Long Forte Poems
Long Forte Poems. Below are the most popular long Forte by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Forte poems by poem length and keyword.
Dezembro chegou
A astrologia prevê
Que o Céu de dezembro
traz alegrias pessoais
e
profissionais
para toda a gente!
O mês traz as boas energias
muito lucro
bom humor
alegrias
e muita vontade de presentear.
Presenteie
com uma centelha de lua,
um colar de pétalas breves
ou um farrapo de nuvem!
Dê mais uma asa
a quem tem sede de voar
o tesouro sem preço
do teu tempo de ensinar beleza
em qualquer lugar!
Podes dar o que és
e o que sentes
sem que te perguntem
o que faz,
com quem faz e como faz!
Podes dar a rima sem rima
de uma música só tua
a quem sofre a miséria dos dias
na noite ou no dia!
Podes dar em suma,
com emoção,
tudo aquilo que, em silêncio,
te segreda o coração.
Podes juntar o diamante da dádiva
A sua crença forte e antiga,
sob a forma de poema ou de cantiga;
podes ser o livro, o sonho, o ponteiro
do relógio da vida sem atraso!
Sendo tudo isso serás ainda mais,
Rica, plena e livre,
porque o que conta, vendo bem,
é dar e fazer sempre um pouco mais!
A máxima recompensa de
quem faz de dezembro
o mês do gesto voluntário
é ganhar voz
e se tornar eterna
por ser única e total.
Quando Dezembro
se aproximar do fim,
lançe pétalas ao vento como se tentasse
semear o perfume
do que és enquanto acreditar.
Sprawling, against a backlit Sun. Magenta
the Clockwork of Time
and its infinite antinominies
..................of timeless aimlessness
and Void of Time
fades as a memory
the pulse and rhythm of each staccato stroke
against the clockwork springs
and fine-tuned apparatus
the pendulum swing
and weighted balance strokes
Masses of Fixed, orbital constructs
and circadian heartbeat pulses
conforming to some Final End
of Morbid Alarm
or Eternal Awakening
the surreal bending of metronome reflection
twists the Absolute structure of melody
(notwithstanding it's momentary cadence,
and sequence of endless notes
Cascading
backwards in patch-work puzzlement,
like Shostakovich having a break before the
Symphony begins
and lets out Piano-Forte brash
as if in dissonant protest
to the scandal of patterned, and ordered
Tablature
As throwaway as this comment
may seem to anyone but i
And bearing in mind my limited
experience and knowledge
thus far in life
I still can say and make this
statement without a shodow
of doubt
That the most smartest , wise
and cleverest person i have
ever met in my life
Was in fact my both my father
and so to my dad
And though by modern definition
he was neither book smart or
well educated
His council was above and beyond
the pale of the life , body and brain
here on earth he inhabited
He knew thing's on reflection
20 year's before they came to
bare and surfaced in reality
Unfortunately for him luck
and good fortune we're
not his forte
Ahead of time in every way
yet nothing went or was
pre-destined to go his way
But he never was shy or hid away
from anything if he truly believed
in it
And even in death he never caved
or gave an inch
He stood his ground till the
bitter yellow cancer end
and what at 1st would be
perceived as stubborn
Was in fact rather a mark
of a man with conviction
in spades
Who would rather dig his
own grave and be buried
alive
Than sell out his soul and
die and stare death in the
face on his own terms
Safe in the knowledge knowing
the reaper despatched to cull
him
Had met and was no more an
intellectual match for him or
on a parr or his level
And that he would get the
final say and last word in
And i know this for a fact
because he was far more clever
and wiser
Than i and life and death has
ever met
And probably the reason he
was stolen and taken back
from us
Way to soon before his time
In order to release him from
this earthly prison that was
unable to realise appreciate
and acknowledge his true genius
Apart from those of us
who we're luckily blessed
enough to have spent and
shared some of his short
time on earth we we're gifted
with him
subtitled: The Bolder Boys (rivals of The Golden Girls)
written for a word bank contest - twenty really weird ones
Two graying seniors with appalling chimera
bantering back and forth - mental meandering.
Be it mirage or dreams from another era -
they diminish the other's philandering.
Fanfaronade - from high school boys I would expect
now it re-appears in quite perceptible measures
from our retired magistrate whom I quite suspect
of erroneous accounts of addled pleasures.
While his cohort, an erratic ex-engineer
relates with brazen gibberish his tete a tetes.
At one time more clear and swift of eye and ear,
on blogs they ordain to publish communiqués.
I have found no diffidence which they jeopardize
making harmless though delectable advances,
Noted but honest attempts to digitize
their forte, their skill in dubious romances.
I offered an honorarium of great size
for the first one who would divest his florid page
of any contentious items - to sanitize. .
Gaga girlfriends grin and gush. They're cute at this age.
September 18, 2021
A Father
A Son
A Grandfather too
gone into the great cinematic blue
his work in the arts a wonder worth seeing
A true Aussie hero loved with agreement
It’s just from when I was quite small
his face was there in the wall
the telly at night my constant friend
Bud was with me till the very end
he enriched all our lives
with his story and pictures
imagine if we’d missed all of his richness
his smooth deep voice so gentle and kind
always put me in a good frame of mind
He fought in the war with much pride
he hurt in the last years deep inside
the stories they ripped
a hole in his chest
the memories of war
in his heart like a crest
I know this from reading
and watching the box
I remember folding clothes
drying tears with some socks
the theater his forte
his voice rang out
with cheers of joy and claps and shouts
So Bud take a last bow
Its time to rest
you more than passed all life’s tests
Your memory lives on for here and all time
In our hearts and in our minds …
Bud Tingwall was an Australian film and television Actor he featured in pictures in the U.K. ..
