Long Rhythmic pattern Poems
Long Rhythmic pattern Poems. Below are the most popular long Rhythmic pattern by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Rhythmic pattern poems by poem length and keyword.
Afloat I am,
The blind horizon spreads to no end.
O river of rivers,
The queen river,
Flow as you wish,
Gather silt forever
That on your shores
Men may harrow, then sow
The seeds of happiness
And sorrow to grow.
Afloat I am,
The blind horizon spreads to no end.
Hilsa leaps at the moon,
How wondrously they blend!
Hilsa leaps at the moon,
How wondrously they blend!
O river of rivers,
The starry river,
Your blinking waves drum
Of Behula's shiver.
I too am lost,
The tattered merchant fool,
My peacock barge rides
Fate's whirlpool.
Hilsa leaps at the moon,
How wondrously they blend!
When the whistling wind wakes
All courage is pretend.
When the whistling wind wakes
All courage is pretend,
O river of rivers,
The wise river.
Who would speak for us?
If not you, may be never.
Yet the mountains rise
From the hearths' ash,
You are silent, while
The history is brash.
When the whistling wind wakes
All courage is pretend.
Heaven's horn blares slender silver
For whom to comprehend?
Heaven's horn blares slender silver
For whom to comprehend?
O river of rivers,
The hungry river,
The consort of Ruin.
An arrow in Falguni's quiver.
The infinite wasteland beckons
Hold onto heart's dream,
One more sun above
Anguish and scream.
Heaven's horn blares slender silver
For whom to comprehend?
Afloat I am,
The blind horizon spreads to no end.
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Form: Bhatiali
Date: 19 / 11 / 2016
Bhatiali is a form of folk music native to Bangladesh and Bengal. There is no place for Taal (a term used in Indian classical music for the rhythmic pattern) in pure bhatiali. Even rhyme is not that important. Generally, these songs are sung by the cattle herders on the fields or the fisherfolks living off a river. Among the several subjects of folk music in all of Bengal, that includes Deha-tatva (about the body) and Murshid-tatva (about the guru), Bhatiali deals with Prakriti-tatva (about nature). Probably the most renowned poet of this form is Jasimuddin. Some of Rabindranath Tagore's songs can also be categorised as typical bhatiali.
P. Mauriat Eldon she spoke his name for all to remember.His name means basso with the augmentative suffix -one. Her belief was that he was Italian. She spoke of him with a Peking Duck inspired meatloaf with brown rice and cabbage. I love his tone and suttle temperament.Echolocation used to create his image.She spoke of his brother as somewhat clumsy: clownish even, Puchner I believe his name was:Pushner Eldon.He wore rings as Cymbal of His Excellence.The minute the night sky appeared he looked to me to be his: I laughed and called to his brother: who I loved in the night in tones of vengeful desire. The next evening Puchner looked again to me and my suseries of intercessory prayers where answered. Steeped full of desire I allowed him to love me: and was pleased and satisfied.His claves were a rhythmic pattern of satisfaction, soothing my longing and desire." With you,an Everlasting Love" I was a tempress of passion, a lyre beneath the flute! Propulsive grooves, that created a duration of want and need.
The oils of the supper plate coated my mouth as he kissed me..Issuing me published to the world. I stood beside him for day's and at night I loved him with a deep neverending ppassion.People had to cause us to stand before God as one. In such doings I had achieve all that a woman could acheive in finding: the satisfaction of belonging until I was made his before God and man. I smiled in delight that some saw me different: he who I had learned to love had made me steeped into oneness
Written by: Contraltos de Passionate
From the AlbumF3 to F5
"Sounds of a Woman in Love"
Troupes of Love-Troupes of Lovers
"Half way Thru"-
create and recreated
by Big Beats Music Co.
Usage of both male and Female
Background singers
Done with collaborated efforts with
the Intention to Impress Sound Team
and "Sumthang Special"
For Groove Chore Group
"Special Night" performed
with Modern Mixes
and Real Opera Music
with sum Twang from Groovey Beats
"Gotez to Be"
sang wiff C-Mid Octave
of The Same Name
(courtesy of Marriage Minded Album Co.)
