Long Grand piano Poems
Long Grand piano Poems. Below are the most popular long Grand piano by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Grand piano poems by poem length and keyword.
The decor of laces,
And fragrance of lavenders,
In the land of Georgia,
With attire of antiques,
The melody of wind chimes,
Echoing in harmony with grand piano,
Like heaven is playing harp,
And pearls bursting everywhere,
O, the modesty of it all,
Dressed up in high class,
Candles in rustic brass holder,
Lighting up off white wall,
Exploring ivory artfully crafted everywhere,
Rustic kitchen with wooden floor,
Washing bowl on cherry wooden table,
And outhouse under weeping willow tree,
Shining pond with lilies floating,
With creamy violets encompassing around,
A porch with rocking wooden chairs,
With peach ribbon decor everywhere,
Everything that resembles morality,
Were inked dry with a feather pen.
I hear grand piano music floating in from afar
It is poetry so crisp, It's crystal clear
Poetry is chandeliers on high ceiling of white
It is polished parquet in spaces with soft light
Poetry is grand plies performed with perfect poise
Like choreographed parts you'll enjoy
Poetry is rainbow-arched windows, wide as love for you
Such language conveys heart's pulsation, soft as dew
But there's more!
Poetry is precious sound of deep unending peace
It tugs at our heartstring, new heights of joy we reach
Poetry awakens my soul to the good in you
Though caution comes in, love isn't the blues
Poetry is slow caress of each and every word
Like perfect pastels of my smiles, haven't you heard?
Poetry is alive like our rhythm without blues
It is vibrant, yet so profoundly smooth
Poetry is sun and moon in fullness of soft glow
Such friend favors everyone, wishing to grow
Poetry is starlight of joy in your eyes I see
It is spark I adore, when you're with me
Poetry is our stream of dreams flowing endlessly
It goes where divine might mingles with light, you'll see
Poetry is you and I in our silent orbs
Inspiring song, dance, and serenity.
*
The last leaves of autumn fall swiftly~
As I sit from my windowpane;
But I don't see how colourful their last days are!
All I see are hues of gray.
The bare twigs may be weeping,
for who wants to be forsaken?
But how can we ever stop
the autumn leaves from falling?
As I watch the leaves striding,
Memories of loss cascading like wildfire;
My grandma's last farewell...
are wailing wounds lingering in my veins.
Perennial pain envelops my whole being.
My hardened hands can't even grip a pen;
Eyes flow lava of molten tears~
If only they could conceal
my sylvan shades of sorrow.
I gaze at the ticking hands of clock;
Tears dried- lips numbed ~
My heartbeats stop at every second;
Time seems to be so long!
Where is the new tomorrow?
With the last strength of my fingers
I grope my grandma's grand piano~
fingers landed on the ebony and ivory keys;
Beethoven's "Silence" fills the air!
The music soars~ caressing my innermost being,
the quintessence of my heart's chamber travels~
to a new sphere~
where melody can mend broken wings,
where a pen can tame the wind,
where my soul finds its milieu.
12.09.2020
Catharsis Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Silent 1
2nd place
Entered for "All Yours ( May 5) Poetry Contest"
Sponsored by Brian strand
1st place
If I could take a walk and find
the Avenue of Joy
what would my fancy find there
as I strolled along
Perhaps I’d pass some puppies
just meandering about
their humans tending lovingly
to every little thing
And then of course, an Ice Cream shop
would surely not be far
with double dips of Chocolate
in sugar cone delight
A glance away are signs
that trumpet, Pizza, Candy, Nuts
though air of every appetite
would find me anyway
A grand piano consort seems to
softly ease my gait
and I cannot imagine
somewhere I would rather be
It’s then that I awake to gentle licks
from my own pup
with just a little heartburn
from the evening’s menu fare
I realize I’ve found much more
than I was looking for
the Avenue of Joy
that leads to nowhere else but home
Meaningless
I want to write you something that means something,
But all I say is meaningless;
Less to me and less to you.
I struggle to get myself out of your bed, because of my head.
I am trapped inside a box of thoughts.
Which question to ask of you?
No answer to ‘We need to talk.’
Leave me lying here in my own pity;
The dreams I keep inside my head.
You orangutan through one night stands;
A love like this is without love.
Break a promise to be a man
And you will see a divorced wedding dress,
So drenched in mud.
This is how it all begins,
So this is how it will all stay.
You can never remove those stains, those sins;
So tear apart every syllable I just have to say.
Your lies are on fire! I vow to change;
You and I have never really felt the same.
I say what I need to get you off my chest;
You hold me down with promises.
Tell me when I have passed your test,
So I can admit the truth; that it is you who is worth less.
Less than friendly and now a part of the family.
A part of the furniture; surely soon to be less than all I have.
Prepare to take a grand piano, to the head
And I will tell you where you need to stand.
Stand apart, we are never near,
To understanding the words we never speak
And the thoughts we never hear.
I cover up the bruises on my heart,
To hide the shame of loving love.
I leave behind all the memories of what we are…
By simply giving up.
(C)2017 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Grand Piano
Exquisite
For my soul
a true delight
Anticipation rising
for the pianist
to arrive
Upon his stool
so comfortable
flexed fingers
and closed eyes
No music sheet
knows every note
and plays complete
Concerto
Looking up
A baton raised
Fingers are alive
I’m in another place
Transported to Utopia
Conductress
asks of violins
A gentle
calm refrain
Then cellos add
a depth of sound
music playing all around
Crescendo
takes on hidden depths
Pulls me in
My tears doth flow
Rachmaninoff
reaches deep
into my heart
into my soul
A magical spell
'tis played
upon
Exquisite
Grand Piano
Written 13th March 2022 after seeing the London Philharmonic Orchestra playing live...
