Long Segue Poems
Long Segue Poems. Below are the most popular long Segue by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Segue poems by poem length and keyword.
In awe, I welcome Thor with utmost glee.
The powerful celestial force set free
amongst the hills and over the coarse scree.
The winds that whip and slink — the hailstones loudly clink.
Flashes segue to link — I quell the urge to blink.
My pulse quickens at the rank petrichor.
I ignore being drenched, making my soul soar,
I turn my face to the rain to taste more.
The storm will not abate — it’ll make me very late
for meeting that’ll seal fate — my destiny won't wait.
Our tempers complimenting to a T,
and search for impressive clichés in sync.
Remembering that which had gone before,
I’m quite blasé about the hot debate.
This poem was included in the 11-poem anthology dealing with hailstones, in the online publication Pick Me Up Poetry, March 2022:
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© SUZETTE SONNET—SUZNET for short (9 April 2021)
A 14-line sonnet of alternating triplets and couplets, concluding with a quatrain.
1. Rhyme scheme: aaa (b1–b2)(b3–b4) ccc (d1–d2)(d3–d4) abcd
2. The triplets are iambic pentameter [*/|*/|*/|*/|*/].
3. The rhyming couplets are iambic hexameter and include an internal rhyme, namely [*/|*/|*/—*/|*/|*/] (alexandrines).
4. Concluding with a quatrain in iambic pentameter that summarises the poem in a rhyme scheme set by the triplets and couplets.
5. The volta is at L9. OR the couplets may define pivots within the poem, ie a tilting or shifting in the mainline of thought. When the latter is employed, it needs to be uniform throughout the poem.
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LEXICON
ceraunophilia: (n) A fondness (loving) for thunder and lightning and finding them intensely beautiful.
The term is derived from the Greek ‘keraunós’, meaning lightning or thunderbolt. On the flip side, ceraunophobia may be defined as a fear of thunder and lightning.
scree: (n) a mass of small stones that form a slope on a mountain.
segue: (v) 1. (in music and film) move without interruption from one piece of music or scene to another. 2. Move or shift from one state or condition to another.
petrichor: (adj) it describes how rain makes the hot ground smell at the first rains.
Damaged Goods
Damaged goods describe both the external and internal features.
After all, external damaged goods refer to those features because the internal features are still whole, functional, useful… Hey, many people delight in getting such a great deal. It works on the inside and that's what counts and is relevant.
Who cares about a ding, wrinkle, crinkle, buckle, etc? It's cosmetic. So far, these references are about things. Misfit toys.
When that phrase describes our internal features, it makes me cringe inside… it sets off a cycle of so much doubt and fear…morphing into self-loathing…
Words can be razor sharp and cut deeply, most of the time onlookers can see the damage. They can choose to help, ignore, or cut some more.
What about the slow agonizing death from a thousand shallow cuts? The recipient of those below the surface cuts, often ignored, falsely justified, are likely to segue into self-inflicted injuries. The internal bleeding are unnoticed or invisible to onlookers, and sometimes by the recipient's self-denial.
Far too many succumb to the external and self-inflicted internal cuts and scrutiny.
What can the external judgmental people do? For God's sake, stop judging others. Look in the damn mirror, if you're going to judge others, first start with yourself.
What can the internal judgmental people do? Look in the mirror and truly see the wonderful person that you are. Everyone has flaws, it's what makes us human.
We're not defined by our past mistakes and choices. Our lives are defined by the choices we make now based on our lessons learned and our desire for change.
Above all, bestow yourself with compassion. It's rare for a person with this level of pain, and maybe shame, to dole it out onto others. No, they'll give grace and compassion to others in the same circumstance, and yet deny them for themselves.
In my pipedream, I envision a world void of external and internal judgement, a world where the phrase damaged goods is banned and forgotten.
