Long Jive Poems
Long Jive Poems. Below are the most popular long Jive by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Jive poems by poem length and keyword.
walking through life as as a black person,
the world needs to understand
we rock with a rhyme, we bop with a beat
we jive like a jazz band
we improvise on the fly
we adapt to any situation
we can spit a rhyme in real time
and connect with a combination
we can create out of chaos
we can take trash and turn it into treasure.
we can see beauty in the midst of bedlam
and turn dissonance into sounds of pleasure
to journey through life as a black person
we march to the beat up our own drums
we always have a song in our hearts
we are musical phenomenons
we are the deepness of the base
we are the sexiness of the saxophone
we are the smoothness of the violin
we are the richness of the trombone
we have the versatility of the piano
we're the lead guitar that gives the melody
we are the trumpets in life that blow
with much power and intensity
we are the rhythm, we are the rhyme
we are the harmony
we are black people journeying through life
with a musical propensity
so keep shining, keep grinding
keep moving with all that jazz
because walking through life as the black person
just means we have much pizzazz
Images of black and white
were placed close together
with colored photos
a deal for it's contrasting
effects.
The depth and urgency of
the themes
were starkly juxtaposed with
painted images
that fused art and photography.
Universal peace and universal anxieties
about love devotion and companionship
mirrored and echo'd the themes of
togetherness. Music theory describe
the relationships between
musical notes to create scayles and chords
it made the filming of the imaging more
interesting
several individuals were fascinated with the thought
of weaving there favorite songs into the favorites of others
( this all started over a conversation where; the usage of dehydrated Steamers and potatoes was a novel idea to make produuction scayle waffles)
to create a story of something that
never happened
but told a story of creativity: snippets and sampling sounds of older
songs to these images
caused us to write a script for a full length film.
Anise Anise anise
Appears courtsey of
Undermining Album Co.
a UpHistory Media and Film Production Co.
with Assocations with Croons and Cantor's
Beat By Yinsel
of Jive tone Music
and Phatt-Bottom Flims
Spanky Bighand and Nah-not Me
appears Courtsey of
Fashions and Styles
a New World Media Brand
Dorian: 1-2-?3-4-5-6-?7
Phrygian: 1-?2-?3-4-5-?6-?7
Lydian: 1-2-3-?4-5-6-7
Mixolydian: 1-2-3-4-5-6-?7 d types.
are sounds that express love
love is Music
and Music is for the World
We are The World Of Music!
Freaks in costumes,
Guised under normalcy
Amongst their own--
Making peacocks to
Appear as paupers--
Disheveled & unrivaled
In this world of their own.
Smoke escapes plasticity;
Drenched with green
Up against the night sky
Out against the city's contour.
Escaping as time
Once escaped with
Their noble youth.
Time surely aged them--
That vile vandal,
The one poets scorn..
Surely she would take
As she can accord;
But then, is it
Not man that leads a romp?
If time is the dance
Then fun is the tune.
Cascading the masquerade
Transcending any law--
Of logy memory.
One must make query:
What dreams await death's bed
I’m upset with smug Peter Pig
Who’d promised we could dance a jig
But spies my bent trotter
Gets nasty - the rotter
I call him an ignorant prig!
I’ve got a disability
But nothing will ever stop me
I’m a feisty young sow
So I'll never kowtow
Swing dancing makes me so happy
How quickly I'd learned how to dance -
Six lessons from my cousin Lance
When I dance Lindy Hop
I just don’t want to stop
My dancing may lead to romance
Young Percy took me by the hand
Well trotter; but you’ll understand
When we danced the pig jive
He made me feel alive
We’re dating now, life is just grand!
8,8,6,6,8 checked with how any syllables
Tall Tales 1 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Jeff Kyser
03/13/22
On one's perspective considering
that you are skillfully of being an
illusionist, a magician that you
strategically elude, distort and
pursue to overpower my kindness
and intelligence for weakness with
your finesse, with void of your
tactlessness maybe reference to
repeatedly distracting and pulling
my strings are your a puppet master?
Manipulating my every move, thoughts
and opinions, your words are comparable
to butter smooth, a excessive jive
talker with a quickness, a dealer a
warden of someone else's mind a
monoplizer of someone other
person's vulnerability. A excessive
finnesser must be your technique
also strategies, On the otherhand
nothing lasts permanently whilst
false heartedness is involved and
triviality isn't easy in one's mind.
Yellow prances in parades of giggles,
Like the grace of forgiveness in winter’s deep valleys,
To build a house made in joyful pirouettes
Escaping from its space between orange and green
To jig and jive in odes of clarity
Sprinkling spring with daffodils and crocus.
The language of yellow celebrates in celestial tones,
Weaving clear light on barren boughs,
Shards of pure energy never rest
Reveling in naked ecstasies of delight
Sunbeams on the loose refusing to wear a disguise,
Transparent gladness of festivity.
