Long Flautist Poems
Long Flautist Poems. Below are the most popular long Flautist by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Flautist poems by poem length and keyword.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ THE FLAUTIST ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
THE FLAUTIST fluently flaunted her flute- Music flew faultlessly through the airwaves, flying fluidly above the noise of the blustering city
THE flautist created a calm fragrance, who's flavor of creativity fell-well onto your soul creating a soul stirring calmness across the city.
She played her flute clean into the night vehemently, over the feverish chaos –
And the people in the park and in the city could hear clearly as they walked in rhythmic tunes/ She flaunted her music like sweet low hanging fruit, Her music dangled beautiful and singly. She alone, Solo-ed notes of delightful serenity-
The flautist moved the masses to a state of bliss; Like free kisses flying in the wind landing on ears conquering and engaging spirits, conquering pandemonium with her flute, she blew her flute... SHE BLEW HER FLUTE, and we marched and listened obediently. She blew her flute and we marched magnificently to her concert.
FROM SUNSET TO SUNRISE
Her clinging mermaid-figure, auburn hair - french braid-chaste.
Pearl’s arms circumnavigate his nautical-neck. Strong arms gird her waist.
His hands, like the current, draw her in. She inhales with fingers laced.
Like the sublime shoreline, their outlines traced.
Water and sand swirl around their feet, hearkening to the flautist-tide.
Pearl’s arms circumnavigate his nautical-neck. Strong arms gird her waist.
The sky, stars, and moon vanish - in a lover’s cove, they hide.
Recognized with a full-moon revelation - no disguise,
She is likely to drown in the whirlpool of his eyes.
With the whispers of his high-tide love, she does rise,
Answering in kind - breathing in and out her replies,
As their lifetime stretches from sunset to sunrise.
The aquamarine of Pearl’s eyes match her swimming gown.
She is likely to drown in the whirlpool of his eyes,
Snatched by the undercurrent, of her lover’s seaweed crown.
The shrieking seagull o’erhead, her memory recalls.
The darkened lighthouse, stronghold sinking, falls.
Feet weeping on serrated shells, his footprints lost in sandy halls.
His sea-drenched bodysuit, her frightened squalls.
Inlet eyes, stained red, revere venomous jellyfish - tentacled balls.
A shallow survivor - her lover’s footprints she could not save.
The darkened lighthouse, stronghold sinking, falls.
She dives into the cold abyss of a mourner’s grave.
Pearl will find her eternal love, beyond the sun’s rays.
11/2/2017
Laura Loo’s Rhyme Time II Contest
The blues you squeeze into your song.
Without the grays, you don’t belong.
The saxophone tonguing your grief;
Downward, the tears’ a scathing relief.
Turquoise battling the heavy waves.
The flautist, grave, somberly braves
The crashing shore of lighthouse lore.
Sudden widows - the sea keeps score.
The notes of navy grooves and plays
The composite of the ships ablaze.
Without the grays you don’t belong.
The blues you squeeze into your song.
The cobalt reed, a salty taste.
The blues strum strings around your waist.
The drums continuous throbbing;
Aperture of buoys sobbing.
Downward, the tears’ a scathing relief.
The saxophone tonguing your grief.
The blues you squeeze into your song.
Without the grays, you don’t belong.
// This is my tribute to the many blessings that music brings to our
lives. I know many of you share this enthusiasm and gratitude. //
Appreciating an amazing artform: allegro, andante, or adagio -
Bach, Beethoven, Brahms: beautiful berceuse, ballad, and bolero
Classical concertos and Christmas chorales crescendo concordantly
Dancers delight to dizzying drums and delectable dynamics
Ensemble eloquently emotes euphonic etudes and elegies
Flautist fluttertongues flute in frenzied fantasia or fantastic fugue
Guitar gallivants through gavotte, graced by glockenspiel glissandos
Heavenly hymns, happily harmonized, hearkening hearty hallelujahs
Improvising instruments inspiring in impromptu inventions,
Jovial jazz juxtaposition of jubilant, jamming jitterbugs
Kalimba keeps count as keyboardist kinetically caresses keys
Love song lullabys - lilting, legato lines of luxuriant, longing lyrics
Minuet melodies and madrigals marking mellifluous motifs
Nutcracker's necklace of nourishing notes: a nighttime nocturne
Orchestra's opulent overture opus, oratorio's operatic octet
Pianist plays presto pianissimo pitches in pulsing pizzicato perfection
Quartets and quintets on a quest for quality quiescent quarter notes
Romantic rhapsody rhythms resonate as rock 'n roll reverberates
Symphonies and sonatas send spine shivers, saxophone solos soar
Tenor troubadours tremolo in tempo as trumpet thrills with trills
Utopia of unassuming ukuleles unwinding in unison
Voluptuous violin vibrato, virtuoso vocalist, vivace vintage vibraphone
Well-tempered woodwinds wield wonderful waltzes worth whistling
Xylophone eXudes eXcitement in eXquisite eXtemporaneity
Yearning for youthfulness, you yodel "Yesterday"
Zesty zither anyone?
First fruits brought to the Temple were not a one-off affair
They were first brought on the Pentecost right up to the New Year
Farmers, each with his own basket, formed a lively parade
Singing songs of praise while a flautist merrily played
The artisans of Jerusalem met them at the city’s gate
Welcoming those who put delicious fruits on their plate
Then the King himself placed a basket of fruit onto his shoulder
Joining the parade as a humble stakeholder
The ceremony of the First Fruits, a new beginning for us all
Glory to God for the miracle of fruit, inside the Holy Temple’s walls
_______________________________________________________
The first fruits for which the Land of Israel is blessed - wheat, barley,
grapes, figs, pomegranates, olives and dates - can be brought each
year from Shavuos/Pentecost (late May or June to Rosh Hashana/New
Year (Sept. or early October).
This is part of the Torah portion read this Saturday in synagogues
world over. See Deteronomy 26: 1-15
When I dream of sun graciously leaving the scene,
I could feel how crueler in these-days he has been;
Hasn't the dear summer said his grin-filled goodbye?
Why, then, is the naughty sun still high in the sky...?
From hot, days and nights have turned hotter and hottest,
Hot breeze has changed into melodious flautist;
How long will the children play? How long we must work?
Why the day that dawned long ago, does not turn murk...?
Crows and pigeons on water tops, often take dips,
Each love bird in cages each minute water sips;
Ice creams, though so cooingly wet tender palates,
Heat beats the crowns of our heads like many mallets...!
Peal of thunder; cloud-to-cloud lightning; no rain yet,
Consensus betwixt summer and monsoon seems set;
Dog-days, like fire and pans, have come and gone,
Why dryness within, yet, is lingering alone...?
Roses fresh; mild mist; spring though seems arriving near,
Prickles and pains from foot to head I greatly fear;
Midst magical moist muggy muttering movements,
Fifth season, like sense fifth, flows free and innocent...!!!
08 November 2022
The Fifth Season Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Anthony Biaanco
APPASSIONATO
He made overtures to her,
With the time-honoured chat-up line,
“We could make sweet music together;
I want to make you mine.”
She conducted herself quite cautiously;
Remained composed and calm.
A duet might be pleasant;
And he certainly had charm.
But she didn’t want to rush things,
The tempo should be slow.
He wished to proceed allegro,
She favoured adagio.
She played second oboe,
While he was a double bass.
They came from different cultures,
A thing she found hard to embrace.
And so she resisted his overtures,
They really weren’t well-matched.
She had an affaire with a flautist instead;
A thing with no strings attached.
2nd July 2019
Music Theme Contest
Sponsor - Geraldine Taylor