First, I must look in the mirror... and recognize what I own... and need to change
Sherry Barton
February 22, 2025
Most everything written
(and learned ya in school)
Yukon coon sitter, (and bet
your bottom dollar) tibia bunch
of contrived information
all details bu...bu...bull...low knee
within this poetic missive
after spending a lifetime crunch
ching numbers, the following
singularly just my hunch,
but despite minuscule
approximate i.e. kid size lunch
meal, (sans two clenched fists,
and weighing about 1.5 kilograms),
not much to munch,
yet if smacked in the kisser
by a pugilist visited
square in the jaw deadly (Judy hush
hiss) sucker punch
whereby the unlucky
recipient may see "unlucky stars"
after brows severely scrunched,
thee above poppycock, and potentially
"FAKE" though (Ripley deed lee)
believe able to ye,
nonetheless behooves me
to segue-way (by Segway) to pre
sent a "TRUE" revelation see
(gnome hatter, aye
cheese silly contradict
mice elf alias Stuart Little) prithee
please just accept what I write
with a grain of salt
(from the Sultan Sea),
cuz yawl do yarself grave
injury and lodge a gree
vance against this harmless
right ham handed cree
chore from the outer limits
of the twilight zone, thus
I STRONGLY ADVISE thee,
NOT to stake eh knee
un mensch chin hubble cogitation,
and figuratively swallow,
hook, conga line
and sinker thine highly suspect re
dunk yule us gobbledygook mee
cully (meekly) reed this
more so asthma
childish entertainment, hence oak key
jist put aside any urgent task
to revel as sigh bee
devil logical syntax
with sum man tricks
playfully wasting yar
precious time free
cully (freakily) inventing outlandish nee
incoherent yawping, towering,
and brutally butchering,
Brooklyn speak (homer over
mayor later mother), she
nearly always... er added
letters "er" at'er the ender
her sentences - er stain?
The Segue Bought a sense of happiness midway through the
song
It is the songs signature
a segue that changes the actual mood through modulation
Written By:
A.Pseudonym. Of Whiskey scented Words LLC>
21 and Over Songs for People
a sense of betrayal
heartbreak over
a self-created image
I conjured it up myself
setting high standards
wanting to much
what I thought I was seeing
wasn't what it was
reallity
fantasies
how it's is
and the way you wish it
to be
Ain't nothing here worth
holding on to
trinkets and memories
sometimes ain't that good for you
my imperfection
or sometimes a overly need to please
leaves me heartbroken
as she's as mean as she wants to be
people like to keep you down
push you around
sometimes a man just don't wanna be alone
you do better ny yourself
needing someone else
makes you vulnerable
and you're still all alone
Hold up
if she Loves you
I mean really really Loves you
I'd shake your hand
call you the man
if he really loves you
if he really wants to be will you
I'd congratulate
and take you by the hand
bypassing the real work
relationships require
frustration, and resentment
can emerge
leaving you feeling foolish
wishing you wished you had
stresses cause resentment
you're often disappointed
frowning all the time
keeping yourself mad
at the same time
it aint to much to ask
wear something that say's were together
at aint much
showing up nbot to show out
but just fellowshiping
spending time together
sometimes that what
love is all about sometimes
just sometimes
heartfelt plea or longing
the urgency of self awarness
Wailing oboe
her task was to make
the meloncoly of this
instrument sound
happy and cheerful
breathing a need of
human stenght into
a situational conversation
lacking the blue overtones
to convey the
happiness that is to come lacking melocoly and frustration
flutes and drums
Segue
A monochrome of boho days
segue one another surreptitiously.
Endless pantomimes of idle chatter flutter by.
Cantilever bridge, a one stop halting site for gossip and suspense.
Small talk, bespoke winged creature, Combe of pleuron.
Turin shroud spotter in the mise en scene melting pot.
The spirited stride of pavement strollers prompted by
agenda.
Metatarsals on the march.
Street vendor’s spooky cry with banjo beating busker at his side.
Dirt pan bellow and brittle strum about the
orange alert ahead.
Crowded car park, careening bus, frustrated taxi driver rank and file.
Backstreet Barney or kerfuffle on the lawn.
Swing sign overhead, a pawn in every trending breeze.
Office block malarkey cutting capers for the press.
New age ante-fix, the cover tile for corruption.
Whistle blowing wag inside the
city centre fault line.
Brass neck
reservoir of hoodwink high and low.
Harassed mother, barefoot beggar
nervously extends her rusted tin.
