Long Sheet music Poems
Long Sheet music Poems. Below are the most popular long Sheet music by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Sheet music poems by poem length and keyword.
A Song With no Name
From my grandfather and my dad and performed by their son and grandson, me.
It was an old melody with no name of a ballad my grandfather wrote a long time ago.
The melody was soft and mesmerizing creating a feeling of melancholy. One couldn’t help but feel the love, though the sadness was the melody itself with ambiguous, bluesy sounds that contrasted with our emotions.
As a child, I recalled how my father had gone off to war under the guise of killing commies, but had died there in a muddy hole in Vietnam; souring the celebration of his sacrifice.
But this was a beautifully written melody.
Blue notes written in the right places left us feeling the absence of love. I played it on my trumpet muted with a Harmon mute giving the piece a sorrowfulness ala Miles Davis playing in his Blue in Green record.
Later, I came upon a lyric written by my father stuffed in an old satchel, I took it and merged it with the music and got a singer to sing it and when the people heard it there was not a dry eye to be seen.
When you heard the lyric your heart jumped out of your chest.Though the only word LOVE that was mentioned came at the end but with the bass playing low Tibetan-like notes being held to the end; one felt it soul deep.
I whispered into the mike, “To my dad and granddad, I love you and miss you.That ended the ballad, but the bass sounds of the diminuendo were haunting coming to a final moan slowly vanishing to a soft triple pianissimo.
The crowd remained silent for a few minutes
then erupted in a five minute standing “O”.
I simply told the audience, “I never knew my grandfather, in fact, I barely knew my father, and any musical talents I may have were gifts from them. I found the sheet music among my grandfather’s things and later I found the lyric was written by my father.
“My performance tonight was my tribute of love to them. I’m grateful to have performed their song for you from them with great gratitude I accept your applause on their behalf.
And to paraphrase the great Lou Gehrig, the New York Yankees Hall of Fame first baseman, who retired in Yankee Stadium overfilled with his fans, in his speech he said,
‘Today, I am the luckiest man in the world. Well, ladies and gentlemen tonight, I am the luckiest son and grandson in the world, thank you for acknowledging their sensitive hearts.”
Golden leaves, sheet music written by the unforgiving hand of time,
Fall in the slow rhythm of years that slip away like sand in an hourglass.
We are violins tuned to the melancholic tone of the eternal autumn,
Playing the ephemeral melody of life on the fragile strings of existence.
The mirror of the lake reflects the leaden sky of memory,
Ripples of water intersect with the wrinkles of time on the face of aging nature.
Memories dance in whirlwinds of wind like ghosts of the past,
Like dried leaves from the faded summers of our lost youth.
The scent of ripe apples and the smoke of burnt wood float in the air of nostalgia,
The final symphony of nature before the long sleep of life's winter.
Each note is more precious than the gold in our dreams of yore,
In the final concert of seasons that succeed mercilessly towards infinity.
Trees, people deeply rooted in the fertile soil of the past,
Some still green with hope, others bare of illusions, all whispering untold stories.
We are lost travelers through the park of collective and personal memory,
Gathering yellowed leaves from the album of life that thins with each passing day.
Spring once lied to us with sweet dreams of youth without old age,
Summer intoxicated us with the bright mirage of a promised eternity.
But autumn, sincere in its golden and rusted melancholy,
Teaches us, with gentleness and firmness, the beautiful and cruel lesson of passing.
We are but fleeting notes on the cosmic staff of existence,
Meant to resonate for a moment and then fall silent in the great silence.
But in this fleeting and fragile melody of our limited existence,
We find the heartbreaking beauty of the moment that shines before it fades.
Each autumn is a priceless gift in the crown of years that dwindle,
An elegant invitation to the last dance with the life that still pulses within us.
We gather precious moments like golden fruits from an enchanted garden,
From the orchard of time that shrinks but becomes ever sweeter and more intense.
We breathe deeply the cold and fresh air of the autumn embracing us,
Feeling how we become one with nature in its eternal cycle of birth and death.
In the violet evening silence, we vow to live each autumn with intensity,
As if it were our last symphony in the grand orchestra of the universe.
every day a betterone
improving on those days gone by
some might ask you why
tell it cause you love me
tell them it's cause you care
tell them aint nothing like being loved
and aint nothing like me and you
she polished the brasses and waxed the floors
to a brilliant shine
the tables were covered with perfect lines
and the silverware
was laid out in a perfect line
the woodwinds were wiped clean and covered
the piano and the flute were surfaced
and the sheet music was stacked
on the floor
we sleep until noon
and rose to eat and rehearse our chore
what a day for some
a bit imitation for others
the french horners paused to understand
the oboeists took time to explain
it seemed a strain but perfection
takes rehersting
simple sweet flavors
the fruited samples before the meal
a songstress should save her voice
not overtly express how she feels
take note of the baritone,
he speaks softly with the Soprano
he likes the tone ,
but think their some thing wrong
with the piano
the tenor get what he deserves,
speaks the alto, but he should at least
be respect enough to have
the piano tuned
o this i presume
of this I guess it better
you and the next song
strings and flutes
the guys take pursuit
they romp the curvey crest
this she will confess is
the part she likes most
does she answer to speak expression
or do she just say what she feels
the more you speak the more
you say
is it best to just keep it real
we go on in a while
time to smile and look real pretty
we got a great portion of the world doing one thing
looking, liking, loving,
we got these people together
now we have to satisfy them
with some real talents
speak our way, say what we say
read the monologue
and let them know why our names on the
Marquee.