U.S.A .. and here .. he was a much loved aussie legend he passed away last friday this is a
tribute to him .. never had the pleasure of meeting him but loved him none the less ... J
The art of persuasion was her forte
The art was most masterful on the dark canvas
of night, in dimly lit places where smoky rhythms play
With a subtle gleam of seduction in her eyes
and a mystery in her smile
No man could resist her charms
But, her heart was not made of stone
Her armor was vulnerable
to the magic that is love
For love could not be dethroned
But love has its thorns, that belie its fragrant rose
Could she stand heartbreak and the pain it would impose
Could she stand the tears that would inevitably flow
Or could she persuade love not to go?
In the far and dim of my distant past, I was a sad little girl lost in darkness,
had seen death and felt grief, though I could not understand the real why,
in those days I was silent, quiet yet alive in my imagination land.
At that time, I could not see the path out except in my stories,
soon, I made up scenes where I went beyond my sadness,
They were just tales of my cat, in those days long ago,
as time went on my skill grew scribbles were poems,
I shared with my grandma in days long gone ago.
She told me to write my sadness and so I did,
I wrote in words I could not say, tears fell,
from my pen and I found the strength.
It became my forte and even to now,
years rolled like clouds drifting,
I found more death to weep.
Death walked with me,
he was my friend,
A dark angel.
just mine,
all mine,
then.
In this moment of time I am a poet who has found her muse and strength,
and now, I own my tranquility and peace having found my place,
I accept the past, good and bad and live in the moment now.
I can look back on the then with a tear of sad grieving,
and will pen a poem with my bleeding pen and words.
I have found joy like dancing right from my heart,
like taking photographs of all nature and things,
going to the gallery to get lost within the art.
going beyond the art and the gold frame,
I am in the scene, one with the artist.
And I write of the joy of the birds,
these days I just love twittering,
and tweets of a bird hidden.
Now and again I meander,
the forest for my muse.
Sometimes he is lost,
but I find him,
sleeping in,
the sweet,
now.
________________________
January 22, 2019
Poetry/Verse/Then and Now
Copyright Protected, ID 19-1107-141-02
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Written for the contest, This Was Then, This Is Now
sponsor, Silent One
Second Place
I decend from rock royalty.
On a local Irish level.
My Dad rocked around the clock.
At night in local dancehalls.
And daily in his chemist shop.
Accordion strapped on tight.
He begat three singing sons.
And four fine singing daughters.
At his funeral we seven sang his
favourite hymns and Danny Boy.
There was not a dry eye as
we all wished him goodbye.
Now, his eldest son rocks on.
Drove all the way on my wedding morn.
To rock my wedding night away.
With The Stunning, up from Galway.
Lead guitarist with fingers flashing.
Brewing a Storm, husband head banging.
Fitting poem for today, Elvis's anniversary.
I admit rock and roll is my forte.
Rhythm courses through my body.
I cannot sit when good music plays.
I simply must get up and sway.
Please take my hand...let's dance.
16/08/2016
Tempos difíceis
Nestes tempos difíceis
de quadras de ventura e de paragem,
forma-se a pessoa de contrastes,
— perfeita tradução moral da persistência!
Desperta para a vida envolvida em ações
Aprestou-se, bem cedo, para a luta.
E a natureza fê-la à sua imagem:
AH! Prova de que Viver é adaptar-se!
Em sua aprendizagem de revezes
afez-se a reagir prontamente.
E espanta a rapidez com que varia
das explosões d'e força e agilidade
aos longos intervalos de apatia.
É inconstante e instável como o tempo
que passa,
em mutações desconcertantes,
da maior opulência àos estios infindos!
Nestes tempos difíceis
Com aparências que se contrabatem,
Forma-se uma batalhadora que ostenta o porte
perenemente combalido e exausto...
perenemente audacioso e forte!
Ilusão! ,
esta aparência de cansaço
Nada é mais empolgante do que ver-se,
transmudado em segundos,
o despertar da pessoa que nasce
Nestes tempos difíceis!
Nestes tempos difíceis
Basta o aparecer de qualquer possibilidade
exigindo-lhe o desencadear
da energia latente,
a mulher – a pessoa se transfigura!
E do tipo de delicada pessoa,
reponta inesperadamente
a figura soberba de uma titã,
acobreada pelas cores da base,
do batom e da pele!
Esse é o ser humano
Nestes tempos difíceis!
She rolled up her piano and tucked it underneath her chinny chin chin
off the the courtyard she went to play a tune from Mama Balloon
"Absolutely not or never" said porky pig as she played shiny, to win
inside the water fountain a red cap bobbed and floated like a loon
Singing to the top of her voice every tonsil quivered as she did her gig
bass lined to the music she strolled the keys on a piano forte made of pulp
"Play it again " cried Petunia Pig while re-arranging her imaginary wig
but as the rain began to fall, Suzie stopped playing and began to gulp
Suffering Cilantro your piano has turned into nothing more than mush
said the little piglet with a tiny little bugle nose as bright as a red rose
"I got a rockjam keyboard made of foil at home" she began to gush
but all she heard was " Tsk tsk tsk" and suddenly the oink just froze
"Send out the clowns" huffed Piggly Wiggly Bob who lisped his nouns
and so Suzie with an origami thingy ma jig fined tuned a little trumpet
"Keep it coming" whooped Porky Pig and Daffy Duck painting the town
they danced to the beat of " Oh Susannah" without hurry without fret.