Guilt edge coin as bandage to our shoddy scruple.
Bag lady on the fringe of some haute couture complex.
Stasi-like security whose bluff veneer belies an inner
bludgeon.
Crouton salad diner has his finger on the pulse but not his pulse rate!
Tycoon in transition with an open brief!
Teflon tyrant
back to the future.
Ambulance chaser …. legal eagle…..with fortune in misfortune their calling card .
To the limit and beyond like an offshore Ansbacher.
Noonday bell
interloper at the scuttlebutt tavern.
Seconds out,
moments out,
hours in a hari kari haze.
Sensei’s of the left filling void with vacuum.
Laboured diatribe against dynasty, trite slogans, empty rhetoric, mannah from heaven?
All this from the cadres of social despotism!
Passage, the
pollinating insect of aroha.
Behind the rhythm of the grind a broad leaf grain of hope may sprout.
Green shoots of bounty.
Latent sidewalk bloomer.
Blossom by default or tender impulse
Resting in Benign Pleasure
By Sy Roth
They watched me,
Waiting for a segue.
Continuously gazing at me
A waxen bowl of fruit
Tantalizing,
Clinging to my every move
Like lichen on the leeward side of an ancient oak,
Like barnacles on the underbelly of a ship
Gasping expectantly
Awaiting my keel hauling.
I dared an idle life,
I am a blushing-red, waxen apple resting atop
Single yellow banana,
Erect among the pear and globular-red grapes.
In my quiet hours of an armchair
Sitting idly by a window overlooking a waxen-western sun,
Humming a lilting song to the juicy, tangerine-soft rustle of grasses
Dancing among the ferns
A mambo to a sirocco wind.
Cochlear serenity
Settles in.
indolence writes a silly book filled
swirling in the brackish waters of their existence—
as I, a rotund Macintosh, rest niggardly and escape.
They Google frantically—
add apps to their already long playlist of useless ventures,
having spirited debates about my latitude and longitude.
They bide their time awaiting their own frenzied End
As I, afloat in the bowl of fruit, revel in my indolence.
They die in their fashion astride fictitious, snorting steeds,
Their backs bent, arms laden with Sancho Panza spears tilted downward.
And I dwell in my own painting, red-ochre in lethargy.
Their frenetic activities justify their existence.
Firehouse-red exit arrows guide their exigencies
while I, un-bored, rest in benign pleasure
Confused by an un-need for the trilling loons.
A blue, velvet drape of Victorian-prim frames the bowl.
Mindful of their confusion, I settle into my page-turning frenzy of non-activity.
Beneath a rainbow sky, cloudless, crammed with endless thoughts
painted on the rime of morning mist.
Guides my exit.
I was having a dialog
with my inner shock collar
a present from my fairy godmother
who had trimmed the hedge
into leafy mammals with teeth
ready to protect the perimeter
and as sure as incisors segue to molars
they tore loose from their leashes
and got into a backwoods shootout
with my photosynthetic gene pool
naturally they haven't told me yet
if this is a suicide mission
or a symphony of implications
making up for the rib dog years
darkness fell like tank treads
Fairy Godmother had a gun to my head
the phone rang louder than usual
it was my mob connected uncle
Benny Tarfingers from Roofer's Local 911
we'll be happy to fix your little problem
for a small consideration went the voice
I gladly gave them both eyes
they now see what I see
so the joke was on them ha ha
Benny wanted me to tell all of you
hep cats and hepatic kittens
the Devil made him do it
that's why he's the Devil eh
faith can blind God bless you
my shock collar jolted the **** out of me
for overlooking far too many clues
I caught on quick and started screaming
something between 110 and 220
since all is a multiply indexed display
and I had to stop censoring my perceptions
well that diagram got him mad
so I followed with a quick trim
our weed eaters were an ineluctable force
seemed to do the trick
playback being the payback
and burnt the collar to a crisp
requiring a rapid tactical egress
wrapped in the fabled Cloak of Naiveté
good work went godmother Godzilla
you must have strayed far to find this
the solution is to try comparing notes
with people who compare notes
and a pleasant sentimental mood
settled over the land
From "Engine of Didactic Beauty" available on Amazon
Artist Portfolio: http://walteralter.byethost32.com/
Do forgive me, it has been a while,
And perhaps far too long, since I've been here last,
With you or with such burdensome weight.
