Long Lutes Poems
Long Lutes Poems. Below are the most popular long Lutes by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Lutes poems by poem length and keyword.
Oh,
The Midnight's Princess is awake!
She who brings light:
Shining upon the greenery of the forest
Penetrating through its coat of darkness
That overshadows joy... and let's fear linger
She who brings joy to all her people,
Sitting upon her cradle of stars.
Her light it is: that kisses each ripple in the lake,
Singing soft lullabies as it sighs in its sleep.
Her light that kisses the Earth with love:
Plants her blessed halo upon its beings,
And fears withdraw from a sleeping child's dream.
Her loving whispered voice, channelled through the prisons of bark,
She who sets all Dryads free:
Gives their freedom to dance free.
And Satyrs with their lutes and flutes,
Elven maidens, Nymphs and Dwarves,
They dance in the light of her grace:
Until the Midnight's Princess's chariot is driven away.
Married
The morning was bright and beautiful.
The day of our wedding, my love...
The smell of the flowers in the garden,
came through... every window of the house.
My spirit was lifted on high that day,
I know you would laugh... out loud.
I danced and pranced like a doe,
in the meadow...
I lifted my arms to the King.
Please my Lord,
please my Lord...
bless everything...
That is how I felt in April,
but the truth is that is how I always feel.
You make me happy,
like there is music playing,
lutes and flutes...
like there is bread cooking,
warm and fragrant in the air.
Your smile is unforgettable,
because it is my favorite thing to look at,
and the one thing I like to dwell upon,
when you are out,
on the tractor,
in the garden,
of our life.
Charming Patterns
An eyelet wheel models medieval embroidery
Aromatic, ornamental garden ballet steps for lovers
Strolling in stately patterns of noble estate
Savory’s romance looping through lavender labyrinths
Lost in curves of sweet scented anise dreams
A pavel of peace in pungent fans of feathery dill
Set in soothing circles of demure comfort,
Inside squares of loyal rosemary tied with ribbons of sage
Trimmed with clarion harmony of marjoram’s gailland
And arches of drizzles leap as parsley festivity
Joyfully brushes the fingertips of rows in oregano courants
A center pistel radiates lines of tarragon in devotion
Dotted by French knots of thyme
With rosettes of mint scattered in diamonds about the maze
Virtuous embraces of shy courtly kisses
In basil’s blush of chain stitch purity
And to the almain of lutes and of lyres
To the harp strum, to the chaste flute,
A castle garden dances faithful fidelity
Telling the story of love’s longevity
In charming patterns.
10-6-21
Contest: Charming Patterns
Sponsor: Julia Ward
Embroidery stitches: eyelet wheel, loops, drizzles, pistel, French knot, rosettes, chain stitch
Medieval Instruments: clarion, lute, lyre, flute, harp
Elizabethan Dances: ballet, pavel, gailland, courant, almain
Knot gardens of herbs are based on the intricate embroidery patterns of the Elizabethan age.
"Syzygy"
Behind the wet dunes
fringed with seagrass
a blood crescent
kisses the forehead
of dreamer traversed
twin aeon syzygy
barefeet the velvet
sophia imprints
softly speak
like words seen
dancing across
the place between
heaven and earth
mapping deviations
non-standard
calibrating alignment
played forward through
unchartered jaded
emerald forests
where the satin skin
becomes sparkling
crystalline it shatters
like a shell disgarded, then
the body of no substance
becomes transparent
enveloped in rapturous
Devabani heralding
commands cast
from divine throats
lutes and sitars
whirling nightingales
dervishes wingspanned
accompany angelic legions
the journey melts into
deep blue mysterious oceans
easily walked, hypnotic the
transparent beckoning,
this is the way come,
come, come closer
closer, come forward,
on higher Elysian steppes
the bride smiles
an unspoken secret
and turns
the eyes are
twin windows
like doorways
opening
swallowing
(LadyLabyrinth / 2023)
How deep the stings that make men mistrust Love,
And women fly from comforts that Love brings,
And deeper is the poison in poisoned rings
That longing hearts refuse the thinking of.
There is no other station that can wound
As deeply, or as surely, as Love stabs
No other hook grabs deeply as Love grabs
And no lute, more than Love, as finely tuned
Can make my music sob, vibrate the strings
Of all the lutes that ever were, will be
With consonances. O! That I could Thee
Awaken, to the joys that Sweet Love brings.
But you would rather have than me, I think,
Brown eyes, brown hair, a Handsome with a wink!
A walk-in solitude, putting one foot
over the other, stepping over roots
to listen to the flutes of nature lutes
and silent subtle shift that are afoot.
Away from mental incessant chatter,
solace for the fractious mind. A matter
of time, a sense of elation scatter
and the will to feel the fatigue shatter.
