Long Musician Poems
Long Musician Poems. Below are the most popular long Musician by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Musician poems by poem length and keyword.
Meeting friends
I am not a nice person I have little time
for meaningless natters and tend to be grumpy
and often I can be rude, and I'm not too fond of pomposity.
I{m unfailingly friendly with people who have fallen
on a hard time, there is a musician who came to Portugal he had
A job playing the guitar at a restaurant than the pandemic struck
and musicians were the first to go.
He prefers to eat outside well aware people think he is a tramp.
He has like me have travelled much, and we have a lot to talk about
I would not dream of giving money it would be offensive.
My other new-found friend is a man who looks like a retired diplomat
he had been to Sweden and Norway and was critical how Norway
had become too reliant on oil at the expense of other industries
such as shipping, fishery and farming
He asked me one day for twenty cents I gave him 50 cents.
No, he said I only need twenty to buy lactose-free milk.
He is slightly eccentric but very learned.
In the street where I live there are many new; rich people and
as such, snobbish and often intolerable beings.
But I have two friends, and it makes it interesting leaving the house
even if it is for a short time during the day.
I alone stand vigil over the memories of my past;
I alone feel the weight of them,
feel what it is to be
the man that past has created.
I stand, alone, beneath the stars and the moon,
contemplating all, as I ever have done;
it is only now that I've accepted
that's who I am meant to be;
the writer, the poet –
I stand with the rest of the dreamers.
I sit, alone, among the instruments of music,
playing on and on throughout my life;
music flows into and through my soul,
and I am now and will always be,
the musician and the bard –
I sit with the rest of the drummers.
I travel, alone, with the remembrances of love,
searching always for that one true other;
it is only now that I've accepted that even
without one such, I can live;
the romantic, the sentimental –
I travel with the rest of the passionate.
I escape, alone, in the pages of a good story,
reading for ever and anon;
books speak to me, engage me,
entertain me, release me;
the storyteller and the listener –
I escape with the rest of the readers.
I will fight, never alone, next to my brothers
and sisters in arms;
it is with all of myself that I've accepted
my duty, and who I will always be;
the soldier, the guardian –
I will fight with the rest of the Marines.
I dance, run, walk, laugh, alone, in the rain,
let loose my being in the deluge;
the storm's fury and glory
somehow become my own;
the drenched, the soaked –
I do all of this with the rest of the rain lovers.
It is only now that I've accepted
that I have become
who I was meant to be;
who I want myself to be.
I alone know what it is to be
myself, Andrew James Sprouse,
scion of the sea and of the past,
of the word and the sword.
But I do not alone know what it is to feel alive;
to be exactly who you are,
who you're meant to be.
I do not alone know the truth of pain.
None of us stands truly and utterly alone.
Every single one of us walks, arm in arm,
with those who share your experiences,
your beliefs, your thoughts and your lives.
But you, alone, know what makes your heart free,
what makes your fire ignite and your essence true;
you alone know the visage and touch of your soul.
“O Honey, the brute bear, straddles the box.”
The saxophonist stares. “Music unlocks
the stuffings out of the dread growling beast.
Bear’s tongue does round his lips. Am I his feast?”
Goldilocks laughs. Saxophonist funny
and a great storyteller. “Now the bunny!”
His daughter points gleefully at its tail.
Dad closes the box, locking both in jail.
“The animals stuff their ears with their paws.
waiting for the whale to open its jaws.
Lo! They hear the great musician and hope
that the conductor will throw them a rope.”
Golden curls bob, “You make no sense, you must
unlock the box before the waters rust!”
“Suddenly roars, a quake - the box growling,
bunny scratching…” Dad and his muse rolling.
