Long Henderson Poems
Long Henderson Poems. Below are the most popular long Henderson by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Henderson poems by poem length and keyword.
JOE HENDERSON’S PROLIFIC OUTPUT AS EITHER A SIDEMAN OR LEADER/
IS SHEAR SONIC VELOCITY OF MUSIC COMING FROM HIS TENOR THINKIN' MIND/
NO HALF-STEPPIN HERE BRO/JOE’S INSIDE-OUTSIDE APPROACH GOT YOUR BACK TO EVERY SIDE HE PLAYED ON/
TO THE LIVE SHOWS WE DUG HIM AT/
HE BLEW HIS TENOR HORN UP TO AND LET HIS PLAYING SPILL OVER INTO HARD BOP/
HENDERSON WAS ALWAYS DIGGIN' INTO THE HOT-N-KOOL VOCABULARY OF JAZZ TO COME UP WITH
NOTES THAT AREN’T ALWAYS OBVIOUS BUT ALWAYS FIT/
HE WAS A BRILLIANT COMPOSER AND ATMOSPHERICAL MASTER CREATING THE SPACE FOR THE
LISTENER TO DRIFT INTO AND CREATE THEIR OWN SOMETHIN ELSE WORLD OF MUSIC IN DIGGIN HENDERSON’S JAZZ CHOPS/
JUST COOK-N-BURN BABY/ ALWAYS STICKING TO HIS UNDILUTED APPROACH TO HIS TENOR HORN PLAYIN'
FROM FIRST POPPIN ON THE JAZZ RECORDING SCENE WITH HORACE SILVER, LEE MORGAN, AND McCoy TYNER/
JOE EVENTUALLY CAME TO SIT ON ONE OF THE PRESTIGE RECORDING CHAIRS AT BLUE NOTE RECORDS/
AS A TALENTED WELL TRAVELED AND VALUABLE NU HIP VOICE AS A BLUENOTE SIDEMAN TO THE MANY BLUENOTE RECORDING STARS OF THE DAY/
JOE’S PHRASING AND MODULATION
ARE FLAWLESS/
HIS FLOATING THOUGHT PROVOKING SOUND’S THAT WERE AT THE TIME’S HARD LIQUOR JAZZ MIXED WITH
MAD SEX MUSIC/
SET THE STAGE FOR THE JAZZ AFICIONADOS TO DIG THE DEEP GROOVE IN JOE’S RHYTHMIC TEXTURED
LAYERING ON HIS SPEED RUNNING TO HIS FLAME-THROWING ICE-HOT SCALES THAT BURNED THROUGH THE ORGANIC JAZZ ORCHESTRATION IN HIS SOUND ARCHITECTURE/
THAT HYPED UP THE NATURAL THINKIN' IN HOOKIN UP THE HIGH VOLTAGE IN HIS HORN TO FRACTURE YOUR HIPSTER THINKIN' TO NO END/
JOE HENDERSON
BLUE BOSSA
LUSH LIFE
BLACK NARCISSUS
POPSICLE STICK
JOE’S SCATING HIS VOCALIZE
TO HIS SOUNCLOUD JAZZMIX
10/13/12
-----------------------------------------
The words of God are a great comfort
The day—the Last Great Day—depicts judgement
That will come upon everyone equally
God hasn’t even begun to work
With the mass majority of the world
But His glorious salvation is revealed to all
But for all to hear,
The spiritual component of God
Will be added to their thoughts
—their ears will open
They will have the opportunity to repent
There will be judgment
For those who really long to change,
Doors will be open
For those who choose their own way,
He will throw into the Lake of Fire with Satan
—a most merciful action
For any way except God’s is the path leading to evil
And in due course to anger,
Sadness and death
Those who choose to be gone
Will be gone
Many will weep and mourn…
Until the day of Judgment,
Prepare
Once you receive the knowledge of the truth
Practice it
For you will be held accountable
For your sins
God will not overrule our human will
He wants us to choose
And continue to choose
Not all names will be seen in the Book of Life
I will be among the weeping
*inspired by John Anderson*
-a special thanks to Charles Henderson for helping me edit this piece. It looks so much better now! Thank you!-
One before the why
Neutrinos dance, the tenet
Encoded gem I
Hopi hydrogen
Unified twins, Gemini
Numbers, count by staff
Divided even
Release the energy chi
Equal scales by 2
Decide upon one
Y photon will equal c
Energy Ion
Arc flight of eagle
Ram or goat the choice be I
S- Martics be arc
Oscillate on thoughts
Fermions amount to sum
Quantum quarks made you
Unified field net
Alpha the numeric n
N number alpha
Tau weight equals au be you
Unit be star Q
Mass measured by staff
Set started on go
Catapult be to the stars
Independent Star
Electrons are a
New negative light of one
Cascade reason why
Elect charm at end
2 by way of the release
Infinity roar
Now finite beyond
For I am born one with sun
It’s all inside you
None but bold be the one Thoth
Inside the fire be one
Together be the ocean
Yet the ocean be drop too
By Steven Willis Henderson
6/23/25
The Grand Opera House was
packed to capacity for the
closing night of the season.
