Long Rhapsody Poems
Long Rhapsody Poems. Below are the most popular long Rhapsody by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Rhapsody poems by poem length and keyword.
VIVA LA ELVIS
In Tupelo Mississippi, twin baby boys were born,
To Gladys and Vernon Presley, but sadly one passed on.
They named him Jesse Garon, their hearts so full of pain,
And then came Elvis Aaron, a breath of sweet refrain.
One heart beating for the two, their spirits intertwined;
To restore faith and hope and joy to dear ones left behind.
Elvis grew from babe to boy his heart set on a goal,
From boy to man to legend; The King of Rock n’ Roll.
He lived in humble dwellings, his Pa his Ma and he;
Playing his guitar, singing songs, pure golden melodies.
Country, Gospel, Blues and Jazz the rhythms of the soul,
And Rock n’ Roll, the very core of hearts both young and old.
While rising up to stardom, his pelvis did he swing;
Some church folk banged the gavel to crucify ‘The King’.
Their efforts came to nothing, as fans from near and far,
Surged on with huge momentum, to win that holy war.
So once again he stood there, gyrating at his will,
Until the day he heard a call that made those hips stand still.
Called to serve his country, the nation’s rising star,
And while along that journey, he sadly lost his Ma.
On the first of May, a bride’s bouquet, a blush of summer wine,
Elvis wed Priscilla; his beautiful fraulein.
Soaring in her lover’s arms on the wings of destiny,
Nine months later they were blessed with gorgeous Lisa Marie.
The happiness they shared together wrapped in melody;
Like a poet’s dream, a symphony, a lover’s rhapsody.
Then fate stepped in and dealt a blow that tore the dream apart,
And in its wake it left a trail of tears and broken hearts.
‘The King’, on stage and silver screen, he took the world by storm,
A real hunk of burning love in a GI uniform.
He rocked the house to loud applause, he played the matador,
And danced with pretty Hula girls in the Hawaiian sunset glow.
August 16, ’77 was the day ‘The King’ had died,
But forever lives the Legend, born on 8/1/35.
His mamma smiled and gently beckoned to her second born,
While holding close the one she’d lost that fateful winter’s morn.
The joy he brings to us down here can never be replaced,
Though many keep on trying in vain to fill the empty space.
His spirit fills all Graceland, to watch o’er kith and kin,
In the Heavenly sounds of Dixieland … I hear God joining in.
Elaine Randolph
Copyright ©2009 Elaine Randolph
Music is an undying
art of soul ~
an abstract eden, where,
euphonious unicorns
glide in strawberry sonatas,
amplifying rhapsody in
ballads of flight,
when fuchsia feathers
tease those
jingling breezes,
infusing breaths
in every lifeless aroma;
where I can soar
beyond the
brushstrokes
of symphonies that
planktons sing to me,
in the requiems of
forsaken pearls,
crooning with
silenced shimmers
beneath wavy blues.
Maybe,
I'm a songwriter
without words,
and my electric fingers
trace the tunes
of serene strings,
when guitars weave
a sonorous guilt
midst ruby runes
of regrets.
I wish to keep
swinging in a
cosmic cadence,
where celestial notes
choreograph
themselves in the
moonwalking
mellifluence of
lunar legacies.
I gossip with
neon nightingales,
laced with neutrinos
and compel them
to chant those
healing incantations
of love and glory,
like the forlorn
princess - Rapunzel,
desiring to feel
the glow of
familiar lanterns,
winged with
hazy syncs of
unsung yesteryears.
I wonder if,
I'm not meant
to compose
crystal canticles
in a Disney duet,
for, I believe,
I'm a soul searcher
in the flesh of
a soloist, concocting
an elixir of my
existence through
cinnamon anthems
of mystical
moonrises, as
they softly unfold,
a million
unheard tempos,
within tranquil
memoirs.
I'm the 'maiden of music'
resting as a floret on
every sepal,
yearning to become
a unique acapella
of nature,
where empathy
has an ethereal
dialect of
nurturing spirits
and tinkles
of magical waterfalls
whisper in
gentle lachrymose lulls
of our ambrosial Mother.
