Long Royalties Poems
Long Royalties Poems. Below are the most popular long Royalties by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Royalties poems by poem length and keyword.
One of the greatest classical composers was a Prussian.
Herr Bach went by the name of Johann Sebastian.
Laboring at his harpsichord, his compositions were many.
He wrote a rather short tune that was quite pretty.
It had an upbeat, allegro type melody.
His famous piece was the “Minuet in G”.
Along came three young women in the twentieth century.
‘The Toys” would become this trio’s adopted name.
One hit song catapulted them all to fame.
With a small band, they entered a recording studio.
Their production became a hit nearly everyone would know.
They sold many recorded copies of “Lover’s Concerto”
If Johann Sebastian were alive today, he would be pissed.
He could not get a copyright, and all those royalties were missed.
Inspired by a video from You Tube
I still stand
Have a chance
Mike in my hand
Lyrically band
Drums beating
Cymbals clashed
Titans passed
Powers situations
Bolts metaphorically hating
Pacing Blues
Sue pursue
Royalties with no moves
Jacking prices
To get a sail
Back down river bends and boats
Seattle with no coasts
Trailing door knobs without a turn
Skipped
Tripped Sun burn
Comcast
Infinity
Antennas remotely
Coated Symphony
Operatic Anomalies
Fake paced with properties
State faced moralities
Given sentence no warning
Exclamation interrogation
Periodically visitations
Paroled up
Handcuffs taken to another case
What stand
Back at it again
Chance
I FEEL YOU EVERYWHERE I GO TODAY
YOU LITTLE CHERUB LAUGHING SO EYES ARE
DANCING AS BUTTERFLIES CAPTURE YOU AS
NO WORDS YOU NEED TO BE HEARD WOW
A SMILE SO TRANQUIL THAT DIMPLE IN YOUR CHIN
GLOWS FROM WITHIN THE WORDS YOU WROTE
STAYS WITH ME AS I OFTEN WONDER HOW SUCH A
CHILD COULD CARRY WORDS ACROSS THE MINDS OF
MANY AS YOU HAVE FOREVER PAINTED YOUR CANVAS
ADMIRED BY ALL WHO HAS EVER GOT THE PLEASURE
OF YOUR RAPTURE AND THOSE WHO HAVEN'T SHALL
ENDURE YOUR POETIC WRATHS FOREVER THROUGH
THE WORDS YOU HAVE SO UNSELFISHLY DONATED TO OUR
HEARTS AND OUR MINDS THE MERE WONDER OF YOU
FOR ALL I CAN FEEL IS SO LUCKY SO LUCKY AND YET
FREE IN MY VOICE AS I SING THE PHRASES THAT
GOD ONLY GIVES TO A FEW OF US THE REST MUST
ENDURE THIS DREAM WORLD IN IMAGINATION AND
BY SIMPLY CUDDLING UP TO ONE OF YOUR VERSES ENDURE
WRITTEN BY MRS YOLANDA JOY NICHOLSEN
6-23-2003 IN FORT MYERS FLORIDA WRITING
POETRY FOR MONTELL WILLIAMS MY SUPPORT
FOR MS. SURVIVORS I ACTUALLY WON 1999
TAMPA BAY HAND WRITTEN SUMMITTED
POEMS BY MAIL WAY BEFORE THIS ONLINE
COMMUNITY BEGAN
THIS LITTLE GUY INSPIRED HE SHOWED ME THAT BEING DISABLED SHOULDN'T STOP ME FROM WRITING POETRY HE WAS SEVEN YEARS OLD ANYONE COULD BE A POET EVERYONE HAS SOMETHING TO SAY ESPECIALLY WHEN EXPRESSING YOURSELF ABOUT YOUR OWN SELF WELL IT WAS 6-23-2004 I SAT DOWN AND SUBMITTED MATTIE IN LOVING MEMORY OF THE DISABLED CHILD POET I WON A CONTEST BUT DECLINED BEING A MOTHER A GRANDMOTHER CARRYING FOR A DISABLED CHILD I REMEMBER WALKING INTO STATES ATTORNEY MARK OBERS OFFICE THERE WAS MATTIE ON THE WALL I DIDN'T NEED ROYALTIES FOR WRITING AN INPIRATION POEM ABOUT THIS GRAND LITTLE PERSON OF WISDOW I HAD TO EDIT IT THROUGH THE YEARS DUE TO MY BRAIN INJURY
I DECIDED TO POST THIS ONE AGAIN AFTER HACKERS
