Long Piccolo Poems
Long Piccolo Poems. Below are the most popular long Piccolo by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Piccolo poems by poem length and keyword.
She rubbed him up the right way,
made him moo like an oboe,
piped him up high like a piccolo.
She was finger food for his body.
Post the passion dance
his heart began to tick like a time-bomb.
His blood tangoed in the dark,
looped the loop like a bi-plane.
Then he went off
in the middle of the night, alone.
Called her in the morning, hands shaking
from after-tremors:
Begged her to do that thing
that she did to him, that move
that made his libido tremolo like a fat lady.
Her voice was cool, distant,
she complained that her bed had collapsed,
that her cat was clinging to the ceiling
and would not come down,
so he could just keep
his 'big bang' to himself.
Later he went nuclear.
Born like a tender infant in nature,
Why do you soon change your nomenclature?
Does stress, like nerves striking the human brain
Craze your equilibrium and cause strain...?
Progress process of an infant proceeds,
Passes each phase fulfilling many needs;
Your growth spurt jumps and leaps abounding hills,
Your change to gusts, gales, and tornado thrills...!
Flute, horn, clarinet, oboe, piccolo,
Dwelling within these, breath of life you blow;
Impulses and cognitions bound, and pound,
Into existential hymns, these resound...!
You nurture the naysay nerve of nature,
Niftily you numb each legislature;
In life's moments of minute mundane gist,
Do you teach me: each gist is its own twist...???
25 April 2023
A is for Accordion, squeezing air with bellows
B is for Banjo, five strings plucked by bluegrass fellows
C is for Clavichord, keyboard with a metal sound
D is for the Drums which percussionists will pro-pound
E is for the English horn, using a double-reed
F is for a brass French horn, three valves is all you need
G is for Glockenspiel, metal bars arranged in rows
H is for Harmonica, both in and out she blows
I is for Ingoma, on which skins or hides are drummed
J is for Jinghu, just two strings that are bowed not strummed
K is for the Keytar, keyboard guitar held upright
L is for the Laser harp which plays on beams of light
M is for Maracas, their rhythm shaken by pros
N is for Nguru, Maori flute blown through the nose
O is for the Oboe with a mouth-piece that looks bewitched
P is for the Piccolo, a half-sized flute, high pitched
Q is for the Quena, a notched flute from the Andes
R is for the Rattle, maracas for the babies
S is for the Shofar, a Jewish horn hard to blow
T is for the Tuba, largest horn and tough to tow.
U is Ukulele, four-string Hawaiian gee-tar
V is Viola, a fiddle tuned a bit deeper
W is the Washboard, just for rhythm, understood?
X is a Xylophone, a glockenspiel made of wood
Y is Yotar, a guitar with four strings grouped in threes
Z is Zither, played on the table or cross your knees
This alphabet of instruments just breaks through the top
The're hundreds more to know, but Z's a good place to stop.
March 11, 2013
Allright Poet's ABC Poetry Contest
putrid rascal was a real truant
and also a junkie
and a somnambulist too
and wicked gourmet bought a new guillotine
then the rascal walked dizzily
like a mechanic dancer
around the cinnamon circle
right under the scythe
and underwent a severance
the staggering truth was quite vague
then a postwar prelude under the lurid sky
piccolo semitone
sacrament
orchids
silhouettes on a merry-go-round
the jetty broke up
and a castaway went away
right before dawning
beforethe stellar equinox
but journey was a humdrum
with nautical nausea
just a medley of flukes
so we hit the road
on the roof of a magic bus
not just figurative
really peculiar
and finally let behind
all the cold sensations
a marble queen visits
with a priest with no faith
and start gentle mutiny
the celestial journey
is over at ten p.m.
and all we got left
is a sobering lethargy
Tittle tittle
make love the middle
love
Which complicated romances
A fool should be
more wiser to see
not be obvious taking chances
It ain't bout rejection
See all I am reflecting
Is complicated
But it real
What I am suggesting
In such complications
Is ah due wash thyme will be
It ain't that complicated
And all you
Debated is where.
You stand with him
Or me
Neilsen got ratings
And what we debating
Is one of those
Who are oh succiees
White shelves and bammas
Your tense reminders
Is bout you and mi
Oboe, oh oboe
The piccolo has played
The piano is tuned
The song is fluted
Bytch why can't you behave
Barking and spicing
In your conversation
The secret recipe gave
Can't trust whores
Sorrstrees who
Chore-9h
Trick
Please behave
What that
Is it jelly
I ain't Mackiovelli
The triple crown has past
Is Preakness playing
We ain't behaving
Gonna give next guy
Sum azz
“A maestro is like a candle. It consumes itself to light the way for others.”-
~~ The Poet ~~
Conductor of an art form, stands the maestro of the storm.
Instruments take their place, then the symphony begins.