When the harmony
of my voice,
kisses those
ivory keys of
the heart-shaped
piano, they
echo a tipsy secret
in my sunset skin,
making me
believe ~
"I'm everywhere
in the essence,
yet nowhere
to be found...",
like the sweet
scents of
hummingbirds,
smiling behind
that first dusky star.
"In each husky hallelujah
of ribboned halts and replays,
life is a song ~
where every lyric,
phrases an ember of end,
and when passionate heartbeats
shall knit sombre medleys,
I will hum in the last 'chef-d'oeuvre'... "
I fall and my mind begs my heart to get up
I try to stand on two shaky legs
But the weight of my soul has become too much to bear
The rips and tears in my heart have become too much to mend
I try to close my eyes but I’m continuously haunted by your smile
My heart yearns to pull your body close
To get wrapped up in your lyrical verse
My mind craves the sound of your voice
I try but I’m left with only one lyrical choice
I need you, I need you, I need you
My soul feels alive when I’m caught in your gaze
I let go of my fear and convince my heart to be brave.
It’s too early so I won’t let this feel like love
I can’t help but want to be your dove
Sailing on the winds of your emotions
A dolphins riding the waves of your devotion
In the ocean that is your heart
Why can’t I just let these feeling pass
My world is spinning way too fast
I’m lost, You find me, I’m lost again.
Your eyes draw me in but your fears push me out
Your lips beckon me closer
But doubt still clouds your mind
Why did we have to find each other now
The timing couldn’t be more wrong
(cuss) THIS!!!!!!
You still sing my heavenly song
A melodious rhapsody
Into this abyss
I fall to thee
I’m floating on your words
This is weird, I’m lost in three different worlds
I’m happy, I’m sad, I’m confused
I wish time would cease to tick
So I wouldn’t have to lose
Wishing amour shall cause our hands to fuse
So I never have to let go
So I’d never have to say “so…
Long” and “I’ll see you soon”
Spiraling, spiraling into this lonely doom
SAVE ME!!!!!!
Set my soul free
Unlock this prison that keeps our feelings hidden
Rescue my heart
It’s calling out to you
I’ll understand if you block me out
I can sense your fear
I know, I understand, I agree
Even if the Fates tell us we aren’t meant to be
I know you feel this too
Now do you understand this torment that I’m going through?
I am overcome with boundless affection
You have captured me with intellectual perfection.
Beating hearts, tempted souls
Feeling which weren’t supposed to grow
But yet they did and I see it clear
Sweet ……, I wish you near
Wrap you in my arms
Breathe in your scent
Countless hours in thought I’ve spent
In a state of mental disorder, your smiles and face inhabit the center, and the borders
Of my heart
Willing our threads never to part……
Form:
Come, let us walk this broken street, you and I;
Explore the infamy we share before we die.
After all, will death not seize man's birthright
When this day gives way to night?
Signposts all along the way, today,
Creaking in the autumn wind as they sway
And swing their monolithic rhapsody -
No time to gently die with dignity;
Our tongues so rough and dry
Must see the wasted remnants
Of the world, before we die.
You ask me why?
Observations made though flawed as art,
Is all we have as we depart.
Our eyes observe for those whose
Eyes have long been pearls
Within the locusts' den
Where fog and dust now swirls.
I hear no sound of water's drip -
All is rock and pebbled sod.
No sound of wind-whipped sail
On seabound ship,
Nor voices raised in praise of God.
All be still at His last will!
Come, let us turn this corner to the past,
For there is where we find
All unexpected treasure mined
Will never last;
Our blood can boil
In passion's heat,
But cools and turns to dust
- complete -
After all, will death not seize man's birthright
When this day gives way to night?
Where are the jewels once sparkling in the sun
And woven through her black and braided hair?
The pyramids stand idle, each and every one,
Above the bones that wither there.
Was not their time as equal then
As ours is equal now?
And who should steal the sacredness
Within the sacred cow?
Those who follow desert prophets proud,
Or those without perception
Shouting loudest from the crowd?
Hear the purloined jester chuckle from the grave.
His light and airy voice spoke truth
About the grayness of the cave -
Plato's shadows tell the tale,
How reasoned men will surely fail.
After all, will death not seize man's birthright
When this day gives way to night?
Come, and you will see the mystery
That none have seen before -
The glory of society
Before the tyranny of war.