Yellow heralds the glory of optimistic stars
Stretching into cold corners
Breathing fireflies into the tombs of musky indigos
Tossing petals of sunlight
Into rainbow starved air
With outbursts of uncontrollable mirth and merriment.
Splendor bounding! Radiance released!
Sad this day flings with sullen food,
Sorrow now brings such dreary moods.
A man has died with death's sure stroke,
We cried and cried with pains that poke.
Heavy hearts groan with grief that strains,
Mumbles and moans declare our pain.
No one can know how death arrives,
A fatal blow to anxious jive.
But take heart here for love lives on,
Forfeit all fear and go beyond.
The living give life that full zest,
The dead will live in hearts' fond fest.
Such is the way of those living,
To fill each day with true meaning.
The cycle moves from start to end,
Start in life's grooves and earn death's end.
He cannot die who lives most high,
A moment's sigh frames a new cry.
The way to walk is to just dare,
Love needs no talk save faith that fares.
We cannot know all things we sense,
Mystery shows in present tense.
Leon Enriquez
04 April 2016
Singapore
There is a bumble rumble
off in the bramble ramble jumble
with bees hovering as the sedum flowers crumble,
flowers perched in fading colors reds and browns
as summer welcomes winter to town
and autumn begins to shut life down;
the buzz feed hums in less quiet gatherings
upon the petals of seedling jabberings
where moth and butterfly are now scattering;
the filibuster clusters in hive jive
store combs of honey to survive
and keep the queen protected and alive;
the working drones tightly huddle
their demanding queen to cuddle
pressed around to warm and snuggle;
and every flutter and wing shiver
promises more warmth to deliver
against the snow and cold of winter bitter;
this is the humble bumble's inner blossom
securing honey of flower nectar and pollen
their worker drone waggle dance most solemn,
preparing their bumble rumble quiet ensemble of autumn.
The train to Boston goes clonkity dong, clonkity ding,
and ever the handy hack Gershwin takes up
the rhythm and makes it sing.
Rhapsodic rhapsodies in jazz mode
stomp among the carriage silverware and glasses,
makes them tink, jitter and chatter
to the shoe shined suits
that doze along to the whitling of whistled tunes.
The moon necks in, illumines a fountain pen
as he, jotting, heels pumping up and down
knees’ a ‘cracking, sketches his syncopated sounds.
It’s coming together except for the molasse’s,
the liquorish stick, added later
with a whisky-wet wail,
then the whole city skyline spoke it up, ears flapped,
as the schtick stuck.
A small combo took to tuxedos, added more chairs
for symphonic fiddlers.
Chronic indigestion is relieved nationwide.
Middle-aged men wear their fedoras more rakishly,
ladies take to the streets in sheer nylon.
Del-eez and dives jive
to the pulse and swing of a scrawny Jewish guy
hammering black notes together
as if he were born in catfish row.
It's a PICKLE PARTY and you're being invited!
Return your RSVP saying you'll be delighted
to attend. Don't forget to bring your sunscreen
so, you can keep your lovely shade of green.
The pool will be open, so you can swim and dive
and a band will be playing soulful blues and jive.
I hope I haven't added too much salt to the brine,
but if it's not to your liking, have a glass of wine.
Some gherkins will be here that you don't know,
and there's Phil the dill, flying in from Kokomo,
and the green-eyed prissy one, Miss Polly Pickle.
Don't get attached to her, for she's quite fickle!
I've invited a few kosher friends from New York City.
Their garlicky aroma is a bit strong, but they're witty.
You can mingle or just hang with the other slices
who've been soaking in the spa with pickling spices.
Beware the boring Trish, who likes to embellish
the tale of how her parents became sweet relish.
Oh dear, I must sound like a fussy old schmooze.
It's not a BYOB party because I'm serving booze.
The Cornichons from France said they will attend,
but if you don't speak any French, you can pretend.
Whatever it is they're saying, they'll think you agree.
Just smile, nod your head and keep saying, "Oui, Oui."
If you tend to be a little shy, stay close to your jar,
but you might find it interesting sitting at the bar.
I thought of inviting pickled onions, eggs and beets,
but they might outnumber us and eat all the treats.
I hope you can make it to my first annual Pickle Party.
It's the anniversary of my marriage to Big Cuke, Marty.
He's such a hunk, and sometimes I can't resist a nibble.
But I'll never share him; a fact I will never quibble.
Please say you will come and join us in the party fun
and when you get ready to soak up the heat of the sun,
step out on the party deck to take part in the dancing.
If the right pickle tickles you, maybe some romancing?
August 16th, 2022
It's a Pickle Party Contest
Sponsored by Mystic Rose Rose