Long Instrumentals Poems
Long Instrumentals Poems. Below are the most popular long Instrumentals by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Instrumentals poems by poem length and keyword.
With my eyes wide open and my words spoken out loud, I seek Your feel here,
on this night, atop this hill lush with soft green fields as lit by the stars Your galaxy
yields. On earth’s floor, upon smooth grass, I lay me down, Father, and pray You play
Your gospel bright purity, Your angelic chords of Father-love-security, and yes, please,
Your instrumentals that softly comfort while peacefully rocking me. It is the lack of
human-spun activities and nuisance noises that allow me the poise to absorb You here.
Your awesome choir’s euphony-brim brushes musical tingles that mingle with my soul
and fresh renew it. From your heavens, luminous sound waves flow that surround to
inform and confirm the numinous ways You love me. My Dear Father, hearing my pleas,
will You give my music needs over to Your night that they might waltz arm in arm with
Your lullaby to then dance on high as twilight rapture music heals and soothes my cry
with divinities repertoire?
heaven composed tunes
play angelic instruments ~
natural talent
Your twirly wind chimes deep within me as its hymn flirts upon my titillated skin.
Your symphony of vague promise comes as wave notes again and again. As a
concerto I cannot harness, shadows volley tempo with Your moon, clouds float an
accompanying tune and instruments in Your orchestra build a crescendo of exciting
energy wherein my burdens float upon wonderous angels who hold them inside
their primal notes. Could I, Father, but lay here amidst Your comforting music, safe
from bruise and pain, I would gladly surrender all I am to be a hold note in the gold
sky of Your spirit-scored refrain.
galaxy music plays
pure soul comforting music ~
heaven rocks a jam
Applauding an Acrostic Aria
Bopping to a Ballade Ballet and Blank verse Berceuse
Clapping to a Cinquain Cantata and Couplet Chorale
Dancing to a Dizain Duet
Exalting in Etheree Etudes and Elegy Ensembles
Frolicking to Free verse Folk songs and Footle Foxtrots
Galavanting to Ghazal Gavottes
Humming harmonies to a Haiku Hip Hop
Inhaling Italian sonnet Instrumentals
Jiving to a Jueje Jig
Keeping time to a Kyrielle Khaliji*
Lolling to a Limerick Lullaby
Marching to a Monorhyme Minuet
Napping to a Narrative Nocturne
Ovations for an Ottava Rima Overture and Ode Opera
Praising a Pantoum Polonaise
Quieting my quarters with a Quatrain Quadrille
Rollicking to Rondeau Rondos and Rhyme Royal Rhapsodies
Singing to Sonnet Sonatas and Sapphic Stanza Symphonies
Tapping toes to a Triolet Trio and a Tanka Tango
Unwinding to an Urban Sonnet Unison
Vocalizing a Villanelle Villanella
Whistling with a Waltz Wave Waltz
eXulting in Yaltos and Zikets
// Lines consist of a verb, a poetry form, and a musical form //
*Khaliji = modern contemporary music of Central and Eastern Arabia
The song my soul
never seeks has loud musical notes
rather calmer, more sensitive music
played for my heart
in rhythmic serene purpose
of melodies filled with beauty
beyond by gone lingering
dressed in yesterday's aromatic ambrosia
of instrumentals drifting still
on the boundaries of heartfelt yearning
my soul is haunted
by musical notes of seduction
and magical majesty
that give comfort to each moment
captured to quiver my heart
when I seek pulsations of wishes and dreams
found in the illusion of wonderland
that release my soul and find my heart
seeking to nourish new songs of tomorrows
perfumed in the melodies of yesterday
so, my soul can soar with an ambiance of essence
that dwells in my heart, waiting to be heard
and seen in verses of poetic harmonies
Last night I dreamed I owned a Beatles album from their break-up period that was never officially released and even most Beatles experts didn't know it existed.
I had one because I'd had a lover who had partied with Paul and he gave it to her and she didn't give a **** about it so she gave it to me (I did have a lover who partied with Paul, but the rest of the dream wasn't true).
So it popped to the top while I was sorting through storage boxes. It was vinyl, in a slip cover not indicating what was inside, just various bits of colored paper without words or imagery.
The record consisted mostly of terrible instrumentals with now and then John or someone cussing or mumbling.
Then I remembered I had a lot of similarly rare things by British invasion groups and realized if I dug them out now, I could probably sell them for a fortune.
