Long Riffs Poems
Long Riffs Poems. Below are the most popular long Riffs by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Riffs poems by poem length and keyword.
mind song riffs
joining the back beat
nature clicks
timpani
drums of black thunder
percuss
then the sky opens
a luminous landing
off gasses from the heat shield
rainbow across a spectrum of light
Cam’s Glieseian tongue flew over the
surface of the audio generator
Voyager’s golden disk long gone now
transposes across a film of galactic plasma
the taste of whale and bird song they tongue
enthralls them—though they had no notion of
whales or birds
mind song cascades, scrolls, behind the visitors opaque orbs
joining the back beat nature clicks woodpecker tunes
tympanic membranes shiver upon
retractable body hair
drums of black thunder roll
past helmetless crowns
percussing their brain stems
orgasmically
then the sky opens
Sol’s a black dwarf they are too late
but still the songs sang
Cam tongued the plasma film
once more then reentered interstellar
hibernation
First Published by Eye to the Telescope 2015
The fab four...not Scouse superstar serenaders..
Stellar constellations of cricketing fascinations...
Connoisseur christened, humdinger harbingers..
Listen…whispers of willow wizardry whistle…glisten..
Skipper sorcery glow…celestial cerebral Martin Crowe..
Appetites whet..forget the quartet..for the fab four is no more..
Game's pantomime dame, Kohli...encores harangued..
Creeping crepuscular flaws…Virat’s ersatz career nadir scores..
Smith's sisyphean shuffles..flummoxed fossicking for form..
In mists of time..muffled murmurs of his prime...
Two remain....caressed nurdle nirvanas...nudges finessed...Kane..
Benjamin Button…old school whiffs…lyrical lever lullabies..
Rooted rhapsody riffs..gourmand & glutton..
Wallowing in echoes..aesthetic embers of the past...
Trained elbow craned....poetic flighty feet…
Silkily souffle sashays scream balletic....
Swishes so late, almost tardy...halcyon garlanded greats..
Third man tickles...soft hands court..behind cover cavort..
Wooing nooks...seducing crannies..scoreboard cooing..
Relished textbook looks..cherished record books..embellished..
Joe shuns Icarus...strums eclipsing Sachin's sun..
Kane’s hushed kudos..won’t boast..hums humility…..
Genius garnishing..legends..legacies..
So time “gentlemen” please..
Lachrymose Last Post toast.
Final round for Kane..Joe & Martin Crowe..
Late great host…ruminating perched proud..
Hankering..hollering with the crowd..
Illuminating a long white cloud..
You laughed too hard in 1996/
Thought I'd trip and stay down for kicks/
But I climbed back up, twice the size/
Now I shred, watch the sparks fly/
My drummer joked, said guitars are lame/
Left him roadside, questioning fame/
Why does a guitar need a case, he asked/
To contain its stringed up past/
Steel strings bend, the pick obeys/
My solos melt minds in dazzling rays/
You call it noise; I call it fate/
Crowds roar, my riffs attack/
Like a clown with a vengeance strapped to his back/
Why did the guitar cross the road/
To escape tuning abuse overload/
Strumming stainless, lyrics sharp/
Every chord bite, every note barks/
What's a guitarist least favorite job/
A fretting accountant, stuck in a fog/
Clowns don't cry, we shred and slay/
This guitar doesn't play, it dictates the day/
Why did the guitar get detention in class/
It couldn't stop playing tricks so crass/
Now I roll into your town, no disguise/
My solos make statues blink their eyes/
One last joke before I'm done/
Why don't guitars ever tell lies/
Because their strings keep them strung/
Cliff
On sea cliffs walks a breath of grace
Windswept wonder splashed on her face
Sun shadows dance around her feet,
Delight in this sandy retreat,
Green parasol, like flower blooms
Floral scents and ocean perfumes,
Flowing spice of the salty air,
Carefree breeze tugs curls in her hair.
Wind song of the sea sings in riffs
From hiding places runs up cliffs
Chases sunlight - l’apres midi –
Sea shanty chorus, whimsy free,
Ruffles chaste lace of petticoats
Playful whiffs ‘round her bonnet float
Bluffs of pink granite precipice
Sports wild poppies, crinolines crisp.
Palisade crags – coast of flowers -
Begs delight from her leisure hours
Spreads her a cape of boutons d’or,
Golden bouquet – beauty implores -
Playful cloud shadows, like sea drift,
Hug windy paths upon the cliff
Grace strolls in afternoon’s repose
Blossom of the Fleurie Coast rose.
1-25-22
Contest: C Form - Couplet
Sponsor: Constance La France
Based on Monet’s painting of Madame Monet at Trouville France. Trouville is a resort city in Normandy that is part of the Fleurie Coast – Coast of Flowers.
(how well I could play)
in a straight forward way;
simplifying it, making it more pure
in a clear sound, turning it up
and bearing down...
there'd be distortion, red-anger, punk-blue,
get it up tough, keep it going,
'cause I didn't know what else to do.
at fifteen I was unreasonably accomplished
with those long dynamic echo-delayed riffs;
at eleven I was sleeping in the back of a car
surrounded by books an amp and a guitar,
rolling around with the sound of
a welt chord, a grace note, Henry Miller and Nietzsche;
laying-down these upholstery-songs in the summer of seventy-eight
where reverb was explored beyond the return of counter-culture,
going 'round the bend, headed in a back-words direction again
Fickle sunbeams tickle fluttering daydreams...…
Lyrical lapping lullaby encores...
Gingerly stroke sandy shell shattered shores..
Starlings spy…sky high murmurations...
Skimming stones....slicing silky sheens..
Voluptuously verdant riddles…islands within idylls...
Scattered daffy darlings..dilly dally...