Hands clasped between my thighs, awkwardly sitting,
And I swear and I could hear the ants go marching,
As I scramble for a spiel, some wit, or some cliched formality.
But I've lost my over-the-shower outline, over those tangled
Imissedyou's and howhaveyoubeen's we've just exchanged.
I'm left no choice but to begin this awful rant free of an awful segue.
So flashing a smile, then a (scared little) chuckle, I take a heavy breath
Then try to die (and sadly fail), I guess there's no exit. Finally, courage
So here goes nothing. "Here I am, and you are here with me,
With your face ever transcendent and ears poised
To hear from me, what sooner or later will no longer be
My secret. And for what it's worth, thank you for coming.
You look stunning by the way, and maybe I could end here,
With you finding, that in my heart you've always been
Such a very beautiful thing. Need much else be said?
But just as well, you are with him. Or with nobody. I do not know,
As long you are not with me, I do not care.
But let me say that I think, you were quite the everything I was looking for,
Ah, that you are not with me when I miss you,
And it's annoying that I will always miss you,
But we all learn to live with the things we do not have.
And now I'm okay. My secret is just that
It had not been easy."
Beyond that, there is no making this right again,
And there is no further peace I would like to regain,
And there is nothing to absolve me from,
There's no need for resolution,
This... is not that kind of confession.
And having loved you is no sin.
I stare blankly at blank pages
But nothing ever comes
My poems are withered flowers in
The desert
Blistered by the monotony
Of summer
Desperate for words that act
As water, I corner a friend
Have her tell me all about her year
My thoughts are dry, my
Pencil dull
So I might as well start here
My time away from Neverland
Is like time off from
The world
It sounds nice, but nothing feels
Quite right when everything
Refuses
To seem real
Outside the normal parameters
Of days slowly passing
By
I wait for the glorious day
When ideas fall like rain
Pouring from an August sky
I hear Neverland call out to
Me, a mother luring her
Child home
She welcomes me with open arms
Nostalgia warms me like
Hot cocoa
A loving pat from Peter, my father
Whose face I greet like
An old friend's
A game of tag amongst the Lost Boys
My much-missed brethren
I feel my withdrawal melting as I
Settle in at last to
Stay
If I concentrate and shut my eyes
Real tight, it's not that far
Away
And when it's 4 AM in Neverland, I hope
That I can get some sleep
When I'm not there, I toss and turn for
Hours
Unable to find some solace in my ever
Fleeting dreams
I am stranded in this "real world"
A compass unblessed by a
Wind rose
A moonless sky without a star in sight
Straight on till morning, all I
See is night
So I wander on and on, searching for the
Train to segue my life out of
July
To a place where this reclusive girl can
Sprout her wings and fly
In two weeks' time you'll find
Me
Floating through the air like autumn
Leaves
Paying absolutely no mind as summer
Slips out the back door
Catgut
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Gestures and facial expressions
they were advised to
differentiate between
both fact and fiction
to ensure that everyone was
on the same page
Clear points of ending and finishing
plus smooth, seamless transition
from one song to another
A segue is often without a break
in the music or performance
some conductors hire people specializing
in this field to ensure a
proper position
of professionalism taking on
the challenge gives the Liaison
more input on production
and gives the conductor
more time for creativity
unity and cohesion are key
it includes the responsibility of
beat tempo and dynamic markings of
each performance
a walking pace or moderate tempo
to Presto
it is important that all involved are wise to each definition
using examples to show the difference between the two
it is the responsibility of
the liaison to prepare the cast of musician
to there renditions of each
the conductor than can meet the challenge
of forging the perfection
of what has been determined
and composed
and adjusted and readjusted to
give the musical cast the most room
to be as perfect as possible
a demand for perfection
is often used in such professional settings
it is demanded from most active performers
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
Songs that are written lyric first or Music first are
often given story to help promote the
interest to al involved
The Musicians and audience both are than fans
of the composers and Lyricists.
Written By:Pobl Yfory