Nothing stays unique
Beneath this vast expanse of sky -
Lest brightness buries bleak
Which is unique,
As you and I pass by.
Come, if you will,
Notice all these brittle leaves
Upon the broken street,
So still,
As autumn breezes cease - complete.
After all, did death not seize man's birthright
As this day gave way to night?
FOREVER ADELINE
Acknowledgement:
A big thank you Sam Scott from our Poetry Soup Community,
for your splendid narrative contribution.
Synopsis:
A story of unrequited love that began in childhood.
Despite the passage of time, his love remained hauntingly
painful even after she fell in love with another.
Aloft on wings of rhapsody, together spirits soar
Wild, untamed and sensuous, just like a lion's roar.
HOW LONG AGO IT SEEMS THE TWO OF YOU FIRST MET
AS TIME IS RENDERED MEANINGLESS
OR TIMELESS, BETTER YET
Though in that Timeless moment, along came winds of change
Love swiftly rearranged, but what it WAS, remained
Oh, Adeline, so fair and bright,
Eyes, like stars, shine with delight,
Oh fickle heart, now you await
your new love's sweet embrace
Blinded by the callous cad, you foolishly don't resist
In the quench of love's allure, Time does not exist
His loving lips will not reveal your new love's promiscuous charms
Intoxicated, unrepentantly, he sways to others' wanton arms.
Across the bronze Sienna shores and blissful sea breeze skies,
He ever trails your hungry heart through
his own saddened eyes.
Oh, Adeline in Twilight's Hush,
where shadows dance and play,
A tale of love and longing
When Night succumbs to Day
Oh, Adeline, will it be
mere friendship, he would fain?
To be just a deliverer of love notes,
a job he will disdain
Oh, Adeline ~ Sweet Adeline
At every glance - a secret shared,
his every word - love unsaid,
In every touch - a fire dared
HOW LONG AGO IT SEEMS ~ THE TWO OF YOU FIRST MET
AS TIME IS RENDERED MEANINGLESS
OR TIMELESS, BETTER YET
Chansons ne sont que chansons
Quand on écrit de l'amour
Comment d'écrire des chansons
De la femme qui est l'amour?
English translation from above:
Songs are just songs
When we write about love
How do you write songs
Of the woman who is Love?
OH, ADELINE ~ SWEET ADELINE
by Maria Williams ©
Background garden images taken on our recent visit to the amazing
Hunter Valley Gardens, Sydney, Australia
Musicians
Harp - Rolando Cristaldo
Violins: Fátima Benítez
Celeste Osorio
Romans 13:1 - “The authorities that exist have been established by God”…
Though that seems more of a facade, long shot and a fraud from a world long gone
Since sin no longer seems fiction in this depiction of friction with biased predictions
An election... with no intention of protection for the derelict despite respective messages
Seems like these cycles are a hit-miss of plot twists and taut fists that obscure who God is
But we make no connection that contention from our own predilection sows dissension
And without intervention comes resentment, we need spiritual direction
But instead of resting in God’s embrace we attack others with a verbal mace
while we brace our own heart for impact, still intact, rate of pace faster than light in space
We’re caught up in the race but instead should race to erase the rays of hate from our own race.
Why do we debate the debates as we relegate and castigate with hate, then demand a rebate
or hammer their manner like it’s grammar, then try to conjugate what they obfuscate
Our minds are lost in space while propaganda confiscates our thoughts of late
Then traps them in relapse, perhaps inaction would produce the largest fraction of satisfaction
But our thoughts are funneled and fueled into to a brew of psychological stew
so heated and cruel it boils over derision and division, it’s no wonder we have tunneled vision.