Soprano Bianca London
delivered a flawless
performance that moved the
entire audience to tears.
Among the crowd sat Leo
Henderson, an obsessed fan who
believed Bianca sang exclusively
for him.
Leo had sent dozens of
unsigned letters, but Bianca
had ignored every single one.
Driven by the dark jealousy,
Leo sneaked into the backstage
corridors during the final standing
ovation.
He slipped into Bianca's
private dressing room and
waited silently in the dim
shadows.
When Bianca walked through
the door, Leo confronted her
with a bouquet of black roses.
Bianca threatened to call
security, causing Leo to
lose his grip on reality
completely.
He grabbed a silk prop scarf
from the vanity and brutally
strangled the talented star.
Leo fled through the rear
fire exit before the stage
manager discovered the
tragic scene.
The police arrived quickly,
but the killer left no
fingerprints or physical DNA
behind.
The murder shocked the
music world, and
investigators struggled to
find a solid lead.
Detective Arthur Pendleton
took the case, carefully
reviewing Bianca's fan mail
for clues.
He noticed one letter
contained a unique quote
from an obscure, centuries-old
Italian opera.
Two weeks later, Arthur
attended a public memorial
service held for the fallen
singer.
The detective watched the
mourners closely, looking for
anyone acting suspiciously or
overly emotional.
He spotted Leo placing a
single black rose onto the
memorial alter in the lobby.
Arthur approached Leo
and casually struck up a
conversation about Bianca's
legendary repertoire.
Leo proudly quoted the
exact obscure opera line
from the letter, trapping
himself completely.
The obsessed fan was
arrested on the spot, final
justice delivered for the
opera star.
I was six and in first grade,
When my teacher came to visit.
I hung around the house that day,
'Cause I didn't want to miss it.
Miss Henderson was very nice,
And her rule number one,
Was to get to know each pupil,
To know us one on one.
She followed Mom into the house,
Being polite and proper.
Mama set out tea and cakes,
And told me not to bother.
She wanted things to be just right,
To make a good impression.
She wanted to discuss with her,
My manners and my lessons.
Before she left my mom gave her,
A tour about the house.
They visited the garden,
Where Smokey caught a mouse.
He looked up and saw me,
And brought it straight to me.
He stood there with it in his mouth,
And eyed me carefully.
Then he dropped it at my feet.
It scurried fast away.
It ran across the teacher's foot,
She yelped and jumped away.
Smokey ran and got the mouse,
And brought it back alive.
"One more time." he seemed to say,
The teacher nearly died.
"He's brought it back! Oh sakes alive!
Lets go back in the house!"
"Don't be afraid' , I said to her,
'He's teaching me to mouse."
Mama laughed out loud at that,
The teacher was averse.
"Do they always play like that?"
"Oh no, sometimes it's worse."
My mansion is white and splendid,
it is three stories and has red shingles;
so beautiful- in the sky suspended.
With flower boxes and colors blended,
and round windows on the many gables;
my mansion is white and splendid.
When I go there all sad things are mended,
in this dream just happiness twinkles;
so beautiful- in the sky suspended.
Just floating until my dream has ended,
in another realm in clouds it mingles;
my mansion is white and splendid.
I can let go of feelings pretended,
it is full of joy, light and love sprinkles;
so beautiful- in the sky suspended.
In this Shangri-La, I hear the angels,
there, I can shed my persona presented;
my mansion is white and splendid,
so beautiful- in the sky suspended.