7/28/2021
Brian Strand’s Couplet Contest
The Musician and the Poet-
See the playing of the musician
I think he's angry at the admission
He finds it hard to see the concert
Overshadowed by the kind turret
She is but a clever poet poetess
Admired as she sits upon an acquisition
Her lab top she writes verses like tapping a tambourine
typing out sounds runs of ole clementine
She's not alone she brings a drum
A pet dog a flamingo, that quite a forum
The flamingo likes to chase keys on piano
especially one that's with Diana
The musician shudders at the delightful pencil
Sheet music leaves but it wants the bensel
Poetess Diana needs music theory lessons
4/4/19
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2019©
A tribute to Malcolm
Malcolm Jamal Warner
Was his name
Heaven sure did gain
An angel on earth
Now he's up in the skywatching over us
To us, he was the big brother we always wanted, you know
He was Theo from the Cosby show
He was an all-around outstanding guy
We never questioned why
He was so genuine and would give
He is the true definition of May the life you live
Speak volumes
And it did
He was our television brother , doctor, and friend
It's tragic how his life had to come to an end.
But I will tell you something
In the midst of his death
He was living
Out his dreams
Enjoying his self
Living , loving , loving, and living
Malcolm, thanks for the gift that keeps on giving
He was more than an actor
Yes, you know it
He was a musician, and let's not leave out a poet
He speaks , he spoke , and has spoken ??
The real
He just wanted to give, give back, and he did
So selfless, not selfish ,
King, you did
You did good deeds
You planted hope in others to let them succeed
A rare person who stamped his legacy on this earth
You impacted us all
Yes, you did
Thanks
For helping us paint
Better tomorrow's
Even when we are going through sorrows
We all are on borrowed time
So Malcolm, you did fine , you did well
You completed your mission
You excelled
Thanks for being the calmness before a storm
Thanks for being the Gentle giant
That meant no one no harm
A great husband , a great dad , a great friend
A great person who wanted everyone to win
You got your wings, and so much more
The angels open the gates
Thanks for being one of the greats
You paved the way
Salute you did
This is my tribute to the one we all loved
Malcolm rest in power with all of our love
Written by Concetta Hardnett
07/25/2025
(A Tribute to Bruddah Iz: Hawaiian musician, singer, songwriter, and Hawaiian sovereignty activist May 20, 1959 – June 26, 1997) - Wikipedia
A soft sweet sound he strummed with glee:
“What a Wonderful World It Is!”
Such songs he sang for you and me.
A soft sweet sound he strummed with glee.
Hawaiian landscapes we could see
on hearing songs of Bruddah Iz.
A soft sweet sound he strummed with glee:
“What a Wonderful World It Is!”
His ukulele Iz still plays,
for he’s where peace and love abide,
and island sunsets are ablaze!
His ukulele Iz still plays.
“Over the Rainbow” he now stays
with angels singing on that side!
His ukulele Iz still plays,
for he’s where peace and love abide.
Nov. 6, 2022
for Writing Challenge - Unburden a ''U'' Word- Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Constance La France
Inspired by the fact that Stevie Wonder is a blind musician, yet has never been impeded by his disability to achieve, here am I… persisting to do my best to help my special child attain triumphant milestones.
Ascending amidst impossibility's attacking angst
Bravery blossoms, boasting of blessings
Cleaving to commitment with clarity
Defying despair, disability-distress…
Endeavoring with exhorting excitement exuberantly
Faith toward fruition freely fuels fulfillment for
God guards and guides by His grace…
Hoisting with hope, healing heralds healthiness
Inspiring against infirmities toward what's impossible* to impart impactful
Joy so jubilant to fulfill tasks in life’s journey despite jeering jury…
Kindled with kindness...
Loving my special child toward his liberation
Maximized by milestones, magnify mercy with miracles...
Not and never impossible through the Lord Who nourishes and nurtures.
*Luke 1:37 For with God nothing shall be impossible.
April 11, 2025
1st place, "Stevie Wonder" Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Karen Jones; judged on 4/16/2025
"When I was a kid my dad left me in a bad way .... he was
in the lives of my sisters and brothers but he wasn't in mine."