Then when the door unhinges, pops open, it’s rigged with bigoted dissonance, explosives
that spring from an ocean filled with commotion from springs of offense overflowing
because we dared to confused fact with opinion and reasoning with motive
America caught between a persona gargantuan and aroma of pantsuits and emails scandalous
The purposes of service is not to deter with private servers or privates and perverts with backers
in reserve or greenbacks in reserves, we reserve the right to deserve more than this disservice
So when we venture into this realm of guesswork where conjecture is turned into adventure
When the cyclical turns visibly unbiblical with violently physical intervals fueled by the visceral
Instead of surrendering our heart’s rhapsody of magnitude into apathy and lassitude
...let us pray for strength to maintain a God sustained attitude of positive aptitude
When the smoky quartz sun
slumbers into a cold winter,
we see the aftermath of a garnet twilight,
it is then, we find rose stars
that refuse to abandon us in shivering solitude,
and beneath snake-skinned skylines of nadir,
we learn to appreciate
the truest colors of nature……
Hope is but a hollow rope,
hanging loose on empty lies~
splattered across eclipsed skies,
and this aching heart sighs,
singing to the fallen flowers,
fading into depths of
black-magic silence,
for peace is a distant memory,
frozen within pixelated Polaroids
of poignant pain.
I remember the night
I was unplugged and strangled
in toxic tremors,
slipping into fatigued negligence,
too tired of fighting a
battle with no prudence,
but no one hears the unspoken,
amidst the tears that
croon in tragic tunes.
Now my mind is a muted mausoleum;
weathered and withdrawn,
impregnated with deceased dreams~
and remnants embalmed in poison ivy.
Yet diabolical thoughts
keep whirling
through funeral chaos,
to cloak my conscience in
a glass casket of sleepless uncertainties,
smothering the last breath I held.
I do not seek an orchard
blooming with butterfly orchids
and pristine pansies,
yet, somehow, I am the wrinkled
willow~
awaiting dancing rays
of diamond twilight.
Perhaps this is how a poet grieves,
writing epitaphs with
bloodstained ink,
when familiar faces are
clothed in ivory farewells,
to rest amongst the forgotten,
away from the cruelty that creeps.
I know not the synonyms for healing,
the poems I’ve woven beneath
starry skies now flow undone,
and I am burning,
in my crippling confusion,
pondering why the sun is now
a curse in disguise,
why do I long to walk
through forests of ruins,
where the mauve moon was,
when insomniac
instruments of galaxies
strummed broken strings
of feathered fate.
So take this poem, weave these words
it into the final line
of tasteless satires,
streaming in the
rhythm of zestless zenith,
for I have no desire to
pretend and play,
or swirl and sway
when all I knew now is a
melancholic mystery untold.
So listen to the rhapsody of tears~
I am a frazzled firefly,
eloquently tangled in the
ruthless roots of jinxed junipers.
Late night summons madmen,
madams, bold streetwalkers,
picking pennies from the gutters
as the merchants close their shutters
and the homeless crouch in doorways
in their rags, against the cold.
Black or white, no compromise,
no colours clothe the empty streets,
as Bobbies tread their lonely beats,
the watchmen rub their crusted eyes
and settle into vigilance,
no accident, just circumstance.
Midnight passes.
Leila in her bursting bodice
lingers, guesses who I am
and flaunts her body, all the same
to her, a customer who'll pay
for twenty minutes' satisfaction.
Dressed in taffeta and lace
she'll never even see my face,
night's sweet anonymity,
the very definition of her name.
Later, as the moonbeams shift,
and cloudlines disappear and drift,
come images in stark relief
of twisted metals magnified
that catch the eye, suspend belief.
Abandoned building, hollow-eyed
and squinting in a death mask grip,
skeletal, once filled with pride,
now empty, and for ever tongue-tied,
cadavered, and condemned to drip.
Still later, the street-lamps spot
the cats a'creeping worldly-wise,
and rats along the quayside waiting,
ready for the avalanche
of waste into the yawning dumpsters.
I have seen the children sneaking out
before the dawn comes crawling,
dirty little ragamuffins forced
into leftover clothes,
weepy-eyed and snotty-nosed,
playing with a rotting carcass
or a broken bicycle.
Pre-dawn, and the street-lamp sputters,
merchants come to raise their shutters,
regard the fading moon, and mutter,
'yet another day!'
Begone, O Bride of Midnight,
favour us with not another glance,
put your spells away,
you'll not lead us in our daily dance.
Behold a wrinkled substitute,
a crone who likes to think that she's a queen;
with as much grace as she can muster,
she flusters, fidgets, lonely in her room,
feathered and be-furbelowed
and plays with her decolletage,
she's mutton dressed as lamb.