Contest A BRIAN STRAND INFORMEL
Sponsor Brian Strand
FIRST PLACE
Contest Magical Spell
Sponsor Robert James Liquori
n/a
A butterflied eye
blinking stars do shine
on every beating wing
as birds softly sing
to silver maned unicorns dancing in a ring
of dragons snapping webs of woven silk
In a swirl of clouds made of milk
a towering blue filled sky
high diving wheels do fly
on a hundred tuxedoed marching bears
humming out sweet honeyed airs
a hammering anvil octopus with tentacles uproarious
playing a melancholy song
on harps long gone
to sea depths of whales
clicking tongues with their tails
while dolphins do a trick to a metronomic tick.
Purple waves a thousand string bows
as I pull out a petrol coloured rose
from everybody's nose
children burst out a laughing bubble
on a policeman turning into a clown
frozen stiff with a frown
a bassoon the size of an elephant bellowing out such eloquence
with oboes and clarinets that slither and snake their way
blowing bugles into bubblets parping out little trumpelets
and saxophones rippling out dancing skeletones
that shatter cymbals and kettle drums into smithereens
blue tongued lizards fingering their zithers
And last but not least a thousand nimble mice who play piccolos on ice
The performance now takes on a darker tone. Is that a flash of lightning?
Do ominous clouds roll in across the sky?
A belated troop of grinning baboons
Sawing double basses
gnashing teeth and pulling faces
As I wave my wand to whistle forth a dark cloaked demon
from an infernal region
to hit grand piano keys bringing the crowd to their knees
blackened sulphuric fingers spread
Inspiring some unholy dread
as cloven hoof beasts clamour
and witches dance enamoured by yer fiery guest
who draws out hell at yer own behest
Purple Cat rings a bell and the whole artifice fell.
I remember your fingers
upon my teeth.
We were
bread and butter;
I was le Sac and you were Pip,
a strummer and a quip,
the mesh of wet and dry
that even distance.
But how long it’s been.
My wires are shaky, achy
with desire.
Once ago,
you put your money where your mouth was,
and you took me home
and you kept me there.
Now you’re broke
you’re condensing down.
And you’ve got me quavering the silence,
longing for the final touch.
I burned and resurrected
to be this Grand Piano.
And it was you who took me!
My strings are rigid
from temptation of your wrists.
Holding on to my keys
willing for you to play
Manmade
me to use me
But I’m breaking in limbo,
away from you
and I am too late
to mend you.
I hear grand piano music floating in from afar
It is poetry so crisp, it's crystal clear.
Poetry is chandeliers on high ceiling of white
It is polished parquet in spaces with soft light.
Poetry is grand plies performed with perfect poise
Like choreographed parts rated free of noise.
Poetry is rainbow-arched windows, wide as love for you
Such language conveys heart's pulsation, soft as dew.
But there's more!
Poetry is precious sound of deep unending peace
It tugs at our heartstrings, new heights of joy is reached.
Poetry awakens my soul to the good in you
Though caution comes in, love rules.
Poetry is slow caress, of each and every word
Like perfect pastels of my smiles, haven't you heard?
Poetry is alive like our rhythm without blues
It is vibrant, yet so profoundly smooth.
Poetry is sun and moon in fullness of soft glow
They're like friends, helping us to grow.
Poetry is starlight of joy in your eyes I see
It is spark I adore, even though you're not with me.
Poetry is our stream of dreams helping us to sea
It's fused with might, and mingles with light, you see.
Poetry is you and I in our silent orbs
Inspiring song, dance, and serenity.
*
Let me tell you a story...
It has not happened often in our neck of the woods;
I can remember only one time we've had snow on Easter.
The Ohio River had flooded earlier
that March of 1964
causing many disruptions in our lives.
Our town had a floodwall which protected
its low-lying residences from damage;
but my aging grandmother had to evacuate her area
and come to our home ten miles north.
This flood was second only (in her lifetime)
to the disastrous cost and destruction
triggered by a 1937 deluge.
Her visit was haunted by the memory of
severe damage to their home and business
twenty-seven years earlier
during the worst flood ever on the Ohio.
She worried the whole time - re-telling stories
of how folks had taken sick with scarlet fever and pneumonia.
How they had to stay with higher-ground relatives
and the back-breaking clean-up after the water receded.
They had just bought a new square grand piano.
She told of how they put ropes under the
legs and hoisted up it to the ceiling to
protect it from the water damage.
This was the first time I ever remember
her spending any time away from her home.
She and my grandpa ran a small grocery store
and made their mark in the community
by also selling homemade ice cream.
Just prior to the era of swirling soft-serve,
Tom's Ice Cream was known for miles around.
When grandma finally returned to her home,
the damage was more than her eighty-five years could bear.
My German-immigrant granny died on Good Friday
and was buried on the following Sunday, March 29, 1964.
I remember well, we had a light dusting of snow that Easter,
a kind of heavenly eulogy
marking her entrance
to eternity.
April 22, 2022
Sponsor Constance La France
Contest Name Form N - Narrative - New Poems
I chose a family theme