Long Quartet Poems
Long Quartet Poems. Below are the most popular long Quartet by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Quartet poems by poem length and keyword.
As I call my wife and children to say goodbyes.
I tell them do not fear for I am with them always.
I leave the booth to take the most terrifying adventure yet.
As I enter the plan I see men All of them allies.
The plane shakes and jumps as it takes off it was all quite a haze.
We are now over them the bombardment has begun such a quartet.
The air itself feels like it will tear at any second.
Then... we jump 1, 2, 3 and then me something hit me a deep graze.
I hit the ground softly, un-clip and begin to run I must not fret.
I meet up with my company but were pinned within a millisecond.
This is what my grandfather told me before he died in that minute.
By the wayside path
Stray dog sleeps;
Dreams of creature comfort
~~~~~~~~~
Morning routines call
Song bird on ledge;
Cheery inspiration
~~~~~~~~~
Early rising
Voice of morning;
Cold air startles
~~~~~~~~~
Words spring to cite
Crafty craft surge;
Thoughts and symbols
~~~~~~~~~
Festive fare
Moon cakes;
Mid-autumn sparkles
~~~~~~~~~
Plumeria hues
Flowery carpet;
Pathway frills and spills
~~~~~~~~~
By this stone bench
Bird wing quartet sing;
Dazzling repertoire
~~~~~~~~~
Dawn hurls brightness
Touch of new joy;
Nature nurtures all
~~~~~~~~~
Moments here
Lake waters swift;
Nightfall canopy
~~~~~~~~~
Whispers in the wind
Song of long ago;
Profound revelations
~~~~~~~~~
Leon Enriquez
15 August 2014
Singapore
Spoken Word Poetry: A Groove Through Time
Man, you’re just a real gone cat/breaking the habit and diggin’ something new/
Your world spins fast with the beat/ your music collection—a limited edition on the Acid Side of the Jazzy beat/
a gold standard Acid jazz kaleidoscope of sound/
Acid Jazz LPs dance like shadows in the street/ so you are hip to Acid Jazz, a genre born in the night, Funk, soul, and hop intertwined/
a rhythm that pulses and ignites, elements of funk, soul, and hip-hop, as well as disco, started in London’s clubs/
it began to unwind with drugs sex, and the deep beat of percussion that flows from the spin tables and the DJ mix into subcultures, including rave, acid house, and jungle that flooded the superclubs like the river’s current,
Man, it was a nu British sound that had its own records shops, and music producers/
live performance, an electric embrace, a tapestry woven with the threads of the past, an anthem for a nu sound/
ain’t it cool, man, to swing and sway? Acid cool, with words that play, each note a story, every beat a fight, against the social and political realities of the day/
from the UK to the States in the ‘90s/
broken beats, deep funk, a hip new sound, born in clubs/ a deep history resurrected/
Hip hop producers diving deep in the trunk of
old town bump de bump funk/
Electric Rhodes, guitars that gleam, Jazz-funk—triple threat, the dream, steppin’ out to that new Acid Jazz sound, Brand New Heavies, where vibes abound. James Taylor Quartet, Jazz Hole, Jamiroquai, spinning out of control all deep into the show/
Eddie Piller, the architect, of Acid Jazz Records—music to reflect/
Disc jockeys, producers, crafting the groove, adding percussion, making the old move, sampling the past with a sleazy intent, Old Skool mentality, a love that won’t relent/
Lofi vibes ride the waves of the scene, A boost of spoken word slam jazz, a dream within a dream/
So dig on brother and let the music wrap you, let it break your square mold/
In this young history of Acid Jazz, let the stories be told/ step into the rhythm, and let your dancin’ feet fly/
In this world of sound, we’ll never say goodbye, for there is always someone to meet on this Acid Jazz ride/
Who are the British, do they exist,
these nationals of her Britannic majesty
too often shortened to ‘ Brit’.
Four score years, and more
I’ ve walked this shore but ‘Brit’
I see not, from where I, sit.
A kingdom united, yes that
rings a bell, but, am I
a ‘Brit’; No, No, so let me tell
of Four Kingdoms, as one, England
Scotland, Ireland and Wales. This
quartet, the crux of my tale.
Many things each maybe, ..but never
a ‘Brit’. We are Scot, Irish, Welsh
or English..now do you see ?
