Long Cymbals Poems
Long Cymbals Poems. Below are the most popular long Cymbals by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Cymbals poems by poem length and keyword.
The shuttlecock's not got a feather
my balls have lost their tether
yo-yo and hula hoop have gone for a loop
chasing rainbow's become a boring chore
in any kind of weather
and me I fling and fly frisbees no more
as now there's come the day
when games and music I can't play
the fiddle has a broken bow
out of wind such instruments
I know not how to blow
the guitar has no strings attached
the ukulele its self-same match
my drums I don't bang or bash
cymbals won't ride or crash
yet measure for measure
I treasure and love
the previously provided pleasure
by all of the above
How beautiful would a star exploding be
or the sight of a cloud dipping it self in the sea
would negative matter unweigh
a bumble bee playing cymbals with its knees
if you can be engaged can you be just gaged
so this may sound of ramblings
cause i bought a herd of rambles
pulling misty thoughts into silver strands
that twine and twang
like rubbing bans the rules i diss
Obey with the longest of ohs
imagining a bay of swimming o's
i meant bans instead of bands
i hope you end of joyed
your vist
please don't feed the anomalies
No graph of photo flashed
for once it is done
it will only be repeated
When Cupid comes with arrows he goes straight for overkill
and for this tender type of ailment well there is no magic pill
you have to join the cherubs as they clang their cymbals loud
for Valentine's Day is a day for passion, and for losing crowd
A room full of candles with hearts that are dipped in light
Valentine bonbons and sweetened kisses taking flight
lips of rouge and tender whispers, lovers everywhere
there is no gender when we parachute, without a care
February moments, red ribbon wraps on diamond rings
long proposals on bended knee Sinatra croons and sings
magic spells and velvet nights in love commissioned souls
releasing the splendor of this special day we sappily enroll
When Cupid aims and shoots with bow and golden tip
you have no other choice but to take that nectared sip
come join the celebration heed the writing on the wall
Valentine is a day for loving so go ahead, take the fall .
Written by: Pixie
ESCAPE PLAN
the sea, red,
shook.
the Lord’s mighty binoculars
he spies out the escape
(God always has a plan)
the waters tossing and turning
(as if in fitful sleep)
the waters were afraid
knowing the power
of the Almighty
twisting, convulsing
clouds emptied out buckets
the skies like clashing cymbals
angels REsounding, reSOunding, resouNDding
waterfalls and cymbals clashing
(God shows up, shows out BIG)
zigzag of arrows, flashing,
dashing,
back and forth
in power and majesty
like a mighty hunter at his height of attack
thunder and twister enhanced
lightning illuminates its lyrics
the conductor orchestrates
the sides of the earth,
its depths quake,
wiping sleep from its eyes
surmising attack
the soil recognizes its Creator
rises from its knees
vibrates at the sound of His voice
obeys
“Yes, Lord”
trembling in fear
quaking in awe
the Great Shepherd leads His people
through the dry watercourse
(by the hands of Moses and Aaron)
mighty waters cling to the banks
left and right of God’s people
the Lord leads the way
without footprints
(the same One who walks on water)
the Egyptian army cannot see
this Shepherd’s path
a seething grave
baubles of chariots
horses wrestling the strong arm of God
at long last the waters are fed
as the Lord promised
12/15/2017
Reference Psalm 77:16-20 (Bible)
The piano rushing with water.
Cramping hands and nothing feelings.
I used to have my mind.
Now it’s unleashed like a groggy mess.
Like spines being tangled up.
Teeth teeter tottering.
Clamming up like a tree wants to do, but can’t.
He really wants to slip away from the wind.
Drums and cymbals.
Eyes lifting like a garage door.
And stuck.
No one leaves.
No one would leave me.
Even the lonely guy playing the triangle.
The trilling isn't an instrument at all.
Sounds like a sudden exhaustion.
So I was late that day.
They don’t take attendance unless I’m gone and trapped.
I love music for no reason at all.
The piano burst through.
Unleashed.
Drums and cymbals.
Exhaustion.
Exhaustion.
