Long Orchestration Poems
Long Orchestration Poems. Below are the most popular long Orchestration by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Orchestration poems by poem length and keyword.
Yours are the paintings that speak to me
In a way that cannot be spoken
They fill both my heart and breast
They cause my mind eternal unrest
I see them in my dreams.
My heart beats faster
In the presence of their rhythms
They dance to the music of another lover.
Or that lover could be me
I feel your passion as my truth.
The broader the strokes the more I feel
The lesser your details must be given
Every color executed with a reason
I know the fervor that you’ve shown
The metrics of your vision.
The finer grains of your textured points
Like stars thrown cross the heavens
Are they the products of a celestial force?
Did God choose to show himself through you?
Or just serendipity as many would believe?
Some accidental truths.
Nothing special
Nothing to be gained
Nothing to be learned from you.
I see them as an orchestration of the divine
conducted from above.
Yours are the paintings that speak to me, Jackson.
Yours are the paintings I love.
(November 30, 2010 Wausau, Wisconsin)
(c) Copyright 2010 by Christine A Kysely, All Rights Reserved
at first it was unbearable i must admit
i wanted to stay home, i told my mom i felt sick
i understand now why they say time heals
it does
kinda funny though, its healing what never was
the first few weeks i’d wake up and try to get out of bed
awakened from a slumber that was only induced to silence the sirens in my head
carefully watching my steps to avoid the shards of glass scattered across the floor
leftover pieces of my heart that you forgot to pick up, the heart you said was yours
our paintings, you left those too
embarrassingly enough, for my birthday all i wanted was a text from you
eventually things got easier though, or maybe i just got distracted by the bells and whistles of life’s orchestration
you’ve given me no closure yet endless confirmation
unremitting sobs and no one to talk to
everyone was sick of hearing of my suffering, it was awful
then the hurt started to leave, and arose the confusion
how could you pretend? how wasn’t it real? was it all an illusion?
was i just another girl to you? how could my everything be nothing to you?
silly little questions that i realized i’ll never find answers to
because i evidently don’t know your heart, i don’t even think you do
the confusion was cut short along with my livelihood when i was met with you know what
funny, it’s actually only you who knows what
do you know what?
don’t you care?
it doesn’t matter if you do anyways, evidently you lied when you said with you i could always share
now, i still see your face when i walk around my house
it scared me when i tried to remember the sound of your voice and it was faint as a mouse
yesterday i passed the photobooth we took those cute pictures in
the ones i had hanging on my wall
i took them down, but i still look at them everytime i have no one to call
i look and remember when i had you and for that i am grateful enough
i won’t lie and say i’m completely over it, because anyone could call my bluff
i am becoming empty now, i actually understand you more
things hurt less and i’m no longer frazzled when people walk out the door
i’m starting to get back to okay again, but its an ephemeral feeling
shortlived by the memories and remembrance
its mostly emptiness though
mostly nothing
just like you
i guess nothings been the same
not since you left
My beloved, you and I, an inseparable duet,
Two souls entwined in an eternal pas de deux,
Our hearts beating in tandem like two wings of a bird
Soaring effortlessly on the thermals of devotion.
We are the embodiment of fate's masterful orchestration,
Two kindred spirits predestined to converge,
Our love a sublime symphony that resonates across the firmament,
A celestial harmony that echoes through eternity.
In your eyes, my love, I behold the reflected glory of the divine,
A beauty that transcends mortality, a radiance that shines.
You are my élan vital, my raison d'être, the missing piece that makes me whole,
My forever haven, my guiding star, my soul's sweet home.
Forever and always, my love shall be the sanctuary where you find solace,
The safe haven where your heart can beat freely, wild, and unencumbered.
I love you more than words can articulate, more than the heavens are vast,
And the oceans are deep, you are the luminous essence that illuminates my existence.