the intro to "something specail" were taken from
Classay Banger's fifth
with sounds taken from
Diditt Gettit: guess so!
written by Phatsew Azmere and he strangs of cotton band
copyrighted yesterday and then and beyond!
write and sing this one production company
The concert Band
A work of reeds, air, and hands
Reading sheet music isn’t easy
And our uniforms are anti-sleazy
All instruments must be in tune and time
Otherwise we sound like a broken chime
The flutes sound sweet and dainty – like a fairy
A piccolo can go so high it’s scary
Our key of music is set in the key of C
When we are in tune we sound so pretty
Clarinets are reeded
When they squeak, earplugs are needed.
They play way too soft; you must strain to hear
And you have to be quite nearfor that my dear
Saxophones are loud, reeded, and sqeaky
Sometimes they can be quite spit leaky
Those sweaty neckstraps are almost like ties
You could wear it with a suit and look like one of those classy rich guys
Trumpets range in color - silver or gold
Their sound is quite bold
They have valves of three
And all the fingerings are quite easy
French Horns are very hard to play
Tis hard to get the note you want to stay
You have to put your hand in the bell
The smell is totally not swell
Then the oboe and the bassoon.
Oboe sound high and sqeaky, and the bassoon sounds like a loon
Both reeds are double and small
And they arent quiet at all
Percussion is the busiest part to every band
They dont use air or reed; they use thier hands
They keep the tempo for the most part of the time
All of the precussion instruments cost one thousand times a dime
Trombones are made of brass and a slide
If they're loud, your hearing is fried
Stand to close, you'll get hit
Ive heasrd that hurts quite a bit
Without the conductor. we wouldn't be a band
They can change tempo with a flick of a hand
They control everything; we bow to your wow
They tell us where to end and when to play now
Form:
The Last Sacrifice
It plays a piano Grande
Spiraling
Tones twist soft twistings relentless
Chimes fluent rolling scarlet scales
Tinkling sacred chorales
From cherubim fingers
Plucked petaled folden harps
Of the ballerina swans mute vocals
I know to her return
I succumb
To the ever endless, endless rest
Tenured finally in her sacrifice
How the blood rips its way
To the last
Torn open at the seams
Behind the clenching of my fist
Raging at myself
As I fall faltering in her tears
The damned and hated hours
Every ounce of me can’t resist
While beyond
Teasing digits pluck the melody
Pull the essence from her music
Reverberates to me
I am the caged animal
Inside her symphony
Bound to my own tether
Of what will be
Will be
Trace this line upon my heart
Trace this line upon her lips
Drag this shackle to the lightless dungeon
Where words become the bars of iron
Written on the paper walls of my prison
Her face my only window
And her love
The only Nocturne
Plays the tune spiraling from above
In the rhythms of my blood
Closed the rivet in the door
I chose my sentence long ago
Feed me on empty life
Tossed upon her naked floor
And leave me to rejoice
In the trackless chasms of my soul
Her face
My only window
This love
My only light
Plays upon a grand piano
The sheet music of my life
There within and endless vision
Beneath a golden tree
I succumb to endless rest
Finally understanding this sacrifice
And how this blood
Flows its own way to the last
Do not be afraid, Dear Girl, my room’s right down the hall
At the back of the house where it’s quiet; a very pleasant room overall
You may if you prefer freshen up after our prolonged amble
And I want to examine the paw you twisted falling into that thorny bramble
I’m so sorry you hurt yourself as we made our way through the forest
You’re light as a feather to carry, there’s no reason to fuss or protest.
Here we are! All is ready, even a small repast if you wish
Wine-caressed baby artichokes, tender filet, and foie gras upon your dish
A rich espresso, a Portuguese ruby port or French champagne that is bliss
After we’ve dined we can play: I’m overcome you’re here I’m happy to say
Waiting for you to mature to be my accomplished and eager peer
Left I with no impatience or regrets let me make that clear
Playing with other ladies (often absolutely boring drills)
Helped perfect my performance; I do so want to dazzle you with my skill
Let me set you into a position where I can see and hear you the most
I’ve arranged the room perfectly to suit us I’m not embarrassed to boast
I’ll start slow, the prelude is gentle and brief; I’ll be keyed up waiting for you!