Sunshine splattered chlorophyll candles...
Animosity as an ersatz monstrosity shines…
Saluting highfalutin pomposity..devouring skylines..
Notes of cut grass gloats floats from..
Middle class mowed manicured marvels..
Criss cross collaborations… surf the tailored turf....
Billiards baize ablaze with petrichor whiffs
Festooned with afternoon nana nap snores..
The radio's heavenly hum of cricket scores...
A duvet of familiar riffs...murmurs of what if's..
An inkling..whispers of summer's sprinkling serendipity twinkling..
Hour hands clock back sixty minutes of Autumn
Round about this same of month every year, what a bum
er, and inconvenient truth diverged from this chum
purposelessly manipulating a hold over
sans yesteryear doth drum
a sensation of jet lag (with earth in the balance)
as if flying within time machine at warp speed from
this station, where bumpy ride invariably finds me
feeling a bit ticked off and glum
and in no mood to rhyme, nor be leer re: cull
juiced barely tantamount to gather scattered wits
sin tide, and express mood as hoe hum
fortunate, this chronological seismic shift nada wide, ah assume
nonetheless, mein kempf cerebral hemispheric plate tectonics
comb pluck hated off jangling black keys helplessly boom
fancifully drifting and booring into quick ribald sand trap doom
ming an inducement for emergency convoy, when pitched from
sea to figurative shining sea – gram ma mother earth glum
where live yikyak wired vanguard trulia tried optimism to hum
nonetheless, swallowed down behavioral sink went – me mum
bling bloviation, once worth matchless peerage, now pitched numb
lee into morass of temporary confusion, where plumb
line delineating circadian rhythm offset, when athwart pilot rum
man strait ting and bickering with Lilliputians slum
bring within islets of langerhans defiantly thumb
ming nose, where body, mind & soul weeknd viz a bully did cower
hence mister clock, who got high-jacked 3600 seconds per hour
experienced head, thorax and abdomen diminishing in power
wrought indistinguishable Whitsuntide as sour
grapes imposing ill fitting sea legs, which folded like a faulty tower
crumbling skeletal carapace, resoundingly surrendered,
and back slid vis a vis space/time continuum did devour.
Black hole event horizon indeed kept lock step as das joint mill hoard
Sucker punched the band wagon of father time, whose riffs a silent chord
nsync with atomic fractional second bored
quirky shenanigans toying with chronometers
counter point of view shifted to oppose this minute accord.
Here's a savage diss track inspired by the given song and context:
You're still lying in the dark, waiting for a call
But I'm the one who's been ghosting you, standing tall
You thought you had a chance, but I was just playing games
Left you alone, with the ticking of the clock, and the shame
You're still wondering where I am, but I'm with someone new
Neyo's got nothing on me, when it comes to loving you
Kiss' guitar riffs can't compare, to the pain I'm about to bring
You're just a memory, a distant ring, and I'm the one who's king
You thought you had my heart, but it was just a lie
I was using you, to get by, and now you're saying goodbye
You're still trying to get me alone, but I'm long gone
You're just a whisper in the wind, and I'm the one who's moving on
You're still got the chills, but it's not from my love
It's from the realization, that you're not enough
I'm the one who's got the power, and you're just a pawn
You're still singing alone, but I'm the one who's got the song
You're still searching for a love, that's real and true
But I'm the one who's got the upper hand, and I'm coming for you.
False dawn scouts creep eerily through the mists
dance on the cooling surface of moonlight
nudge nocturne musicians through final riffs
to tease the crusted eyes of daybreak’s sight.
Awake!! Soft breezes call to rippled shores
beseeching all to greet their rising king
in hum, in chirp, in open petal doors
a welcome to this cacophonic fling.
So bathe within the flame of sunshine’s lust
impregnate frozen dreams long dormancy
rejoice in bringing forth earth’s budding thrust
welcome the loving touch of passing bee.
Sweet sun, you arc across a future’s sky
fade beneath the moonlight’s reverent sigh.
©3/5/2018
submitted to – Sunshine Sonnet – Poetry Contest
sponsor – John Hamilton
When a push comes to a shove
And ministers still preach and promise love
Never put your piece down put your piece down and hold your peace now thug
Give me my condolences to the hypocrites and bugs
Leopards resonating while chasing Kellogg's
Tripping on scatter rugs
Grandma said boy pull up them draws
Only rich men makeup laws
When a push comes to a shove
And ministers still preach and promise love
Never put your piece down put your piece down and hold your peace now Thug
Wonder if the CIA has me bugged my daddy never gave me a hug
mama where is the love where is the love double dip says man that ain't hit bra
Yo if I'm watching me who's watching you duh
Icy Hot vanilla shakes in a mug
Martial Arts Sweet Tarts drop a dime on me it smarts woo woo oh
When a push comes to a shove
And the ministers still preach and promise love
Caramel apple raisin stallion wonder if being born again really matters
Gave up sin and I joined a gym
What's my name it ain't Village Jim
Life in my stomach just keep on Bubble bubbling
Like a river in a fountain like a beacon on an ocean
When a push comes to a shove
A minister still preach and promise love
Never put your piece down put your piece down and hold your peace now Thug
Violence and violence don't mix
Thyme fo you and your Posse to hit the bricks
Come on J E give me some riffs
This passionate mix makes me sick
Don't want to win or lose all I want is peace and Trues
Caveat Coco man Nissan cruising
All I need is Old Spice on my old man's shirt by Van Husain
Kris Cross wears a cross what you know about Jesus
Been being Spin blend hallelujah amen
When a push comes to a shove
Never put your piece down put your piece down and hold your peace now
Thug
04/08/14
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr
Arranged music by Jonathan Echtinaw