The Main Theme For
" Subject To The Movie"
--------------------------
The Orchestration
--------------------------
I once believed love would
keep us together
we'd go through whatever
our desire not to be apart
I characterized, the reason why
it was cool to say I love you
that feeling we share
the one no one would dare
to come between just
cause I love you
Everytime we kiss goodbye
I never doubt the reason why
cause your the top
you're the best
that I must confess
it's love I guess
When I lose my concentration
or get losed in conversation
I step away to ask
what do she want me to say
That passionate behavior
is the kind that'll save yah
when you loss your concentration
or lose you way.
what then to say ah
what denotes the point of our
existence
i don't know when
I can't remember how
I just know it's a special thing
we have together
Both Sides Now was
big for you,
its simple lyrics
and deep hooks
with clean bright
guitar
went straight to my
heart.
And I know every
song
has its covers
I even liked some of
them
Judy Collins did it
well
It helped Susan
Boyle show
she had Talent.
But your 2000
version
and this maymariana1
mix
with its dirgelike
pace,
syrupy violins
and over the top
orchestration
reduce it to
elevator music.
Please excuse me
while I
pop in my ear buds
and listen to the
original.
Entry
BOTH SIDES NOW
versions
original
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Pbn6a0AFfnM
Judy Collins
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EsYwEZd4z9Y
Joni 2000
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tKQSlH-LLTQ
maymariana1
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zIYu4EHq0Lo
I pause to listen to the silence –
I am one with the million befores
and the afters and at great peace
amid the soundless, immense harmonies.
I become the rhythm of the spheres
and part of that oneness orchestration,
both absorbed and apart in a light,
too orderly to be but blind chance.
There must be purpose to the whole
that transcends reason and goes beyond
the despair of nothing. I become the Cosmos
not the chaos and within I am part.
There is a miracle to existence
and its exquisite, ephemeral beauty.
To hike to Garnet Lake is to be without,
wherein, without, I find my within.
What do top and bottom
transcendent and immanent
above and below
lead and follow
high and low
Day and night
mountain and valley
up and down
autocracy and democracy
pole and hole
Convex and concave
vertex and vortex
frontsides and backslides
dominant and recessive
outsides and insides
North and south
colonize and creolize
expert and indigenous
crown and root
knowing and feeling
Sperm and egg
knowledge and wisdom
voice and silent choice
mind and body
Passion and pleasure
capital and corporal
co-arising and co-gravitating
light and power
SunFather and EarthMother
salvation and co-redemption
universal and unitarian
justice and peace
Orchestration and co-mediation
republican and democratization
accountability and co-responsibility
expression and impression
performance and engagement
Investment and infestment
liberal and conservational
spiritual and natural
sacred and organic
Have to do with
wondrously enlightened communication
and awesomely empowering communion
causing health-loving AnthroNetworks
and effecting wealth-living EarthSystems?
Asked his
MonoTheistic Yangiversal
messianic thoughts
of her
PanenTheistic Yinitarian
bodhisattva feelings
Not sure about unconditional integrity
s/he paradoxically replies,
Perhaps glad messiahs
crowning passion
sing of wondrously transcendent light
while bad rad bodhisattvas
rooting pleasure
dance with awesomely empowering might?
Top and bottom
1 and 0
transcend and emanate
from crowning Sage and rooting Muse
leading and following
high and low
wind and water
co-binary shalom.
Grandpa the Master Magician
Grandpa was old and creaked
like a well-worn floorboard
but he always carried a smile with him
which generally won the day or the situation.
He had just spent time with his two grandchildren
which had added fun to his morning’s recipe.
They saw Grandpa as this master magician
capable of producing an egg from either nostril
..…. boiled or not.
An eggcellent start to any day!!
Later, on an icicle of an afternoon
and confronted by a presumptuous wind
which blew him around street corners;
he found himself happily chasing his youth.
Newspaper and chocolate treat acquired
he set off for the finishing line of home.
He noted that the traffic lights were changing to red!
So, although not at the proper crossing, his GPS
i.e. Grandpa’s Priority Selector
was saying…GO! GO! GO!
However so was a fast-approaching Fiat 500!
Grandpa felt validated by time and experience so..
he sailed forth but time and his knees didn’t agree.