DATA BREACHES FAKE AI USERS MY STALKER J JOHNSON
OBSESSED WITH MY WRITING PERPUTRATING FRAUD UPON ME
IT'S TRULY SAD I WROTE THIS 6-23-2004 IN FORT MYERS FLORIDA
WHILE WAITING FOR FBI AGENTS TO ESCORT MY FAMILY TO
GIVE STATEMENTS ON A MURDER IN TAMPA MS JOHNSON
ATTEMPTED TO END MY LIFE OVER MY POETRY
WRITTEN BY MRS YOLANDA JOY NICHOLSEN
REST IN PARADISE MATTIE THE DSABLED MATADORE OF POETRY
Rise and fall of beauties
And so in a city of beauty,
There once lived her majesty,
Her dignitaries full of royalties,
And a people whose taste is quality
But suddenly the beauty
Became quaint and outlandish falling
The people filled with perplexities
Driven here and there seeking
For solution and remedies
To their fading beauty,
Meet a magician
Whose way for a cure was
An enchantment
And so he succeeded in getting all
into a deep sleep
Leaving only her majesty.
Enslave by loneliness
And years of impatience
For a cure she took of the portion
To join her people to end their ordeals
life full of ups!
And uncertain falls
Only the patient
Knows the essence
Of the present
Falling Pale extent.
For change is
constant.
But Who can wait?
In the waiting
Lies the making
And in the making
Lies the baking
In the baking
Lies the rising
Of life Falling beauty.
La peregrina, why do I pick you from all the jewels of the world ?
Not because you were a fifty -eight and a half carat pear-shaped drop pearl
hanging gayly on enchantress Elizabeth Taylor's chest,
or because you belonged to English royalties ,and held by Buonaparte' hands,
Nor because you were presented by king Philip of Spain to bloody Mary
as a token of his never-ending love .I pick you because indeed you wandered from afar.
You were the fortune of an African slave.,where He found you five hundred years ago
in the coast of the isle of Santa Margarita, Spain.
He bartered freedom in exchange. That makes you indeed a gem,
A treasure trove in an oyster-shell. Its you I'd love to own
Not for your natural nacre colour, nor the chatoyant luster or your size,
But for being the reward, to a man who worked fingers to bone
just to have his freedom back, and be the master of his life.
Freedom- May we always cherish it.
For Carolyn Devonshire's contest
(A Gem For Your Verse )
A time shall come sooner than later
all of the blooming and the scenery will become visual
for all to see
my accomplishments from me
the writing, the designs, artworks
furthermore, music, songs
the businesses, cooking skills, and much more
the entrepreneur that's me
businesses growing
valuables showing
all because I know
I have put in
achievements, hard work
the tree has grown
unknown length time, soon to unwind
to blossom, bloom, and shine
flowers blossoming
a time to shine is here, that's mine
royalties, vacations, supporting of others
giving back, not lack
more than enough
a nice home to call my very own
for my destiny is here
NOW shown.
FAITH IS THE KEY
MY WORK PAID OFF
OVER SOME DECADES
NOW, THE FOUNDATION IS LAID.
ONE HEART, TWO HOMES; (was first written in December of 2011)
Belize of my birth; where my first love bloomed
You've showed me sweet freedom, to grace a second home.
But who'd forsake you? prodigals with intent to stay away?
I recalled years of help, silently floating in, from the US of A.
Where else would I dine with virgin air, suffusing flowered backyards?
