Long Orchestrations Poems
Long Orchestrations Poems. Below are the most popular long Orchestrations by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Orchestrations poems by poem length and keyword.
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!
I wonder if I could have
bright therapeutic impressions
without deformative shadows
of traumatic murmuring depression.
If we are each
a potentially integral sacred muse
part of an EarthPeace puzzling movement
dancing improvisational music
for more gladness
means less Othering sadness
A multicultural
multi-generational opera
longing to finish reweaving symphonic
narrative of our cooperative
win/win co-invested Way
Toward restoring health orchestrations
optimizing climaxes toward culminating
democratic energy
woke up wealth
Of polycultural integrity's rich voice,
synergy choice
Co-empathic
co-invested
resonance of win/win therapeutic
regenerativity is not win/lose
trending toward lose/lose degenerativity
Wondering if we ever had a chance
for bright therapeutic global impressions
without deformative shadows
of traumatic anthro-depression.
Is this the school of metaphysics,
The nullifier of ontology?
The diluter of pluralism,
The supporter of monotony?
A description of the virtues,
Depends on the physical existing;
Objects, people, colours and tastes,
Not a divine attributes listing.
What you teach in assembly,
Influences the life of every school child;
A glance, a look, a gesture, a stare,
Beckons mental illness beguiled.
All beliefs should be acceptable,
But humanistic values should centre,
For an understanding environment,
To cherish the individual’s banter.
There’s really not so many ways of life,
All can be categorised to make a few,
So that each family can be understood,
Whether loved, or by the child reacted to.
All too often I just so wanted, needed,
My headmaster to know the poems in my head,
Every night, just so that I could cope with life,
So that he would have good orchestrations.
It only takes a moment to slyly dismiss,
A pupil who’s from atheism’s stance,
But a legislation on school assembly,
Would give many kids a chance.
Salve for the soul in healing sound
Rhythms balm spreads in division
Lifts the hour high
Explodes the troubled mind to calm
Birds Interpret song on wild notes
Orchestrations with crescendos fly
Rise with symphonic melted hearts
Murmuring violins, strings together, meld
Overtures dawn with the song respond
Repeating every measure operatic
Movements operate on scores created
On levels not recorded simply on their merit
Far from civilization primal saxophones blast
Jazz discordant jungles awake inhabitants
Afraid, stir in the fields, collaborate
Instruments strike a wonder cord, relax
Falling rain that drops one note away
Stay up any way
Try not to reason with the rain
On pastures pure meandering
Rock and roll misgivings earthquake the dead
Bring them back to life with melodies
Raw streaming strings and drums, melodic sounds
Listeners never miss a beat, good enough to eat
Green waves of grass will laugh in harmony
Grow closer to an open concert stage
Quiver for an instant explanation
One that never came
Nearer than you will ever be
To solid ground in symphony
Feel a mystery evolve unsolved
Far from the here and now
There is something in the air not there, perhaps salvation
Far from the common cold, almost a religion, not quite a song
In musics realm, tilted towards the left, the brass section
Trombones for sure to settle the final score finale
Like a 5-person committee in a conference room,
they had gathered to engage in weather business.
Although a committee of five, they acted as one.
Their orchestrations for forecasting were easy,
and yesterday would be no different. Or would it?
There were white clouds, grey clouds, moisture,
sun, and mild wind. When unified in the canopy of
the sky, they are a force with which to be reckoned,
creating tornadoes, heavy rainstorms, floods, fires,
mudslides, and avalanches.
On yesterday, they had just one item of business,
but suddenly, that was quickly changed. A tiny bit
of moisture flexed its will but quickly pulled back,
giving way to the committee's will to produce a rainbow.
Me thinks that they were over-ruled by God. They wanted
to make it rain, but God wanted to make a rainbow to
remind everyone about His perpetual Rainbow Covenant.*
Each committee member never ceases to be arrested and
amazed by the rainbows they produce. Yesterday was no
different as they all smiled and dismissed the meeting.
8522PS*Gen. 9:12-17
A Concealed exercise concocted,
Wuhan Lab the playground,
secretive China obliges,
Western media consenting,
Medical experts silenced.
the age of censorship,
Dictators feigning incognito,
The diurnal and nocturnal schemes of top players,
A script before the scourge,
The drama of emergencies
A death unwarranted
alternative cure submerged,
Pharmacopia playing god,
opinions censored,
Freedom becomes a crime
Men afraid to die,
adorned in masks as domesticated vermin,
Socialist alarmed at Cowards
As dictatorship ascending in western democracy,
Ignorance elevated as advocate for CDC
Unending Speculation by tyranny
The weekly changing rules.
Connivers employing Fear,
Orchestrations and the Mournful diddy
Alpha
Beta,
Gamma
Delta,
and Omicron the game changer.