Firstly, a tuneful rhapsody of woodwind with violins.
The sheer spellbinding rhythm builds increasingly strong.
A tinkling as the rain begins, he uses spiccato to bring the tempo along.
The piccolo sends notes scurrying for cover by the continued rain,
And introduces the flutes into the mix once again.
The cadence evolves, with heralding intensity to engage.
Notes follow the beat, to a crescendo of immense rage.
Now, as the kettle drums implode within their skins,
The conductor is in full control, as his baton spins
Music’s fury is reinforced by trombones, entering for the first time.
Cymbals clash, cellos and double basses offer a fortissimo effect, sublime.
The percussion again, joins, as the woodwind slows,
Notes soften, and the flute’s melody gently flows.
A solo of horns, a transition with the full orchestra, it springs.
In suspense of his melody, the piano takes us to strings.
Tempo lighter, airier which is juxtaposed with the timpani drums.
The soft gentle tones, once hurtled by deafening wind, silence comes.
Audience captivated, orchestra foregone. The maestro lowers his baton.
E-Z Glo Punk, Lightning Flash,
TNT Devices will burst, do crash
Southern Night, Piccolo Petes
are hard to beat...
I like hand held Sparklers, Tanks
flashing fountains, Solar Flare
Six to #20 Gold I have to share,
no incidence, no burns, thanks...
Whistles blow, fountains glow,
pop'n sounds, entire sky all aglow
I love those colors, high an low
trails eched onto my retina
inspired me to let ya know
Now you close both eyes
in pitch dark, what a surprise
for you to see, right there
darkness, absolutely anywhere
beautiful trails of lights in motion
"Always read a label of caution"
The Yule Tide Sights (Sight)
It’s tinsel, ornaments and lights,
The Yule Tide sights all people love:
Bright yellows, reds, and greens and whites;
It’s tinsel, ornaments and lights
We yearn to see December nights -
Delights we all never tire of!
It’s tinsel, ornaments and lights,
The Yule Tide sights all people love.
The Gladdening (Hearing)
As bells go ring-a-ling-a-ling,
And old St. Nick goes, “Ho, ho, ho,”
The people’s hearts are gladdening.
As bells go ring-a-ling-a-ling,
Its “Fa la la,” we hear folks sing.
An elf joins in on piccolo
As bells go ring-a-ling-a-ling
And old St. Nick goes, “Ho, ho, ho!”
The Mockingbird sings out his misleading best,
in hopes to attract a dupe with a nest,
where the squatter believes mate’s eggs should belong;
so mimics and jabbers uncountable songs.
Catbirds and Thrashers, related critters,
both grey North Americans sport throats of a twitter.
These gifted Warblers mock tricky bird tunes,
deceiving, deluding as feathered dragoons.
In fairness to balance the Tweeters’ intent,
creating, demanding a need to invent
a song to attract a new or lost mate:
so, a beacon to follow and commitment to state.
EXAMPLE MOCK SONGS
whistling, hey-hey yip pittie-yap
frog gurgle, snarf-chickie claw-saw
peep peeping piccolo-staccato bleat
sniftering chit-chat, yodel-do do
snerling, rat trap, blah tat-tat-tat
crunchy nasal chirp, coo-coo-coo
Oh, Gianna stella piu' splendente del mattino,
di questo immenso e misterioso sogno,
fatti rapire dal suo fascino malizioso;
assaggia la sua magia, tutto e' cosi' sereno!
Oh, Gianna shiniest star of all stars,
of this endless and mysterious dream:
don't be raptured by its mischievous charm;
all appears so calm: savor its magical bliss!
Come puo' il desiderio sfuggire dal bisogno?
Allora il tuo bisogno era piccolo, adesso e cresciuto;
hai posto un limite assurdo e hai smesso
di contare i giorni che ti ricordano cio' che hai perso!
How can desire shy away from want?
Then, your need was small, now it's great;
You set an absurd limit and stopped to count:
days that remind you of what was lost!
L'immagine di Gianna e' conpletamente cambiata,
la sua visione della vita e' quasi o totalmente svanita;
potra' mai capire che si puo' amare senza nessuna colpa,
senze mettere il freno alla passione che e' rimasta intatta?
Gianna's image has changed completely,
her awesome vison in life has almost or totally vanished;
will she understand that one can love guiltlessly...
without putting a stop to the passion that hasn't withered?
Ha Gianna quella voglia di riaccendere la fiamma spenta
del suo perduto amore e vivere nella certezza assoluta?
Saro' io a tirarla fuori dell'abbisso e darle valore alla vita?
Chi oltre a me me prova una compassione piu' profonda?
Has Gianna that wish to rekindle the distinguished flame
of her lost love and not live with the obsession of blame?
Will I pull her up from the abyss and give worth to her life?
Who besides me has a compassion deeper than mine?