Quote by - Beth Hart
Her voice has an innate, inborn, visceral grittiness
dusty, raspy, raw with emotions of pain, aching, torment
and agony, an unstained contralto deep and low, and you
get lost in her voice, gliding on the waves of life with her
her name, Beth Hart, an American blues musician and singer
Born in 1972, Elizabeth (Beth) Hart is from California, USA
at 4 years old she played the piano concentrating on classical
music, like Bach and Beethoven but as she got older she
was playing artists like Etta James, Otis Redding, and Led Zeppelin
she has a magical voice like Janis Joplin and Tina Turner combined
As a young teen she was singing in open mic nights
and was playing clubs at fifteen, in 1993 band search she won
best female vocalist but her success went nowhere as she
became drug addicted, she spent all her winnings and hit bottom
even spent time in a psych ward for bi-polar and drug addiction
Beth has had ups and downs and she managed to have lots of hits
too many to list in this poem, but there are many hits that I fav
like LA Song, Don't Explain, Am I The One and many, many more
she collaborated with Joe Bonamassa and went on tour with him
and together they had hits, she also collaborated with Jeff Beck
Beth controls her addictions with religion and meditation now.
Joe said in an interview," I am totally knocked out by Beth. Here
is a lady who's acting like I'm the cool one and meanwhile I'm thinking
Man, she's got it all ... the next Janis Joplin . . the real deal, you know."
Random lyrics
War In My Mind
by Beth Hart
hollerin' all the time
black in my soul
and its ugly when I cry
there is a war in my soul
blood on the wall
hiding
making love to the
war in my mind
_____________________
May 09, 2023
Poetry/Bio/It's Ugly When I Cry
Copyright Protected, ID 05-1546-229-09
All Rights Reserved, 2023, Constance La France
Written for the Premiere contest, Beth Hart Inspiration
sponsor, Robert James Liguori, Judged05/09/2023
First Place
The great Elvis Presley stole the show
When it came to music, fast and slow
Patsy Cline could sing so sweet and fine
Without a doubt, her voice would shine
Hank Williams had a son with his name
Like father, like son – they claimed fame
Ray Charles played despite being blind
His listeners knew he was one of a kind
Aretha Franklin had a voice of pure gold
It was certain that her records were sold
Jimi Hendrix’s music would travel the world
As his listeners swayed, twirled and swirled
Elvis said Orbison was the world’s greatest singer
With a three-octave voice, his voice would linger
With Ring of Fire, Johnny Cash became world renown
His vocals rebuilt faith in those who’d been beat down
Me and Bobby McGee made this lady legendary
Janis Joplin was a soul who was far from ordinary
Diana Ross played for those who loved to hear her
With a voice like an angel, she made the soul purr
Cher demonstrated what it means to believe in yourself
With confidence and guts, she’ll never be put on a shelf
Stevie Wonder made the heart feel like it has been blessed
Without a doubt, he stirred feelings the heart would attest
The Beatles, the Rolling Stones and so many other singers
Knew the meaning of giving the 60’s its assembly of swingers
I hear he's a wimner Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Joe Maverick
May 16, 2023
Man, let me riff some hip words on the free jazz collective band/their music of free improvisation, and their social rapping Will have you jumpin' out your bones, Man, afteryoudig them you will feel the room tilt and swing/the Quartet of young lions, ready to burn the jazz house down, with no mercy, just a way new thing/Man, they be somethin' else—no more rough roads or tired let down gigs to survive/they have become the boggie down jazz hipsters of today with a suitcase full of New York gigs/They turned Art Blakey's Moanin' inside out, like lights out, and forgetaboutit the way they flipped out Miles Davis' music from Cookin', Relaxin', Steamin', Workin' LP/ It's cool struttin' vibe music that makes you wanna shake your thing/let your brain catch up with your feet and hear the chorus sing what's new/ like a soultrain dance review/ feel the room ignite with the bands music popin' in your ears/a musician may ride one groove, and the clubs crowd may hear another/This new free jazz collective free-for-all jazzmatazz, future funk, acid jazz, young players who won't be put into a box of straight-ahead thinkin'
jazz, Be-bop, hard bop, in a time zone of history that never ends/say it loud, Man, these nu jazz cats are jacked up—proud, unchained/The club audience breathes as one, because every note invites a new world, every horn solo rewrites the books/ the Free jazz collective band have got their hooks in you and won't let go/ the new of today jazz will blaze a future that respects the past but never clones/Man, we move, we groove, we roar with delite, we stay on top of the new jazz thing/ we are jacked up proud, loud and alive—this is where the free jazz collective band jam is bound