Long Crescendos Poems
Long Crescendos Poems. Below are the most popular long Crescendos by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Crescendos poems by poem length and keyword.
Make a start
Not in any order
Go on the outer
Then circle the border
Fly your kite, let it soar
Do not take less, when you can get more
Never you sigh,
Or ask the reason why
Break free, break free
Glide through the rapture
Ride the torrid winds
Expand your horizon
Search for hidden things
Play your music high
Play your music low
The salient notes, the hidden crescendos
Floating and waning, entering chasms
Soar to where eagles fly
Let me shout, take me high
For brave men seek glory
While cowards choose to die
Never to gain freedom from
Failure to try
Break down the walls, join the battle
Jericho's walls were the trumpeter's cotton
As the orchestra plays
And conductor wields his baton
The fiddler tweaks his notes
To the strings of the harper's tussle
A harmony of notes
Toeing and frooing, crescendos growing
Seeds are sown and harvest flowing
Savour your journey, never to be forgotten.
In passionate embraces
Spoil me rotten.
Drink from the fountain
Take from the well
Wield your magic ,then cast your spell.
Not in any order
No rules are laid
Just make the effort
Go on the outer but don't cross the border..
While crimson dawn orchestrated the sky,
Birds spread sweet notes at morning breeze’s rides;
As sunrise calmly croons with smile on high,
Rays kiss us tenderly with warmest glides.
Clouds tunes magically in peaceful tones,
Tree branches smooch the light in windpipe song;
Mountains and hills stand tall in rhythmic thrones,
As garden flowers sway with leaves along.
Dew drops mingle with strings of golden shafts,
Buzzing crowd preludes its rise in towns;
Chats and laughter are crescendos of wafts,
Sun’s sonata plays for our graces’ crowns.
Rejoice with daily sunrise symphony,
To make our day light, stress free and happy.
Mystical labyrinth of twisting harmonic warnings
Gazing into infinity’s composing handiwork –
Moonbeams in silver sung sonatas –
Ivory hued cantatas resolved from heart pacing crescendos
Spring’s soothing birdcalls after tympanic thunder.
Measured tempos of rhythms search for their time signature
As aching melodies in moveable feasts of swans
Search for resolutions in atonal firebird tango ballads
Through classical dusty suites of western legends
Not losing pitch or tripping over downbeats.
Too many notes squeeze into four square spaces
When magic flutes songs soar over seraglio dreams
Imperial marches set imprisoned phrasing free with fanfares
And close encounters of key notes discard dissonance
Seeking rhapsody in hues of blue.
Plaintive and joyful - hopeful and merciful -
Healing rhythms inspired from the eternal melody,
A lost chord to haunt then heal the midnight heart
All arranged in one accord from the Master’s apprentices
To rest in finality of one trailing echo of waltzing river.
In whispered realms where passion thrives,
Two souls entwine in moonlit dives.
Upon a canvas of stars above,
They paint their tale through kisses and love.
Soft lips collide like petals' grace,
A dance of tongues, a fiery embrace.
In tangled limbs, desires ignite,
Bodies aflame, two spirits take flight.
Eyes lock in rapture, a gaze intense,
A language unspoken, yet so immense.
Exploring landscapes, both uncharted and known,
In each other's warmth, they find their home.
Gentle caresses like poetry's verse,
Tracing skin, every contour immersed.
Fingers whisper secrets, hearts drum in sync,
As they map the constellations of passion's brink.
A symphony of sighs, a melody of moans,
In hushed crescendos, their intimacy's shown.
Rhythms of pleasure like waves on the shore,
In a sea of sensation, they eternally explore.
In whispered confessions, vulnerability blooms,
Their naked truths dispelling all gloom.
Sweat-slicked bodies, a tempestuous sea,
Lost in the tempest of love's decree.
As climax approaches, ecstasy soars,
A celestial collision, like meteor showers.
Two souls, once separate, now fuse and entwine,
A masterpiece painted by kisses divine.
In the afterglow's warmth, they lie side by side,
Hearts as one, in love's tender stride.
A tale of ardor and intimacy's art,
Forever inscribed on each other's heart.
Deep golden choirs ringing out
their scarlet anthems with a shout;
blood orange whispers echo
as the violet innuendo
scatters all about.
The dusky pink clouds fade to grey,
the gulls, the sun, soon fly away;
this sunset's lacking just one thing -
your voice to help me sing
the colors of my day.
The evergreens are violins -
crescendos of December winds
conduct the hills.
With rhapsodies of terraced hue
the sky resolves to royal blue,
but where are you?
The rainbow arches high above
and in it I see cascades of
your multi-colored resonance
I reach... and feel the presence
of your ardent love.