Each nation, unique and distinct,
language reinforces my point, as in
English, not British, this poem I ink
Lakeside retreat
Calm fresh air;
Nature for company
~~~~~~~~~
Each sunrise
Magic show unfurls;
Healthy awakening
~~~~~~~~~
By bamboo groves
Stray song birds sing;
Morning offering
~~~~~~~~~
Water ripples
Buzz of activity;
Fishes at play
~~~~~~~~~
Early morning sun
Gentle reminder;
Simple strokes sail
~~~~~~~~~
Sleepy eyes focus
Blurry at sunrise;
Stretching to awake
~~~~~~~~~
Window quartet
Wild canaries sing;
Song of long ago
~~~~~~~~~
Morning brisk walking
Fine tune heart movements;
Circle round the park
~~~~~~~~~
Stray birds dancing
Gossip on the lake;
Wild community
~~~~~~~~~
Lonely stray dog
Keeps pace with me;
Familiar intrusion
~~~~~~~~~
Brief moments
Wind on my back;
Thoughts that follow
~~~~~~~~~
Leon Enriquez
12 August 2014
Singapore
...Gretta was still stunned, couldn’t react
as the two men sat down to the game,
especially since Elden’s skill with cards
had won him a great deal of fame.
The cards went out and Elden smiled,
throwing down a quartet of nines.
Red just grinned and showed his hand:
four kings of the red and black kind.
Elden lurched back, pulling his gun,
saying,”You will not take her away!
I shot you once to claim my prize,
I got no qualms doing it again—”
He shook where he stood, grabbing his heart,
his gun clattering down to the floor.
he collapsed in a heap near the table,
lying motionless on the floor-boards.
Not a single bullet had been fired,
Red remained there, cool in his seat,
then slowly got up, walked to Gretta,
and said said her,”My dear, I am so sorry.
“I made you two promises long years ago,
To be with you and your safety to keep.
I’m afraid that I failed at the first,
But the second promise I mean to keep.”
He gazed deeply into her sad eyes,
and gently caressed her sweet face,
then kissed her madly in front of all,
twas a kiss to last her through old age.
Then he drew back, gave a small smile,
sighed deeply and drank in her sight,
then slowly vanished before their eyes,
returning back to that long night…
Getting ready for a New Years chin dig
I purchased a new fancy schmancy wig
and bubbly for chilling;
I'm ready and willing
to pare, next year I'll be lank as a twig
Santa needs a break from the Holiday
the left overs echo in the fridge, oh Hey!
the turkey is wasted
his eye balls are basted
Merry Eggnog to all now get out of my way
Pop goes the bottle and in goes the booze
its time to party don't snooze or you lose
fetch me a drink
fast as a blink
bubble me up, please don't sing me the blues
Jopple Jim slim feeling kind of perplexed
he wasn't invited and now he is vexed
crack open a bottle
go to full throttle
send him his invite by crook or by text
Dec. 27, 2018
Contest Name: Lets have fun
Sponsor: Shadow Hamilton
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
The song came on my radio and it took me back to ten years ago
The second time I heard the song, I began to sing along
It sang about the cold sad day when the music died and went away
I missed those days when the songs were true
But I was a fan of the Quartet and the Jester too
James Dean and the girl who sang the blues
Were obituaries in the morning news
New music that they were putting out
Were mixed with drugs and political clout
With the Jester hurt and the Quartet gone
New bands would try to carry on
But the music couldn’t match the scene
Back to the days when the door was green
So I say Bye Bye to Miss American Pie
Sometimes the music can make me cry
I know down deep within my soul
I still believe in Rock N’ Roll
I was only twelve and walking down town
When I heard that the trio’s plane went down
I saw the music rearranged
The tune was different and the lyrics changed.
This song was like a nursery rhyme
Bringing memories of a different time
So I listen to it every once in a while
And remember how it made me smile
February still brings me pain
But thanks for the memories Don McLean.
Poetic tribute to Don McLean
Author of “American Pie”
Boeuf en Croute, one would be impressed from
just the consideration of being thought of. I looked
to her smile as she spoke the words: I knew then
she was more than serious about this night being
special. more than a night :an evening to impress
and showcase my talents and skills. Maybe than
my lover would consider me as someone to be married
to. I heard her speak from the next room< that moment
I knew what was expected of me. I lefted and simply went
to buy the ring.Not just any ring this one must impress.
I bought something beautiful and something worth bragging
about. I needed more money: I asked my Pa: I told him
what was on the menu and he just grabbed his jacket
and told me to come on. I owed more for this then I owed on
my dune buggy: guess I have to give it up. I offered a friend
of mine then opportunity to impress his fiance by offering him
and his quartet a chance to perform
" Plus Que Les Mots Ne Peuvent Dire" by Sweet Motivation. He told
me he had never heard of it: but would look to find it. I told him
being a novice might it be under,Melonic Atonality
specific to chords and notions? He smiled and said so you want me
to take a tune and write lyrics to overlap? Yes! Inspiration?
Yes, he answered! What a night for those who are in love! Exactly my friend: exactly!