Long Orchestra Poems
Long Orchestra Poems. Below are the most popular long Orchestra by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Orchestra poems by poem length and keyword.
Winter Magic
There I stood, quietly and still, with a frozen stare through my patio door.
The awesome portrait of life, so dominating most of the year, has lost its lure.
This time, it’s not the forest that I behold, but it’s the sleeping trees that I see.
Much of life’s greenery will rearrange, suffer pain, and change. None would disagree.
In my back yard, there stands a fence laced and hidden in a fading sea of green.
Gone is the luster of summer and the colors of fall; but the season is subtle and serene.
Refusing to go unnoticed is a plant, clustered with tiny blossoms of purple flowers. On this January morn, bright and beaming yellow blossoms, undefeated and undisturbed, adorn a bush filled with life. They blend cheerfully with nature’s orchestra. The weather is gloomy and overcast, but no one bothered to tell my colorful backyard friends.
A tree, showing no resemblance to its surroundings, is bare, stripped, and naked.
She pleads for nothing, and does not appear to be wounded, sick, or diseased.
The once green foliage of summer that turned brown last fall was now gone.
It’s umbrella of shade baring leaves is now a haven of rest for the birds.
Come Spring, new life will upsurge , and green leaves of shade will emerge.
But for now, the full ensemble of life must await the new season.
01302011PS Contest, Winter Magic, Mystic Rose
Tie your shoes
Step to the side
Let the gentlemen
Past you bye
You think it's
Funny slouching
around
I wish you'd
Start thinking
and ask me why
get it right the first time
Or get close enough
Don't clutter your thoughts
when sing
Steer your audience down
When they applaud
Thank them for coming
give praise to the Lord
Make them laugh before
Intermission
Change you clothes
make sure nothings missing
make sure everyone knows
there lines
stop worrying you'll
do just fine
tune the orchestra with the one
the curtain call has just begun
break a leg, do your thing
your ground singers
are the real thing
While most "old" music terms are still in use, some specific, less common words include descant (a high, concurrent melodic part), duet (for two performers, contrasting with modern duo), and dulcimer ( an American stringed instrument, now often called lap dulcimer). Older terms often refer to a specific function within a piece, like descant, or a specific instrument, like dulcimer
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Sacré bleu I had startled her
a specific function asked her
bought this annoying word to light
it was spoken after his request for a
specific type of singing during the song
they had rehearsed.a high concurrent
melodic part where the song seems to
stand still as a ooh's and ah's create a transitional
sound but first the Soprano must hold a note for
33 seconds the sound is to be mixed into the song
but during a concert it is added right into
the song giving the lead vocalist a 35 second
break to restart the song in a different tempo
Little stringed instruments and brass horns
and a snare and kettledrum music section
he want to use a nord stage 4-88 but the power
wasn't available in the area. So Gariben repurposed
a flat screen tv into a solar panel and we were on our way.
The tent were we practice doesn't have the aucoutics to record
but we are studio bound. 25 members of the orchestra
will combine with the "Jinx" band to perform Tensail's best: aint that right Tensail? Tensail say's Yeah!
You were a blooming white rose, stained red by the pain,
And you showed me your scars, which I accepted without disdain.
Told you that you were no different from anyone, despite your flaws,
Showed you that you were entitled to love, despite feeling broken beyond repair.
Showed you that you deserved kindness, showed you that you deserved compassion, and showed you that you deserved support,
Made you realize that there was meaning in this wretched world.
Yet despite all my efforts, you gnawed at my heart like a wolf to its prey,
You clawed into my walls, you stripped me of my identity, and you left me bare and exposed to the venom of reality.
Wrote me songs, sounds of a broken symphony played by an orchestra of disaster, with thorns from roses you made me a bed and laid me to rest.
And despite every broken candle I had to repair and the bittersweet lies I held dear,
I forgot one main thing,
Hurt people hurt people.
It was a magical night.
Twilight was graying the cattails. The crickets
And the frogs were orchestra-auditioning
Forming a group sing.
Samantha, a faerie, whose specialty was spreading delight,
Was amid the throng, singing a lullaby to her neonate
Lil Hop.
The woods were getting darker. Nocturnal animals
Came out to play. Raccoons were in the lead,
followed by the opossums
All sharing a universal ring.
Samantha sensed the beautiful mystical creature a moment before
He approached the pond. Lil Hop sensed him too
because the suckling had stopped.
Even the Fox was silent as the tall elegant shiny silvery-white unicorn
Approached the pond. Samantha held her breath,
knowing one loud breath
Could spook him.
We all looked at him in amazement
as he plunged into
Magic pond and disappeared.
It was a mystical, magical sight.
While I stood on the high cliffs
Letting the winds mess my hair
With their invisible hands,
Enjoying, nevertheless,
Their refreshing caress on my skin,
I saw, a short distance away,
A colony of mer-people
Somersaulting towards me!
Lost in the wonder of the moment,
I forgot about time, about my surroundings,
About myself, about my burdens,
About all that which troubles me usually
And I became,
A Queen, one ruling the land I was born in,
One waiting to see how to settle this matter
With those creatures of the oceanic abyss!
The mermaids, having come close enough
As to allow me to hear them
Started singing their hypnotic songs
Songs which lifted up the waves
Running through my mind
Songs which had me forget that I
Am nothing else than a consciousness
Inhabiting a mortal human body!
