethin’ heavy and the groovers are here/
the jazz creeper solo, struttin’ funk bumpin’, black fire lit from the inside out, Man, it was a city block of sound/
Jazz improvisation listens to the spontaneous birth of melodies, rhythms, and harmonies/
sprung in real-time, right on the edge of the bandstand/ conversation between hands, breath, horn, bass, and the jazz room club/
Dexter Gordon in the shadows, Lonnie Liston Smith whispering keys blowin' high Building solos with a logical sequence of musical phrases/
Tony Williams riding the ride symbol, snare drum popin' the infinite stone cold rhythm walk of free jazz/
Larry Young lighting up the organ like a flying meteor/ man, His atmospheric playing covers the Earth,/
Master Bebopers walk a high wire between learned language and wild grace/personal voice poking through the shared scaffold of not knowin' what is next, but just blowin' free to be jazz/, you hear it in the way a note leans on the next/carries you off into nowhere land with a drink in your hand/ Gone, baby gone like way gone/
a soul jazz funkified phrase that refuses to be clean but combines the classic language with the more " modern" sound of jazz/ A city feel, a spiritual pulse, the sense of a bigger crowd in the corner bar where the spirit lingers, and the groove does not quit/ The Real gone tenor man/ his heartbeat says yes to risk/ always balancing musical structure with the moment, plan to surprise/the old maps of chords bending to the moonlight of invention/In every touch of the keyboard, every drum hit, every horn inhale/ every smokey whale
There’s a doorway to somewhere new—yet somehow familiar/
a dialogue between memory and invention, a dance with possibility/So we ride the breaks, we breathe in the vibe of the day, we trust the moment we let the room answer back with its own echo/until the music feels like a story we’re all writing together/a chorus of names, a chorus of voices, a chorus of tomorrowThat, at the end, is jazz/
The art of balancing the learned with the alive, the safety of the chart and the danger of the spark of Jazz improvisation is always at the fingertips of the jazz masters/the moment when a crowd becomes a chorus, and the solo becomes a home."
They married in their own garden under the canopy of a Wild Date Tree
An indigenous plant standing tall for sweetness and benevolent spirits
This one untamed and miraculously withstanding droughts in the City of Gold
It gave meaning to their union which had begun with similar unbroken desire
A small bonfire at midday crackled with pure passion and unified souls
It was warm in their hearts and droplets of faith embraced the heat
Shadows of yesteryear’s clouds had retreated from sorrow and sadness
Not long ago the two lovers had eloped into sunshine and started again
A small party of family and friends sat on the grass casually dressed
The bride in an attire from Camden market wore a rose petal crown
That matched the floral display on his colourful shirt which was in date
With Hippie dreams and nostalgic reverberation of rebellion and Peace
Her Anglican priest had refused to wed them ‘I need to ask my bishop
Who would have to absolve you from the sin of divorce and new love’
They found a Lutheran pastor who arrived dressed in African garb
Aptly with crash helmet and Harley Davidson with a roar to his engine
The lovers had decided against fireworks because they would resemble
Gunshots rather endemic in Johannesburg for all the wrong reasons
Sparklers would do nicely and sky lanterns floated into heaven above
Reached high rising feelings released bright unequivocal compassion
‘We honour our ancestors with all their beauty and divine guidance’
They proposed followed by clapping of hands and a rain dance’s vows
The sun sent its rays to bless everyone in the congregation of well-wishers
When it started to rain at the same time they danced naked in the spray
When such water and solar power combines at such a meaningful time and
Forms a rainbow presiding over the ceremony it’s called monkey’s wedding
And its display brings grace and good luck to withstand vagaries and misfortune
With a ring he gave her a wild date as the fruit never failed to deliver its promise
01st July 2019
the soft yellow streaked the terra cotta,
shadowing the speckled sallow saffron
a bluish buff upon the cochineal;
brilliant boneblack
grizzled the engrain
citrine carnation
as
the fallow flaxen,rustic rubrical
rainbow-tinted
the magenta mandarine;
unseen
the ultra-marine, tinged burnt sienna,
reflecting a golden flame of raw umbery upon
the earth green;
bright mosaic gold
mottled the sallow sorrel
virent yellow,oak stained
the pale apricot;
while
blood red,reddish russet
dotted the olive lind;
freckled crimson,
a chestnut maroon,
on fuchsias faded apple green
as burnt umber sank deep
into its sanguine slumber.