Born in Hamler Ohio
Child of Louis F Davis Sr
Lived in Portland and Savannah Ohio
Study at the University of Michigan
Specializing in the bassoon a percussion
Overcame fusing
Modern popular and classical techniques in music
Worked as an advertising jingle songwriter
Challenge by the toning down of his music
Started his own record label personal traits Davis founded Mannheim Steamroller in Omaha Nebraska
Always written suburb instrumentals and verses
Never gave up best known for his revolutionising
The Sound of traditional Christmas music
Fresh Aire
11/26/19
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr 2019
Mistakes of our past are packaged ballads
recorded on an eight track cassette
constantly rewinding itself track after track
haunting us with its infinite instrumentals
of despair,oppression, and depression
No matter how many times
we turn down our audio Pandora Box
the mixed tapes of our mistakes never cease
to record the lyrics of those ballads
composed and sung in those
bitter, powerful , rhythmic
demonic voices
of Lucifer, the front man
and his backup band of dark spirits
endlessly mocking and taunting us
of our past afflictions and transgressions
with their raging, high tempo staccato tracks
like fiery arrows and poisonous snakes
piercing through every fiber of our mortal souls
Time’s up
mind’s plucked
watch me cave in
rhymes suck
my luck
hair’s wearing thin
corrupt
destruct
stops me thinking
clocks stuck
bell struck
sound silencing
Now I told you the minds plucked
first line look
write the hook
tip top tin pot I’m all shook up
lips lock can’t talk words in a book
flip flop fell off feet feel the muck
this rhyme of mine now starts to cook
Grapes with stems and apples with pips in
baking tin's hot for mashing cakes in
microwaves hum the smells you’re craving
visual treat the way this laying
succulent senses smells utensils
music playing instrumentals
banana berries you see genitals
banana cock with very berry balls
admittedly imagery imaginary calamity
the title says forced not fabulously
perspective talent I have or haven't
clear to see or transparent
a fight night fight knight fights fight knights
fighting fighters fighting fights
right through the night 'til early light
it's quite a sight when fight knights fighting
fight knights fighting fighters fighting fights fight all night
forced but great
cook or bake
walnuts cakes
waste of space
pick out of place
left on plates
cake fills waist
rhyme overrates
I say it straight
this page you save
bookmark cook shart
favourites hook hearts
great hits honk large
grey bits bonk hard
you think I'm
bonkers
more like plonkers pond cars boats
random words I just float
flash dance
gash glance
entrance
splash pants
drains fast
seepage
expands
stains grand
up set
get set
marks
won’t go
on show
all know
ball bag blow
fool go home
rhyme it like you're mental
do it with pen not pencil
don't rub it out write it again
I know a penguin poet called Gwen
no go again mean this poem's a gem
Time’s up mind’s plucked watch me cave in
rhymes suck my luck hair’s wearing thin
corrupt destruct stops my thinking
and no I haven't been foster drinking
"There are things known and things
unknown and in between are the Doors."
Quote by Jim Morrison, Lead singer of the Doors
(American singer, songwriter and poet)
____________________
Jim Morrison, lived a melancholy short life brilliant,
he left us suddenly and is still loved to this very day;
he was the lead vocalist for the rock band The Doors,
oh, they created magical music with amazing instrumentals.
And always, always the haunting beautiful voice of Jim Morrison . . .
He was only twenty-seven when taken and his father had inscribed,
on his headstone- True to his own Spirit- in Greek, how fitting;
still there is a constant shower of flowers at his grave site.
in Pere Lachaise Cemetery, Paris France and visitors still gather round.
The life of a rock star is chaotic, mind-bending and outlandish,
and stressed- Jim left us with notebooks full of his poetic words;
and The Doors most beloved song ever- Riders On The Storm,
so beautifully haunting and soothing although truthfully dark.
Rest in peace, Jim Morrison, thrown into this world and,
taken from it way too soon . . . and missed forever.
John 14: 2 "In my Father's house are many mansions; if it were not so,
I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you."
___________________________
April 23, 2019
Poetry/Elegy/Rider On The Storm
Copyright Protected, ID 19-1136-969-02
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Written for the contest, Writer's On The Storm
sponsor, Chantelle Anne Cooke
First Place
"If you're really in love, appearances aren't important. The best house is the one you build in each other's hearts."
Jung Yu jin
Autumn's alliterations amplified an acoustic of death.
Stillness of internal instrumentals silenced my acapella.
Words like wildflowers withered in winter wickedness,
without voice or verse I vanished behind a visible veil.
I was like a lifeless crystallised burnt sienna leaf,
as bitter breaths froze my brittle soul's ink.
Fatigued fingertips trembled from numbness -
without a purpose upon a speechless stage.
Afraid of crisp crying rain, which fell like a refrain.
my summer eyes turned amaurotic.
Life resembled a blank music sheet,
among an abandoned piano covered in iced cobwebs.
In solitude my music remained unwritten,
as I slept in a shivery silent slumber - tone deaf,
finding fading apricity in stolen daylight.
Until a silvery silhouette appeared. - sparkling.
Placed my hands into her warm glove-like hands,
wrapped me in an emphatic scarf-like embrace.
Her rose gold lips echoed in Orphic tones,
reviving my somnolent mute muse.
Blessed with vibrations from her vision,
senses awoke to rhythms of her heavenly harmony -
strumming an enchanting lover's lullaby.
Were you a gift from an orchestra of operatic angels,
sent to place hymns of hallelujah deep into my heart?
As her mystical mystery began to unfold.
In union our lyrics amplified into a rhapsody of romance.
Vibrant tunes from her intimate strings composed a
seraphic serenade, as we drifted into a dream world.
Today,
as we dance under emerald velvet northern lights,
snowfall covers our paths like an ivory blanket.
Soft flakes, like pearls glisten under tinsel moonlight,
as we leave poetic footprints behind in soothing snow -
a chorus of constellations glow to the tempo of our glorious sonata.