Absorbing this, I realize
through many shades of changing skies
that you cannot be tied to one,
for your love is the sun
by whose light I see with iridescent eyes.
The bustle and tune of city,
Is composed by the Architects.
Eyes upward, not staring at feet,
Take in cornices, gargoyles and chimneys,
Building high notes reaching down - lifting up.
Harmonies are hummed by neighborhoods of,
Next-door musicians with whom to shoot-breeze.
Rhythm’s source is traffic of crowds,
A quarter rest on the park bench,
Crescendos in fountains and skylines,
Chords lie in store as markets implore,
Side trip timing from Clef library-museums,
Playgrounds emanate the jazz of joy,
In stadiums you hear Souza marches,
Love songs played in coffee houses,
Where I’m drinking cappuccino,
As my eyes listen and ears observe.
(c) Chaim Wilson
The whooshing of threadbare curtains cuts through deadening silence,
while shadows on the wall toy with a hermit's sanity.
The graze of unseen, jagged fingernails scrapes against sweaty flesh,
injecting poison into subcutaneous tissue,
unwieldily setting the stage.
A heaviness of humid, stale air presses down on compressed lungs,
as maniacal laughter bounces off cracked ceilings.
Buzzing flies circle, swooping down
just to taunt—then vaporize into nothingness.
Muttering voices cling to the inside of a failing cranium,
overtaking a discarded soul, slowly stripping away morality.
Irises blacken, then return to sapphire, before blackening again.
Sitting, rocking back and forth with arms wrapped around legs,
speaking in tongues—
the transformation has begun.
A shattered will; possession seems inevitable.
Fighting feels increasingly hollow.
The smothering venom accelerates.
Chattering crescendos
until your body becomes complete chaos,
and what's left of your soul is trapped within a cage,
locked deep inside the pits of demonic despair.
Colors swirling in my head,
purple, blue, green and read;
their sounds are so sweet,
such precious meat for my spirits’
famished cravings.
The hum of blue tranquility,
sounds of lights’ infinity;
trembling, vibrate endlessly
around my sparking grey cells;
appease my hungers’ raging.
Burning light-rays tendril fingers,
grasp my mind, their tightening lingers
as they fire harmonic sparks into grey matter;
my soul, my heart.
Harmonic colors sacred sounds warm my chilled spirit.
Sounds of green, its vibrant scenes electrify,
play within my minds’ eye,
plant solemn purple notes within the black night
of my brain; build corridors of light
with yellow-orange, sun sounds.
Orange light vibrates bright,
the speed makes colors bleed into sounds that I must heed;
for angry red crescendos loud and in my head I feel it howl
like the sounds of the west winds drawl.
The sounds of color swirl and fall
into infinity, like shooting balls;
such ecstasy echoing through my body’s’ halls;
my soul…crescendos bright.
[starboard port]
the ocean—an onyx plate predawn—
somnambulant ships preen with a swag of
warning lights
massive hulls: cargo ships, flotillas, tankers,
passenger liners loll; red lights buss
the somber slate of sky—spangled strings of
bawdy bulbs on the riggings—pole dance
beside the quay—ridged, behemoth smokestacks
toy with the flames of gold and white
[cabin’s lav—occupied]
waiting, my mind trundles to funeral pyres
Viking ships, then returns to marvel at
on-coming airport pot lights which
upstage the walled gasps
[very occupied]
the exodus to Singapore crescendos
we land—manned the plane performs
a ritual slide—ash and steam spew from
stacks of the other perpendicular
members
Touch down.
[the door opens]
First Published by Shooter Literary Magazine Spring of 2017
Love,
Is that a word,
Or the foundation of all mountains of speeches?
Is love a whisper or an ejaculation?
A prayer, or a plea?
Why is it that love crescendos off the tongue
Like caramel in symphony?
Why does it melt me,
As if by heaven God made me an iceberg,
To later fall in the heat of destiny like my enemies?
Love,
Is it woman,
Man?
Is it the softness of your hand,
Or the coarse scratch against a rocky sand?
You say you love me so simply, genuinely
What is it my mind cannot comprehend,
As my eyes zoom in to your wanting lips,
The almost anticipated sound saintly slips
Love,
A fraction to my experience,
And a lifetime left of its dark and intimate peaks. . .
In these mountains of words,
How does one sleep?
How shall we rest willingly in the dangerous unknown,
With you and I alone?
Love,
I love you too..
How can I not when all of its footprints lead back to you?
Love is as simple as the word yearning on your mouth
As deep as the dark, undiscovered creatures of the sea
Though, most of all,
As far as I dare feel and see,
As simple as it sounds,
And God must well agree,
Love is you and me