I have no qualms, propagating positive economic rewards.
Two splendid homes; one of rivers, one of sun kissed sea
I think to myself, who runs where, to be warm and cozy?
Then again, who's all sufficient; people's lives intertwine
In spaces here and there, surely that's no crime.
One heart that loves... two homes... so close and unrestrained
There's diplomacy and grace, you're both well trained.
O Belize, I see bravado and zing; you're still happy and gay
Royalties still go and come, like tourist ships, from the US of A.
*
Self's colors-change in the modes of wanting,
as a chameleon in the daylight,
as the seasons fade to black, hunting season
where loyalty is clothed in sackcloth,
used as a knapsack with monogrammed font.
To embellish the pride inside, attacks reason.
Game played, war waged against trust and integrity,
hair trigger, sights blurred and uncalibrated.
Sport saved for fair weather and played-with
when in moods of folly-misunderstood
as heart's pedigree, but self the only royalty.
In the mists where lovers-lie, dormant
on the rocks of
sacrifice,
sprayed and neutered with the scent of the world,
blessed by holly-wood burning to ashes,
embraced skeletons of Pride's carbon copy fairytale.
Convenience, just a behemoth-witch of cull,
changes the love's color to grey-scale,
when it fits the bill of soul sale.
No effort no altruistic deeds,
no walls scaled or ride on valiant steed,
no searchlight, or care but for selfish greed.
Just a crone noose and bonfire of vanity,
just a cast of thespian spells playing part
in new reality.
Scale-weighs, and reckoning's executioner-pendulum swings
and approaches with royalties-undertaker
with box of pre-fitted manacle rings
empty in hand save for null need,
as truth-sees eye to eye-darkness looks away, cares not for its deeds,
Rewards itself handsomely,
a black wedding knot to tie.
Vows weigh the truth's true order of things,
from it's wheelhouse shipwreck beacon by the sea.
Sees souls found wanting, rescue, denied
and sees the light go forth from it's spotlight,
a disorder to groom with a whore for a bride
and open bedroom.
A vacancy window, black hole portal that blocks the sunlight from it's boardroom orgy of doom.
My oldest brother David died a few years ago at the age of 79.
Were he alive, he would be 85 which is about the age of my
friend Bill. Bill believes in me and has always spoken well of me.
Bill is like an older brother to me, and I doubt if Bill would think
twice about coming to my defense.
I feel a bond with Bill that I neither built nor developed. Bill is a gift from
God. The bible speaks of there being a friend that sticks closer than a brother.
Bill is just that kind of friend-"A God Sent" kind of friend.
The most valued things in life also tend to be the rarest. I have a collection of State Quarters, and it is unlikely that they will ever fetch much more than their face value for the simple reason that they are very plentiful and are likely
to remain so. Unlike my state quarters, but as a precious metal, a pearl of great price, or as a treasure hidden in a field, my friend Bill is rare.
In this our world so fragile, there are Royalties and there are Rarities, but the Rarities are the most to be desired. Though the name Bill is very common with no shortest of men by that name, there is the shortest of men like my friend Bill. I hope that you have a friend like my friend Bill.
102419PoSoupFB
Versatility, versatility,
I have no problem with that,
But my versatility's
Not virtuosity,
Those two don't go tit-for-tat.
It's a true revelation
When my inspiration
Comes seemingly out of thin air,
But I don't analyze
I just write and revise,
I'm so happy my muse is still there.
I write both allegorically
And metaphorically,
My verses may well make you think.
Frequently whimsical,
But never flimsical,
I don't let them loose if they stink!
I love writing terse verse
And cherish long free verse,
Though I prefer verses that rhyme.
They're lyrical, comical,
Sensual, spiritual,
Whate'er be my mood at the time.
I write poems to please,
Not earn royalties,
Though I wouldn't say no to some pay,
And hope that my versatility
Will show literarily
That I have something worthwhile to say.
Author's note: I never want to put my muse in a box with a label.