Then, the mermen joined in
And the product of it all
Was a symphonic orchestra
Whose notes and tunes
Vibrated in the very core of my soul
To give my mind wings
Strong enough
As to have me flapping them hard
And flying up to the skies’ hidden realms
Where angels and gods grabbed my arm
And pulled me in their eternal comfort!
When the mer-people were done,
I opened my eyes, breathed in and out
Till I felt that my voice could be steady enough
To tell them that I’ve understood that they have come for me
“I am human; my place is here on land,
Love rests and toils here,
Love is what wishes the higher powers
And fulfilling their wills
Remains that which allows my heart
To keep on beating
And my will to keep striding;
Go! Go! And let me bask
In that sweet misery which has enveloped me!
Go! And never ever hope of
Having me with you
For my path leads me not to the oceans!
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2uqZhnqHMAg
The orchestra strains to be symphonic --- a bee in a tin box.
Cigar smoke thunders, molecules of sound wilt
only to be dialed up through brass lungs.
The combo is quaintly upholstered, a classic sports car
driven by Disney. Outmoded refrains gurgle.
We see the obsolete road ahead, feel the bumps,
the lack of shock absorbers.
The third piano concerto, the romance of the exile.
1940 is pulled from under its Perspex lid, served up
as fresh Prosciutto di Parma consumed in a diner
long derailed.
The mind warps eras, Michelangelo has gone Hollywood,
the 'Creation' sketched on a paper napkin.
Last notes.
Hands too large for tuxedoed minds, stamp
like rhapsodic elephants.
Percussive fingers slam-dunk ivory tusked themes,
Russian bells quake California.
Rolling vespers outgrowing each decade,
times now locked in a recovery CD millimeters thin.
~~~
https://www.thetruthaboutcars.com/2010/10/sergei-rachmaninoff-car-guy-aero-investor/
Serenity envelops me as I sit in meditation, A peaceful mind, free from worldly agitation. The ripples on the pond mirror my state of mind, Reflecting inner peace that's so pure and kind. The fragrance of incense perfumes the air, As I release my worries and shed every care. In this sacred space, time ceases to exist, And all that remains is my soul's eternal bliss.The chirping of crickets, the rustling of leaves, Harmonize with my breathing, a orchestra that weaves, A calmness and profound grace, A sanctuary where I can find my inner place. In my garden, I am whole and complete, Connected to the universe in a dance so sweet. Here, in the embrace of nature's gentle embrace, I find peace, and endless space.
Bells ringing off and on
or all on a sudden !
Bells to alert ! Whatever :
Call of classes or shows to start or let those be over !
Symbolising beginning and ending on scheduled hours.
Bells give signal, making final.
Bells of alarm clock ring giving wake up call.
Door bells alarming family to welcome visitors.
Reindeer driving sledge of Santa Clause
sometimes with swift speed, sometimes giving pause ,
as sledge running beside boxwood hedge hiding shy snowdrops,
silver bells ringing on merriment.
Bell of love suddenly rings in charm on special moment :
Auspicious, propitious.
Mind dreamed, heart thrilled and soul sensed serenity.
Sound of chimes in wedding bell
to ward off evil spirits bringing good luck to newlyweds.
soft tinkling of tiny bells in anklet of bride.
Cowbells in orchestra in rhythmic cadence .
At bell tower of church, carillon
rings in soft sweet soothing tone.
Jingle bells ringing in Christmas on joyous festive mode.
Golden leaves, scores written by the hand of unforgiving time,
Fall in the slow rhythm of years slipping away like sand in an hourglass.
We are violins tuned to the melancholic tone of the eternal autumn,
Playing the ephemeral melody of life on the fragile strings of existence.
The mirror of the lake reflects the leaden sky of memory,
Ripples of water intersect with the wrinkles of time on the face of aged nature.
Memories dance in swirling winds like ghosts of the past,
Like dried leaves from the bygone summers of our lost youth.
The scent of ripe apples and burning wood drifts in the air of nostalgia,
The last symphony of nature before the long sleep of life's winter.
Every note is more precious than the gold of our dreams of yore,
In the final concert of seasons that relentlessly succeed toward infinity.
Trees, people deeply rooted in the fertile soil of the past,
Some still green with hope, others bare of illusions, all whispering untold stories.
We are wanderers lost in the park of collective and personal memory,
Gathering yellowed leaves from the album of life that thins with each passing day.
Spring once deceived us with sweet dreams of eternal youth,
Summer intoxicated us with the bright mirage of a promised eternity.
But autumn, sincere in its golden and rusty melancholy,
Teaches us, with gentleness and firmness, the beautiful and cruel lesson of passing.
We are but fleeting notes on the cosmic staff of existence,
Meant to resonate for a moment and then fall silent in the great silence.
But in this fleeting and fragile melody of our limited existence,
We find the heartbreaking beauty of the moment that shines before it fades.
Each autumn is an invaluable gift in the crown of the dwindling years,
An elegant invitation to the last dance with life that still pulses within us.
We gather precious moments like golden fruits from an enchanted garden,
From the orchard of time that shrinks but grows sweeter and more intense.
We breathe deeply the cool, fresh air of autumn that embraces us,
Feeling how we become one with nature in its eternal cycle of birth and death.
We vow in the violet silence of dusk to live each autumn with intensity,
As if it were our last symphony in the grand orchestra of the universe.