It shall not come
Darkness hovers above the glade,
ripples cease as reflections run for cover
behind hazy marshes, stale and silent
air permeates morning’s fabric
Beams dim, lost luminescence
pains shadows searching for meaning
in a crooked branch, leafless and lifeless,
protruding from bleak crevices separating
Whispers from the opaque world faintly call
in voices of the past, echoing what was lost,
a rhythmic pattern of sorrowed reminders
endlessly ripping me apart
I fall to my knees, pleading with the sky,
desperate for some light, a mere flicker,
my heart begs the stoic horizon…
knowing it shall not come
MY FONDEST MEMORY
("MY HOMETOWN - ODESSA, UKRAINE/MY FAVORITE PLACE")
I wake up to the crispness of the air
Nature is still
Outside the snow has formed into perfectly shaped mounds
The frost has framed the windows into decorative designs
Branches sway in a rhythmic pattern
There’s a stillness inside
My grandma is preparing bouillon and hearty beef stew
I look outside and catch the smiling rays of the sun dancing on the snow banks
Trees scrape the sky as they stand like an army line receiving its orders
There’s a comfort and familiarity in the air as the day is beckoning to start
Nature smiles
Winds sway in unison moving to the undulating rhythm of the atmosphere
I marvel at the tranquil scene as I immerse myself in a novel
The story takes me away to a far-away destination
I feel safe and content as I wrap myself in a cushion of comfort
I am at peace….
December 7, 2016
The morning with its silent music creeps slowly up the hill bathing in the scorching sun bursting out of the sky, dancing on hill tops and singing sweet lullabies; as if a baby was sitting in the cradle smiling at me before the morning sun rise with a touch of hope parachuting around the galaxy before it opens its eyes, and destiny suddenly caught my attention. It is the compound melody that you hear when the spirits draw near, it evokes the lyrics of the past whose words are too strong to be told and the forgotten melody that stands between the lines opens a new symphony that Mozart could not sing and Beethoven could play. We wander through the music sheet and penetrate the melody in the deep, listening carefully to the rhythmic pattern and the historical track that climb to the top of the musical ladder. Everything came back and I was still sitting on top listening to the silent music play. There is divine hope in the clouds let me hear it again before I grow old, I have passed the threshold of time, watching the universe teasing man’s mind and conscience and hope began to swell. Close your eyes and you will hear it, open your heart and you will feel it, men of valor who roam the earth thousands of years ago whose spirit is wrapped up into the deity has given prudence to the lyrics’ of time as they search for rhythm to lead them back to the path of clarity. Come and join me beyond the sea I have something significant to show thee, our world is so small yet one small mistake will make the whole world fall, it is the layers that lies between and the inward journey that you cannot see; it is a busy route for the sheep and goat and when you get there the heavens will make you shout. Come listen to the silent music with me that lies beyond the bewildering sea.
Iamb, Trochee, Spondee, Pyrrhic. Do those words have meaning for you? If not, you may find it handy as a poet to learn how to employ at least a few of them. They are names for the most common of the two-syllable feet used in classic poetry forms and many rhymed forms of today (there are other metrical feet used for 3 syllables). Poets can practice to become skilled at any one of them, but often poets are drawn to just a few when they write naturally. Iamb is the one that I prefer. When your words rise and fall in an unstressed to stressed rhythmic pattern, you are using iambic meter. Five feet of these unstressed-stressed syllables is called pentameter. That is why a sonnet is written in Iambic Pentameter. The traditonal sonnet writer uses ten syllables which are divided into five feet of unstressed/stressed syllables.