This a favourite poem because it combines my two hobbies art and poetry
~Celebrate Life~
(Terzanelle)
Life's too short so don't waste away
Listen to the music in heart
Life's too short so don't waste away
There'll be songs till things start fall apart
Life's not sometimes what seems to be
Listen to the music in heart
You can do it, love,hope, dream, see
Celebrate life, open heart wide
Life's not sometimes what seems to be
Time doesn't wait so don't let it slide
Show those around you love, care, mind
Celebrate life, open heart wide
Step into the light don't be blind
Regain dreams and mountains climb
Show those around you love, care, mind
Reach out to God and pray all time
Regain dreams and mountains climb
Life's too short so don't waste away
Life's too short so don't waste away.
Dorian Petersen Potter
aka ladydp2000
copyright@2014
January.03.2017
So now faith, hope, and love abide, these three; but the greatest of these is love.
1 Corinthians 13:13 (NIV)
-“For God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life.
John 3:16 (NIV)
- Rejoice in hope, be patient in tribulation, be constant in prayer
Romans 12: 12 ( NIV )
-The Lord will fight for you, and you have only to be silent.”
Exodus 14: 13 ( NIV )
~Author's Notes:
The "Terzanelle" is a poetry form or style which combines two very popular Italian poetry forms : And that's the Villanelle and the Terza Rima forms,
and what you get from out of this amazing combination of course is a " Terzanelle ".
Title: "Alone (The Diss)"
Yo, you’re just a ghost in this love song, no cost—
Starving for attention like a broke man at a loss,
You’re texting like a siren, but your signals are lost—
I’m the storm, you’re the flicker, you’ll never hold me, kid.
Your “slow night” is a joke, I’m out here resettin’,
Sippin’ on success while you’re still overspending—
You’re a whisper behind a door, I’m the kick-in’ it—
“Get to know you”? Nah, I’d rather just quit it.
(Hook: Pop Swagger)
How do you get me alone?
You’re the ghost, I’m the throne—
Pop the tag, but I own this zone,
You’re the night, I’m the dawn…
You’re a landline, dead line, stuck in the past—
I’m the Wi-Fi, the future, you’re just a crash.
Your love’s a bad mixtape, I’m the platinum press—
Now beg for a feature? Girl, that’s a waste.
(Hook: Pop Swagger)
How do you get me alone?
You’re the ghost, I’m the throne—
Pop the tag, but I own this zone,
You’re the night, I’m the dawn…
[Outro Zinger]
Now check your texts—still no ring, no reply—
Guess you’ll rot in your “alone,” kid. I’m gone.
Style Notes: Combines Mac Miller’s smooth wit with battle rap ferocity, using tech metaphors and flipped hooks for that "All Year" pop swagger. The diss pivots from pity to power, turning vulnerability into a punchline.
Fifth season, where nothing happens
my entire outlook, all but gone
No winter, summer, fall, or spring
mother nature’s, totally withdrawn
Abandoned earth, a withered sky
magnetic field, finally succumbs
Rotation stagnant, orbit decaying
and a moon, replaced by the numb
On a rogue planet, drifting alone
across the wilderness of space
A cinder block, without an ember
caught in, event horizon embrace
Oh come what may, singularity
headlong, sideways, no reverse
Fast tracked, slowly to oblivion
black holes make sense, if perverse
Folds of time, overlap all around
smooth and crumple, entwines
In the vortex, I give myself freely
to infinity, the SAD combines.