Place your lips upon your flute, my violin under my chin as we usually do
The music stands are a comfortable height; the sheet music will be easy to view
As we play together the exotic Raccatta Sonata I wrote especially for two
We will make music as no other have me and you!
Commitmenting to one another
they sought a contractual agreement
that binds them in
marriage that refuses to
speak either as bride or groom: but
rathers as Husbandman and WifeWoman.
from the terms of Fiance and Finance"
From Engaged to Married without
the traditional exploited terms of
devaluing those involved with
nuptial's.
Making light of Non educating people
to the words involved and associated with
pending nuptials is mean and spirted towards revenge.
those who use these practices ought to be spoken of.
As it is written.
" my people are destroyed for the lack of knowledge,
in full representation of who we are
and who we wish to be".
Each word defined!
Each word Defined!
than with what each day may bring
might we never brag about tomorrow
that our ignorance overwhelms us
that we are obligated to speak
the definition in word
to the clarity of the Vision.
that God might mean in
full definition of each word
the pro's and con's of
the babbling tongue!
they will make you the Babbler, so they might create your role
as villain, and you shall be labeled hypocrite
who is vile and vain! They wish to speak of you
behind your back, to say what you might do!
Kapain Dame Dindolov
Source Merchant,
Lord of Tirchmire Provindence
CIO of Baggy Jean Corp.
Model Show World
and The Telly Show Corp.
President.
Appears cortsey of Write-On Music Company
Sheet Music America
Orchastra Union Dues
and Tuxedo Rentals
Loving you is pricking my finger on a rose. And you baby, you shine so bright in the darkness. I almost lose myself in a garden of weeds then I think of you and it takes me back to the days when chivalry was present. Back in the days when I was afraid to lose the one who meant the most. You see, in all of the confusion I get lost in the intricate artwork that bends and twists lines, crossing over paths and doing the impossible to create perfection. Please know I’m talking about the red veins in your eyes, for I know of much heart ache you’ve been through. I see you as a calm wave in the Bermuda triangle, covered by myth and broken stories. I play you like sheet music going after high notes, never reaching my goal, but trying every time. If it makes me a bad person for wanting the best, then lock me in Davy Jones locker and look away when I sink to the darkness. Sometimes when I think of you, my heart wants to fall out of my head. I know you say that can’t be so, but I swear I put emotion into my logic. Pardon my rudeness, I don’t mean to offend thee but ‘God has given you a face and you make yourself another’ William Shakespeare. Don’t fret for I catch all of your rain drops into a nice bucket, then splash it upon the demons who wronged you and watch them burn in your holy water. Think of me as the remote to your TV, your wish is my command. But baby please, don't cry when I leave, I won't be there to hold the bucket.
i never want to stop learning you
i hope i never get you down to a science
some days i am an engineer
i check your structure for flaws
and find none
i find myself marveling
at your architecture with my hands
tracing the curves
perfect, planned, and finite.
i did not make you what you are
you are a cathedral
built for me alone
to pray at.
i never knew god until
you touching me;
me touching you.
i am nearly fluent in you
i use words,
combinations of words
i form them
into sentences that i had never spoken
until i learned your correct diction.
the language of you quickly became
the language of us,
it is only you and i
with this particular dialect
our words put together
with effortless cohesion
form phrases so beautiful
i cannot tell if they are being
spoken or sang.
sometimes your love letters
are written in sheet music or maybe
thats how they seem to me.
everything about you reminds me
of a symphony.
it has been suggested to take my time
so i have.
loving you is not a four year degree
in fact
there is no definite end.or goal.
i am a life time student
at your discretion, my dear.
as long as i continue to learn,
i am yours.
today i learned
there are a minimum of 47 words
synonymous with love.
i am positive i will need more
in order to continue loving youk
The Greasy Saddle Resturant and Night Club!
I blushed as I conceeded: she wished to name her nightclub "The Greasey Saddle". I had been seduced and fell into exhaustion from her nights of neocations. Al talks with her seemed to end as they began. Just like the music she had likened: or pretended to like she often critised most of the artist to whom she favored. I ate the cusie and tasted the drinks. I was lefted moved by her willingfulness to plan. She look to morning only as breakfast and every evening was capped off with a dessert. Sweetness in the tenderness of it's having. The fruits of the feilds were inspiration enough. The Greasy Saddle would exsist because the woman who wanted it gained the support of her shareholders. And it would truly exsist because the had enough history to story an Orcastra. Making The ballroom a place I wanted to be.Magnify the sheet music to see if the scriber's pen used cheaap ink. We needed to be critical of something!
The chicken wire would be tacked to the poles. A foot of space would be filled with burnt oyster sheell. The would pour cement walls over that to satisy the people who wish thick walls. We called the ballroom " The Red Earth" and the dressing area "Green Earth" Combined the Area would be refurred to as Oratorio Aer's ! The Concert area!