A shaded path tucked away in slumber
in surrounding walls of dark and umber
trees, woody vines, shrubs, and beast that lumber
a realm of nirvana in poised wonder.
Sitting on the ashen limbs and trendless
full of sculptured green, wood thrush nest, restless.
In air a reward glimmer of breathless
hope in a grove of balm doth shine zestless.
Treading determinedly upward, the tree
sunshade is thinning, revealing a sea
of cadet blue sky, glorious to see.
Leaving the world behind upon the breeze.
7/29/2018
Poetry Contest: For Your Poetry Journal
Sponsored by: Dear Heart a.k.a. Broken Wings
5. A walk in Solitude / Rhyme
Got Any Ideas For A Poem?
Ha! That catch phrase
(kid ding lee writ)
hoop fully goat yar attention
truth be told, (no...no...
no...not by me
boat some tee else of course)
mine min (yute) yen
for light banter i.e. badinage,
(this horny toad juiced ribbing...
frog git about it), yea,
I know that punning
while keying (NOT SAFE),
sometimes dill lutes
ma serious pickling attempt ren
doors an unsuspecting reader
(bajillion times out of zero) pen
ultimately probably discourages,
an increased virtual fanbase,
rectified by the following asinine
non-sequitur (a come men
dib bull double
entendre) totally tubularly
barbed with Freudian
slip age, that ken
figuratively grab immediate
interest of hen
pecked recipients (with pock marks
to prove such assertion)
might strongly concur even
without being aware how
psychoanalysis willy thrust
significance of phallus
in everyday affairs,
particularly how peppy
(even after applying
WD-40) can rust
and/or atrophy as if cell bait,
hence thee dick cree,
that intercourse a must
(as told by this husband
in a sexless marriage
as a result, I might
join a convent) as a lust
result, either that or
go set me a
watch woman as mistress
tubby integrated within
my private life
even if one
needs tubby bussed
from the outer limits of the
sterling twilight
zona pellucida ideally,
where love of c**t tree and
priapism maketh sea men go bust!
Oh sing yon violin upon your strings
and play harps and lutes melodious things
come sooth my soul and for our losses
and shatter pain upon our bed of mosses
Dost thou dare to stay our hearts entwined
do cast your light and airy within our mind
so also to our agony do make us blind
where in time we shall life kinder find
Do misdirect my thoughts upon a fairer course
lead me now away from paths remorse
fail not to impart joy and from its source
and to the courts whats odious I do divorce
and there expire bitterness and mans afflictions
unto the burial sites with their benedictions
the ends of tribulations on the morrow
as I have some aspersion to this sorrow
Come twist your ropes do wrap in harmony
the golden strand in archetypes that be
fluid in the cups elixir we do drink
to shelter from woe and misery we sink
Clasp the inner man intone your song
return to us the living among our throng
embrace the consolation and hold whats dear
for upon us all this place draws ever near
COPYRIGHT © 2009 C Michael Miller
via Duboff Law Group LLC
A city made from nothing,
on a lagoon with shallow waters
to keep the invaders away ;
still today those bell chimes ring out
to remind everyone of her victory
at Lapanto...when the ships
brought back the banners
of the defeated enemy!
Venice's splendor is seen everywhere...
even in San Marco's Square,
swarmed with pigeons and visitors,
where the Venetians' genius built
a splendid Basilica reminiscent of their wealth
and power...making Venice: the Queen of the Sea!
Down the Rialto Bridge and the Bridge of Sighs,
gondolas row...carrying visitors and lovers;
the artists seek inspiration for their works,
while their stunned eyes are delighted by beauty,
which pulls them out of virtual reality!
Intrigue and mystic fascinated
many a devoted soul,
and the entire city echoed
with delirious voices breaking
the silence of midnight;
violins and lutes played in palaces
and in gondolas on the Grand Canal...
did anyone stare at the brilliant stars?
A masquerade was an invitation to love,
all disguised themselves behind a mask;
many were seduced by passions with haste...
as Venice revelled in their merry-making,
celebrating a glory that knew no ending;
and when it declined, it was deserted by all!
Venice's splendor seems eternal,
not diminishing through ages;
her fame ever-increasing and each stone
can tell a different story of people
who partook of her greatness,
leaving a legacy we regard as our own...
In not too long, we’ll see the spring,
for winter will have lost its cling!
Across this earth, we’ll waken to her sweet rebirth.
On the first day of spring, give praise and sing!
Rejuvenate; refresh; rejoice!
Welcome her with the gladdest noise –
In meadows we can meet to dance with merry feet!
Bring flutes, lutes, drums, and a resonate voice!
At spring’s debut, let’s all arise
with gratitude for her sweet prize:
of life, the renewal thereof, and love,
and promises of bluer skies!
Feb. 15, 2019
(looks like first day of spring was just this past March 19!! Praying for sunnier days, in more ways than one!)