#Seasonal Affected Disorder# = SAD
The Fifth Season Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Anthony Biaanco
11/03/22
Quiet Please
I was born and grew up on the relatively quiet side of the planet. Nevertheless, there was a train line right through the heart of town.
And there were also cotton gins, tractors, and lots of farm machinery.
Obviously, we were not exactly 'noise free'; but basically, the noise I heard most were an occasional barking dog, crickets, bull frogs, and rooster crows.
After high school, I relocated to a very large northern city by a great lake. Suddenly, all my familiar noises of crickets, frogs, and roosters were gone.
Without warning, the sounds of combines and crop dusting planes disappeared They were replaced by commuter buses, automobile horns, sirens, and garbage trucks.
In my late 20's, I moved again to a large western city by the Bay and the Pacific. There, for 30 days, my family and I resided in a motel embraced by a street car rail line. Also there, we were annoyed by rap and rock from loud radios, and more sirens. But also there, we slept sweetly by the ocean waves and fog horns; gentler noises.
03082017 PS Contest, The Noises, Shadow Hamilton
Memory being witnessed as resistance.
Time’s accessory brings assistance in a form of sequence;
mercy given through softened lips of the livid,
built in an architecture preceding reminiscence.
We speak to dismiss
a weakness that lives;
linguistics
echoing
survival of the fittest
in patterns
of disagreement.
To fit with the structure of memory
is to be among the instance
where an alignment
of a version of “you”
combines with that of what
perpetuates persistence;
an alliance almost intrinsic.
Leading identity into these constraints,
invalidating any and all external contradictions.
I can't be certain,
but some will find this
as an achievement.
So what follows
is determination in the loss of patience,
without need of declaring mind in the presence;
vows of confidence representing independence.
Imagine it as hope for a new light,
but dreams too bright
have their own reflections
of what can lead to
a new kind of blindness;
Let it not smear your own image.
All of these actions must be fueled with their ignitions,
and if it be of a power, then this truth will reveal
with the response to a pressure beginning
to grow, while it's assumed another must diminish.
It all makes me wonder,
even if it were to grow toward a dead-end path,
would fairness be a quality of calling it misled?
Or rather, would it be a charitable indecence?
What we seek out we will find,
so we should not want a power we call corrupt,
unless its corruption in us that thrives.
Alternate a replacement with
something closer,
something akin to be labeled as divine.
We speak.
And so we live.
And so we die.
Let us not rid ourselves of such a fine gift.
Let us prosper for tomorrow to get it right.
A resilient addict with corona
Believes he is immune as a stoner
Puts Mary Jane on the mask
And Jimmy Beam in his flask
Fortifies his deluded persona
Quite soon though his supply is depleted
In withdrawal he feels so mistreated
Smokes sanitizer
And fertilizer
Wrapped in loo roll not to be defeated
Neurotransmitters cause havoc and pain
When the lockdown forces him to refrain
He chokes on puke bile
Transforms for a while
Self-harms until his bloody wrists are slain
Meanwhile a former spirits abuser
Thinks back to awful years as a boozer
No more hangover
Craving is over
She's past being a paranoid looser
Seclusion focusses on true virtues
In quarantined times of imposed curfews
She draws a frontier
Clean sober and clear
Freedom of sound mind with nothing to loose
She combines pure logic and emotions
Does no longer rely on fake potions
She does not request
Others to detest
But found her soul and abstinent notion
09th April 2020
Bring me excitement the fun of the fair
Roaring with laughter at the fun house's mirror covered walls
Excitement at riding the merry go round
Acrobats juggling, you just cant help put stop and stare
Tombola prizes tucked under arms
Hotdogs with onions, and mustard stained cloths
Tickets to ride and memory's galore
All of the laughter and music combines
Kandy floss moustache's on pretty girls smiles
Illuminated stalls with there flashing neon signs
Nothing compares to a night at the fair
Great for your soul and it leaves you breathless for more.
comp entry 0903/2016