____________________________
November 14, 2016
Poetry/Villanelle/In The Sky Suspended
Copyright Protected, ID 16-850-042-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym
Written for the contest, Building Castles In The Sky
sponsor, Steven Henderson
Seventh Place
hey dad,
it’s been a while. thirteen years and six months if we’re being precise.
i write your title a lot nowadays
‘dad’
but you dont know me
i’ll introduce
my name is emry grace henderson
im fourteen, with blonde hair and green eyes (which everyone seems keen on commenting about- i think the gold flecks are from your amber ones)
i love music
love the sound of strings vibrating on a flat surface, haunting melodies
(or in our case, Irish folk songs- though i suppose you wouldnt know that?)
I’ve missed you- though i suppose thats also a bit of an understatement
im not sure i understand you
understand why
no matter how hard my grandmother explains
on a sunday evening
although ive heard we are pathologically similar
(i wouldnt know)
how are you?
what are you like?
ive a vague outline of you
faded and blurry, yet as vibrant as autumn in virginia
(i never did tell you about that trip did i?)
it’s good to get this out- im not sure i could speak it aloud- ive a way of fumbling the words until their unintelligible,
only understood by the leaves that shake in the wind, by the hummingbirds in the skies, by the black bose i wear as a grounding element
somedays i wonder if this was ever meant for me
do you feel like this?
(from what ive heard you collapsed under the weight- i hope not to)
they say we’re similar
though bitterness kept me from acknowledging this truth
i hope you’ll meet me someday
when the voices are less present- and you are free from the weight of this world- because i’d love to finally meet you.
I have attempted to capture my favorite major league baseball players in this little shape poem of home plate. Included are (in no particular order):
Say Hey Willie Mays Walter Johnson (Big Train)
Randy Johnson (The Big Unit) Babe Ruth (The Sultan Of Swat)
Tony Gwynn Jimmie Foxx
Ted Williams Maury Wills
Stan “The Man” Musial Johnny Bench
Ken Griffey Jr Greg Maddox
Henry Aaron Lou Gehrig
Roberto Clemente Ty Cobb
Satchell Paige Ernie Banks
Rickey Henderson Carl Yastrzemski (Yaz)
Trevor Hoffman Albert Pujols
Gibson (Bob and Josh) Honus Wagner
Rogers Hornsby Cal Ripken
Robinson (Jackie, Frank and Brooks)
Some favorites I had to leave out…
Christy Mathewson Warren Spahn
Sandy Koufax Tom Seaver
Mickey Mantle Rod Carew
Joe Morgan Ozzie Smith
Mariano Rivera Miguel Cabrera
Pedro Martinez Ichiro Suzuki
David Ortiz Jose Altuve
I’d love to see your faves mentioned in the comments section!
written 24 Aug 2020
Tackle box, fishing poles, radio, a good book to read
In a quite little alcove , the back outskirt of Lake Mead
The desert sun burning the sky, I’m comfortable in the shadow
I see the shad chumming toward the shore, my bait a live minnow
Suddenly, down the shoreline, I see the water, rapidly rippling my way
I was about to see, a vicious act of Nature: a school of large striped bass
A hundred strong with a school of fifty tagging along : the bass kicked …
I wonder Are The TROUT biting??
Inspired by Amy Green’s Contest : : I saw with my own Eyes
July 8, 1979 -- 10:50 A.M. Lake Mead , Henderson Nevada
OK, Filipp, where did all the pictures that adorned this hall of Light go
“Follow me, You have to watch the “ Window Of Life “ "YOUR Funeral"
Whoa, wait a minute , How long have I been here? A few minutes “ Right “
“You Know, I know YOUR favorite Christmas Special is “It’s a Wonderful Life”
“How could YOU possibly Think : It would be better “ if I’d Never been BORN ‘
“look after YOUR Death, After a week, who Knows : “ HGarvey Daniel Esquire “
“ And I’m sure nobody knows the “ Chef “ or the Novice unknown “ POET””
“in order to continue YOUR “ Journey to LIFE “ YOU Must PARTICAPATE
In the viewing of what YOUR Life met, Whose Hearts YOU touched “YOUR Life”
Dearly Beloved, we are gathered here this day to join this Man and this Woman in
Holy Matrimony : “WOW” Does anyone realize how decayed my Brain is, how broke my
" H E A R T "
How much inhumanity “ my Soul has inhaled. “ Is Hatred a True virtue ““ L O O K “
From the Grave : I beseech You : it is not the words YOU want to read, but the Thought
The Vision I see, is a polished Pine box, engraved with the Words “ Who Was HE ? “
Tunnel of LIGHT ( 8 )
Inspired By Charles Henderson"s Contest "Free For All Do As YOU Please"