The smell of stale tobacco
and a whiff of old perfume,
no longer with her entourage
she dances out of rhythm to the tango,
rusty and unconstituted,
wraith-like, a phantom in her tomb.
*******
...a tribute to T.S. Eliot's 'Rhapsody On A Windy Night.'
Late night summons madmen,
madams, bold streetwalkers,
picking pennies from the gutters
as the merchants close their shutters
and the homeless crouch in doorways
in their rags, against the cold.
Black or white, no compromise,
no colours clothe the empty streets,
as Bobbies tread their lonely beats,
the watchmen rub their crusted eyes
and settle into vigilance,
no accident, just circumstance.
Midnight passes.
Leila in her bursting bodice
lingers, guesses who I am
and flaunts her body, all the same
to her, a customer who'll pay
for twenty minutes' satisfaction.
Dressed in taffeta and lace
she'll never even see my face,
night's sweet anonymity,
the very definition of her name.
Later, as the moonbeams shift,
and cloudlines disappear and drift,
come images in stark relief
of twisted metals magnified
that catch the eye, suspend belief.
Abandoned building, hollow-eyed
and squinting in a death mask grip,
skeletal, once filled with pride,
now empty, and for ever tongue-tied,
cadavered, and condemned to drip.
Still later, the street-lamps spot
the cats a'creeping worldly-wise,
and rats along the quayside waiting,
ready for the avalanche
of waste into the yawning dumpsters.
I have seen the children sneaking out
before the dawn comes crawling,
dirty little ragamuffins forced
into leftover clothes,
weepy-eyed and snotty-nosed,
playing with a rotting carcass
or a broken bicycle.
Pre-dawn, and the street-lamp sputters,
merchants come to raise their shutters,
regard the fading moon, and mutter,
'yet another day!'
Begone, O Bride of Midnight,
favour us with not another glance,
put your spells away,
you'll not lead us in our daily dance.
Behold a wrinkled substitute,
a crone who likes to think that she's a queen;
with as much grace as she can muster,
she flusters, fidgets, lonely in her room,
feathered and be-furbelowed
and plays with her decolletage,
she's mutton dressed as lamb.
The smell of stale tobacco
and a whiff of old perfume,
no longer with her entourage
she dances out of rhythm to the tango,
rusty and unconstituted,
wraith-like, a phantom in her tomb.
*******
...a tribute to T.S. Eliot's 'Rhapsody On A Windy Night.'
This is my search for the proper mentality
Ive realized I need to change myself drastically,
And Radically
I need to Change my whole inner Anatomy
On The search for a cure to my insanity
I just dont want to be another fatality
As I look around casually, trying to think rationally
But the only answer i can find is to change my whole personality
If i dont the pain will continue to grow rapidly
In this calamity I lost you, but only to a mental catastrophe
But you looked into my eyes and said "it wasnt me"
So ill continue to be in this state of amity
Thankfully I lack apathy
While i wait Ecstatically
For you come back to me,
In my time of need I tried to turn to christanity
Because They said the bible would hold the answers in reality
But my life needs to be lived emphatically
So id like to drop a bomb on your faith, **** the baptistry
And im sorry for all this blasphomy
My words of truth have turned into a rhapsody
And ive learned that The one of the real gifts you left me is was this constructive agony
My brain needs to be drained because its nearly at full capacity
My thoughts are endless and keep growing erratically
Every thought of mine is full of confession, confusion and wishes for the future,
Id call it a fantasy
Because I dream one day we will be living together, fantastically
And stop being held down by gravity
And ill float away with you in my arms
Now understand I say that with first meaning of audacity
And I feel like you are mine as if you were given to me through my born rights constitutionalily
And In my mind Our love was a given right that was ammended and ended with feelings of impartialily
But with time the amendment will be repealed happily, with no memory
And youll return to me randomly
And ill tell you "i wasnt worried" sarcastically
Because when you walked away it left a very deep cavity
i tried to fill it up with pathetic fallacy
but only you in my arms will fill it to the top dramatically
And nothing will ever be the same in my eyes and in my reality
Dont worry I dont say that unhappily
Because missing you has caused me to fight and fix my life and my immorality
So now ill take a bow and say "thank you"
like im trying to end this theatrically
With your hand in mine and the proper punctuality.