Controlling the world by unproven conjectures
First it was the Mask,
Then social distancing,
Sanitize, Isolation without empathy,
The numbers defiant,
The People's servants globally consenting to experiment
with the speed of a wing
The Lab Lords proposed a cure,
Greed conspired , the masses the guinea pigs,
Unverified Vaccine,
defrauding all of the liberty of Choice,
unprofessional medical rape,
breaking the Laws to invoke their Laws,
Rulers Turned scientists
Dictator found their Voices
compelling all to dine in an experiment
“safe and effective” the chorus of bias profiteers
Society divided.
“Vaxxed” VS “unvaxxed”
All Watching TV to form opinion.
Australia copies UK,
subjecting citizens to barbarism
America copies Australia,
senseless cohesion in place of Freedom,
France copying America,
Ignorant Cops abusive,
opposing sensible resistance,
The Truckers made a mark
though clamped down by tyrannical “emergencies”
The unending Jabs,
four times in Israel curing nothing,
A false sense of security,
The demand sales pitched
Experiment over, The Data concealed
To protect a Lie,
A massive Fraud,
The UK law breaker suspends mandates,
avoiding the sword of Damocles
And they all one by one taking turns
accepting failures while others in denial
ignoring the damage of trial
interpreted from italian to
English by Dolce Mancer
of Money- Interpretations
Original Works by Bangles De Suppasta
A Neapolitan Italian Song
Best sung in italian
He Still my Friend
Song by Dolce
pity the fool
that you don't
Love him
It ain't cool
He believes
You're his friend
Don't be cruel
this lacks human
feelings
You know the rule
That just ain't cool
Tipping out on your
Mister
Getting us all involved
Frustrating the narrative
Acting like the conflicts
Resolved
That ain't cool
You loved him
When you married
Him
I've seen y'all together
The golden rule
When it comes
to romance
Don't be a fool
When the devil
Wants to dance
Causing me to bite
My tongue monster
What I am saying
It ain't cool you tipping
Out on your Mister
Remember this
He's still my friend
_------------------------------------------------------------------
Aria from "Keeping one: finding one"
Written by Santa Minzza .
Middle-class Opera Show
"Green Collar Romance"
Lovers Betrayal written by
Comp say and Duct tour Master
Orchestrations and Arrangements
Done by Slurp Cancer and Music Solve
Album Company llc.
-------------------------------------------------------------------
Is anyone out there familiar in the area of human psychology?
Anyone out there in touch with the human psyche?
If you feel that you qualify, well then please do feel free
to openly and honestly explain this to me.
I've never been a fan of reading poetry.
I've heard of James Foster and Ms Dickinson, Emily
but I've never read their words, honestly.
In fact, I've never read the poetic words of anybody.
When ever I listen to music, it's often usually
instrumental orchestrations only.
I listen to songs containing lyrics very rarely.
I can't think of a single poet or song writer who has ever influenced me
because I'm ignorant of their work obviously
and yet, the only way I can express myself is poetically.
Can anyone out there explain this to me?
I can't play a single musical instrument to save my life.
I guess I could if I really tried, but who has the time
to put aside and sacrifice other pleasures that I indulge religously,
my poetry, love of photography and most importantly,
quality time spent often with my fur babies,
but all is not lost with today's technology.
Computer programs presently allow me
to play any musical instrument professionally,
well, not exactly.
I can program any musical instrument at whatever tone or speed,
or combination thereof to compose a musical masterpiece.
Bucket List Item #, oh whatever, just do it eventually;
Compose And Perform
One Of The Greatest Music Orchestrations Ever Released,
even though it will only truly be
composed and performed by me virtually
with computer programing technology.
When I see in colors
I say Yes
softly or loudly
and usually in-between
depending on our vibrancy together.
When we see in black and white,
we say maybe yes
and perhaps not
and other shades of ambivalent grey.
I cannot see in black
as I cannot see white at all
except perhaps as shades of transparency.
When I hear in resonant music
I say Yes
to truths of resolution,
trusting resilient motions of emotion
integrity of life
life as integrity
potentiating further regenerations;
new songs for perpetuating tomorrow.
When I hear in words
I'm listening for what's missing.
Lyrics without a melody
are more disappointing works.
I see best in full dressed color
and hear our dynamic truths
most resonantly as music
in soft sizzling preludes
on through conflagrations
loud climatic revolutions
followed by silence
black as night
waiting for white
bright dawning colors
dancing new music
vibrant washed.
Learning in full octave ranges
we can see a child
listening for a parent
seeing community developers
and violators
seeing fellow politicians
longing to write and read
hear and speak poetry together
while seeing as musicians
swelling gospel choirs
and drumming
burning orchestrations
of co-redeeming music
in full non-flagging flames of color.
When we hear in colors
we see full octave best
until it's time for rest
notes that last
until they don't
turn just right bright
vibrant multicolors.