Leaves of uncertainty have covered the earth
fallen from trees of anxiety and dread
a path, once as clear as crystal blue water
clouded by ponderous tears in its stead
Silence of laughter has deafened the world
stilled by the smallest of creatures we know
the crashing of cymbals in life’s symphony
has summoned us all to a new kind of show
Yet, for this fearsome of unwelcome visits
we will find sunshine on beaches to come
but we must fancy the sun from our windows
to save for us all and not just for some
I walked in darkness along the shore
seeking only solitude and nothing more
Thunder drummed from somewhere far away
like foreboding timpani as clouds began to play
They competed with the roar of bally waves
crashing to the beach in rhythmic laves
Everything was out of reach for me
the moon, the stars, the depth of the sea
Echoes of a nocturne were swirling in my head
Lyrics left unsung, but spoken instead
My soprano continued; the falsetto stopped
Too weak to stand, on my knees I dropped
My footprints had been erased by an ebbing tide
No longer able to run. I chose not to hide
Blind in the darkness, my loneliness daunting
a flash of lightning, then another more taunting
I lifted my eyes to the sky, to the falling rain
its sting delivered in a medley, staccatos of pain
On the edge of the sea, I waited for the end of me
My tears an ensemble, an elegy in requiem plea
I ignored the orchestra when I heard the ocean call
louder than kettle drums or the storm's howling squall
No encore would this night be able to reprise
When the flowing tide encroached, I closed weary eyes
A chorus of waves crashed like cymbals in concerto
stealing the baton from the hand of the Maestro
The moon and stars were out of reach for me
I wept as I was swept into the depth of the sea
August 28, 2022
2022 Marathon Mile 13 Contest
Sponsored by Mark Toney
it is different out there, in that far away land,
it is different out there, it is different!
people out there have darkened skin,
dress in animal hides, eat raw meat!
they beat their cymbals or blow a horn,
when they see us good white humans,
they shoot arrows high up from trees,
they are savages out there, such savages!
preachers have been to preach them,
but were beaten and cooked and eaten,
they worship wind, water and earth,
know not nothing about our religion!
their women are naked without shame,
put children to breasts in open,
there are no schools for children to go,
they just hunt and eat from jungle,
it is different out there with savages!
Our soldiers have shot and killed them,
or captured and sold them to work,
they brought ship loads of them,
branded and chained, to make obey,
we took their children away to school,
so they would grow up like us folks,
brought their parents to civilised world,
so can work and serve good people.
those who rebelled were burnt or hanged,
so others would not then disobey!
800 hundred years it has been,
to get them to be civilised like us!
how ungrateful of them to ask now,
to be treated with us as equals!!
shouldn’t we be ruling the world,
and have them serve us in gratitude?
we are such good civilised people,
such savages they are such savages!!
written 23/06/2021
jaundiced eye poetry contest
Unseeking seeker
James McKee Rogers
1836 – 1900
I offer up this epitaph as an ode instead,
An ode of love, affection and gratitude
To Whittier, my true home away from my one true home.
I dedicate this plain and humble song
To finding this paradise in the mustard fields
To finding peace and serenity in these kindly hills here,
Hills shaded by a thousand trees
In truth, trees planted for purposes unstated and unspoken,
Trees used for hiding the human follies and frolics
Of my brothers and sisters in the faith
Acts of hidden intimacies not seen by the eyes of the Quaker elders.
My friends, you cannot imagine the beauty of the sunrise
Here in my beloved Whittier
The erect beauty of one particular sunrise
On a summer’s morning in 1889.
I remember Hattie and me riding double in the heights
Scanning the far-away Pacific blue
Scanning the infinite translucence of a million heartbeats.
Down, down the ever-spreading, ever-descending landscape.
Up there in the heights we found a special magic,
Found the crash of cymbals and the bang of a thousand drums!
Found the flight of a thousand eagles and
The stampede of a hundred wild horses!
And so my friends, and
To Whittier, I say adieu!
Adieu and goodbye to a life of repeating days and nights
Of forgotten repeating conversations
With dozens of old friends now dead and gone.
The worms of Clark Cemetery know them all
Know of the hidden intimacies not seen by the living.
They have found propitiation for the sins of mankind.
- Headsong-
Ive got this swingin' jingle
Thats been playing in my head
Da da da the missing words , a filler helps instead
But Man Im feeling tight as i tip toe to the right
A sparrow hops ding ding ding to a section of the song
Today i kinda happy it does not always come along
I do a little backstep now
with the cymbals as they crash
And heres that part where the organ oils the notes
Drat! The bloody phone rings clear through interruption of my show
Ah , it can only be good news while the guitar hits the bends
Ow Honey ! Read me my rights, this music's really got me now..
" No , i didnt hide your car keys , look on the second shelf".......
Where was I now?