Here is the way Iamb looks if I show just two-syllable examples: de/TEST, un/LOVED, a/ WORD, go/ HOME. It would sound unnatural to say DEtest, UNloved, A word or GO home. The poet chooses his metrical foot and simply goes with the flow! If I choose to write a triolet, I would use Iambic Tetrameter (8 syllables with 4 feet of Iamb). When you consider all the different combinations of feet and meter, there is much to be learned! You can even mix up types of meter or use them unrhymed! To some poets it comes naturally -no textbook required. I have known free verse poets to say, "I just don't 'hear' it." But a few of those poets practiced and practiced; with time I saw them grow!
For those who want to practice poetry
in such a way to make their poems sing,
Iambic meter is one way to go.
Unstressed, then stressed creates a pleasant flow.
So give your words some musicality.
Keep practicing, and then your skills will grow.
Aug. 5, 2018
Beyond the measure the traditions
claim they sort and seek
might they find, might they find
ooh-bah-doo-bah: ah-ooh-ah!
The backbeat was sorted from the
"First tones" thats what she called it.
There are 12 planets in this system.
Each with ait's own distinctive sound
and duration. The forebeat must
proceed the downbeat. All with in these
32 distinctive notes.
In music, a backbeat refers
to a rhythmic pattern where the second
and fourth beats in a 4/4
time signature are emphasized
32 Distinctive notes within one octave
beyond the twelve tone system
"backbeat"
--------------
With the intensity of passion
that one would expect to
affectionate and pleasurable
infatuation or obsession
unintrusive thoughts and
welcoming passions
where it neither draws lines
or recreate those things defined
sorta simple
an easy
pleasey
satisfying love
more than anything
much about nothing
just cool pleasing togetherness
thats what we're doing
"syncopation
--------------------
No drama
no foolish expectations
a lotta
ooh -ah yeah
and no
fouled-up communications
like it like this
tell me like that
love is what we're doing
Baby that's
where it's at
___________________________
"Poco Rallentando"
Curtis verses Julliard
Music Lessonaters Collaborations
of Sounds
--------------------------------------
May 13 2033
River
flowing in curves.
Waves dance and propagate
in rhythmic pattern of ripples.
Cadence of flow to change from ebb to tide.
Alluvial deposits on
soaked soil of either bank.
zig - zag flow of
River.
As she sat on the old rickety chair by the fireplace
With an orange cat by her feet and a knitting yarn in her hands,
An old music box played a rhythmic pattern on repeat.
As the notes flew into the ears of the listener,
Memories of the past started gushing out;
Those days in the past where she had to hide in an old cart till her lover called out a tune
Those days where she had to steal some of the freshly baked cookies from her mother's oven which was meant for afternoon tea
Those times where she had to steal her father's freshly brewed beer which was meant for Thanksgiving
Just to have a little picnic on the shores of the river
with her lover
The shore where he played their favourite tunes with his little guitar
The shore where she nestled in her lover's arms while they watched the setting sun, a little music box playing his favourite tunes while he sung them aloud
All these moments were reopened by the music box he gave to her as his parting gift.
Even though he was no more, she knew in her heart that his soul comforted her by his favourite tunes.
The shadows seem to shift in the breeze
And the trees begin to dance
My frantic footsteps pound pavement
As the first drops begin to fall
I find shelter at the bus stop
Looking out into the gray world
Rain fills my ears in a rhythmic pattern
I'm frustrated but at peace
Traffic lights shimmer on street corner sidewalks
There's a distant crash of thunder
Followed by a flash of light in the clouds
And the bus shelter rattles
The world is both familiar and alien
I'm surrounded by thousands
But I could also be the last person alive
With my solemn expression
Minutes tick by agonizingly slow
But eventually the thunderstorm passes by
And the rain meanders to a sprinkle
Leaving a glistening world of ghost lights
The blushing sun finally peeks out
And a beautiful rainbow blossoms
Over the horizon in stark contrast to the gray
Perhaps a love more profound than I've ever known
People begin to appear as if awakening from hibernation
And my gray world explodes with light and exuberance
As if my melancholy experience was but a dream
With courage I step out of the shelter
A single droplet drops onto the tip of my nose
But it's enough to paint a smile on my lips
The world of gray is finally gone
And in my heart I know I have become fearless