His legs instead of speeding up, started slowing down
which was the exact opposite of the flying Fiat,
driven ruthlessly by a manic-panicked driver
who exaggerated a swerve around Grandpa
with arms orchestrating her extremely annoyed thoughts.
Grandpa tottered on oblivious to the orchestrations.
He felt composed being lean, leathery and learned
as opposed to the driver’s ill-fed, ill-bred, ill-mannered approach.
However Grandpa, the master magician, wasn’t to be thwarted
so as his feet touched pavement, his hand touched cap,
then his winning smile and a flicked wave of politeness.
The driver just continued with her orchestration of
Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony in C Minor
while mouthing, “Is your brain on holiday!”
However life was to offer Granpa a final judgement
for as the traffic lights winked from red to green
our driver was still in a boil of botheration until…
a honk of reprimand from behind grabbed her attention.
Frustrated she tried to floor the accelerator pedal
but only succeeded in stalling the engine.
The horn hoots and toots began queuing up
until the Fiat 500 burnt rubber and swivel-hipped away.
Grandpa’s face showed not a flicker of amusement
but he allowed his bones to enjoy the moment -
particularly the funny one!
Then the wind giggled up, clapped him on the back
and then kindly blew him gently home!
November first two thousand nineteen...
abuzz with Autumnal thrum
Divine myriad biota amidst
heavenly Lily of the valley
(Convallaria majalis),
he didst imaginatively greet
Edenic heavenly terra
incognita immeasurably sweet
nature's ensemble proffering
Gaia's quintessential orchestration
resplendent sensational treat
natural splendour regaling,
this fellow wayfarer
happenstance gifted autochthonous peoples
espied proud specimens unobtrusive
planted armada, viz sleek bodies fleet,
of foot while me accidentally
risking, schlepping, traipsing... offbeat
winessed unschooled tribe,
yet verily synchronized,
primed, muscled... athlete
their soundless rhythmic swiftly tailored
flit to and fro upon poetic
unshod calloused feet
carefully, gingerly, lightly...
I shod dully tread nsync
toward drumlins upbeat
mouthing, kneading, imbibing... glorious
ebullient choral unadulterated feat
extemporaneously kickstarting crisp and neat
pow hour full rhythm across
analogous macroscopic excellent spreadsheet
inducing their sonorous symphonic
roundelay unfamiliar tweet,
whereby flora and fauna future meal to eat
oblivious regarding mine seat
dated existence, which quiescent aesthete,
yours truly basked,
froliced, luxuriated... complete
as once innocent hymnals kindled atrocity
this observer, spectator aghast white as sheet,
how civilization's machinations didst deplete
terrestrial firmament within one fell stroke
eradicated once pristine unbroken
promises chiseled to cheat
rightful owners expansive swath
over yonder til ocean and land did meet
Europeans scoured seas one after another
lumbering bulwarked fleet
exhausting resources while simultaneous
mowing down aborigines
grotesquely analogous harvesting wheat
indiscriminate deliberate genocide
decimating indigenous tribes beat
defenseless against microbial
weapons of mass destruction,
thus only within third blind eye
courtesy invisible paleface with tenderfeet
strictly envisioned Perkiomen Valley
once abundantly populated
with ample game during cold and/or heat
paradise unbroken stretched hinterland,
where place names mock to pay hollow tribute,
where native peoples no longer replete
vinyl city amidst amidst graveyard
lovely bones turned to dust
paved over by mainstreet.
Slander blossoms without root
harvest of lies and fabrication.
Rumor yields a blemished fruit.
Scandal flourishes while enroute
to whispered, planted augmentation.
Slander blossoms without root.
Taking issue with points so moot
watering truth with orchestration,
rumor yields a blemished fruit.
Fiendish minions supply the loot
while critics pick their confrontation -
slander blossoms without root.
Humor can serve to feed the brute,
fertilizing altercation;
rumor yields a blemished fruit.
To dig and delve in disrepute
soon serves its own incrimination.
Slander blossoms without root;
rumor yields a blemished fruit.